Summary: It was supposed to be simple mission: infiltrate the base, extract the information, leave before anyone even notices they were there.

It doesn't quite go as planned.

A/N: may still be prone to changes due to editing


If you're lucky, you'll see a meteor and think it's beautiful. You'll admire its graceful arc across a velvet sky, leaving a fiery streak of white, orange and red against deep, dark blue. You'll see its glowing path momentarily blot out any stars as it flies past before they come through again with their own persistent light.

If you're a little less lucky, you'll see a meteor and marvel at it from afar, until you realise something isn't quite right. You'll see its fire much too close, and your admiration will turn to naked fear as you hold your breath and hope against hope that it will pass without damage. You're blotted out like the stars as it burns past you, only for you to flare up in relief when it's gone.

And if your luck has completely deserted you, a crater will stand where everything you knew and loved used to be, an endless black hole that sucks you right in until that's all you now possess.


Lance curses and ducks behind a sturdy stonewall. Less than a tick later, it shakes and vibrates with the impact of several deadly laser shots. Maybe not so sturdy after all, he thinks grimly, as spider web-thin lines fissure across the rock behind his head. They're cornered with nowhere to go, time fast running out.

"We need a plan." Keith says lowly from beside him, bayard cradled to his chest. There's not much he can do without going in close, and Lance thanks his lucky stars that, for once, Keith is willing to let him do the fighting. Lance nods and wipes at his sweaty forehead, adding a streak of dirt on top of the grime.

"Yeah. You got one?"

Keith doesn't reply right away and for a second Lance assumes it's because he's thinking; he glances over at his partner only to see he's not there anymore. Lance's eyes widen in alarm and his head swivels as he tries to spot him. A cut off scream and some clattering noise catch his attention from an almost invisible crack in the rocky interface of the cliff, and he's up to investigate it in a flash. Barely even checking if the coast is clear, Lance runs.

The gap between their temporary cover and the source of the noise in minimal, but the Galra are nothing if not vigilant. Shots rain down on Lance and he counts himself as double lucky when only a single one grazes the outside of his leg. He does one of those cool stunts you see in the movies, where you roll over your shoulder and land on your feet, and then he's out of sight. Lance allows himself a proud little grin before he realises that, while the shots may have ceased, their safety is far from guaranteed; thundering footsteps are closing in on them, and he knows their time is up.

"Keith!" he hisses into the dark alcove, tone urgent. He only hears his own words echoed back at him. One tick goes by, two – then there are sounds of a scuffle and some indistinct, muffled whispering. It sounds like Keith. Lance narrows his eyes, "Keith, we have to go –"

"Lance, get in here!" Keith calls, annoyingly commanding. Lance rolls his eyes, ignoring the immeasurable relief flooding him at the sure evidence that he's safe, but acknowledges the pressing undertone his voice carries, and obeys.

"We don't have time for this –", he starts, blinking when he rounds a corner and an unexpected light shines directly into his eyes. He holds up a hand to shield his face until he can finally see something other than bright white. "What the – who is that?"

Keith is bent over something – someone. He has his sword out and pointed threateningly at the creature's, an alien most likely, neck. He moves aside, leaving the blade where it is, to allow Lance a proper look. The light – a lantern floating above the alien's head – flickers, illuminating it.

It doesn't look quite like anything he has seen before, the closest comparison being something distinctly fish-like. Its round eyes have no lids and are completely black, like gigantic, shiny marbles, which protrude slightly from the sides of a head covered in smooth, moist-looking skin. It has no scales or hair, no nose, or even teeth, but it does have two long, whisker-like things set above its wide, gaping mouth. They curl and float in the air, a bit of a creepy sight, but the alien seems scared, if anything. Lance can see it trembling from where he's standing, its body curled up in an attempt to protect itself. He stares down at it with a frown.

"It's with the Galra." Keith lifts the sword a little, the tip of it tapping the blinking symbol on the thick shackle around the alien's neck. Its gills flutter at the motion, and it whimpers. Lance steps forward, laying his hand on the handle of Keith's sword. The lantern pulses softly, making the skinned patches on the parts of its body not covered by some kind of dirt coloured cloth, visible. Lance can't help but feel sorry for it.

