Warnings:

Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Relationship:

Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Characters:

Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Space Mice (Voltron)

Additional Tags:

I hesitated tagging the warnings because really it's all just hinted at, based on real life, my life, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Healing, married, future-ish, I guess dark fluff? Does that exist? They're just being domestic, and Lance is slowly feeling like he's dying inside while Keith is gone, But the mice are good little friends and know when to cuddle with their blue paladin, I swear, animals can sense when people need them, nothing graphic happens or is explicitly said, it's all implied and super vague, If I had a spirit animal it would be the majestic Lance-icorn

Notes:

As I said in the tags; this is based on real life, my life. And I hesitated tagging the warnings because really it's all just hinted at. I don't remember enough about the incident to have been able to add enough detail to warrant it, but I wanted to cover all my bases.

I needed to get this out of my system and I'm shit at dealing with my own emotions. Granted I did change a few things because obviously, I'm not in space. And I'm not male. But I really can't write girls as main characters all that well, and I really wanted to write a pairing I liked. I hadn't really intended it to be Voltron, but it worked out because I really can relate a lot to Lance. Like, if I had a spirit animal, it would be the majestic Lance-icorn. Lance in this fic is me and Keith is in place of my husband. (who is currently also gone, out on deployment) The space mice are my cat. I'm an emotional mess (or rather a lack there of emotions = mess) so if Lance seems disconnected or just kinda off in some places, that's just because I'm like that in those situations. I've really only ever told my closest friends about what happened when I was little, and even then it took me forever to work up the courage to do even that much. Not that I told them the whole story, just that it had happened. My mom actually told my husband, when we were engaged, about it, I couldn't even be in the room at the time. Like, this whole thing, was spurred on by my having a nightmare.

I'm sorry Lance, my child, I don't mean to be so mean to you!

I didn't beta this, I just wanted to get it out of my system as soon as possible, I was kinda hoping that writing about it like this would help, so. *crosses fingers*

~ Evi

Honestly, he didn't remember anything about it now. The whole thing was just one big blank space in his brain, slowly creeping and consuming other bits and pieces of his childhood until it was all really just a haze in the back of his mind. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time, too young to know differently. To know that what was happening wasn't right. Shouldn't be happening. Should never happen. But he trusted this man. Had known him for his whole life. He had been family. He had figured that he knew best, would never hurt him.

He had been wrong.

When it had happened, it had felt like they were playing a game. " You have to keep it a secret" He had said. "It's our little secret, you can't tell anybody." And he liked secrets, he liked playing games.

Years later, when he was older, he couldn't remember how old now, one of his little sisters came forth about the man having done something to her, his mother didn't want to believe it. Then another one of his younger sisters. And he sat there, just thinking. "Why would he do that?" They had taken him to court, but he was an old man by now, wouldn't last long in jail. So they had only given him the bare minimum, even after confessing to all three accounts. Five years in prison and a restraining order after he got out. He would never see that man again. Five years didn't seem enough though. He had felt betrayed by the man. Felt sick. Couldn't really process fully what he was feeling. He just knew what the man had done to him was wrong now, and he just wanted to cry. Because he still didn't remember it. And a part of him said he didn't want to remember it. That remembering it would hurt more than just knowing it had happened.

He hadn't been able to go to the trial.

Hadn't been able to stomach the idea of sitting in that room, listening to what that man had done to him, having all those eyes on him. Pitying him. Knowing things about him that he couldn't even remember. He couldn't confirm or deny if the man was even telling the truth when his mother told him what he had said. He had just shrugged and secluded himself away. He never told anyone though. Had never felt the need to share such a secret. It was no one's business but his own. It was irrelevant when he knew they would ask questions that he had no way of answering. They would assume he was lying and that he was just saying these things to get attention.

As if he would ever stoop so low as to claiming he had been sexually assaulted just for the attention. He was a lot of thing, would do nearly anything to have eyes on him at all times. But never that. What kind of person would? And so, he lived his life normally. Knowing, yet not. He had thought about it a number of time, asking himself if it would be better to know. Asking himself if he was prepared to look back, to try and put that haze into focus and remember the incident. It had happened so long ago though. Over such a great length of time. He didn't know when it had started, when it had stopped, he didn't know what he was even looking for. And so, he had decided that, no, he wasn't going to remember it. If it came back to him, it came back to him.

It never did.

It had always bothered him, when his friends would tell stories of their childhood and he could only say so much. Could only remember anything after the age of twelve. Before that was just blank. They would just give him funny looks and shrug it off, probably assuming that he just didn't want to tell them embarrassing stories. His mother would tell him stories though. He had told her he couldn't remember and she was determined to help, but when he turned sixteen, he stopped trying to listen. It had been ten years, he didn't want to know. If that man had tainted all of those fun memories with his family, he didn't want them back.

