What's this? A new story? Yes, it is! To be more specific, this is part of a two part prologue to a much longer story that I have planned by the working title of flicker. It, of course, involves a what if scenario- what if Shiro and Keith had never met, and consequently, what if Keith never became a paladin? It'll mostly be focused on Keith and his time on Earth during the Galra invasion- I'm really excited to get a chance to really focus on writing Adam and Veronica, because yes, Adam will live, because I say so, dammit.

But there's also so much backstory I want to establish without just waving it all off, so! Prologue! Prequel! Whatever you call it, this is it. The first part is, of course, from Keith's POV, and the second part will be from a mixed bag- but not Keith's. I wanted to kind of keep the idea of Keith having this "one degree of separation" from the paladins- give him a connection but keep him on the literal fringes of their lives.

So here you go!

one degree of separation

part one

His knuckles are still throbbing during the ride back.

The person who came to pick him up from the orphanage isn't even talking to him. He's been doing this long enough to know that isn't a good sign. There's no lecture, no one saying how disappointed they are- not even any yelling.

Just silence.

Which suits him just fine. Folding his arms in front of him, he ignores the pain in his knuckles, and instead focuses on the window. He's in a lot better condition than the other guy, who, as far as he was concerned, got what was coming to him.

Sure, maybe breaking James Griffin's jaw hadn't exactly done him any favors, but at least this way, he'd never be able to mouth off to him about his parents again. Sure, that was just because he'd been expelled- but it had been a fucking terrible school anyways.

When they get back to the orphanage, he's met with the steely gaze of its matron. All she does is tell him to go to his room, and he does so without saying anything. Tossing his backpack on the bed, he collapses on it right after. Closing his eyes, he buried his head into his pillow, the throbbing in his knuckles having already started to fade.

He should probably just go ahead and pack.

There's no way he's staying here any longer after this. He doesn't know where they'll ship him next, but it doesn't matter. Wherever it is, it'll probably just be more of the same.

At least James' parents hadn't pressed charges.

Rolling over on his back, Keith stared up at the bunk right above him. Nobody actually used it, mostly because nobody wanted to sleep in close proximity to him. There were two other kids in the same room as him, but they all wanted nothing to do with him. Which, fine by him- he was used to that sort of thing.

Nobody wanted to bother with the discipline case.

Maybe he'd at least get shipped off somewhere interesting this time. There was nothing in this town but a worn down old library and a public park that was begging for some money to be spent on it for a change. Nothing interesting. Nothing that managed to catch his attention.

Blowing out a breath, Keith rested his arms over his face. Guess he'd be missing the guest speaker. If he'd just kept his act together for one more day, then maybe he could have seen Takashi Shirogane face to face- but fine, whatever. He wasn't that interested in him anyways.

It's not like a mess like him could ever get into the Garrison.

Sitting up, Keith frowned. Swinging his legs off his bed, he looked towards the door with narrowed eyes. It was way too early for anyone else to be coming home yet, so...

Getting up, he opened the drawer of his little desk. Taking out the scant belongings he had in it- mostly a notebook and an old photo album, from better days- he scratched at the back edge of the bottom of the drawer. After a bit of fussing, it finally came loose, giving way.

Pulling away the false bottom he'd put in, he grinned. He knew that if anyone found him with this, they'd take it away from him for sure, which was why he went to such lengths to hide it. After all, the resident problem child with a knife? Who wanted to deal with that?

But it was his father's knife, and like hell was he ever going to let anyone take it away from him. He'd left it to him- said something about it being important. It kind of sounded like he'd wanted to say something else, but he hadn't gotten the chance.

Brow furrowing, he tried not to think about it. His father had been dead for years now. There was no point in getting hung up over his death. He'd done a great thing, he knew that- mostly because he was constantly reminded of it.

People would always talk about it. How such a hero could end up with such a disappointment for a son. Maybe it had something to do with his mother, they'd say. The one he knew nothing about, not even a name. She hadn't even been listed on his birth certificate. It was like she didn't even exist.

Whenever he'd asked his father about her, he would just tell him that she had to leave. That it hadn't been her choice. That she'd loved him. He didn't know how much of that he believed- his father wasn't a liar, but he was also kind. What kind of asshole would he have to be to tell his kid that his mother had just walked out on them like they were trash?