"It's harmless. Put that away, you're scaring it."

He doesn't wait for Keith to do what he tells him to, crouching down so he's on eye level with the poor thing.

"Hey." he starts gently. Keith's hand lands on his shoulder, pulling at him.

"What do you think you're doing? It could be dangerous!" he argues, staring at the alien in suspicion as Lance glares up at him. His sword is still extended, his grip on it still tense even though it now hangs by his side.

"Dangerous? Have you looked at it?" Lance looks back at it, tone gentling and smiling. "What's your name?"

His teeth glint in the light and the alien jerks away from him, making an alarmed sort of trilling noise. Its mouth opens wide, rows of razor-sharp teeth shooting out from its jaws. Lance jumps up, backing away a few steps. He bumps into Keith who grunts at the impact.

"Watch it!"

"It – are you seeing –" Lance stammers, staring at him wide-eyed. He looks back at the alien who is back to cowering, face hidden by its body. " – did you see its teeth ?"

Keith frowns at him, corners of his mouth turned downwards.

"I told you it was dangerous." is all he says, once again stepping forward and lifting his bayard. Lance steps in his way, closing one hand around the wrist of Keith's sword hand. Keith glowers at him, tugging to try and free himself, but Lance doesn't budge. He meets his gaze with a glare of his own.

"No! I think it's scared."

Lance takes another look at the alien who is peeking at the two of them from between webbed fingers. Three per hand, he absentmindedly notes. It sinks further into itself as Lance approaches it yet again. Reminding himself to not show his teeth since that seems to have triggered the alien's reaction just now, he sinks to his knees beside it.

"I'm Lance." he points at himself, giving it a close-mouthed smile as he does his best to sound friendly. Then he jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Keith. "And that asshole over there is Keith."

"Hey!"

Keith's protest is nearly drowned out by the sound of the Galra army approaching, their clattering armour echoing just outside the alcove and accompanied by shouted orders. All three of them look toward the entrance; all that separates them from the outside is a bend in the small tunnel leading to where they are. It's only by sheer luck that they haven't been discovered yet.

"We have to go. Now." Keith says, face grim as he turns and grabs the alien by the arm. The Alien squeaks but doesn't try to free itself.

"You're only realising that now?", Lance asks rhetorically, standing up, then adds, annoyed, "And don't be so rough!" He goes to pry Keith's fingers from the alien, when it finally speaks.

"There's another exit that way." Its voice is low and guttural, full of clicking noises, as it points behind itself at a boulder. "It hides a path out of here."

Lance stares at it in astonishment while Keith only narrows his eyes at it in suspicion.

"Why should we trust you?" he asks, tone dripping with wariness. The alien stares back expressionlessly; or at least Lance assumes it's expressionless as there is no way he can tell if it's smiling or glaring or anything else.

"Do you have a choice?"

"I can hear voices from over there!" a Galran soldier shouts as if on cue. Lance and Keith glance at each other, then at the alien.

"Doesn't look like it." Lance comments casually, ignoring the venomous look Keith sends him. He nods at the alien. "Lead the way."

The alien nods back and turns, giving Keith another stare when he doesn't let go. Keith's grip only becomes stronger.

"I'm not letting you escape." he tells it, voice steely. It makes a tutting sound, half trembling, half resigned. Ignoring him hanging onto its arm, it moves the boulder with impressively little effort, exposing a dark, narrow tunnel. Lance catches himself hoping that Keith isn't right and that it really is just a nice, harmless sort; he really doesn't want to have to fight superhuman strength outside of his Lion.

The alien's lantern floats forward, illuminating the first few meters, when it tilts its head, and he suddenly realises it's not a lantern at all but a kind of glowing antennae attached to the top of the alien's skull. There's no time to marvel at the revelation though, the Galra closing in with loud shouting and laser shots from just around the corner. Lance's eyes widen comically as he all but shoves the two of them into the tunnel.