Before he had gone off to the Garrison with Hunk, his mother had sat him down and told him, that even if he didn't remember, it could still be triggered by something and it could come back. If he found someone who he was serious about, she had advised him to tell them. To let them know why if he ever freaked out about something for seemingly no reason. It made sense. But that would mean telling someone a weakness he didn't even fully understand. And if he was that serious about someone, was close enough that he could tell them, would they still want him afterwards? He had vowed then, to himself, that he wouldn't find anyone serious like that. He didn't want to tell anyone.

And so he never did. Hunk often asked why he only ever seemed to go after the wrong people when he knew that Lance wanted something serious. Knew it was something that his best friend craved, but would never go after. Because he couldn't. Couldn't bring himself to find someone like that. They could hurt him too. He wasn't ready for that.

And then it had happened. In space of all places. A year after they had left Earth, they were both eighteen. He fell in love. With Keith of all people. Keith, the hotheaded, rash, impulsive, quick to assume, emotionally fragile, red paladin. And he was head over heels for him. They both were for each other. He remembered what his mother had told him. That he should tell whoever he was serious about, about what happened. And he wanted to.

Except that he didn't.

Except that, what if Keith judged him for it? Shunned him because of it? Saw him differently? Saw him as dirty or tainted, or just, decided he wasn't worth the time and effort anymore? He was so happy, he didn't want to be abandoned. He couldn't answer any of the questions he knew that Keith would have. And so he didn't say anything.

Not for another two years. He was twenty now, they were seriously in love and he knew Keith deserved to know. But any time he opened his mouth to say it, he couldn't. How would he even bring it up? He felt like no matter how he said it, it would blindside him. And whenever he finally thought that maybe he could say it, an alarm would go off and they would all have to go out and form Voltron, save the universe, again. God, they had been doing this for so long. Zarkon had been defeated, but his son, Lotor, was a little trickier. They were still fighting him.

Until one night when he finally found the nerve to tell him.

"K-Keith." He had stuttered as they were lying on his bed cuddling, watching a movie. Keith only turned his head slightly, enough that he could see he had Keith's attention. He sucked in a breath and paused the movie for a second. He had to say this. He had to get it off his chest. Keith and he had been talking about getting married. He deserved to know. Keith had furrowed his brow at that but didn't comment on the movie.

"Yeah? What is it Lance?"

"I need … I need to tell you something. About me. And … I don't want you to think any different of me, but you really should know." He rambled, his face heating up and his chest constricting. This was terrifying. He knew Keith would never actually leave him. But that didn't stop him from worrying about it. Keith just hummed in question and let the arm Lance was laying on relax, his hand stroking up and down Lance's arm. It was a simple gesture, but it helped a little. Though, at the same time, it just made him want to cry and bury himself under the blankets and die. He hadn't had any sort of episode yet, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen in the future. He knew that. But he really didn't want Keith to break up with him just because he had something happen to him when he was six that he couldn't even remember.

"Know what?" Keith prompted when he had been quiet too long. Caught up in his own paranoia.

"When I was little … something happened to me," He started after another minute of two. God, this was so much harder than he thought it was going to be, but he couldn't stop now. "And, I don't really remember it, like, at all, but I know vaguely what happened because he told us." And he sucked in a deep breath, could feel himself starting to shake. "So, I know you'll have questions, but I probably won't have the answers." He pushed on. Keith furrowed his brow deeper and moved to sit up, to look at Lance fully.

"What happened?" And fuck if he didn't sound like he was entirely focused on him. The one time Lance didn't want all the attention on him. He pulled himself fully upright as well.

"My - my mother, told me, before I left for the garrison, that if I found someone I was serious about, like you. I'm super serious about us Keith, that they would deserve to know. And, she's right, but I just don't want you to think any different of me." Lance rambled. He felt Keith's warm hand on his thigh and he realized that he had closed his eyes, opening them once more he looked up to see Keith staring at him seriously.

"I'm serious about us too Lance, whatever you have to tell me, I'm sure it won't affect how I feel about you, about us. I mean, when we found out I was part Galra you said it didn't matter and that you still loved me. If we can get over that, I'm sure whatever this is, we can get over it too." And that made Lance's heart clench even more, because he was right. But he still felt paranoid.

"When, when I was six, I was … sexually assaulted." He couldn't look Keith in the eyes as he spoke, his voice quieter than he could ever remember it being. He felt the hand on his thigh still and he knew without even looking that Keith was tense. He could feel the difference in the sheets, the tell-tale sign that Keith was bunching his hands in the soft fabric to ground himself.

