A/N: I've been sitting on the vague idea for this one for weeks and was suddenly hit with inspiration, and threw this out in a day during work while planning outlines for at least five more chapters. Hopefully this turns out okay, because I'm really looking forward to writing it. This feels pretty close to canon to start with, but I'm planning to split off pretty radically in a chapter or two to actually put the 'A' in 'AU'. This will also hopefully not be as romantically-centred as it feels in this first chapter, because while I love Klance, I'd like to keep it ambiguous and open.

Not tagged for characters because FFNET sucks and I'm not choosing only four. Consider it tagged for all five Paladins + Coran, Allura, Zarkon and Sendak for future chapters. Any warnings will be stated here in the notes at the beginning of each chapter. There are no current warnings for this one.

Lance doesn't think he will ever get over the view here, sitting on the roof of the Garrison's dorm wing and looking south over the desert, dry mountains looming like dark shadows across the horizon and endless stars stretching above him. The dorms sit at the very edge of the compound, so at the far edge the spotlights barely reach, making it dim enough for him to get a good view of the world above them, the worlds he dreams about visiting so often. He often comes out here during the night, when he's restless or homesick or just wants to admire the view, the red earth cast blue by the light of the moon and purple as the sun rises. He came out here later than usual tonight, the sky beginning to grow light at the edges as the sun pulls up above it, and he knows he should head back down before the morning patrols (it would not be the first time they've caught him, and he does not look forward being busted again, though it's bound to happen), but just as he considers moving he catches sight of something moving across the desert in the distance, a pale dust cloud pluming behind it.

He narrows his eyes, as though that would help him see any better, before he remembers the telescope he'd brought with him, 'borrowed' from one of the astronomy labs to observe the movement of ships in the space above Earth in his free time. He throws the settings back for closer range (he's going to hate fixing it later, but he's too much in a hurry now) and holds it up to his eye, searching for the vehicle he'd seen tearing across the dawn sands, and finds it to be a bright red bike, its rider hunched forward as they haul ass across Lance's field of vision. It's difficult to make out who it is, but Lance has seen them plenty of times before, and he'd recognise that guy anywhere.

It's been months since anyone has seen or heard from Keith Kogane, nary a word before he dropped out of the Garrison and absolutely none afterwards. It was never released why the Garrison's top pilot was 'let go', but from his attitude the times Lance had seen him in class, he could hazard a pretty good guess. Why he was roaming around the desert this early in the morning, however, he had no clue whatsoever, but there was one way to find out that will almost definitely get him in trouble, but the risk has never stopped him before. He gathers his things and heads back down to ground level, plans running through his head as he rushes in the hopes of keeping up and not losing Keith's position.

It's still early enough that only a few early risers are about, still rousing themselves and preparing for dawn patrols, so sneaking down to the south vehicle bay goes mostly seamlessly, the few people that do see him easy enough to placate with excuses until he reaches the bay. The Garrison's bikes are pretty standard issue, not as suped-up as Keith's custom build but fast enough to get the job done, and Lance spares no hesitation in mounting one. He hasn't driven these very often, but he knows enough to get it off the ground and keep it straight, and he surprises even himself by managing to stay upright as he shoots it out of the hangars and out at the desert beyond.

He worries as he flies across the sands to where he had calculated Keith's trajectory that he might have lost him, but as he starts to backtrack to figure out where he went wrong he catches sight of the dust cloud signalling the other's position, thinning out as Keith slows down. Lance keeps far enough behind him to hopefully not be seen, pulling his own bike to a stop as Keith settles his at the edge of a section of the bluffs, hopping off and wandering down to where Lance spots a cave opening in the rocks.

Lance keeps low as he follows Keith down, filling with wonder as he spots strange carvings in the stone, his eyes drawn more to the images than to Keith as he keeps distance and wanders down into the tunnel, his fingers brushing absently over the indentations. There is something about them that draws him to them, resonating within him and beckoning, almost, speaking to him in a way he can't quite hear or understand. They depict a group of lions, each shaped slightly differently and his eyes drawn to one in particular, the lions appearing like gods before a group of followers, a deity of some sort looming above them with radiance. He can almost see it, staring up at the sky in reverence at the great shape above the clouds-

His thoughts cut off as something collides with force right into the side of his face. Keith grabs his lapels as he stumbles back, jacket tight in his grip as he brings Lance's face up to look at him, a bruise already blooming on his cheek. "Who are you?" he snaps, more venom in his voice than Lance had been expecting, but the assault should have given him a hint. "Why are you following me?"