"Gogogo!" he yells, turning to fire at the first wave of soldiers. The sole advantage of the small size of the cave, is that only a few can squeeze in at once. It gives Lance enough time to provide a few moments of cover which he uses to fire as many shots as he can at the ceiling before turning tail and fleeing.

They run, the sound of rumbling rock raining down on Galra soldiers echoing in their ears.

- O -

An immeasurable amount of time later, though Lance estimates it to have been a good few hours as the sky has darkened, they are in another cave with a small fire between them. It's a good distance away from the base he and Keith had been assigned to infiltrate, something they have Keith to thank for as he kept pushing until the alien was physically unable to travel any further. Lance can tell he's still antsy, alternating his focus between the alien and their surroundings, and he likely would have gladly put even more distance between them and the Galra, had Lance not insisted on letting the alien rest. It helped them, after all. It couldn't be that bad.

His gaze travels over to the alien sitting a bit further away from the fire than the two of them. They're still none the wiser about what its name or species is as it hasn't made any attempt to speak ever since their escape through the tunnel. Lance also has to admit it's making him a bit uncomfortable to keep referring to the alien as 'it'. The softly glowing symbol on its shackle catches Lance's attention when it begins to blink.

"Are you a prisoner of the Galra?" he asks, interrupting the silence interspersed with the crackling of fire. The alien hunches its narrow shoulders, making it look smaller. Its lantern forlornly bounces a little, casting dancing shadows across its face.

"I was." it replies after a few moments, voice raspy. Keith leans forward from beside Lance, obviously interested, but it offers no more than that. Lance ploughs ahead anyway, too curious for more information on their new friend and too starved for conversation other than with the rest of the Paladins, Allura or Coran.

"How long?"

"I don't remember."

"What did you get arrested for?" The alien stiffens, clearly uncomfortable, so Lance hastily backtracks. "Never mind that. Say, you never told us your name."

It almost looks like it won't answer, its eyes focused on the flames which dance across their inky surface.

"Ptoq." it finally says, tone thoughtful. "They never called us by our names...it's been a very long time. But my name is Ptoq."

"Ptoq." Lance repeats, grimacing at his horrible pronounciation. "Sorry."

Ptoq makes a sound between a wail and a snort, and it sounds so bizarre Lance can only stare for a few moments until he realises it's a laugh. He grins, then quickly turns it into a close-mouthed smile.

"Thanks for rescuing us earlier." Lance nudges Keith in the side, looking at him meaningfully. "Don't you have something to say to Ptoq?"

Keith side-eyes him, then sighs in annoyance. He turns to them, not saying anything at first, but then finally speaks.

"Thank you." He pauses, sounding as if it pains him what he's about to say, but then continues grudgingly, "We would have been in a big mess if you hadn't helped us out."

Lance purses his lips, about to point out that he had meant an apology, but Ptoq nods once.

"I would have been too."

There's a short lull in conversation during which Lance can practically hear the gears turning in Keith's head and the audible click when he has reached a conclusion.

"How did you manage to get out of the holding cells?" he asks, tone curious, but there's a careful neutrality there, masking suspicion. Lance is a little bit surprised at himself how well he's learned to read Keith but he pays that discovery little mind, now intrigued by Ptoq's answer to the question.

They seem to be staring at them, not replying for a long, stretched moment, and Lance can't tell at all whether it's a good or bad silence.

"The Galra heard that the Voltron Paladins were coming here, and that they would split up." Ptoq finally begins their explanation. "They suddenly pulled all the soldiers from their positions when they came, to try and capture them. It was chaos, so I took the opportunity to try and run."

Keith's eyes narrow as he hums thoughtfully.

"And so you did." he slowly says, then smiles in a way that makes Lance shiver. It's not a good shiver. "Congratulations on making it out."

Ptoq only nods, eyes fixed on Keith. The whiskers lie still.

