TW: Some good-ol-fashioned hand-throwing, and some mentioned whispers of child abuse. Depictions of trauma symptoms. Mild swearing. Nothing too graphic. These characters ain't mine.

Allura hadn't expected it, though in hindsight, perhaps she should have known better. The only thing on her mind was the victory of the day, and the thrill of hope and pride that burned within her at the sight of the other Paladins. She'd already traded hugs and congratulations with Hunk, Pidge and Lance, and she'd wanted to include Keith, as well. She'd approached him from behind, reaching out enthusiastically to grasp his arm.

He'd jolted as if she had burned him, and in the next instant, Allura was reeling back from his clumsy, defending strike, her hand to her cheek, where a new bruise was already forming.

A heavy, absolutely stunned silence crowded the air now, in the wake of Keith's reaction, and as it lingered, Allura met Keith's eyes, puzzled and shocked. She witnessed a range of complex emotions flash by on his face, shattering his meticulously-maintained mask: there was confusion, then sick, horrified realization, and finally, deep regret. But most of all, there was fear – fear that he'd hurt her, and fear of himself, and the things buried in his past that had come rushing forward from that simple touch.

She saw him fumbling for an apology, while the words stuck in his throat, and the pain in his eyes made her heart ache for him. Neither of them got time to speak up, however.

"What in the HELL is wrong with you, you jerkwad?!"

"Why would you do that, Keith? Holy quiznak!"

"Are you okay, Allura? Keith, get away from her, now."

The shouts of the Paladins rang out, destroying all possibility of recovery. Lance was quick to advance on Keith, cursing with venom, and shoving the Black Paladin back harshly. Hunk and Pidge went to Allura, pulling her away from Keith, inspecting her face and casting furtive glances at Keith, like he was a dangerous animal. Allura barely registered their urgent whispers and names for Keith; names like 'jackass' and 'hothead'. She was still trying to process the jarring moment, while fighting the urge to weep for what she's seen in Keith's eyes.

In the delay, Lance's fist met Keith's jaw. Keith made no attempt to block him, and went down with the strike – a strike that had been a mirror of his own, but carried purpose and coordination instead of wild reflex. The wall beside him provided a balance, but only enough that Keith barely managed to guide himself to his knees.

Lance didn't stop there. He advanced further, kicking out unreservedly, and hitting Keith in the head. Keith curled in on himself in a ball of tension, hiding his face behind one hand to block the sight of them, but doing nothing to protect himself, as the memories and shame struck him harder than Lance could ever hit.

"How do you even justify that?" Lance snarled, looming over him. "I know you're violent as hell, but is that just what you do now – punch people because they want to talk to you? Punch women?! You're a quiznaking disaster, you absolute psycho!"

Dread slammed into Allura, and she knew she had to try to stop this. "Lance-"

"Don't worry, Allura, he's not coming anywhere near you again. Are you, you crazy asshole? You should be locked up for that. Are you even gonna apologize to her?!"

Enraged, Lance lashed out again, his foot meeting Keith's side. It wasn't a full-force kick, but Keith reacted with a violent flinch, and he'd started to tremble, from something that wasn't just physical pain. The attack broke the deadlock of his speech, however.

"I'm sorry!" he choked out. "Sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Are you freaking kidding me right now?!" Lance bellowed over him. "Why are you apologizing to me? It's Allura you hit!"

But Keith kept repeating his apology, over and over in a sick mantra, without strength or sanity to stop. Lance's blind protectiveness for Allura didn't allow him to see this, or to see the way Keith shook and rocked himself; didn't allow him to hear the shockingly broken, terrified fracture in Keith's voice.

Allura, Hunk and Pidge, however, immediately spotted what Lance's love couldn't, and any semblance of anger from Hunk and Pidge drained away, as they all realized Keith wasn't quite in the room with them anymore.

"Lance, knock it off!" Hunk warned. "You're scaring him!"