He didn't know if that was true either, though.

Grabbing the knife, he picked up his backpack. Pulling out the textbooks that he wouldn't need anymore, he shoved the knife inside the pack, before covering it with some clothes. If he was going to be leaving here, he might as well pack it away while he still had the chance. Zipping up the bag, he put the drawer back together, before collapsing back on his bed.

Shutting his eyes, he ignored the growl of his stomach, that reminded him he hadn't eaten lunch yet. Now probably wouldn't be a good time to try and grab anything- but whatever. It wasn't the first time he'd gone without food. Probably wouldn't be the last, either.

That was just how things went.

Hoping for anything else was just naive.

Sure enough, the process to transfer him elsewhere began the very next day.

It wasn't until a week later that he was actually moved, though. Packed into a car with what meager belongings he had, and shipped off. He wasn't going far- literally to the next town over.

Plaht City. Well, at least it had more going for it than where he'd just been. It was the last real town before the Galaxy Garrison, whose property stretched out for miles into the desert.

It was also closer than he had ever been to home.

Just thinking about it made something in him ache. He had to fight it back. He couldn't afford to show that kind of weakness. He knew that.

Even if the orphanage matron had greeted him kindly, he knew that sort of thing didn't last. He'd just asked her where he'd be staying, and promptly shut himself off in his new room. The volunteer who had driven him out here frankly just looked like they were glad to be rid of him.

Well, same to him.

From the sound of it, he'd be staying in the same room with four other kids. The matron had made the effort to introduce them, but he didn't really listen. Didn't matter.

It wasn't like anything was going to change.

"How's the homework coming?"

Keith barely spared a glance towards the volunteer- Colleen, or something- instead focusing his gaze on the very blank sheet of paper that was supposed to be his essay. "Fine."

It was a blatant, bold faced lie. He knew it. She knew it. Didn't matter. Most people took his cold shoulder as a sign that he didn't want to be bothered, and would just brush him off. There were other kids who actually wanted the help.

"Are you writing it in invisible ink?

Blinking, Keith frowned. Lifting his head, he actually spared the woman a look, his brows knitting together. "What?"

She merely nodded towards his blank piece of paper. "I said, are you writing it in invisible ink?"

He stared at her like she was crazy. She didn't even bat an eye. "No?"

"Then it doesn't seem to be going very well." Colleen noted. "What's the topic?"

Oh. Right. She was one of those.

One of the ones who thought they could fix him. Probably had heard about him from the matron or one of the other staff members. Something along the lines of being passed from home to home, getting expelled from his previous school- someone who just needed a little extra attention paid to him, or some nauseating bullshit like that. Like he was some kind of pity case, just another orphan with a sob story.

Well, whatever- they usually gave up before long. He wasn't here to be pitied.

"The Calypso mission to Jupiter's moons." Keith told her.

"Oh, well in that case, move over." Colleen said, already moving to take a seat, leaving him with little choice but to do so. "My husband helped build that shuttle."

And that he did blink at. "He- your husband's in the Garrison?"

It was a stupid question, he knew. Most of the people who lived here had some kind of involvement with the Garrison. Usually the family of either the staff or the instructors.

Colleen merely hummed. "He's one of their top engineers. Right now he's working on the shuttle for the Kerberos mission."

The mission to Pluto's moon. Right, he'd heard about that. It was the one that Takashi Shirogane was supposed to fly. It wasn't supposed to launch for another two years- but all that prep work took time, and anticipation for it was high.

"So, what subject is this essay for?" Colleen asked.

Again, he just stared at her. "Science?"

What other subject would it be?

"Just making sure." She said simply. "You never know. I've got two kids myself, and sometimes the assignments they bring back from school are the strangest things."

Coming to volunteer with orphans when she already had two kids of her own. She was either the type that wanted to give something back to her community, or she just really liked kids. Probably the former- the latter usually worked with the younger kids, who at this hour would usually be outside for the effective equivalent of recess.

Keith just stared back down at his paper. "I don't really need the help."

It was true, he didn't. He just hated writing essays, that was all.

"Not a fan of essays?" Colleen guessed.

"Yeah, something like that." Keith told her.

