A/N: Okay, this was originally supposed to be a oneshot, and I was going to leave it there, but a lot of people were asking for more, and I figured "why not?" So here it is, the epilogue (of sorts), and I hope it wraps things up well!

Lance pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, staring at nothing in particular on the other side of the room. The whole castle was quiet, and it had been quiet ever since he and Keith had been picked up in the escape from the Galra ship, and they had escape danger via wormhole.

No one had blamed him, and he knew that they didn't need to. He blamed himself plenty. He'd told Shiro about what happened as Coran and Hunk had moved Keith, still unconscious, from the escape pod to the medical wing of the castle. Shiro had nodded and placed a hand on Lance's shoulder, saying "You did what you could."

Lance had to hold himself back from telling Shio that it didn't matter that he did what he could, because it wasn't enough. Instead, he just clenched his fists and nodded dutifully. Shio lingered for a moment, probably making sure that his words had sunk in before leaving Lance to go to the medical wing with the others.

Lance closed his eyes, squeezing them shut harder and harder, hoping that he could get the sight of Keith's mangled body out of his mind. There it was, though, burned into his mind's eye, and there he was, back in the hangar, trying to get Keith to safety, but unable to do anything. He is holding Keith in his arms, feeling the heat from his fresh wounds, and Keith looks at him, and his eyes are full of pain and it's his fault and he…

It's all in his head, and he knows that, sitting there not in his battle suit but his daily clothes, on a couch in the castle's common area, alone. He knew that they would probably be able to save Keith—he knew that the Altean technology was more than advanced enough to repair any kind of physical injury. He had felt its effects himself, before. But that didn't take back the pain. It didn't rid Keith of the scars that would be there as reminders of his sacrifice. It wouldn't take back the way that he'd thrown himself between the lasers and Lance without so much as a second thought. It didn't take back the blood…

Lance's mind flashed back to the hangar, and the way the blood dripping from Keith left a grotesque Hansel and Gretel trail back to the door. The blood was on his arms, and his chest, and his legs… The blood stood out against his white armor, and dripped off its slick surface to the ground, adding to the trail. He remembered how he had wiped the blood on his face, and took a deep, shaky breath.

He knew that he wasn't doing Keith any good by sitting here and moping, but it was all he could do. What was he supposed to do, know that it was him who should have taken those shots, knowing he should be the one going through the healing process over the next couple of days? How could he go about his daily life knowing that those words, those eventual scars, were meant to be his? He had been the one standing and shooting in the open, to be some kind of hero…

And what could Keith have been thinking when he put himself in that position, when he tackled Lance out of the way? What sort of deference, what sort of fervor could he have felt? What kind of care could he have had in order to make such a sacrifice? And would Lance have done the same?

Could he have?

He wasn't sure he would before, but now…?

Lance figured he'd have to, but maybe… Maybe the obligation to save Keith wouldn't come from the fact that he owed him but from the knowledge that Keith would do the same.

He released from his almost fetal position and sighed. His shoulders slumped down forward as he stretched out his legs, and he looked around the large room. Usually it was full of paladins, sitting around, working on some project or another, reading, talking…

And now, Lance was alone. He wasn't sure what he'd do to even just have Keith here, so they could have their usual banter, fighting over something that wasn't really anything at all. But he couldn't, because he had to get in those few extra shots. He had to be the hero.

But that didn't end up being the case, at all. And now?

He could do nothing but wait. He was helpless to help, and nothing was worse. He wiped a tear away with his sleeve, knowing how lame it was that he was crying when he wasn't even the one who was hurt, and he couldn't get the thought of Keith's blood on his face out of his mind.

When they had gotten back to the castle, and he'd shed his armor, Lance had scrubbed at his face until it was raw to get the blood off of it. It was clean, and he went at it again, and it didn't erase the feeling of the blood, of Keith's blood, on his face. It was almost fitting, considering whose fault it was. And there was no way he could remove the blood, reverse what happened.

That was what hurt. And that was why he hadn't visited Keith in the medical wing. That was why he was here, alone.

That was why he couldn't stop it when a fresh spring of tears welled up in his eyes. He felt hollow, in this hollow room, and could hear his small sobs echoing gently against the high ceilings.

He wished he could change it, that he could make it better, that he could push Keith back from doing it, he wished…

But he couldn't.

