A/N:

Hey everyone! I'm so sorry this is late! I've had a pretty busy week, but I really wanted to get this one out there. This chapter I'd like to dedicate to my great friend Abby, who has acted as a counselor and comforter to me in times where I really needed it. She's kinda like Keith in this chapter, and I'm like Lance, except, different circumstances and all. Also, Keith's a bit of a different kind of comforter than she is, but you know what I'm saying. So, thanks Abbyeet, for being awesome. (And thanks also for being my only friend that reads this consistantly, even though you know nothing about Voltron).

I hope you all have a friend like her, and if not, then I hope you find one.

Itching clawed at his insides. It surged through his limbs, manifesting like a disease in his body. Like a sea of lava, it festered under his skin, boiling and steaming and making him shift in his position on the floor. The rash burned his tongue, and a ball of hot fire tore up his throat. It singed the inside of his mouth, burnt his tongue, and battered at the inside of his lips. Though he tried, he could not withstand its burning intensity, and finally, he caved, parting his lips and allowing the sensation of incineration to exit.

"I'm sorry, man," Lance's voice cracked, the words wobbling off their perch on his tongue, leaving a blister in their wake.

He forced himself to look at his cellmate, though his jaw clenched painfully and his nails dug into his pathetic flesh.

The two of them had been sitting mere feet away from each other for what felt like hours, neither saying a word, both consumed in thought. The silence had devoured Lance, and he needed reprieve, even if that meant confronting an issue that he'd rather avoid.

Keith raised his head, dark eyes reflecting the mood of the uncertain atmosphere. The glow of purple shaded him in a violet shadow, and the dried blood on his face acted as a painful reminder of past events.

Keith raised an eyebrow, before leaning back and running a hand through the tangles of his hair.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, but Lance wouldn't let it drop so easily.

"I-"

Suddenly, the words, once so eager to burst into the open, refused to come. His mouth, arid and dehydrated, could not form what he wished to say, and after he ran his tongue over his lips, the words became like little children who disobeyed every command. They stuck to his throat, pulled at his tongue, and clung to his lips, but eventually he dragged them out, his determination to say them stronger than his dread.

"I shouldn't have attacked you. I was wrong to let my temper control my actions," Lance hung his head, disappointment and guilt shredding his intestines and mind.

"I promised to support you, and I failed in my oath. I don't expect you to allow me to continue as a Paladin of Voltron, and I understand your reasoning," Lance's heart burned now, but what was done was done, and Lance knew that he needed to face the consequences. Even if his memories of the event were blurred and tinged with rage, and he could barely remember the details, he would never forget the pain in Keith's eyes after their brawl.

Lance waited, not daring to look at Keith, heart racing and hands shaking. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging his irises and evoking tears from his tear ducts, but Lance fought them with all of the strength he had left. If Keith was going to expel him from Voltron, he refused to let the last memory that Keith would have of Lance to be him weeping. Gritting his teeth, he anticipated the harsh words that would surely fall upon his head, but instead, a small breath of laughter escaped from his cellmate. Jerking up his head, Lance stared, confused and dumbfounded, as Keith laughed. Lance couldn't recall the last time he'd seen Keith laugh, and his mind could not comprehend how his cellmate could be expressing a symptom of joy in a moment such as this.

"Keith?! Are you alright? Did I hit you too hard in the head?!" Lance finally managed, concern swarming his head. Pushing himself onto his feet, he moved toward Keith, uncertain of his next course of action.

"Keith? Keith?"

Of all the things that had happened to Lance, of all the strange and foreign sights that he'd seen, Keith Kogane, the Black Paladin of Voltron, laughing in a prison cell with blood all over his face was, in fact, the strangest.

"I'm alright, Lance, stop worrying," Keith chuckled, a sly grin cracking the dry blood on his lips and revealing his teeth.

Lance could only look at Keith wide eyed as the he turned to face Lance.

Shaking his head, Keith clamped a hand on Lance's shoulder, all marks of amusement vanishing as his eyes took on a compassionate light.

"Lance, how could you even think that?" Keith shook his head again, still marveling at his friend.

"You once swore to support me, and I once told you that the team needs you. And we still do. You are crucial to our team, and I won't kick you out just because you lost control for a couple minutes. Besides, we didn't just spend all that time searching for and rescuing you, just to leave you in the middle of space because you got a couple of punches in on me," Keith told him, his eyes maintaining pure sincerity the whole time.

"What I said back there, why I'm like this…" Lance faded out, not sure how to finish his sentence.

"I get it, you don't have to explain," Keith told him, honesty written all over his face.

Lance eased himself into a sitting position, letting his body relax just slightly.