More like it was school he had the issue with. It wasn't like he couldn't do the work- not to brag, but he was pretty smart. It was just most of the time, he didn't want to. Didn't see the point. It all just started to seem like busywork after awhile.

Frankly, he was considering dropping out. Once he turned sixteen, he wouldn't even have to get consent to do it, and that was barely even a year away.

"Mm," Colleen hummed again, "-Katie's the same."

He just frowned at that, continuing to stare down at his paper. He'd experienced stuff like this before- people trying to relate to him. Most of it was insincere, so he had learned to brush it off. But Colleen sounded... well, earnest.

For now, at least.

"Look," Keith began, "-I can finish this on my own. So thanks, but like I said, I really don't need the help."

Tilting her head, Colleen appeared to assess him. "You sure?"

Wordlessly nodding his head, Keith just hoped she'd go away. He knew better at this point than to open his heart to anyone. It never ended well. No matter how nice they seemed, they always found something wrong with him.

And there was a lot wrong with him.

Between his temper and his various assorted physical oddities, there was always something about him that would put people off. He got it- he knew he wasn't normal, that there was something about him that just didn't blend in with people, but there was nothing he could do about it. Sure, maybe he could work on his temper, but the other stuff?

It wasn't like he could make his bones less dense, or do anything about his above average physical strength and flexibility. When he had been living with his father, he hadn't even known that stuff was weird- but apparently, it was. Enough to have every caregiver that had ever been put in charge of him mutter at his medical records in disbelief.

Colleen frowned, not entirely looking convinced. "Well, if you're sure. But let me know if you change your mind."

Nodding his head again, Keith watched out of the corner of his eye as she got up off the bench, moving on to another one of the kids. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath, wondering if he had made the right choice- but whatever. That would probably be the end of it.

It wasn't the end of it.

Colleen Holt was, if nothing else, persistent. Doggedly so.

But he was just as stubborn. Sure, some part of him had realized that maybe he didn't need to try and push away her attempts at being helpful- and sometimes, when he was in the right mood, he would even accept them. It was just that he had spent so much time pushing people away that he couldn't imagine letting someone in at this point.

Eventually, she'd be disappointed in him too.

When he announced he was going to drop out of school, he was pretty sure that would do it. She was always so focused on education- she was exceptionally bright, he could tell that much from the ease she helped everyone with their homework, across the board on all subjects- that he thought for sure that telling her he was dropping out would once and for all convince her that she had been wasting her time on him.

That he was a failure.

Instead, she just looked at him in consideration.

"Why?"

Why? Blinking, Keith frowned. He'd kind of expected to be asked that, but he'd expected it to be... well, more demanding. The matron of the orphanage sure as heck had been, though she'd accepted it in the end.

He was pretty sure she'd given up on him too. Probably just figured it was better to let him do what he wanted, since he'd be out of her hair in another two years or so.

He wasn't afraid of aging out of the system, or even worried about where he would go once he did. He had found the remains of his old family home out in the desert, taking out a hoverbike to find it. It had dwindled down just to the shack, but the water still worked, and it wasn't like the desert heat had ever bothered him. He could probably just live there.

"School's not for me." Keith told her. "Thought I might just get a job."

Tilting her head, Colleen frowned. Ah. Here it came. The disappointment.

"You know," Colleen began, "-I have a friend who's looking for someone to work part time around his shop."

Blinking, Keith wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "I- what?"

Nodding her head, Colleen just smiled. "I said, I have a friend who's looking for-"

"No, I heard that." Keith cut her off. "It's just... aren't you disappointed?"

Colleen just blinked. "It's your decision. I'm assuming you put some thought into it."

He had, actually. He'd been looking up jobs for the past three weeks, trying to find something that would work for him. Customer service was obviously out, but there had to be something he could do. He was pretty good with his hands, not to mention heavy lifting thanks to his freak strength, so he'd been thinking maybe finding a job in construction- if they would even hire a sixteen year old.

"I thought you'd tell me to stay in school." Keith said, feeling a little a dumb.

"Like you said," Colleen began, "-school's not for everyone."

Frowning, Keith's brows knit together. "So... this friend of yours."

"He runs a small mechanic shop. Repairs, mostly." Colleen said. "Lovely man. But overworked. And I know you're good with your hands."

