Chapter 13:

Caution

The Castle of Lions is huge and that's a massive understatement. It's pretty easy to get lost if you're not paying attention and, quite frankly, Keith still hasn't really explored too much beyond the areas Allura and Coran have permitted them to enter. The rest of the ship falls into this nebulous territory of generally unsafe, though Keith's not one-hundred percent sure why.

It probably has to do with the fact that the ship is ten thousand years old and a little, er, in real need of some loving maintenance, as Hunk rather delicately puts it.

Shiro, though, has been known to wander when he can't sleep and, given he's not in any of the areas Keith knows and wants nothing to do with the twenty survivors they have temporarily shacking up in the common room, he's got to be somewhere else.

Keith taps the wall panel and follows the operating directions Allura had given them to bring up a map with the locations of everyone on board. It's cheating a bit, really, but the castle is big and he'd rather talk to Shiro privately.

The screen pops up, projecting a three-dimensional map of the castle into the hallway. A large glowing cluster in the common room marks out their passengers. The two tiny glowing specks in the hanger are probably Hunk and Pidge – when they can't sleep, that's where they always end up. There are two specks walking together in the hall they call "the Gallery," which means that it's probably Allura and Coran. Another speck is running solo by their sleeping quarters, so that's got to be Lance, which just leaves the glowy speck representing him and the one wandering around the lower levels near the Archives.

Right, that's Shiro, then.

Keith dismisses the map and takes the stairs they'd designated as being at the castle's "9 o'clock" all the way down to the Archive level. He resists the urge to slide down the railing – this time. Last time, he'd missed the jump on the skip between railings for the fourth level and third when Coran surprised him and he'd ended up landing flat on his face and nearly falling down the rest of the stairs. Luckily, he only bruised his pride.

Still, he's not keen on a repeat of that incident.

Keith rounds the corner and comes out of the stairwell into the Archive level corridor. It is lit only by the soft green-blue that he's come to recognize as low-power mode and he can't see anyone. Well, not yet, anyway.

Keith rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed huff, trudging down the gently curving hall.

"Quiznak!" an unfamiliar voice curses and there's the sound of metal hitting the floor.

Keith's blood freezes in his veins and then he's moving, drawing his knife in a single fluid motion as he creeps forward. Sinking into the shadows of the arching support struts, he peers out and narrows his eyes.

It's one of the survivors, a guy called Kline. Keith remembers him from when he came on board – Hunk had made a crack about him having an even longer mullet than Keith's and Pidge had called it 70s mecha anime chic. The guy was only a little taller than him with fair skin and could have passed for human, if it weren't for his pointy ears and the fact that his hair was dark purple. He hadn't looked near as thin as some of the other survivors, which Keith had thought kind of weird at the time. Not to mention there was something about his face that'd just been bugging him.

Okay, so maybe his instincts were right. Kline might be a Galra spy or a saboteur or something. But then why hadn't the other survivors told them?

Ice slips down Keith's spine. He's got a bad feeling about this.

Kline curses again, gingerly sucking on his finger as he tucks something beneath his ratty tunic, and glares at the door to the Archives as if it has greatly offended him somehow.

"What are you doing?" Keith asks, stepping out of the shadows.

Inwardly, some part of his brain is screaming you idiot, you have made a terrible mistake, what if you just killed everyone on that station, but it's too late now. Kline has already turned and seen him, and he looks just as surprised to see Keith as Keith is to see him.

"You're Kline, right?" Keith asks, shifting his balance a little. "What are you doing down here?"

Kline stares at him, his eyes following the minute movement and tracing down his arm to the knife in his hand. His eyes widen a fraction, an unreadable expression flashing across his features before vanishing entirely into a wide, easy smile.

Keith's distrust in him skyrockets.

"Couldn't sleep," Kline answers, finally, rolling his shoulders in an easy shrug. He jerks a thumb towards the door to the Archives. "I was hoping I could look up my family, but it's locked."

Keith gives him an incredulous look. "You came down here in the middle of the night to look up your family?"

Kline gives him an odd, equally disbelieving look. "Wouldn't you, if you had the chance?"

Keith shrugs noncommittally but does not take his eyes off him. Truth be told, he doesn't know what he'd do if he was in his shoes, because it doesn't matter: he already knows what happened to his parents.

"This is the Castle of Lions, Paladin," Kline explains, in the same sort of tone that Allura and Coran use when they realize that he and the other Paladins don't understand. He looks to the Archives door and his expression softens. "This place is a legend, the very thing that hope is built on. And this? This is the Grand Archives of the Castle of Lions. Everything of our people is here. It's all here."

Again, he repeats, "It's all here," but the way he says it is as if what he said is just sinking in for the first time and what that all really means. His eyes mist and then he lets out a choked sob, swaying and blinking in surprise as he tries in vain to make the tears stop.

For some reason, it's that reaction that gets Keith's attention. In that second, he knows Kline is not a spy or out to harm them, though he can't really explain why.

It's the weirdest thing.

Keith steps forward and awkwardly pats him on the shoulder. "It's… okay?"

