Warning: Hunk and Pidge are so OOC. I think. Language. Angst. Transparent author ploys. You know, the usual.

Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron, and I’m sure they wouldn’t approve of this.

Say Nothing

"What about Lance?"

"What about him?"

Lance froze as he was about to pass the open rec room door. He couldn’t help but recognize the voices. Sven’s softly lilting tones, and Keith’s response. He could only guess at why they were talking about him, but that guess sent his spirits plummeting. He pressed his back against the wall beside the doorway, trying to breathe quietly, trying to hold back the tears suddenly prickling in his eyes. He stared up at the corridor’s light fixture, blinking rapidly.

He imagined them together, curled on one of the couches, their dark heads bent together as Keith rested against Sven’s broad shoulder. It was a posture familiar to him; he’d seen it many times before Sven had been injured.

He’d selfishly hoped he’d never see it again.

"Aren’t you going to tell him?" Sven asked in muted surprise.

There was a rustle of fabric as Keith shrugged. "Why? He’ll find out sooner or later."

Lance bit his lip hard to keep from sobbing aloud at the unutterable pain those words caused. The light fixture wavered in his vision, as tears began to spill down his cheeks. He . . . he’s not even going to tell me? he wondered in despair. He . . . he’s just going to let me see them . . . together . . . He clenched his fists, fingernails digging half moons in his palms. But the wounds were nothing compared to the gaping hole that had been his heart.

I thought he cared . . . I thought he’d at least tell me . . . His balance faltered slightly as he pushed himself away from the wall. Every movement was a great effort, thinking past the pain was an effort. Slowly, he took a few careful steps down the hall, back the way he had come, then faster, faster, until he was running blindly, needing to escape the agony lodged in his chest.

Somehow, he found his room. Slumping against the wall inside, he fumbled for the lock and engaged it. Then he slid down the wall, arms pressed against his stomach, vainly trying to keep the pain at bay.

"I thought he cared," he whispered, lost. "I thought . . ." The sobs took away his voice, but the words pounded in his head. I thought he cared . . .

A few days ago, before Sven had returned, it had certainly felt like Keith cared. His caresses, his smile, all had seemed to say Keith cared deeply. The look in his eyes, so dark a brown they were almost black, had made Lance tremble inside.

He had loved Keith for a long time, ever since they had been in class together at the Academy. He’d known, even then, that Keith was involved with Sven, and he was content. Keith’s happiness was more important than his own, and if he was happy with Sven, then so be it.

That had changed when Sven was injured, then believed dead when Planet Ebb was attacked. Keith became a pale wraith of his former self, alive only when called to battle. Though Lance often dreamed of going to Keith to comfort him, he was also a little ashamed of those thoughts. So many times, he wanted to just reach out, ease Keith’s grief, but held back, not wanting to take advantage of him. The most he could let himself do- all he could trust himself with- was to tell Keith, "If you need to talk, I’m here." He knew it was a futile gesture, because Keith rarely talked about his feelings; he had to keep everything bottled up inside.

So Lance was amazed to find Keith at his door late one night. He stood nervously in the hall, his black head bent, arms crossed over his chest, clutching the opposite shoulders. His voice was hoarse when he asked, "Can I talk to you?" His very air spoke eloquently to Lance of his anguish. Before Lance even knew it, Keith was shaking in his arms, crying his heartbreak onto Lance’s shoulder. "He’s gone, Lance, Sven’s gone . . ."

All Lance could do was hold him, and attempt to console him. It was a dream come true . . . kind of. Oh, yes, he’d longed to have Keith in his embrace, but he’d never thought he’d be comforting him on the death of his lover. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

It became a little sweeter when Keith fell asleep against him. At least then he could pretend that Keith loved him in return, and was there because he wanted to be, not just because he wanted a shoulder to lean on and dampen.

He got his wish not too long after. One night, months later, he met Keith at the door, and got the jolt of his life when he felt Keith’s lips hot and passionate against his own. He melted into the kiss, his desire unexpectedly fanned into flames. Through his haze, he could hear seams ripping, separating underneath their demanding hands, frantic for the touch of skin. Most gratifying, though, was that as Keith climaxed, he did not call out to Sven, as Lance had half believed he might, but keened "Lance!" It had brought Lance to his own orgasm, as Keith shuddered on top of him.

In the months and years that followed, no "I love you"s were spoken. But Lance knew that his feelings were obvious in his actions, the nearly reverent way he touched Keith as they made love. He’d felt certain that Keith would not have sex with anyone he did not love . . .