"Well," Lance breaks the tension that has inexplicably begun to settle over them. They both interrupt their staring match to look at him, Ptoq as expressionless as ever and Keith mildly irritated. Lance shrugs it off; after all, that's what Keith usually looks like, "How about we all get some sleep?"

They're not due to meet the rest of team Voltron until tomorrow morning, but something tells him that he shouldn't be telling Ptoq that; maybe it's that intense warning glare Keith sends him, like he can sense what he was about to say. Lance sticks out his tongue.

Ptoq nods, not responding to, or perhaps not noticing, their little exchange.

Keith pulls Lance a little ways off to the side when they begin to look for a place to lie down.

"I don't trust him. Them." Keith whispers without preamble, keeping his eyes on Ptoq. Lance sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, we all know you have trust issues - " he starts. Keith shakes his head.

"No. It's not that. There's something off about them." he says, tone still hushed but clearly conveying his frustration. Lance wants to roll his eyes but refrains from doing so.

"Ptoq is harmless, alright? Yeah, okay, they've got a freaky set of chompers, but they were scared of us and can retract them, right? Plus, they helped us."

Keith's face looks pinched; he says nothing but he doesn't have to. It's pretty obvious what he thinks of Lance's mental and judging capabilities at the moment.

"If I have trust issues, you're too trusting." he says, lips pressed together. It's much nicer than what he could have said. He turns and leaves before Lance can reply. This time, he gives into his urge and does roll his eyes at Keith's retreating back, but it's late and he's tired, so Lance goes to join the rest of their little troupe by the fire to sleep.

Soon, the only sounds are even breathing and the crackling of an open flame.

- O -

When Lance wakes, he isn't exactly sure what did it. The sky's still pitch dark and the sounds of the fire are absent, so it must've died some time ago -

Shuffling noises from somewhere closer to the cave's entrance catch his attention and he's on his feet in a heartbeat, bayard drawn in defense. It's two silhouettes, one obviously pinning the other to the wall. Something long and sharp glints in the cold moonlight.

"Keith!" Lance drops his defensive stance, running over. Keith doesn't turn around, nor does he drop his sword at his arrival; he keeps it firmly held to Ptoq's throat. "What the hell are you doing?"

"They're lying." Keith hisses, pressing the blade a little closer. Ptoq takes in a sharp, rattling breath. "Even if the Galra sent out every soldier, they wouldn't have left the prison completely unguarded. There's no way Ptoq escaped without help."

"What the - Keith, will you stop being so paranoid - " Lance tugs at Keith's arm, trying to pull him away from Ptoq who isn't even doing anything, just standing there unnaturally still -, "Besides, if Ptoq had help they would be with us now too, wouldn't they?"

He directs that question at Ptoq who still doesn't reply. Keith isn't budging though Lance can feel his resistance crumble.

"Not if they let them out on purpose." Keith refuses to back down, eyes fixed on Ptoq's, who once again only stares back silently.

"And why would they do that?" Lance asks, unable to hide his exasperation and annoyance. Keith doesn't reply though he looks like he very much wants to; he shoots Lance a look so desperate, he almost reels back in surprise.

"Let's just. Go back to sleep, yeah?" Lance manages to say almost calmly. He puts a gentle hand on Keith's sword arm and takes his other to carefully lower the blade from its resting place against Ptoq's neck. "We're all just tired. It's been a long day."

Keith's body is thrumming with tension underneath his hands but he doesn't protest or shake Lance off. Even in the near dark, Lance can tell his jaw is set. He's still staring at Ptoq who hasn't moved.

Then Keith abruptly turns and goes back to the remains of their fire, poking at the ashes. Lance sighs silently in relief, and sends Ptoq an apologetic look.

"Sorry - he's really tense -", he says, aware of how lame that sounds, and rubs the back of his neck. Ptoq only shakes their head once, and Lance thinks he can almost discern something like a smile from them even though nothing about their expression changes.

"Don't apologise for your friend. Vigilance is an important skill in these times." they say, quite wisely, as they follow Keith back to the fire he has restarted by now, though they sit a wary distance away from him. Lance can't blame them.

