Not Alone, by Red

What's this? Less than a month between updates? Who is she?

The song for this chapter was a tough one to pick out tbh, but I think I nailed the overall feeling of characters both feeling like they're finally not alone but also still warring with that internal "alone" feeling.

TW for mentions of blood and other injuries. This chapter was me going "I should fix some plot holes from like a year ago, but also lets hurt Keith. For funsies"

Altea High. June 10th, 2016. 6:15 am.

Hunk found Lance on the front steps of the school, staring at the lion mascot in the courtyard and gripping a thermos of something steaming between his fingers. It smelled suspiciously like black coffee, which was concerning, because Lance never drank plain black coffee.

"Surprised they let you out here," he chuckled, sinking down on the steps next to his friend.

Lance let out a dry chuckle and took a swig of his drink. His nose wrinkled, confirming Hunk's suspicions – black coffee. "What they don't know won't kill me. I just…needed space."

Hunk shifted on the step and Lance tilted his head towards him. "Not from you, buddy."

He hummed and for a moment, they sat in silence. The sun was starting to peek up over the horizon, partially blocked out by trees and the height of the city. It had turned the sky from a deep navy blue to a soft grey, hints of orange peeking up and moving across the sky. Around them in the woods, birds chittered away, and the grass was glittering with early morning dew.

"I should be angrier," Lance whispered, startling Hunk out of his trance.

"What?"

Lance's fingers tightened on his thermos. "I should be angrier. Our whole friendship…it was based on a lie. He killed Pidge's father. I should…I should hate him."

Hunk breathed through his nose, fast. "Yeah right, buddy. I don't think you could hate him if you tried."

Lance licked his lips, his fingers starting to tap at the outside of the thermos. In the morning light, the cut on his face, slowly scabbing over and scarring, was less intimidating. "Does that make me a shitty friend?" he asked. His voice crackled.

"Hey," Hunk whispered, scooting closer and tugging Lance in against his side. He leaned their heads together. "Absolutely not. Pidge already said so. She loves him. I love him. If that makes you a shitty friend, what does it make us?"

Lance stayed silent, like Hunk had known he would – he would talk shit about himself to kingdom come, but he'd never say a bad word about his friends. Hunk let him lean, staying quiet while Lance worked through his thoughts.

"He told me here."

Hunk lifted an eyebrow. "Keith?"

"Yeah." Lance took a breath and finally slumped against Hunk, taking another nose wrinkling sip of his coffee. "In the back, on the football field. I mean-" He gave a snort of laughter. "-I guess technically I called him out on it and he was forced to tell me. But still."

"What were you guys doing here?"

Lance was silent for another moment. "I got fired that morning. He was just…taking me on a drive. Trying to make me feel better. We stopped here because I just…broke, you know? I was so pissed off, a-at everything. At my job, at myself, at the Galra, I…"

He sucked in a breath and ducked his head. "I think I was even a little mad at Keith. I'd suspected since the night I blew up that Galra shipment. The one on the boat? He was just…he knew too much about how everything in there worked. When we lost contact with you guys, we should have been screwed. But he knew exactly what he was doing."

Hunk hummed. "Ever since the fair," he confirmed quietly. "The way he talked about his past, and then…then when Nyma died literally the next day, and he texted me before I even knew?"

"You don't think he-?"

"No," Hunk said immediately. He tightened his jaw. "No. I think he knew they were going to kill her? That's why he spent so much money on that dumb robot. Hell, she probably knew they were going to kill her. But no, I don't think he did it."

Lance drummed his fingers on his thermos. "While we were here," he continued, "I…we were on the field. And I fell off the bleachers."

Hunk tisked. "Four years of being a cheerleader, and you still can't stand on the bleachers?" he teased.

Lance shoved him, a smile playing on his lips. "Shut up. I fell, and I…" He swallowed visibly, voice dropping to a whisper. "He broke my fall. I almost kissed him. And then his dog tag he got from Thace started…"

He trailed off, staring at the lion statue, brows furrowing. Hunk followed his gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Started what?"

Lance scrambled to his feet suddenly, nearly whacking Hunk in the head with his elbow. "The dog tag," he murmured. He spun to Hunk, gesturing at the mascot. "There was a box, hidden inside the time capsule in the mascot, it-it had a flash drive in it."