Chewing on his lip, Keith dropped his gaze. He didn't know. It sounded like it could be a good fit, but depending on someone's generosity like this... it didn't sound like him. Sure, maybe as a ward of the state, that was what he had been doing for like, the past several years, but it had never felt like generosity- more like they were just putting up with him because they legally had to.

But the faster he got a job, the better.

"I- okay."

Nodding her head, Colleen looked pleased. "I'll give him a call this afternoon. How's your schedule for next week?"

Keith just frowned. "Free?"

He wouldn't be in school, after all.

"Good." Colleen said. "I'll see if he can pencil you in for an interview."

At the word interview, Keith stiffened. Somehow in his hurry to drop out, he'd completely forgotten that getting a job was generally something that involved being interviewed. Which he wasn't exactly great at.

Sensing his nerves, Colleen just smiled. "Don't worry. He doesn't bite."

Tsuyoshi Garrett was large.

His father had been large too, but... differently. He didn't know how to put it. The mechanic was both round and square, at the same time.

(You see? This was why he was bad at essays. Words were not his forte.)

His hand basically dwarfed Keith's when he shook it. It kind of didn't matter that he was confident he had more physical strength, when he totally didn't look it.

"So, Colleen tells me you're looking for a job." Tsuyoshi said, resting on his desk. It was strewn with half-finished projects, that he couldn't begin to guess if they were something he'd been hired to work on, or just personal ones.

"I- yeah." Keith said, resisting the urge to twiddle his thumbs. Just because Colleen had gone out of her way to recommenced him, didn't mean this was a sure thing. He knew better than to believe that, especially when there had to be more qualified candidates out there.

Sure, he'd fixed up his dad's hoverbike himself, and he'd been tinkering with things around the shack on the rare weekends he managed to slip out that far, but that didn't mean he had any actual training. He didn't even know what half the stuff he worked with was, just what they did.

Tsuyoshi just folded his arms in front of him, looking him up and down like he was trying to size him up. He wasn't going to lie, it made him a bit nervous. Not nearly enough to trigger his fight or flight response, but... nervous.

(Although in his case, it was more of just a fight response. He'd never run from a fight, even when he maybe really should have.)

"She tells me you're good with your hands."

"I guess?" Keith frowned. "I fixed up my dad's old hoverbike."

"Yeah?" Tsuyoshi asked, taking an interest. "What's the make?"

"I, uh, don't really know." Keith confessed.

"But you fixed it anyways?" Tsuyoshi asked.

"...yes?" Keith half-asked, wondering if that was the wrong thing to say. He was probably supposed to know stuff like that.

Tsuyoshi merely gave him a little nod of his head. "You willing to learn?"

"Yes." Keith said, maybe a little too quickly.

If he had, then Tsuyoshi didn't seem to think anything of it. "Sounds good to me. Think you can start tomorrow?"

Blinking, Keith just stared at him for a long moment, before slowly nodding his head. "I- yes. I can do that."

Pushing himself up off his desk, Tsuyoshi patted him on the shoulder. Keith couldn't help but think that his hand could probably fit over both his shoulders at the same time. "Good. Come in around eight, I'll get you started. Make sure to wear clothes you don't care about."

That covered nearly all of his clothes, so that wouldn't be a problem.

But also- had... had he just gotten a job? Just like that?

No. He refused to believe it was that easy. There was another shoe, and it was bound to drop at some point.

The shoe never dropped.

He kept expecting it to, but it never did. As a boss, Tsuyoshi was an understanding one. Maybe a little too understanding. He barely even raised a brow the first time he saw him lift something twice as heavy as what he looked like he could, and didn't get frustrated with him when he had trouble determining the difference between the teal car and the blue car when two had been brought into the shop at the same time.

(His long distance and night vision were fantastic. His color vision? Not so much. It wasn't that he couldn't see color, it was just everything looked muted to him.)

Keith's role meant that he basically didn't have to interact with customers too often, except to direct them to Tsuyoshi's office, which was probably for the best. All he had to do was sit around and tinker. He learned, and quick. He got the sense the man was used to teaching, like he'd done it all before.

Turned out, he had- Tsuyoshi had a son around his age, maybe a year younger. He was studying to be an engineer at the Galaxy Garrison. He beamed with pride whenever he spoke of him, and with a pang, Keith couldn't help but think of his own father.