Sleep doesn't come easy for the rest of the night, dancing flames casting flickering shadows across the walls like a strange kind of foreboding. The tension from before is back and this time, Lance knows there's nothing he can do to make it disappear. He lies there, quite nervously and tense, but eventually exhaustion overcomes everything else and he finally drifts off.

- O -

When Lance wakes again, it's like a scene from a nightmare.

It's a hard shove that does the job, followed by an aborted scream. Lance jumps up, bewildered and tense, heart hammering and his breath fast. His eyes are wild as he surveys his surroundings.

The first thing he notices, is Ptoq's shackle and Keith's bayard on the ground. The second, that Ptoq is gone.

And the third, that Keith is laying at his feet, his face a pained grimace and his hands clutching his midsection. They're pressed hard into the unprotected part of his suit, black fabric steadily growing even darker as something wet spreads beneath his fingers. Keith's jaw is clenched, eyebrows drawn together as he stares at the steadily growing patch. Something in Lance rebels at acknowledging its true colour.

Then Keith looks up at him, equal parts terrified and desperate. He reaches out a hand. His white armguard is stained a vibrant red.

Lance freezes, can only stare at that colour for a long moment as his mind wrestles with what it means. He wants to believe that this red is just the colour of Keith's uniform, wants to ignore how even more of it is dyeing the cloth to the deepest black, gleaming wetly in the sparse light.

It feels unreal but it's not and he can't breathe. He falls to his knees.

"What - " he croaks, mouth dry. He licks his lips and tries again, shaking hands reaching out to the wound spilling red, red, red. "What ha -"

"You have to leave. Now." Keith interrupts him harshly, coughing. His voice shakes despite the bravado he puts on display. Blood bubbles out of the corner of his mouth. Lance feels sick. "Ptoq was released to lead the Galra to us. That shackle is a tracking device."

Lance looks up at the shackle; it takes his shocked brain a few moments to register its rapidly increased blinking.

This can't be happening.

"What - but why - "

"Who cares why, you have to go! Now!" Keith hisses at him. He takes one of Lance's hands, squeezing it so tight, it hurts. It's a mockery of the handshakes they exchange at the end of every mission. Keith looks up at Lance, eyes hard, as if trying to impress how important it is to do what he tells him to do. "If you don't leave now, they'll find you. Take my bayard."

Something finally starts to sink in through the heavy fog in Lance's head; Keith is telling him to go - without him. His hand begins to slip from Lance's loose grasp.

"What - I'm not leaving you!" Lance yells, the sound finally completely breaking his apathy. He holds on tighter, squeezing Keith's hand back for a long second before letting go. "I have to get you up -"

"Lance, I'm only going to slow you down." Keith still sounds unreasonably in control despite slurring a bit, and Lance hates it. "I've already lost a lot of blood, I'm -"

"Shut up!" Lance screams, face nearly as red as all that damned blood. His eyes are burning and he wipes at them furiously, leaving a streak of red among the rest of the dirt on his face. "Stop talking shit, I'm not leaving you here, and that's final!"

He scoops Keith up in his arms, staggering a bit under his weight. Keith is horrifyingly limp, arms swinging back and forth, as his eyes suddenly seem to have difficulty staying open.

"Why are you so heavy, you're not even that tall." Lance complains, ignoring how his voice is sliding up and down several octaves, a sure sign of hysteria. His mouth is on autopilot, blabbering to keep from losing it. He only manages to take a single step before they both crash back to the ground. Keith coughs again, more blood colouring his lips a red so dark, it's nearly black. Lance purposely doesn't look any lower than that, scared of what he'll see.

He can't remember ever having been as scared as he is now.

Keith's eyes stay closed, eyelids unnaturally still, and Lance slaps his face in panic. To his utter relief, they fly open and fixate Lance with a glare.

"You idiotic moron, I told you to run." he rasps, obviously trying to sound angry but all Lance can hear is fear. His voice is shaking so hard by now that Lance has difficulty understanding him. Keith is scared, and that's perhaps the scariest thing of all.