"Relax," Lance tries, holding his hands up and offering a smile. "I'm not gonna do anything. It's me, Lance." He waits for a reaction, gets nothing but a confused frown behind the careful anger, so he specifies, "From the Garrison?"

That seems to be the wrong answer. Keith growls and pushes him back against the wall, breath hot in Lance's face. "Why did they send you?" he growls out, "What do they want?"

Lance tries to ignore the disappointment in not being recognised. "They didn't send me," he hurriedly tries to clarify. "I'm not from there, per se, I just. Attend there. For school. Don't you remember me? We were classmates. Hell, we were rivals!"

Keith stares at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed and searching. He doesn't remember this guy at all, barely knew anyone's faces back then, but he doesn't seem harmful, and there is something different about him. He almost gives Keith the same feeling the caves do, the same flicker in his gut when he looks at Lance as when he looks at the carvings. His hands seem to tingle in their grasp on his shirt the way they do when he brushes his hands over the markings in the walls. "I don't know you," he says finally, but he releases his grip, stepping back to let him away from the wall. "I'll ask again. Who are you, and why did you follow me?"

"Jesus," Lance sighs between his teeth, brushing himself down and straightening his shirt. He touches a tentative hand to where Keith's fist had made impact, pulling a face as he presses against it. "I can't believe you punched me. You should really learn to ask questions first, you know?" Keith crosses his arms and waits, watching him expectantly. Lance really should have thought this through a little better. Now that he's thinking about it, he has no idea why he decided to follow Keith – breaking the rules and committing theft in the process – and he has nothing to tell him to explain himself now. "I was just… I don't know, curious? I saw your bike and thought hey, what the hell. I'm Lance."

Keith looks down at the hand that Lance puts out for him, dark-skinned and slender. There is a fleeting moment where he imagines those hands around the grip of a control panel, dappled by blue light and flashes of gunfire, and he is not sure why. "Whatever," he mutters, turning away as Lance frowns and puts down his hand. "You shouldn't be here."

It feels wrong the moment it leaves his mouth. He's not sure how he knows, but Lance belongs here, the cavern reflected in his bright and wondering eyes. "What even is this place?" he asks, seemingly ignoring Keith's words, eyes browsing around with awe.

Keith considers not saying anything, considers keeping it to himself as he has done since he discovered it, months ago now, but when he looks back to the carvings he can only see Lance's face illuminated in soft blue in his mind. "I'm not really sure," he admits, brushing his fingers over the lines of one of the images. "I feel like it might be some sort of worshipping place, like a shrine or temple, for something called a 'Voltron', but this is all that's here. I've been deciphering bits and pieces for months."

"Look at you," Lance chides gently as he looks around, absent in his examination of the walls. "Who knew you'd drop out of pilot school to become an archaeologist." Keith considers punching him again, but instead opts for the much friendlier angry scowl. Lance laughs, echoing in the cave like trickling water. "So, mister cave whisperer, what do they mean?"

Keith's eyes follow Lance's hand along the dusty walls, something churning in his gut every time those slender fingers touch the outlines of the drawings. He tries desperately to ignore it. "It's either a story or a prophecy," he begins, remembering everything he has learned about it. "It tells of five lions who worked, or will work, with some sort of legendary… thing, this Voltron, to defeat a great enemy. Look, I'm going off pictures here, it's not very specific," he adds at Lance's raised eyebrow, continuing before he can quip anything. "The lions seem to be more of a figurehead than anything, a depiction of something else, but I'm not sure what exactly. Whether it's a group of regular guys who saved the day or some sort of god, I don't know. I think it's supposed to happen again in the future, if it hasn't already. Sorry, could you do that again?"