He wondered if he'd be proud of him.

He hoped so. Maybe this wasn't the life he'd hoped he'd lead, but at least he was doing something with it. Or trying to, at least.

The pay was decent enough. It wasn't like he had much to spend it on- fuel for his hoverbike, mostly. Clothes. He'd be able to save it up- for what, he didn't know. It wasn't like he'd have to pay any bills when he moved into the shack.

(He splurged on a biker jacket a few months in. He didn't find out until later that the red was much brighter than he thought it was, but he kept it anyways.)

He was seventeen now- a year away from aging out of the system. That he had managed to even stay in one place for three years was a new record for him, but at this point, he just figured everyone was tired of shuffling him around.

Though come to think of it, he hadn't gotten into a lot of fights since he'd moved here. It wasn't that he hadn't gotten into any- he'd still picked some, but they had never gotten quite to the point where he had ended up breaking someone's jaw.

But for the most part, he tried to keep his act clean. He just had to hold it together for long enough to age out of the system. Just one more year, and then he could be independent.

What he didn't expect was for James Griffin to walk into the shop one day. Judging from his uniform, he'd managed to get into the Galaxy Garrison. No surprise there. That teacher had been angling to get him in from the start. Probably pulled some strings after he'd missed the recruiter on account of being in the hospital.

He wasn't alone, either. The man with him was dressed in the drab gray uniform of a Garrison officer, but in so far as Keith knew, he could have been anything. All he knew was that James had recognized him right away- and that his jaw had healed up pretty nicely.

Guess having a mommy and daddy to shelve out big bucks for medical care helped. Maybe plastic surgery. He'd broken it pretty bad.

"Keith?" James nearly snorted, half in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Not even looking up, Keith wondered if he really had to dignify that with a response. He was covered with oil and tinkering with an engine. What did it look like he was doing?

"Working."

"On a Tuesday morning?" James asked. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I don't know," Keith began, "-shouldn't you?"

He didn't get to hear what James' response was, because the officer he was with cut him off. "Cadet Griffin is here with me on official business."

Official business. To a mechanics shop.

Sure, whatever.

"What did you even do, drop out of school?" James asked.

Finally looking up, Keith fought the urge to glower. "So what if I did?"

Whoever the officer he was with was, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, because he could sense a fight brewing. Subtly edging himself between the two, he cleared his throat. "So, I take it you two know each other?"

"Yeah," Keith replied, "-I'm well acquainted with his face."

James bristled at that, hand subconsciously flying up to his jaw. Unable to help himself, Keith smirked. Punching James Griffin in the face was one of those things he didn't regret.

"We used to go to school together." James said stiffly. Apparently he didn't want to own up to getting the shit beaten out of him by someone it looked like he could take.

The officer didn't look like he fully bought it, but also chose not to say anything. Wise move.

Instead, he just offered him a hand. "Name's Adam."

"Keith." He replied, holding up his own oil stained hands, Adam quickly catching the drift and lowering his own. "If you're looking for the owner, he just stepped out. Should be back in maybe ten minutes, if you want to wait."

"We'll do that, then." Adam said.

Nodding his head, Keith grabbed a rag, trying to wipe as much oil off his hands as he could. "You can wait in his office."

"Thanks, that'd be great." Adam told him.

James just silently glared at him, but apparently wasn't willing to pick a fight in front of his superior officer. Fine by him. He'd rather not risk losing this job either. His boss could be pretty understanding, but he was pretty sure even he wouldn't forgive getting into a fist fight with one of his customers.

Leading them into Tsuyoshi's office, Keith opened the door, stepping aside. "I'll let him know you're in here when he gets back. You need anything?"

"I'm fine." Adam told him. "You need anything, cadet?"

James just glared at him for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away. "No. I'm good."

Merely arching his brows, Keith frowned. "I'll just leave you two here then."

Closing the door behind him, Keith released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. It was a good thing that officer had been here, or he probably would have ended up picking a fight. Guess James hadn't changed any since he'd seen him last. It ground his gears that someone like that could be popular, but he guessed as long as the kid he picked on was the weird one, it didn't matter.

A lot of things got brushed over when you were the weird kid.