"The man who did it was caught, a long time later, and tried, on two other accounts … my two younger sisters. One of them came forward about it. But I never went to the trial. They were braver than I was, he admitted to everything." And Lance couldn't help but feel like he was forcing the words out, passed lips that didn't want to move. And He felt his eyes start to sting. No. He wasn't going to cry dammit! This had happened so long ago, he didn't even remember it, why should he feel so vulnerable while telling Keith? Except that he did. He was. He was opening himself up to Keith, letting him know something he hadn't even been brave enough to tell Hunk.

"He admitted to touching my sister how she described, and to touching me, more intimately. For longer. My mother told me some of the things he admitted to doing." It was hard to breath and he felt a sob trying to escape. "But I still don't remember any of it. Anything before the age of twelve really." And suddenly Keith was surrounding him. Hugging him close and kissing away the tears he hadn't even known had started spilling down his cheeks. He was hugging him tight to his chest. "I, I trusted him Keith. He was family, and I just … I remember thinking nothing of it at the time. That's the only thing about the whole thing that I do know. He said it was a game, and that I couldn't tell anyone." And yeah, now he definitely felt the tears.

"Family?" Keith questions almost a whisper, and had they not been so close to each other Lance might not have caught it.

"My step grandfather." He answered just as quietly.

"I hope he rots in prison." Keith muttered dangerously and Lance could only shake his head. The man had be released from jail already.

"He only got sentenced to five years. He was old and they said he could die in there. But he only served part of that, got out for good behavior before I went to the Garrison." He took in a shaking breath.

"If I ever meet this son of a bitch, I'll kill him myself." Keith growled and that really did help. Lance leaned in and nuzzled his face into the crook of Keith's neck, just sitting there, sobbing. The movie long since forgotten about. They sat there like that the rest of the night, Keith just holding Lance to him as he cried. He assured him that he still loved him, and that he would never let anything like that ever happen again. That this changed nothing between them, nothing about how Keith felt about him, other than maybe more protective. That if ever he felt triggered or scared that Lance should tell him immediately. That he never wanted to hurt him, ever.

After that, Keith hadn't ever brought it up again. And Neither had Lance. Hadn't even thought about it since.

Until another two years later.

When Keith was off on an away mission.

He had to escort some important alien dignitaries halfway across the current galaxy that they were in. And they weren't entirely sure how long it would take. They had gotten married by now, and Lance knew Keith would come back to him no matter what. But that didn't change the fact that he missed Keith like nothing else. Worried about him even though he knew he was perfectly safe since they had defeated Lotor the year before. He couldn't help it, and sure, they talked whenever they could. Keith would call from the red lion and Lance would sit in Blue the two would talk for as long as possible. Usually only about ten doboshes before something would come up and Keith would have to go, but occasionally they got in an entire varga. It had been nearly three months now though, and Keith had just started his journey back. It would be faster now that it was just him and Red, but it was still a long time. And the times that they were able to talk were waning. As it stood Keith had only been able to call for maybe four doboshes last night, only enough to update him on the situation; the airspace that he was going to be flying through was known to scramble signals so he wouldn't be able to talk for almost a week if he wanted to make it back as soon as possible. The transmission was already starting to cut out by that point, and Keith had only managed to hurriedly say; "I love you." before the transmission cut out completely.

The next night he had gone to sleep late, having not been able to sleep. With Keith gone, his sleep schedule was a complete mess. He missed having him in his bed with him, snuggling with him, kissing him, hugging him, laughing with him, just being together in general. And that took it's toll. That night though, as he laid there in bed, he dreamed. He was back in his grandmother's home, on earth, it was familiar, same, but slightly different. He walked through the cold concrete basement towards the laundry room. It was dark and he couldn't find the pull cord to turn the lights on. He had his phone in one hand and a bag of some sort in his other, laundry he would assume, since that's where he was headed. It was cold, and dream Lance felt a breeze, something didn't feel right. And since when had this support beam been here? Why was it so tight to squeeze past? He didn't remember that. Then he dropped his phone in the darkness, the sound not even registering at all in the pitch black. He picked it back up, looking it over he noticed a small crack in the screen that hadn't been there before. He sighed, great.

Once he was able to pull himself through the tight space he walked through the separating doorway between the laundry room and the basement proper. He still couldn't find the light pull cord, and it was dark, and cold. Then he saw why, the door was open. There, at the far end was the basement door, sitting ajar and a small light on the other side probably from the kitchen windows, the room just above him. But then as he went over to close it, a sense of dread filled him. He didn't know what it was until he saw the movement from the corner of his eye. The dream spun and everything was now engulfed in light. He was being pressed against a bed, a bed that had never been down in that cold damp basement that Lance could ever remember. And above him, holding him there, was the old and visibly angry form of his step grandfather.