"I...want to try," Lance decided, realizing that for once, he actually wanted to tell someone. He wanted to say everything, wanted to explain every detail, every single scar, every single moment of sheer terror. The desire to spill everything flooded him, and he clenched his fists in order not to start rambling.

Keith nodded, waiting, and Lance rubbed a hand over his face, thoughts racing as he formulated his words. His eyes traveled to the scars on his arms, and their newest addition, a bright scarlet burn mark where a lightning whip had connected with his skin.

"Back in the Galra ship," Lance began, doubts and paranoias already struggling with his need to express his trauma.

"Back in the Galra ship, they used to...electrocute me when I refused to activate the Red Lion."

The sentence dangled in the air between them, and Lance knew that if he didn't continue now, he'd never finish.

"I don't know how many times they did it. They strapped me to a table and the intensity got higher and higher with every wave. I would pass out from the pain at times, electricity jolting across my vision the last thing that I saw. Then I'd wake up, and as soon as I opened my eyes, there the sparks were again."

Keith said nothing, but Lance took his silence as a sign to carry on.

"At first, right after they captured me, I rebelled in every way that I could. I attacked the guards, refused to eat, or didn't talk at all. I even managed to escape my cell once," Lance paused, the memory of a desperate dash for freedom, of a heart pounding louder and louder with every passing second, and of the eventual punishment that resulted from his escapade overwhelming. He still couldn't dwell on that memory, as everything about it conjured too much horror.

"After that...well, I stopped fighting," Lance admitted.

He waited for Keith to reprimand him, maybe spew some propaganda about never giving up, but Keith merely gazed at him, expression neutral.

"I gave up, Keith. I couldn't take the pain anymore, so I…" a glob formed in Lance's throat, and he had to swallow it with great concentration.

"I tried to activate the Red Lion. I thought...well, I thought that if I gave them what they wanted, they wouldn't need me anymore, and they'd kill me."

There it was.

"I didn't even want to go home anymore. I just wanted death."

Lance's eyes darted in all directions, and he hadn't even noticed that his fingers were dancing through the chords of his mother's favorite song. He couldn't bring himself to look at Keith, the admision leaving him more vulnerable than he would have ever preferred.

"But they didn't kill you," Keith finally replied, his factual response safe from evoking any destructive emotions between them.

"No, they didn't. Because I couldn't activate Red."

"What?" Keith wondered, his face finally shifting from a devoid expression to one of surprise.

"The Red Lion decided that she didn't want much to do with me either," Lance conceded, a cold bitterness in his tone.

Keith brought his hand to his chin, pondering the statement.

"The Lions are mysterious Lance, we still don't know very much about them. She probably knew what was happening, and knew what it meant for the Galra to have access to her," Keith explained.

Lance shrugged, and the words that next came out of his mouth were ones that he hadn't even admitted to himself.

"Our bond hasn't been the same. We can operate, but I don't feel as connected to her as I used to. Not that I ever really had as strong of a connection to her as you did, though."

Keith's eyebrows raised, and he changed his position on the floor, resting his elbow on a propped up knee.

"That comes with time, Lance. You'll warm back up to each other," he consoled, but Lance didn't really believe it.

Keith sighed, then his eyes clouded over, as if just now realizing how deep were Lance's scars, and just how plentiful were his wounds.

"What else did they do?" Keith wondered, his voice calm, and the way he said it made Lance feel as though he could dive into the tumult of his troubles like they were a clear pool, not a raging ocean.

"Anything that they could," Lance knew it was vague, but he didn't know how much he could take at one time.

"The worst part of it all, was that I couldn't trust myself anymore. I wasn't even sure who I was at the end, and I'm still not sure. Everything that I'd worked for felt meaningless. Everything that I thought was important to me was stripped away, and in the end, when everything was gone, when it all mattered, I was a coward."

A lull elapsed, the only sound the humming of the force fields around them. The scent of old blood and burnt skin, of body odor and tension, lingered in the air, stinging Lance's nostrils.

"No, you weren't."

Lance's blood froze. Moving his head slowly, as if in a dream, Lance examined Keith, trying to understand the intention behind his words.

"What?"

"You weren't a coward Lance. And you never have been one. Everything you've ever done has been selfless and full of courage. Ask anyone on our team, and they'll tell you that you are many things, but cowardly is not one of them," Keith clarified, a fire flickering inside his eyes.

"But-"

"Lance, you've lived through things that I can't even imagine. I can't fathom the amount of courage that it takes for you just to get up in the morning, or to be talking to me right now about it."

Lance blinked, speechless.

"Come on, man, you're the bravest person I know," the corners of Keith's mouth curled upwards, but Lance looked away, trying to process.