Forcing that line of thought aside, he went right back to work. Having something to focus on helped, kept him from dwelling on things he shouldn't. He barely even noticed when Tsuyoshi came back, lifting his head in greeting.

"Someone's waiting for you in your office." He told him, and that was that.

If he never had to see James again, it would be too soon.

Maybe there was some kind of higher power looking out for him, because he didn't run into James again.

Adam, on the other hand, he did.

Turned out, he was a pilot. He learned that because he turned up at the orphanage, serving as a Garrison recruiter. He was a little surprised they were going through the trouble- normally school outreach would get them all the same. But he guessed this was the city closest to the Garrison, so maybe they had stepped up their game.

There was no simulator here, though. Nobody was recruiting pilots from the orphanage. Support crew, mostly.

Either way, he listened with only half an ear. It didn't involve him. He was nearly eighteen- too old to enroll, in so far as he was concerned. He was pretty sure they wouldn't take a high school dropout anyways.

Adam noticed him, and he kind of wished he didn't. Being here spelled out too much of his backstory. So when he looked at him, he just ducked his head, avoiding his gaze. Didn't matter- he'd caught his attention, so he still came to see him after his presentation.

"Keith, right?"

Sparing him a glance, Keith merely frowned. "Yeah."

Taking a seat across from him, Adam gave him a considering look. "You interested in the Garrison?"

Looking at him straight in the eye, Keith lied. "No."

Adam didn't look like he was buying it, so Keith just sighed, scratching his head. "Doesn't matter anyways. Pretty sure I'm too old."

"There's always the late entry program." Adam told him. "Cadets are usually around fifteen, sixteen when they enroll, but they don't have to be."

He'd heard about it, sure. But again, he wasn't exactly the ideal candidate.

Reaching into his bag, Adam pulled out a pamphlet, setting it on the table. "Here. You don't have to keep it if you don't want, but give it some thought."

Frowning, Keith stared at it for a long moment, not making any move to take it. "Yeah. Sure."

That seemed to get rid of him. Once he was sure he was gone, Keith looked back down at the pamphlet, sliding it closer towards him. Thumbing it open, he scanned the first few paragraphs, before shutting it.

He remembered being five, and telling his dad that he was going to go into space one day. The man had merely given him a somber look, but he'd forgotten all about it when he'd ruffled his hair, telling him that if that was what he wanted to do, then he'd be able to do it.

Narrowing his eyes, Keith got up, pushing the pamphlet away from him. He'd missed his chance- if he'd ever had one. He didn't know what had sparked Adam to talk to him, but whatever it was, it didn't matter.

Besides, if he enrolled now, he'd just be ranked under James. And no way was he dealing with that.

He turned eighteen to the backdrop of the failure of the Kerberos mission.

It doesn't effect him, not directly. But that's also a lie, because Colleen's husband and son were on that mission, and now they're gone. She's hurt and in pain, and he knows that feeling- he felt it when he lost his father, just as sudden and confusing as things are now. The Garrison said it was a pilot error, but won't specify any further than that.

There's rumors though. That the pilot, Takashi Shirogane, had some kind of muscle defect. They've already started to blame it on that.

Keith doesn't know what to think. He'd always been kind of impressed by him, the way he tore through ranks, earning prestige. It was that kind of dogged determination that he could admire, and yet, he never seemed boastful about it, at least, not from his public appearances. And while he knew that there were those who could put on a facade for the sake of the public, he didn't think that's what he was like.

He'd never know, not really. He'd missed his one chance at meeting him. Just because Plaht City was close to the Garrison, didn't mean that everyone from the Garrison went there. It was pretty big, easy to miss people.

Part of him just thought the Garrison was looking for an easy excuse. He doesn't know why, it just feels that way to him.

He kept wanting to say something to Colleen, but he never could think of anything. Before he knew it, it was too late- he'd turned eighteen, officially too old to continue to stay at the orphanage. It's what he'd been wanting, so he doesn't complain, but he does wish the timing could be a bit better.

In the end, he left without saying anything to her.

Just like he planned, he moved into the shack. It was hard going at first, but he got used to it quickly. There was no electricity, but it's fine. He can charge his phone at work, and it's not like he uses it much- mostly just as an alarm clock.