Hunk stood up and followed Lance back inside, both of them ignoring the protests from one of the Blade members who had been set to guard the door. "What was on it?" he asked as they jogged through the halls to the gym.

Lance shook his head. "I don't know. But Thace wouldn't have given it's location to Keith if he didn't think it could be useful, if – Coran!"

Coran looked up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee – the same bland dark roast Hunk was sure Lance had in his thermos. "Where's the fire, gentlemen?"

Lance set his thermos down on the table. "The other day, when you hacked the cameras here for us…did Keith give you what he found?"

Coran's hand moved to his throat, and when his shirt collar shifted, Hunk could see a glint of silver there. He was sure Lance noticed it too – he was always focused on people's hands. "He did," Coran said, his other hand moving to his pocket. "It completely slipped my mind in the midst of everything last night."

"Have you looked at it yet?" Lance asked.

Coran pulled two envelopes and a flash drive from his pocket. The envelopes were a little wrinkled, but Hunk could still make out Coran and Allura's names written on them. "No, I haven't. Have you boys seen Allura?"

Hunk nodded his head towards the science wing. "I think she was with Pidge and Matt last time I saw them. They were going over Google Maps so they could find good vantage points on the election day."

Coran cursed under his breath. "I told her to get some sleep," he muttered, already striding in the direction of the computer lab.

Lance left his thermos at the table, and Hunk didn't bother to grab it as they both trotted after him. "When has she ever done what any of us asked?" he pointed out.

Coran's smile was crooked when he glanced back. "Good point."

Galra Headquarters. June 10th, 2016. 7:00 am.

Keith gasped as cold water was dumped over his body, waking him up from the uncomfortable position against the stone floor he'd somehow managed to fall asleep on. Above him, Zethrid was sneering and holding the bucket. Behind her stood Acxa, looking beyond bored. She was leaning against the door of his cell, studying her nails.

Keith said nothing, just spit water from his mouth and glared up at them silently. Zethrid tossed the bucket off into the corner and then grabbed Keith by the collar, dragging him to his feet. "Zarkon told me to get the plans out of you. Any way I wanted."

Against his better judgement, Keith snorted. "Right. As if you could break me."

The glint that sparked in Zethrid's eyes was dangerous. Keith had known her his whole life – she was angry always, had only had a soft spot for Ezor. That soft spot had died along with Ezor during a battle between the Galra and the Nalquads two years ago. People tended to stay out of her way; the only ones who could control her most of the time were Acxa, Lotor, and Narti.

Most of the time, being the key words.

The stone wall behind Keith stung as he was slammed into it, and he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from screaming as Zethrid dug her thumbnail into the still throbbing wound on his face. His mouth flooded with the taste of blood.

"Don't ever underestimate what I can do to you, runt," she hissed.

Her arm pressed against Keith's neck, holding him to the wall, and he lifted his chained wrists to claw at her skin, trying to breathe. Her other hand moved to her hip, and the unmistakable shwick of a switchblade opening filled the cell.

The metal was cold on Keith's stomach, jutting through his shirt and cutting into his stomach. The slow trickle of blood down his skin was searing hot, and he choked for air, a hollow shout at the back of his throat.

The pressure fell from his throat and Keith dropped to the floor, his ankle twisting wrong as he hit. He hissed, tears stinging in his eyes, and pressed his hands to his stomach, shooting a glare up at Zethrid.

Acxa had a hand on her arm, was whispering something to her and nodding back to the hallway. Zethrid, though her eyes were still full of malice, nodded, and then looked back at Keith. "Don't think I'm done here. Don't think any of us are."

She stormed off and Acxa watched her go before turning back to Keith and crossing her arms over her chest, squinting down at him like he was a drowning puppy and she wasn't sure if she was gonna pull him from the water or not. They kept their eyes locked for a long moment before Keith finally snapped.

"Just stab me or something."

Acxa snorted, rolling her eyes. She glanced out the cell door and then strode over to Keith, kicking him in the stomach and sending him further to the floor. She knelt, gripping him by the hair and sneering. "Stabbing is too easy," she hissed, her other hand wrenching his fingers away from his bleeding stomach. "I want you to suffer."

Soft, cotton padding, and something wrapped in thick plastic were pressed into his hand, his fingers forcibly closed over it. Acxa held his gaze for a beat, letting the grip on his hair loosen a little, and then let go of Keith entirely. As she stood, she let her hand catch on her shirt just enough to lift the hem and reveal her hip.