Keith's words meant so much to Lance, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe them.

"I didn't want to keep fighting, I did everything they wanted! How is that brave?" Lance demanded desperately, eyes bloodshot.

"Lance, what they did to you...it was unthinkable. You're actions were understandable," Keith continued, his voice still as calm as the morning air before a storm.

"But I did everything that we've been fighting against for years! I did what I swore to never do! Understandable isn't the same as being right, right?" Lance argued, adamant, and perhaps, just a little too starving for confirmation.

"Your actions had no major repercussions on us, so you don't need to worry about them," Keith told him, and his words added another stab to Lance's already tattered heart.

Although Lance knew Keith hadn't meant it in that way, it sounded to Lance as if Keith was dismissing the importance of Lance's actions, their impact on others, and his concern about them. Trying to prove he wasn't mistaken in his existential torments, Lance persisted to debate against himself, almost wanting to convince Keith of all the things he believed about who he was.

"I...I murdered Xeris. I looked him right in the face as I pulled the trigger. I knew what I was doing, but in the moment, I was so terrified. And I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rid him from existence," Lance stopped, the words so hard to push from his throat.

"I've never felt so much hate...so much suffering. I don't know what I wanted, I just wanted him to die."

"You wanted revenge, Lance," Keith clarified, his eyes never leaving Lance's face.

The weight of that simple sound, that basic word, comprised of seven letters, shoved against Lance's shoulders and encaged his ribs, forcing the boy to breathe in tight rasps. Lance had never considered himself the kind of person to seek out revenge, but the memory continued to replay through his mind, and Lance remembered the twisted feeling that had snaked through his gut, and how wrong it felt. But he also recalled how much he'd welcomed it. The face of Xeris, charred beyond recognition, seemed to grin wickedly at Lance in his memories, and his last words echoed, unbidden, through Lance's mind.

"You can escape, but you'll never leave."

Xeris had been right all along. Lance couldn't possibly imagine leaving the entire experience behind him, he couldn't comprehend nights full of sleep and without nightmares, he couldn't envision days without the constant fear of his own memories and mind, and he couldn't wrap his brain around the thought of eating without everything turning to ash in his mouth.

"But, Lance, he would have hurt so many more people if you hadn't killed him," Keith pointed out, to which Lance shook his head.

"That doesn't mean intentionally killing him was right, does it?"

"In situations like that," Keith leaned back, analyzing the ceiling, and choosing his words with care, "Black and white fade to gray, and in the aftermath...we're left with unanswerable questions. Who can say what you did was right or wrong now? But what you did, is nothing compared to what they did to you."

"I took his life."

"And he destroyed yours."

"You know, there's always this argument, what makes a hero any different than the villain if he kills on purpose, and I can't help wondering-"

"Some things shouldn't be dwelled on," Keith interjected, his expression sterner than Lance had seen in the conversation.

"Why not? What makes me any different than Xeris?!" Lance let his fury and fear seep from his lips, and Keith responded in kind.

"The fact that we're having this conversation makes you different, Lance! Xeris killed and tortured without thought or conscience, but you can't escape the guilt! That's what makes it different! And I know you Lance, you wouldn't kill an innocent person on a whim like he did!"

"But maybe he started out that way! Maybe he was just like me, but after time, he kept dismissing his morals one by one, until there were none left!" Lance snapped, terror penetrating his bones like metal claws.

"What is this really about?! What are you really afraid of?" Keith challenged, a bead of sweat falling from his face.

"Are you afraid of becoming him?" Keith pressed, the sentence a whisper and a scream at once.

Lance gulped, and his fingers faltered in their movements. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded, his neck stiff and his blood a roaring river in the dead of winter.

"Well, you never will, because you have something that he didn't," Keith declared, an almost smug look on his face.

"And what's that?" Lance inquired, skeptical.

"He didn't have an entire team of people dedicated to his well being," Keith announced, crossing his arms.

"He didn't have friends who cared about him."

Lance couldn't stop the hesitant smile that tugged at his lips, and a muffled chuckle shook his chest.

"Man, Keith, you're getting kind of sappy," Lance joked, but the tears that sat, welled in his eyes, spoke the truth.

"Yeah, well, I still won our fight," Keith smirked, coaxing a look of disbelief from Lance.

"You sure about that, cause I'm pretty sure I pummelled you, Mullet," Lance snarked.

"You don't remember much of the fight," Keith challenged, "And I remember all of it. I think we both know who would remember who won."

"Yeah, sure. You're just saying that because my small amnesia gives you the chance to discount the truth," Lance countered.

"Think that if you want," Keith rolled his eyes, but a smile quirked on his face, and the sight of it gave Lance a little hope.