"It's been sixteen years." the man above him smiled and tries to lunge at him. And suddenly Lance feels like that little six year old boy again. He starts freaking out, kicking, screaming, flailing any body part he can move. And with all his years as a paladin of Voltron, one elderly human man should be nothing, but he can't fight him off. He's trapped and his screaming sounds pitiful, no one would hear the weak sounds spilling from his lips, no one would come to his rescue. The only thing he can think is; Keith! Please, Keith, help me! He can't say it out loud, his voice not working for anything other than the pathetic quiet screams of protest. The man above him has him by the right wrist and the left ankle, his right foot is pressed as firmly as he can manage against the other man's chest. And then he sees it.

Down those impossibly steep stairs that he's always hated, always thought he would fall unless he scooted down them on his butt or clung tightly to the side railing, were two legs, hurrying as fast as they could, and then the legs gave way to a torso, and even sooner after, a face. Keith. Keith was there to save him!

"Help me! Get him off!" he cried, and he saw Keith's anger flare, he saw Keith run down the remaining steps to get to them, but that was when he woke up. His eyes out of focus and his breathing deceptively calm. He hadn't thought about that man in so long. Even when telling Keith about him, he had done his best just to recount the facts and not actually think of the man who had committed those acts. Not to imagine the tan skin against his own. Not to think about how he used to, once upon a time, truly love that man, because he was family, about how now his mother couldn't even say his name. Just referring to him as "that man." About the pain in his chest when after he had been locked up, he disparagingly still wanted to call the man family, even though he knew he had no reason to. That his mother had said she was glad his grandmother had passed before this had all been brought out into the light. Memories of his mother saying that, how everyone had cut their ties to him. It took Lance a very long time. Because he didn't remember. He didn't have the raw emotion to just forget about someone who he used to be so close to. Even though he knew what happened. Knew he had more than enough reason. But finally he had been able to, and now, here he was laying in bed, eyes wide as a wave of emotion he couldn't quite pin down washed over him.

It was like everything was back then. He felt scared, sure, shaken even. He wanted nothing more than to turn over and cuddle with Keith, have him hold him close and tight and run his fingers through his hair until he felt safe enough to go back to sleep. For Keith to tell him that everything would be alright. That that man couldn't get him again. Could never touch him again. He knew it was an irrational fear, he was in space for fuck's sake. That man was nowhere near anywhere Lance could be. Ever. Until they went back to Earth. No. That was the wrong train of thought. He silently got up, his body feeling light yet heavy at the same time. It was an odd feeling, something else he couldn't name. But he needed something else to focus on, rather than that dream.

He walked all the way to the kitchen, drew a glass of water, and chugged it. It helped, but only a little. But what else could he do? It was roughly three in the morning, no one was going to be up yet, not like there was anyone else but Keith that he could talk to. And he would be out of range to talk to for another few days. Not that he wanted to admit to this over the comms where any of the others could potentially hear them if they did so choose to snoop. No, this would have to wait until Keith got back so they could talk in person. And maybe by then, he would forget about it? Shaking his head he set the glass down in the cleaner contraption that wasn't quite a dishwasher, rather than a hole in the counter that sucked up the dirty dishes you left on the port.

He walked back to his room slowly, trepidation gnawing away at him more with every step he took, as if just going back there was enough to cause him to have that dream again. But he was still tired, and he did need sleep. He pressed his hand to the panel, the door hissing open as soon as it registered him as one of the two proper inhabitants. Lance stepped inside and no sooner had he crossed the threshold, was it that he felt all exhaustion leave his body. He knew it was still there, had felt it just a second ago. So he laid down on the bed, a feeling of weightlessness of sorts in his bones. He just laid there. Head on the pillow, eyes gazing at nothing but the spot on the ceiling directly above him, hand resting wearily on top of the blanket over his chest. He felt like he should cry, but couldn't. Felt like he almost wanted to, because Keith wasn't here. He wasn't here, and he should have been. Couldn't be, because of a mission. And of course this was the one time these thoughts chose to surface, when Keith was gone, and couldn't come home fast enough for Lance to reasonably tell himself he would be okay to wait.

But then there was a small pressure high on his chest. He looked down and there, curling up in a small little pile on his chest, were the mice. The smallest one deciding to forego the pile and nudged himself under Lance's right hand, butting his head against Lance's middle and index fingers, as if he knew that Lance needed the emotional support right now and was offering his company. He made himself comfortable, just as the other mice did in their small pile near his chin. He smiled to them.

"Thanks guys. Please don't tell Allura though, okay?" and the little mouse nodded. It wasn't the same as having Keith there to help him through it, but it was a small comfort. If he still felt uneasy the next night then he might possibly enlist their help once again then.

Notes:

I usually try to reply to comments when I can, but I'm not sure I will be able to for this fic. I will do my best, but it's a touchy subject for me, so if I don't reply, please don't be upset. Just know that if you liked or appreciated this work, I'm very grateful.

~ Evi