Lance ignored Hunk completely, taking another swing at Keith. There was something about that – something in the way Keith cried out, perhaps, or in the raw, out-of-control fury with which Lance attacked – that finally gave Allura the power to move. In the blink of an eye, she tore from Hunk and Pidge, racing over to Lance, and lunged, intercepting his fist mere inches from where he'd been about to hit Keith again.

"Stop this," Allura implored sharply, easily pushing back, as Lance tried to fight her grip. "Lance. Stop it!"

Lance gritted his teeth. "Allura, stay back-"

"I SAID STOP! THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Her commanding, ruthless bellow drew a miserable cry from Keith, but it was a necessary price to pay to break Lance out of his rage-clouded mind. Stunned, Lance relaxed his fist from Allura's hold, stumbling back and blinking.

"He didn't mean to attack, Lance," Allura said gently, coming between him and Keith, and moving them both further away. "It was an accident."

"He hit you..." Lance murmured uncertainly.

"I know that, but he didn't mean to. It was a reflex on his part – I just startled him, that's all. I'm fine. We can discuss it when he's better."

Lance eyed the bruise on her cheek.

"Lance. I'm fine," Allura added sharply, before he could object. "Keith isn't, though, and you must stop this now, for his sake."

And then, thank the Ancients, Lance's blinders faded away at long last. He stared openly at Keith, no longer seeing a hateful, aggressive threat. He paled as realization hit; as he recalled the position he'd been standing in over Keith, while screaming at him and hitting him. Even if the strikes hadn't been made with the fullest strength, it was the same exact position they'd all seen countless adults take up in Keith's childhood memories.

It was an abuser's stance.

"Keith?" Lance blurted, voice devoid of ire, and wavering with sorrow.

They all witnessed the flinch this drew from Keith – witnessed it, and hated it. In the new-fallen quiet of the hangar, they could hear his jagged, uneven hyperventilating, and the tears behind it. Even in the depths of panic, these were tears that Keith tried to suppress and keep hidden, out of years of survival instinct that taught him it was wrong and bad to cry.

Lance and Allura both moved towards him, together, their steps slow and deliberate. Behind them, Hunk and Pidge edged forward, as well, though they were less certain; it wouldn't be a good idea to crowd Keith. Not when he was like this.

The thought that he had caused this to surface in Keith struck Lance hard, and he halted, freezing right in his tracks. He did little to stop the lump that formed in his throat, and the tears that burned at the corners of his eyes. Allura spared him a glance, sympathetic, but she was already going to Keith's side, moving around and carefully crouching down in front of him.

Keith cowered from her – cowered, so unlike his bold and unyielding self – and tightened the arm he'd wrapped around his middle, while the hand that hid his face compensated to shield him from Allura's new position. Even so, Allura had already glimpsed his tears, and the anguished baring of his teeth.

"Keith," she called gently; softly. "It's alright. You're safe now."

He shuddered violently, but could give no response. Allura desperately wanted to reach out and pull him into a tight, fierce hug, but she knew better; he'd once told them, during the memory-sharing, that if he were ever to become like this, he wouldn't want to be touched without precautions being put into place.

Allura remembered the most critical of those precautions now, and she raised one hand, palm upturned and angled towards him, fingers splayed – slowly, slowly – until she stopped, keeping that hand within his reach, but not yet close enough to touch. He didn't reach for it, but she held fast, patient and understanding. She'd hold that position until the end of time, if need be.

Lance remembered this precaution, too – and it broke his resolve. He retreated back several steps, the hot sear of panic and guilt burning in his chest. He couldn't keep a despairing sob from climbing its way out from him, and the fact that the sound was immediately answered by a startled, restrained bleat from Keith only made it worse. They were feeding off each other – a horrific, twisted perversion of their competitions, emotion reflecting emotion in an ugly feedback loop.

He had to get out. He had to leave, now, before he made it worse, and hurt Keith further. Crumbling, Lance wheeled on the spot, and sprinted out the door, barely avoiding being nabbed by Hunk and Pidge. The pair traded grim looks.

"I'll go," Hunk said quietly.

"Take good care of him, Hunk."

"Right back at you," Hunk replied, eyes flickering to Keith.