He bought a camp stove, and learned how to use it. Picking up groceries on the way back from work is easy, and he never had to save anything that's not non-perishable if he just made enough food for that night. He's pretty sure he can hunt if he really has to, but he never does.

He took to wearing his father's knife. He'd found an old belt in the shack that used to belong to him, the one he'd always used to wear, complete with its sheath. He had to adjust it a bit to get it to fit- compared to his father, he was downright scrawny. But the weight of his father's knife- his knife, now- at his back was somehow familiar in a way he couldn't explain.

There's still running water at the shack, somehow. It takes awhile to get the rust out, and he doesn't dare drink it, but it's good enough for everything else. He just buys bottled water in town and drinks that- he's always seemed to need comparatively less of it than other people, like he's able to preserve it better or something.

Who knew, maybe he could. If there's one thing he knows for sure, it's that his body is weird. He doesn't know why, just that it is.

At this point, he's just stopped questioning it. Maybe he's a mutant. He doesn't know. He just doesn't care. All he knows is that it's just the source of most of his problems. Maybe if he hadn't been marked as an abnormality so early on, someone might have actually wanted him.

Sometimes he would swing by the orphanage, with the intent of helping out with the younger kids. The matron had looked at him suspiciously the first time- like she'd expected him to just vanish into thin air the moment he left her doorstep. But then she had just shrugged, and admitted that they could use the help, and if he was willing to give it, then so be it.

Contrary to appearances, he could be pretty good with them. Mostly because he knew what it felt like to be in their shoes. That had been him, once.

He doesn't hate them either- though given the choice, he'd rather not deal with babies. But the slightly older ones... yeah, those he can handle just fine.

He wasn't sure if he could call himself a success story or not. He'd dropped out of school at sixteen and lived out of a shack in the desert. Maybe he wasn't some kind of ace pilot cadet, a rising star at the Galaxy Garrison- but to be honest, was he ever going to be?

No, of course not. That wasn't for him.

From the roof of his shack, he could see whenever they did a launch. He couldn't see the landing pad from it, but he got a pretty good view of the shuttles and the probes they sent up.

They sent up a lot of probes after the Kerberos mission failure. Not so many shuttles.

In truth, he'd been hoping to catch Colleen when he'd gone back the first time. He still felt bad about leaving without saying anything, but by the time he finally got around to swinging by the orphanage, she'd already stopped coming. Something about her only daughter running away.

He was worried about her, but he didn't know if there was anything he could do about it. He posted Katie Holt's missing persons poster to the corkboard in his shack, just in the off chance he saw her. After losing her father and brother so suddenly, he didn't doubt she was going through some stuff too- but running away sounded a little extreme.

...yeah, he'd admit that coming from the dropout who lived in a desert shack, that sounded a bit hypocritical.

But look- he'd made a lot of mistakes in his life. He knew that. But that didn't mean other people had to.

Tsuyoshi's son disappeared, alongside two other cadets.

It's a huge scandal, but all he can think about is the somber look on the man's face. He'd never gotten a chance to meet his son, Hunk, but he knew just how close they were as a family.

He wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything. He's not good at this sort of thing. He can deal with scraped knees and bruised knuckles, but he's not good at words. He never has been.

So he just says nothing. Better that than accidentally saying something he shouldn't.

The mood in Plaht City is understandably tense. Even he notices. He just tries his best to ignore it. He might have one degree of separation from it, but at the end of the day, it still doesn't directly effect him, and there's nothing he can do about it.

He does hear the rumors, though. Some say something crashed into the desert that night. He wouldn't know. He'd come down with a fever, one that hadn't broke until the following afternoon. He was pretty sure he'd spent the entire day in and out of consciousness, half delirious with it.

(In the throes of his fever, sometimes he felt like something was calling to him. It was just the fever, he knew- once it broke, the feeling was gone.)

But tense as it was, life went on. It did after the Kerberos disaster, and it did now. For his part, he just continued as he normally did.

Which didn't mean he never did anything out of his usual pattern. Sometimes he'd catch a movie in town. Sometimes he'd grab a coffee and just sit around, watching people. It was a good place to sit and sketch- he's not very good at it, but it's relaxing, so he liked it. It's not like the coffee does anything for him- he's seemingly immune to the effects of caffeine- he just likes the taste.