It fell in seconds, but Keith had caught it.

As Acxa slammed the cell shut behind her, he let his head fall back and rested it against the stone floor, a breath of relieved laughter falling from his lips. He pulled the medical supplies – some gauze and a packet of antibiotic ointment – in his hands to his chest, forced himself to sit up, and went to work on his stomach, adrenalin racing through his system.

She had a Marmora tattoo.

Altea High. June 10th, 2016. 9:22 am.

Matt looked up as Pidge trudged into the cafeteria, eyes weary and baggy under her glasses. "Hey, dumbass," he said fondly as she slumped into the seat next to him, dumping her backpack onto the chair beside her. He chuckled as she reached over his arm and grabbed at a slice of toast. "Take it you didn't take my advice and sleep?"

"I'll sleep when Allura decodes that flash drive," Pidge grumbled around her mouthful of bread.

Matt winced, glancing over the cafeteria. Several Blade members were scattered at various tables, each eating their own breakfast. Quiet murmurs filled the room. Despite being surrounded by allies, Matt had never felt more discomfort in his surroundings. Maybe it was the high-school. He'd never liked it here much.

"She still hasn't decoded it?" he asked, realizing he hadn't spoken for too long.

Pidge sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing her hands vigorously over her face. It made a weird, wet sound. "Nope," she muttered into her palms. "I guess you're a lot like Alfor that way – he also made his code impossibly annoying to crack."

It was said in a deadpan, and Matt chanced a glance down at his sister, lifting an eyebrow. She was glowering at him. "What? Didn't like that I left you every detail about the Galra and Voltron I could find?" He gestured his coffee cup around them. "Seems like you found the Princess. And a couple other allies that I didn't even know about."

"Yeah, way to drag me and my friends into a gang war," Pidge snorted.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Hey, you chose to keep digging. You didn't have to do that. None of you guys did. Surprised you didn't find me earlier to be honest."

"We almost did," Pidge said, her voice getting quieter. "I had your file. Your location, where you were in the prison, what you ate, e-everything."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a manila envelope that was a little thicker than Matt had expected. He took it from her with trepidation, flipping it open and rifling through the pages slowly, cringing at the memories that flooded his brain.

Sweeping the legs out from under trainees, wanting to tell them to run. Seeing kids starving and begging for food joining the most evil man in Altea for a chance to eat a hot meal. Watching those kids die weeks later, never returning to his classes. Hacking into countless bank accounts, stealing from innocent civilians with a gun pressed to his temple. Sending said money to the people Zarkon knew he could bribe, important people, who were in charge of the city's protection and funding. Watching his father get weaker, get beaten when he didn't move fast enough.

Watching his father hit the floor, a shot through his head, Keith-

Matt slapped the folder closed and tossed it to the table, clenching his jaw so tightly it made his head throb. "How'd you get this?" he asked, because he couldn't think of anything else.

Pidge's laugh was dry. "Keith," she said, and why the hell wasn't Matt surprised? "The night our first hideout blew up, when Hunk's friend Nyma got killed-"

"She worked for Zarkon," Matt noted. He'd met her once or twice, when she had been at the base and they'd been in the tech rooms together – her, working on her own projects, Matt carefully guarded and doing work for the Galra. "Shocked she didn't die sooner, with how she fucked up Shiro's arm."

He gestured for Pidge to continue when she hesitated, clearly interested in what he'd been about to say. It could wait. "Keith took us to this bookstore. It was a front for the Galra, and they had a bunch of old files there. I think he knew your file would be there. I thought it was weird at the time, that he just happened to "find" one of their hideouts, but I guess I knew deep down."

Matt kept his mouth shut for a moment, watching Hunk lean against the cafeteria service counter and talk to one of the "good" cops Shiro had declared could be there – Nadia, he recalled. Hunk had commandeered the kitchen, forcing everyone to eat whatever real food he could find (slim pickings, in a high school cafeteria in the summer when no one was there). Matt had thought it was kind of dumb at first, but now he could almost see the morale boost it was giving people.

He didn't know how to feel about Keith.

Obviously, he wanted to feel one way – Keith had killed his father. Right in front of him.