Lance wrapped his arms around his legs, drawn up to his chest. For a long while, he sat, shoulders shaking, as he buried his face against his knees, a small rocking ball of endless misery, just wishing he could forget everything . . .

***

Keith frowned as he entered the dining room. Hunk was there, of course, and Pidge, Coran and the Princess . . . but not who he was looking for. "Hey, guys, have you seen Lance anywhere?"

Pidge refused to face him, staring instead at his empty plate. "No," he muttered. Hunk looked away and crossed his arms over his muscled chest.

Puzzled and a bit annoyed at their reaction, Keith asked, "What’s going on? What’s the matter with you two?"

Hunk’s short temper, smoldering ever since Keith had stepped into the room, reached the end of its fuse. He leapt to his feet and growled, "You are the problem, Captain!" He loaded the words with such contempt that what should have been a title of respect became instead an insult. Clenching his huge hands into fists like rocks, he stalked around the table to where Keith stood, shocked at this response. The blow to his jaw sent Keith reeling backward into the wall with a crash, where he fell in an undignified heap.

Allura gasped and jumped up. "What are you doing?" she cried. Coran grabbed her arm before she could intervene. "Coran, let go!"

"Princess, this is something they need to work out," Coran advised softly, forcing her back into her seat. "And truly, I think that Hunk and Pidge are in the right of it this time."

Hunk stood over him, visibly seething. Warily, Keith sat up, one hand gingerly rubbing his already swelling jaw. "Feel better?" he inquired thickly, the first thing that popped into his mind.

"No!" Hunk reached down to take a double handful of his shirt, then yanked him up and pinned him against the wall.

"Save some of him for me, Hunk." Keith could only stare in bewilderment over the big man’s shoulder at Pidge’s cold words. His normally gentle eyes were harder than diamonds behind his glasses as he approached his teammates.

"Pidge?"

"Have you even given Lance the time of day since Sven got here?" Pidge asked harshly, poking Keith in the chest with his finger. "He’s been walking around the past couple days looking like he would welcome it if Lotor showed up and killed him."

"It’s your fault!" Hunk shoved him hard against the wall. Keith saw stars as the back of his head cracked against it. "You ungrateful shit . . ."

"Have you forgotten who comforted you when we thought we’d lost Sven? Who pulled us all together while you were lost in apathy? We all missed Sven, you know, even Lance . . ." There were tears in Pidge’s voice now, and it throbbed with emotion. "Gods, it’s in his eyes every time he looks at you- how can you treat him like this?"

Keith’s dark eyes were wide in astonishment as he looked from one to the other. "What . . .?"

"Give it up, Keith," Hunk said in disgust. "Stop stringing Lance along. Pidge and me are sick of watching you fuck with him like that."

"But I . . ."

"Lance is our friend," Pidge said fiercely. Tears brimmed in his eyes. "He’s one of my closest and dearest friends in the whole universe. After everything we’ve all been through together, I thought you were, too. I thought I knew you. But you’re not my friend." He turned away. "I don’t see how you can do that- just hop right back into Sven’s bed without a second thought for Lance . . ."

Keith reddened slightly. "Pidge, I . . ."

"I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it!" Pidge shouted, startling everyone. Then he dashed from the room.

Hunk pushed Keith against the wall again, releasing his shirt. "No matter what happens now, I’m not sure we can be a team anymore."

Keith looked up in horror as Hunk stepped away. "You . . . you can’t mean that!"

He snorted. "If you would treat someone you supposedly care about like that, like garbage . . . what treatment would the rest of your team get?" He spun on his heel and strode away.

Keith slumped against the wall, running his hands through his unruly hair. I guess it’s no more than I deserve, he thought distantly.

"Keith?" Allura’s soft call made him look up again. She was standing in front of him, her face worried. "What, exactly, did they mean?"

He gave her a brief, bitter smile. "In so many words, Princess, they were telling me that I’m worse than Lotor for spending time with a lover that I haven’t seen in years, because of the way Lance feels about me. I should have expected this. Lance and Pidge and Hunk are all close." But not as close as Lance and I, he thought.

She frowned. "Well, you didn’t know, did you? I mean, about Lance’s feelings?"

He sighed and pulled himself upright. "No, I knew. I’ve known for a long time. His feelings are what I need to talk to him about. Please, Princess, it’s really important. Have you seen him?"

She shook her head. "I’m sorry." Keith turned to go.

Coran cleared his throat. "Where would he go if he wanted to be alone?"

Brow knit, Keith stopped in the doorway, and glanced back over his shoulder. "Don’t you think I haven’t considered that? He’s not in his room, nor his usual hiding place in the library. I’ve checked almost everywhere I’ve ever found him hiding in the castle."