"Do what?" Lance stops in his wander of the cave, taking his hand away from the carving he'd just been touching. It was one of the most prominent here, a large image of one of the lions standing proud and taking up most of this section of the wall. Keith had distinctly felt something when Lance had touched it, but it was only brief. He needed to know if he was going mad.

"That picture," Keith explains, "You touched it."

Lance looks back at it, doubt in his eyes, but he felt something, too. He felt something when he touched all of these carvings, but this one gave him the clearest sense, images flickering through his mind as he ran his fingers down the groove. "Yeah," he says slowly, playing it down. "I touched a lot of them."

"No, look, just- Trust me. Do it again." He never thought he'd hear Keith asking him to trust him. It felt strangely intimate, something he shouldn't have heard, but he's not going to turn it down. He turns back to the image of the lion, looking into its wide eyes, and sighs.

He presses his hand back to the surface of it, closing his eyes as his fingers dip into the indentations, fitting into them like it was his hand that carved them. Images flicker through his mind of space, of planets and moons and stars all around him, of glowing lights in red, purple, yellow, green, of a deep rumbling and a ship floating lazily above him. He has never seen the ship before, and yet he can imagine himself in its cockpit, commands flowing from his hands directly into the controls like a stream.

He pulls his hand back, opens his eyes to stare at the dirt on his palm. He doesn't realise Keith is looking at him until he glances up, catches the wide stare he's giving him. Keith doesn't say anything, but he'd seen it, too, had seen what he understood to be the Blue Lion, only he had seen himself as well, surrounded by red and just as much at home as Lance had seemed. An idea comes to mind, and he will probably regret it very quickly, but now, with Lance standing before him with red dust on his hands and a dark bruise on his cheek, it seems like the most obvious thing. "Have you ever considered working off world?"

Lance looks at him, the question catching him off guard. "Um, duh," he chuckles quietly. He goes to wipe his hands off on his pants, but it feels somehow like sacrilege. He leaves the dirt on them. "I enlisted in the Garrison, of course I want to go off world. Why do you ask?"

Keith smiles. It's sharp, dangerous; Lance tries not to focus on the shape of his lips, the draw of his brow. "How would you like to search the galaxy with me?"

"Yes," Lance says before his brain catches up with him. He's wanted to go off world for so long that his response is automatic, nary a thought passing beyond the idea of leaving Earth. "Wait, I mean. I'd love to, that sounds awesome, but search for what?"

"This," Keith replies, gesturing widely at the cavern around them, lit orange by the sunrise filtering through the entrance. "The lions. Voltron. There's something still out there, and I want to find it."

Lance hums in thought, crossing his arms and looking around the cave again. Keith might be onto something, he thinks, he knows, from the memories that aren't his and the tingling in his fingertips. A grin stretches across his face. "Alright," he says, looking back at Keith. "I'm in. What's the plan? Do you happen to have a space ship sitting around we can just take out of atmo?"

Here's where explaining himself gets tricky. "Not exactly. I've got a plan to steal one."

Lance is desperate to hear more, his interest piqued by Keith and this cave and his plan to steal a ship and go to space, but his wrist vibrates with a message from Hunk reminding him he should have already been back at the Garrison, and reminds him in turn of the crazy violation he'd pulled that morning. "I am so ridiculously intrigued by this," he tells Keith, swiping the message away without answering, "But I should probably not be out here. I broke a lot of rules as it is. Do you still have a Link?"

He does, but he almost never wears it. He never really uses it, and he has always hated how the band feels around his wrist, too much a shackle to the Garrison and all that it stands for. "It's at home," he says, and Lance nods, a moment of thought passing his features before he begins to pat himself down until he procures a pen from somewhere deep in his jacket.

"Here," he says, holding out his hand, and this time Keith takes it, letting Lance pull up his sleeve to scrawl messily across his wrist. "That's my Link ID. I've got a friend who set up a secure server, if you're worried about the brass catching us. Totally free of prying eyes. You can message me there, yeah?"

Keith looks over the number, blue ink staining into his skin. His arm feels tight where the pen had pressed into it. "Yeah," he replies, "I will." Lance's smile feels almost as infectious as the energy in the walls, and Keith can't help grinning back.