"And I told you, I'm not leaving without you." Lance snaps back, tone slightly hysterical. He makes to sit up again but Keith's hand shoots out to grab him around the wrist. Lance has to wince in his iron grip, but he manages a wobbly grin directed at Keith beneath him. "Nice try, but that is not a dying man's strength - "

"Lance."

He falls silent, Keith's tone as serious and measured, but also as raw and vulnerable, as he's ever heard it. The fear is still there but so is a bizarre sense of peace. Shock, Lance thinks, feeling quite uprooted himself, must be shock. He stares down at Keith, scared, anticipating, but mostly just insanely worried. They really have to get him to a healing pod asap. On some level, Lance is aware he's still avoiding a dark realisation skirting the edge of his thoughts.

"What?" he prompts, softer than he means to, when Keith doesn't continue. He leans in closer almost unconsciously, Keith's eyes fluttering once again with the effort to stay open.

"I'm glad I saved you."

The whisper is almost inaudible. Almost, but Lance just manages to hear it. His heart stops at the implication, just as Keith's breath leaves his lungs and doesn't return. His eyes stop fluttering, closing for the last time. Keith's hold on Lance's wrist goes slack, and his hand slips to the ground.

It's the soft noise of its impact on cold stone that gets Lance's heart beating again, blood rushing through his ears with a loud roar.

"No!" Lance shakes Keith, desperate, frantic. Keith's head lolls against his shoulders. This isn't real. This can't be happening -"Don't do this to me, asshole!"

"Well, well, if it isn't two of Voltron's Paladins."

Lance freezes, standing up slowly and turnes around.

The Galra.

"Pidge to Lance and Keith, where are you two?"

Lance doesn't reply to Pidge's enquiry through his helmet, shutting the speakers off but leaving the microphone and GPS signal enabled. It takes him longer than usual, his hands shaking too hard as he fumbles, and he can only pray it doesn't look too obvious.

He can't risk losing anyone else to the Galra.

"Ah, my mistake, one of Voltron's Paladins." the one who spoke corrects himself, spotting Keith's still form on the ground. Lance twitches, one bloodied hand clenching by his side. "That makes things easier."

"How does that make things easier?" Lance finally says something. He sounds surprisingly stable, cold even, as he draws out his bayard. He isn't shaking anymore, though his chest throbs dully with a loss that hasn't quite sunken in yet. Black and dark red is beginning to creep up the edges of his vision. The Galra, a general judging by his uniform, stares at him unfathomably, then raises an eyebrow.

"If you're planning to fight, I feel the need to inform you that this cave is surrounded. You can either take on a whole army and join your friend there on the ground or you can come quietly and take a chance at staying alive a bit longer." The Galra general pauses, then smiles predatorily. His yellow eyes gleam as his sharp teeth come into view. "Which will it be?"

Lance doesn't remember making a conscious decision but after a heartbeat of silence, he breaks it with an earth-shattering scream and charges.

- O -

Everything after that is a blur. When Lance takes a look at the video footage his helmet recorded, most of it is too shaky to make much sense.

He does vaguely remember grabbing Keith's bayard; he must have, since it's laying in his lap. The amount of red on it is much more than usual, and beginning to turn a rusty brown.

If Lance squeezes his eyes shut so that they're only open by a sliver, he can convince himself that it's just dirt.

Not blood.

Lance swallows hard, his grip on the weapon tightening. Some dry flakes of the stuff drift off of it and his hand.

Oh, god, so much blood.

He lets go of the bayard to lift his hands. They're stained a red so deep, it's almost black, much like his suit he still hasn't bothered to change out of. Another suit, black, white and far too red flashes across his mind.

Lance's vision blurs, darkening at the edges. He blinks again and hot tears begin to fall.

"I'm glad I saved you."

Lance doesn't try to stop it when a sob tears itself out of his throat. His hand goes back to the bayard, clutching it to his chest.

Why didn't you let me save you?