"If it’s so urgent you speak with him," Coran said mildly, "then perhaps you should consider looking outside the castle. Is there any place he would go?"

Keith’s expression immediately cleared. "The roof . . ." He ran from the room.

Quietly, Keith opened the door to the rooftop of the castle and looked around. There! Lance was seated on the very edge of the roof at the front of the castle, legs dangling. His hair gleamed bronze in the setting sun. A faint sound reached Keith’s ears, and he realized that Lance was singing very softly.

As silently as possible, Keith walked to the edge and crouched down next to Lance. Lance’s eyes were closed, and he was singing to the nearly empty bottle he had clasped in both hands. Shaking his head sadly, Keith reached out to lightly touch the other’s shoulder. "Lance? Can I talk to you?"

Surprised, Lance started, then gave Keith a brilliant smile. "Keith! There you are." His speech was clear, but Keith could tell by his glazed eyes and the way his gaze drifted in and out of focus that Lance was quite drunk. Lance’s grin was infectious, even if it was alcohol induced, and Keith found himself wanting to return it, even as he wondered what to do now.

"C’mon, Lance, let’s go back inside . . ." Keith’s voice betrayed him. He needed to talk to Lance, preferably sober . . .

Lance blinked. "What happened to your face?" He pointed in the general direction of the already colorful bruise on Keith’s jaw.

Keith shrugged, and replied with a half-hearted grin, "Oh, Hunk was a little overzealous in making a point on your behalf . . ."

His smile waned a bit. "Am I supposed to be upset with you?" Then it crumpled altogether, and he looked away, out to the forest and lake. "Oh, yeah. That’s right. You’re back with Sven . . . and you weren’t even going to tell me . . ." To Keith’s dismay, Lance began to cry. "You weren’t even going to tell me . . . you were just going to let me find out . . ."

Keith frowned at the words. "What are you talking about?"

Rather than answering, Lance looked at the swallow or two of drink remaining in the bottle, oblivious to the tears trickling down his cheeks. "I had almost managed to forget. This isn’t enough to get me back there . . ." He lurched to his feet, teetering on the brink for an instant, scaring Keith to death before somehow recovering his balance.

Before Lance could take another step, Keith shot to his feet and latched onto his arm, moving to stand in front of him. "Lance, what did you mean?"

Angrily, Lance shook off his grip and moved away. "I heard you, Keith!" he cried. "I heard you and Sven in the rec room this afternoon. You said, ‘He’ll find out sooner or later.’ God, it hurts . . . knowing you didn’t even care enough to just tell me . . . I never thought you would be so cruel. How could I have fallen in love with someone so cruel?" He was sobbing in earnest now, the bottle forgotten, dangling from his fingers.

"No, I wouldn’t . . ." Keith swallowed, suddenly seeing what this was about. "Lance, please, let’s go inside, we’ll get some coffee, and we’ll talk . . ."

"I don’t want any coffee, and I don’t want to talk to you. Go away."

"Please, love, I . . ." Keith took a step forward, then froze, realizing his mistake, eyes wide as Lance took another pace back . . .

. . . his boots encountering nothing but air . . .

"No!" Keith lunged forward, arm outstretched, to grab his hand, his jacket, anything . . .

But it was too late. Lance’s blue eyes forgave him, then they closed and he surrendered himself to the air’s insubstantial embrace.

"Lance!" Keith screamed, throwing himself flat on the roof, arm still reaching, even as his fingers closed mere inches short of the leather jacket. "Lance!"

He imagined he could hear the bone shattering impact, far below. He could see it clearly enough.

"No." Numb lips shaped the whispered protest. "No, Lance, I wasn’t going to tell you, because Sven is leaving . . . All the time he was here, I was trying to tell him. Finally, today, I found the courage. I told him I would always love him, but I had fallen in love with you." He let the tears come, staring down as small figures started to cluster around Lance’s broken body. Everything was blurred, suddenly. "I just wanted to show you that you could trust me . . . that I loved you as much as you loved me . . . I just wanted to tell you I love you." He hid his face against his arm, the other still hanging over the edge, and wept hard, sobs tearing the back of his throat, as the red sun slipped beneath the horizon.

***

December 2, 2001

My only defense is that this was self-defense. I had two images that wouldn’t get out of my mind- one was Lance overhearing Keith and Sven talking, the other was of Lance on the roof. So I wrote.

Lance: For godssake, find someone else to torture!

© randi (K. Shepard), 2001-2002.