But Matt also remembered Zarkon's hissed threats about Keith's mother. Krolia, who was here somewhere, who'd greeted Matt with firmness and then, later on, had pulled him aside and given him genuine kindness and motherly support. Had informed him that a Blade member was stationed outside of his own mother's house. Krolia, who, even when he'd thought she was all in for Zarkon, had always been kind to him and his father while they were captives.

He knew Lance and Hunk well. He'd known Lance practically his whole life, had babysat him and Pidge when they were toddlers and his mother deemed his 12-year-old self responsible enough to watch them while she ran to the store. Had known Hunk since the moment Pidge dragged him home and declared him her new science fair buddy (much to Lance's chagrin).

They were picky about who they were friends with. They knew shitty people when they saw them. They always had. And so did Pidge, for that matter. She'd always had an eye for who could be trusted and who couldn't. She'd told him once that when you were younger than everyone else in your grade, you were more cautious about who you befriended.

So the fact that he knew, even now, that all three of them still genuinely cared for and loved Keith, even if they wouldn't admit it to him?

Matt set his chin in his hand, fingering the scar on his cheek absentmindedly. Keith had killed his father, under threat of his mother being killed. Though he'd been filled with rage, Matt had seen the genuine fear in his eyes in that moment. Had heard the heartfelt apology when he came to him in his cell. Had spent countless hours after the visit…

Matt sat up with a sharp breath and reached into his inner jacket pocket. Pidge, who had been starting to nod off next to him – something he'd yell at her for later, she needed to sleep goddammit – sat up straight, eyes blinking rapidly. "Hmm?"

He pulled out the photo carefully, thumbing the corners and holding it out on the table so Pidge could see it. He'd only had it a few days, but the corners were already soft from how often he'd held it. "Keith brought me this," he murmured. "In the cell, a couple days after…he wanted me to know he'd never hurt you. Any of you."

Pidge reached over and took the photo from him. "I was wondering where this went," she said, her voice fond. She looked at the photo for a moment, tracing a finger over their younger selves' joined hands. "I thought maybe I'd accidentally left it out of my box and it got destroyed in the warehouse explosion." She paused, glancing at him. "He brought it to you?"

Matt closed his fingers around empty air, startled to find his throat aching. "It was…the first time I'd seen you in years," he whispered, voice cracking. "Had heard someone use your name. Not your real name. Pidge. That's…that's why I decided to trust him, I think."

He looked at her, really looked at her. Her hair tugged back into a sloppy braid, courtesy of Lance, her too big glasses, the jean jacket tugged over her shoulders against the chill of the building. "You don't let just anyone call you that."

Pidge's smile was sly, if not a little sad. "Yeah, well. Needed to fill the big brother void somehow, I guess."

Matt practically guffawed, dragging her in against his chest and pressing a kiss to her head, vision blurry. "Gee, you replaced me with a gang member, a pick pocket, and a shockingly good chef. What could you possibly think of me?"

Pidge's giggle was watery, and her arms circled his waist in a tight grip. Matt hugged back harder. "Have you talked to Mom? Since the hospital?"

The breath Pidge took was sharp. "Yeah," she murmured.

"What um…what did she say?"

"She wanted to make sure I was safe," Pidge answered. "I told her I was with Hunk and Lance. That I…I needed space. But I…I want her here."

Her voice crackled and Matt swallowed, rubbing her back. He looked up, perusing the room, and his eyes caught on the door just as Krolia walked in with Lance, both of them deep in conversation. "Maybe we can make that happen," he said.

Pidge drew back, following his line of sight, and a smile slid across her face. "I'd say there's a pretty good chance we can."

Another note: I did start writing this back in 2017. I was more naïve then. I want it to be clear that I do not support the police as a whole, and think that the system needs to be dismantled and redone. The only "good" cops are the cops who willingly quit, because every other cop is complacent in a racist and unjust system (and the ones who bring up those injustices are either fired or shoved so far down the ladder that they're stuck doing paperwork the rest of their career). Hence why, from here on out, the only "good" cops in this story are the ones I've previously mentioned (aka Curtis, Nadia, etc). And they will be leaving that career by the end of the story.

If you have a problem with that belief then, frankly, I don't need you reading my stories and I don't know how you got this far in without realizing that I don't support the police system.

Anyway, hope everyone is ready for Colleen Holt. She's gonna give Pidge and Matt a fucking EARFUL.