(Bitter, like his soul, some part of him that is still an edgy fourteen year old relates. Which is stupid, because he's not actually that bitter.)

Which is how he ended up meeting Veronica.

"This seat taken?"

Glancing up, Keith frowned, closing the sketchbook out of habit. He's a little surprised, to be honest- normally he gave off the kind of vibe that made people not want to approach him. It wasn't his fault that his resting expression was that of a glower, but he didn't exactly always mind the effects.

He wanted to say no, but the coffee shop was crowded, and she looked like she's had better days, so he just nodded his head. Taking that as the yes he meant it to be, she grabbed a chair, before basically collapsing in it.

After which she set down the single largest mug of coffee Keith has ever seen.

Yeah. Definitely had better days.

"Thanks." She told him. "Don't really feel like going back to work quite yet."

Now that she'd mentioned it, he can't help but notice she's wearing a Garrison uniform. Again, no surprise. But Plaht City is just a little far to be ditching work.

"You're with the Garrison?" Keith asked.

Glancing up at him, she nodded. "Yeah. Analyst."

Taking a sip of his coffee, he debated if he should leave. Give her the whole table. Except she might just think he's being rude, and that's only an impression he wants to give off when he actually is being rude. And he's already started talking to her, so...

"I'm Keith."

And nobody asked.

Fortunately, she just gave him a weak smile- and not the kind that makes it seem like she's wondering why this creep is talking to her. "Veronica McClain."

McClain. He feels like he knows that surname from somewhere, but he can't place it.

"So, what do you do?" Veronica asked.

"I uh, work at a mechanic shop." Keith told her. "Right now I'm on break."

"Yeah, me too." Veronica agreed. "The part about being on break. I do not, in fact, work at a mechanics."

He quirked a faint smile at that. "Isn't Plaht City a little far to go on break?"

"Between you and me, I'm avoiding work right now." Veronica admitted. "Got into just a bit of a tiff with one of my superior officers."

"So you're hiding." Keith said.

"I'm hiding." Veronica agreed. "In my defense, it was totally justified."

Arching a brow, Keith tilted his head. "Yeah?"

Nodding her head, Veronica takes a sip- or rather, a gulp- of her coffee. "Yeah."

He got the feeling she wasn't going to specify, which was fine by him. He just drank his own coffee, debating resuming his doodling. But no- there was a reason he never drew when he'd been in foster homes.

Unfortunately, Veronica noticed it. "You draw?"

Inwardly wincing, Keith nodded his head. "Just a hobby."

Tilting her head, Veronica peered at him over the brim of her glasses. She looked curious, and for a second he was afraid that she might press, but instead she just let out a faint hum, leaning back in her chair. "Good hobby."

Letting out a breath, his shoulders slumped. She must have caught it out of the corner of her eye, because she just let out a faint laugh. "You don't have to worry. I grew up with three younger siblings. I can tell when someone doesn't have to share."

He didn't miss the way her face fell a little as she said that.

"Just personal." Keith told her. "But thanks."

Nodding her head, Veronica took another huge gulp of her coffee, before heaving a sigh. "Guess I'd better get back to work. You'd swear someone stuck something up Admiral Sanda's ass."

He wished he hadn't been drinking his own coffee when she said that, because he was pretty sure he choked on it. She just looked at him with a wry grin, brow arched in amusement. "Let's just keep that between you and me."

"Somehow I don't think that'll be a problem." Keith told her. "Did you really come out all this way just for a cup of coffee, though? It's like, half an hour from here to the Garrison."

"You ever try the Garrison's coffee?" Veronica asked.

That should have been obvious. "...no?"

"Good," she said, "-don't. It sucks."

"Duly noted." Keith said.

Picking up her coffee, Veronica just gave him a faint smile. "Maybe I'll see you some other time, Keith."

"Yeah," Keith said, kind of doubting it, "-maybe."

It was only after she left that it hit him. Veronica McClain. As in, Lance McClain, one of the three vanished cadets.

Three younger siblings.

Leaning back in his chair, he couldn't help but think that now all he needed to do was meet one of Pidge Gunderson's relatives, and he'd have collected the whole set.

(He already had, but he'd find that out much, much later.)