When Keith was released from the pod, and sent away from the medical wing, he was very strictly directed by Coran, Allura, and Shiro separately not to "overdo it." He waved them away with his good hand and made his way back to the common area, happy to be able to move around at all after his few days in the pod. His legs were shaky, and he could feel the ache coming from his arm and side, but it was better to be doing things, rather than just floating around in suspended space.

He ran into Pidge on his way to the common area, and they were careful not to let their large eyes linger on Keith's injuries for too long. He knew they were unsightly, the way his skin was mottled and an unnatural shade of pink up and down his side and his arm, and he for a moment wished that he had gotten his jacket to cover up, rather than just his tee shirt.

Pidge realized they'd been caught looking, and averted their eyes downward. "Anyway, Hunk's got something for you to eat when you make it down to the kitchen," they said, smiling up at him, focusing only on his face. "He said that it's been much too long that you've been without a meal."

Keith put his good hand on his stomach and smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Pidge nodded, said their good-byes, and hurried off to the workshop. Keith watched them go, and then glanced down at his arm, which he knew was not a pretty sight. He almost cringed himself when he first saw it, but Coran had assured him that it would work normally, the skin would just be sensitive, and the muscles would need time to heal. Keith felt it just weighed down at the moment, and wondered what the rest of the paladins' reactions would be to it. Pidge was trying to be supportive, but Keith saw the way their eyes lingered, the way they skirted around it awkwardly. He sighed and moved forward toward the common area. There was nothing he could do about it, in any case.

The common area was empty when he entered, and he wandered over to the couch in the middle of the room. He was tired from the short walk from the medical wing, and realized that he was really going to have to listen to the team parents—he was going to have to take it easy for a little while. He was weak after his injuries, and after his time in the med pod.

He plopped down on the couch, and in doing so, almost landed on a sleeping Lance, who he hadn't seen from the other side. The blue paladin scrambled awake, almost falling off as he did. His eyes were muddled in post-sleep confusion for a moment, but in the next instant, he realized what woke him, and he sat upright.

"K-keith."

"Lance."

They stared at each other for a moment, and Lance didn't avert his eyes like Pidge had. Lance's eyes were locked on the scars along Keith's arm, and Keith could feel his eyes burrowing into his scar tissue. Their eyes met after a long moment and both opened their mouths to speak at once.

"Look, I'm—"

"Thank you."

"What?" asked Lance, both of his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"Don't make me say it again, man." Keith looked down, watching his scarred left hand fidget with his unblemished right in his lap.

"W-wait, why are you thanking me?" Lance's eyes seemed wider, and Keith realized that was because they were magnified by the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I—it was my fault that it happened! I caused it, and I couldn't…" He broke off, and went to wipe the tears from his face with his sleeve. A few inches from his face, he stopped, and put his arm back down to his side.

"What?" asked Keith. "No, Lance, you…" He didn't want to say it, but Lance—the guy he fought with daily, the guy he honestly couldn't stand, he'd… "You saved my life."

"But…"

"There's no but about it," said Keith. Lance looked pitiful, and Keith moved his arm to make it more comfortable.

"You—the only reason you got hurt is that I was being an idiot." Lance sniffed. "And if I hadn't, you wouldn't have…"

"You would have done the same thing." Lance raised an eyebrow. Keith sighed. "You would have. And you were an idiot. You always are."

"Hey, I—!" Lance sighed a half-laugh. "I guess I am."

Keith hesitated a moment, then leaned forward and wiped away Lance's tears with the palm of his hand. Lance pulled back at first, surprised, but let it happen. When he sat upright, Keith held his injured hand out to Lance. "Thank you."

Lance hesitated a moment, then reached out with a shaking hand of his own, and grasped Keith's hand gently, careful and cognizant of his fresh scars. Keith responded with a squeeze, and looked Lance in the eyes.

"So next time, just don't make me do that again." His mouth widened into a smirk, and Lance managed a wobbly smile as well. Keith released his hand and let it fall to his side.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, and much later, when Hunk came up from the kitchen to see what was taking Keith so long to get down there, they were both asleep, Keith's head resting on Lance's shoulder and Lance's resting on Keith's head. Keith's scarred arm was laid out between them, slightly curled in a comfortable position. Hunk let them sleep, because they both needed it. And it was going to be okay. They both were going to be okay.