Then he was gone, moving as fast as his legs would carry him, in pursuit of Lance. Pidge wheeled about in the opposite direction, wanting to do the same; wanting to run to Keith, and wrap her arms around him to show him he was safe and loved. But, like Allura, she knew it wouldn't be a good idea, and she instead settled for approaching from behind Allura, before shifting down into a sitting position on the floor.

An indefinite wait followed, in which Keith twitched and hid from things unseen by either woman. Several more times, he cried out, incoherently and briefly, and each event had him shrinking back, as his mind forced him to relive the cruel strikes and curses he'd been given as a boy. He was sweating like he'd run a marathon, his bangs plastering to his forehead, and once or twice, they feared he might keel over, for how pallid he was.

His body let him back down slowly, and after the worst of it passed, Keith finally lowered his hand from his face to peek, focusing on Allura's offer and blinking unevenly. It took him some time to process what he was seeing, still caught as he was in the throes of his flashbacks, but recognize it, he eventually did. With a badly-shaking arm, he hesitantly reached for that hand, fighting to make his fingertips press into Allura's palm.

It was a signal. Weak, yes, and so delicate Allura barely felt the contact, but a signal, nonetheless; a sign that showed he could see and hear them again, as they were, and not as the monsters who had tortured him.

"That's it, Keith," Allura encouraged in a whisper. "Well done. Do you think you can talk with us, and let us know how you're feeling?"

Keith swallowed, pale and uncertain, as he eyed both Allura and Pidge. He was still drawing in some fairly unsteady breaths, as his jaw worked to form words, but he couldn't make anything come forward. Allura shared a look with Pidge; it wasn't a great sign, for Keith to have gone nonverbal like this. Based on what both he and Shiro had told them before, this meant his attack was severe, and it would take further efforts to pull him completely free.

Pidge took up the mantle, scooting forward a little. Thinking quickly, she drew her tablet from one of the holds in her armor, holding it up for Keith to see. She waited until he'd locked his confused, too-distant gaze onto it, then smiled for him.

"What do you see, Keith?" she prompted him. "Can you try to describe it for us?"

She turned the tablet over in her hands, slowly, allowing him to take in every angle, as if she were presenting jewelry to an appraiser. Keith tracked the movement, mouth hanging open slightly in an absent expression, but didn't react much otherwise. Pidge kept her smile for him, and inched closer still, before turning the tablet over again.

"Take a look at the color of the screen," Pidge continued. "Can you see how it's kinda transparent? And look at the two corner panels. It's just like the one you have. Can you try to tell me the texture of the corners, and what they feel like?"

The response she got this time was an improvement, as Keith gave a short, faint hum. It bore no semblance to any kind of positive or negative reply, but it was something, at least. Pidge let him watch the turning tablet for awhile longer, before she tapped Allura's shoulder, and passed it over.

"Set it where he can reach it," she whispered.

Allura nodded, and cautiously took the pad from Pidge's fingers with her free hand. Keith tracked the entire process like a zombie, as Allura set the tablet down between them, and pushed it along the floor, to the point where he could interact with it, if he really wanted to.

"Now that it's closer, what do you see?" Pidge encouraged him. "Try to touch it, Keith. You don't have to pick it up if you don't want to, but-"

Keith pulled his hand free of Allura's palm, and Pidge cut herself off, holding her breath, as Keith reached with both hands for the tablet. With clumsy fingers, he scraped it up, barely able to hold onto it as he drew it close. He explored it for awhile, as if he'd never seen anything like it before, his hands running over every surface.

"You're doing well, Keith," Allura said, after a moment. "Won't you describe what you see for us?"

Again, Keith gave a hum, this one a little more coherent. He licked his dry lips, visibly trying to form words.

"What color is it, Keith?"

"...'s or… orange."

Both Allura and Pidge had to work hard to restrain the bolt of eager hope that threatened to make them cry for joy. They were both smiling now, and Pidge had latched onto Allura's arm.

"That's it," Pidge breathed. "That's good, Keith. Keep going."