Kline cracks a weak smile. "No, it's not. It's really not."

Keith nods in agreement, because he's right.

It's really not okay.

Kline takes a deep breath, composing himself, and his eyes flick to the knife in his hand. "That's a nice knife you got there. Where'd you get it?"

"My parents," Keith answers. He pauses, then adds, "You know, you're not the first person to ask about it."

Kline's eyes dart to his face, a flash of alarm skirting across his expression. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, one of the others on the station, a girl named Fala," Keith prods. "You guys know something I don't?"

Kline shrugs in a very vague way. "Fala's a good kid. Could I?"

Keith spins it around in his palm and offers it hilt first. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I know my way around a knife," Kline huffs, rolling his eyes as he picks it up. His eyes narrow at the bandages on the grip as he traces a finger over the covered symbol and then he abruptly moves on to testing the blade's balance. He spins it in his hand, snapping his hand shut around the hilt in a way that suggests he more than just happens to know his way around knives.

It practically dances in his hands.

Then, he spins it back around and offers it back to Keith, hilt first.

"It's a very good knife," Kline says solemnly and meets Keith's gaze. "You should take better care of it."

"I do," Keith says, waspishly. He yanks it close to his chest. "Anyway, it's just a knife."

"No, it's not," Kline says and he sounds a bit sad as he gestures towards the knife. "It's more than that, isn't it? Your parents gave it to you. It is your family."

Keith is about to protest, but hesitates as it finally clicks. "Fala – she said knives are important, a symbol of family in your culture."

Kline nods, absently.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think," Keith says. He pauses, looking at the survivor. "It's not like that where we're from."

Kline really stares at him then, his head tilting to the side slightly as if he's searching his face for something and not quite finding it. "No, I suspect it isn't. Where are you from, anyway?"

"Some dirtball, way on the other end of the universe, called Earth," Keith tells him. "We didn't even know there was anything out here. And then we found Blue."

If Kline's eyebrows could shoot up any higher, they'd have shot straight off his face and smacked the ceiling. "You're… joking, right?"

"No," Keith responds, shaking his head in the negative.

Kline covers his face with a hand, blinking in clear and blatant disbelief. "Mother of Lions!"

"Keith, what's going on?" Allura calls out.

She and Shiro are standing off a little ways, having just come around the corner. They both look surprised to see them there. Coran is behind them.

Keith shrugs and is about to answer, but Kline beats him to it: "I'm sorry, I was just trying to get to the Archives. I wanted to see if I could find out what happened to my parents."

Allura's expression marginally softens. "Oh, Kline," she sighs. "The Archives haven't been updated in ten thousand years. It's… unlikely we'd have any information on them. Your ancestors, maybe."

"No, you don't understand," Kline insists. "This is where they would have gone, if they made it out. They'd have to have come here."

Allura freezes, eyes widening. There is a dreadful silence as she opens and closes her mouth. Then, she swoops forward, her voice a brittle thing as she manages to rasp: "How long? How long were you asleep?"

"I don't know exactly," Kline manages quietly. "I was just a little kid. The ship - something went wrong and they evacuated us to the shuttles. They told us it would be ok, that we'd be safe. When I woke up, everything was gone."

Coran's face goes sheet-white and Keith feels a chill slip down his spine, one that makes him shiver so hard his teeth click together.

The memory of his dream comes back to the surface, unbidden. The words hull breech float around in his head and he gulps, trying not to think about it, or about the words the figure was shouting, words that he now recognizes.

It'll be all right! We have to go! Hurry!

Allura shoots a glance over her shoulder at the older Altean and gives him a tight nod as she reaches for Kline's hand. "Come on, we'll look together," she offers, gently.

Shiro lets out a mild noise of protest: one look at his face is enough to know that he isn't buying Kline's story for a minute and doesn't want to leave Allura alone with him.

"It's okay," Keith tells him, drawing back to join him. "We'll stay here. We'll be right outside."

This is not something they should watch, he knows that, and when Shiro looks at him, silently asking why, he just shakes his head and mouths let him grieve in peace.

Shiro blanches as realization sets in and then he reluctantly nods.

Kline's ears droop a little as he clenches his jaw, but the glance he sends Keith's way is grateful.

"Come," Allura says, beckoning him as she traces her finger on the door panel.

The door silently glides open and they enter.

"Coran?" Shiro asks, hesitantly.

Keith turns his head and nearly startles.

Coran looks like he's just seen a ghost.

"Coran, are you okay?" Shiro asks, louder this time.

"The blockade," Coran croaks out. He bows his head, screwing his eyes shut as he clenches his teeth, and forces his face back into a tightly composed mask. He smiles, mustache twitching. "This is a good thing."

Shiro and Keith glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes: neither of them is buying the act for a moment.

"And why is that, exactly?" Shiro presses.

Coran draws himself up into his stuffy brass pose and his eyes curve slyly. "We just found Feyulja's man."

"What," Keith deadpans.

Notes:

Kline's hairstyle is considered very fashionable, especially on Kohrellja.