"B-b-black," Keith provided unsteadily, monotone and empty. "Th-th… th… the edge. Edge. Black."

"Can you tap the screen, and tell me what's on it?"

Pidge suppressed the momentary desire to snatch it from his hands, lest her coding work be somehow ruined; this was more important than lines of data right now, and she had enough committed to memory to rewrite, if necessary. It was a paranoid worry, regardless, because Keith could only barely brush the tips of his gloves on the screen – not enough to coordinate to unlock it completely. It flared to life, and displayed its lock screen background: A photograph of the whole team, beaming and laughing openly – some with outright glee, and others with amused disgust.

Keith gave a murmur of recognition, his brow furrowing a little, as he rested his fingers on the photograph. "'karion," he mumbled.

"Yeah, Olkarion! You remember? It took us so long to get everybody to hold still for that photo. Ryner looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. And then Hunk did something, didn't he? To make us all laugh like that."

There: a ghost of a smile, twitching at the corner of Keith's lips. It was there and gone again in a flash, but it had been present.

"What did Hunk do, Keith?" Allura pressed, screwing up her nose at the recollection.

"B-belched f-for the… the copy-cubes. 's fun… funny."

"Iconic moment in history," Pidge agreed wistfully. "Y'know, I was surprised he got you to laugh like that, too. Hunk's really an accomplished guy, if he can get our resident emo cat to cackle. It was a beautiful day."

The flickering, unsure smile returned, lingering for a little longer. "N-not a cat," he said, in a nearly reproachful tone.

"Could have fooled me," Pidge goaded. "I have other photographic evidence, of you curled up on the sofas around here. Definitely like a cat."

"It's a wonder you haven't chased the mice yet, Keith," Allura added.

She and Allura 'argued' with him on the subject, ever light and teasing, as they coaxed Keith further and further out of his attack. Even if he couldn't quite make a coherent response each time, they kept at it, chipping away at the diseased darkness in his mind and heart.

They knew they couldn't pull him to complete balance, of course; despite having never actually witnessed him during a crisis, they had certainly seen the aftershock, numerous times, along with the way he kept distant and distracted for days afterward. He would doubtlessly be the same this time around, but they were able and willing to bring him at least a little closer to home, especially in the absence of Shiro's rock-like presence and guidance.

A full varga passed before they managed to convince him to get up, and by then, he'd become far more aware of himself, and the damage that had been done. Beyond embarrassed by his reaction, he began to withdraw, until he was almost back to the same, laconic Keith they knew; back to his defensive arm-folding and avoidance. Despite his insistence otherwise, however, there was no denying how drained he was from his endeavor, and he was barely able to stand, with how adrenaline-shocked his system was.

Still, out of exhaustion and need for support, he tolerated the company of Allura and Pidge, as the pair finally guided him out of the hangar, before escorting him to his room to get some bed rest. Nothing was said between them along the way, and they allowed Keith to set the slow, uneven pace, even though he kept behind them in brooding silence, unwilling to turn his back on anyone for the time being.

There were many things they had yet to speak of, but for now, Keith needed to lie down, and that was exactly what they were going to let him do, regardless of the strung-out tension in Pidge's shoulders, or the lingering bruise on Allura's cheek. The threat of a potential second wave of panic meant that they must put up with the delay, and wait once again for Keith to come to them.

Neither had any objection. They never wanted to see Keith – strong, stubborn, impulsive, even weirdly lovable Keith – in such a vulnerable and wounded state again.

A/N: You know how you sometimes get a pair of dogs that absolutely lose their minds after hearing something dumb like a ringing doorbell? Those same dogs that then freak each other out 5ever afterward with their own yelping? That, to me, is a summary of Lance and Keith when they get scared together. Pair of sad idiots, suctioned into symbiotic terror.

PTSD is a bastard. Government-issue panic attacks are, too. Seen both crack tougher crabs than Keith. Wrote most of this based on a couple of my own more serious episodes, and on the ways people helped walk-and-talk me through them. Next chapter should cover what happened to Lance, our second yelping dog. Reviews and crits welcome.