It was late, but then again, it always seemed late while the castle drifted through the stars. Keith tossed in his bed for the fiftieth time. Shiro was gone… He was missing somewhere out in the universe and the rest of the Paladins didn't know where to look. He threw his covers off and to the side, swinging his feet to the ground. He needed some air. He needed to think. He needed to get away.

Down the halls of the castle he wandered. He didn't know where he was headed, and right now, he didn't really care. The Bridge. The Red Lion's hanger. The training deck. Keith stopped walking in front of the door. He thought for a moment, sighed, and then went inside.

Round after round he fought against the androids. He took out his frustration, his pain, and his worry on the hunks of metal that came down through openings in the ceiling and up through panels in the floor. He fought them off until he felt the pull of sleep finally dragging him back to reality.

"Pause training sequence," his clear tenor voice echoed through the cavernous room as all movement except for his labored breathing stopped.

He no longer strode with a sense of urgency and a feeling of being lost when he left the training deck. Now, his feet seemed to weigh him down, his bayard felt too heavy for his hands, and his mind only thought of finding somewhere to rest. Having traveled quite a long way in his wanderings, the closest place was the couch in the lounge.

Keith finally slept.

Elsewhere in the castle, other minds that should have been sleeping were also restless at the loss of their brave leader and friend. Pidge hadn't left the Green Lion's hanger in several hours. She spent her time scanning for Shiro, adjusting her equipment, and modifying the Green Lion. In the beginning of her escapade, Hunk had opted to join her. But, upon seeing that she would neither look at or speak to him like she normally would while she worked, he chose to find his own way of coping in the kitchen.

The staple food on the castle was green food-goo; however, Hunk prided himself on his skills in the kitchen, even though the space ingredients made for some early mishaps, such as cookies that made better scaultrite lenses for the teludav than snacks. Since then, he had made a cake that turned to soup after three minutes, and a pasta which, currently, had not killed anyone yet. He had high hopes for his new recipe as he began to pour out his grief into his cooking.

The Alteans, though obviously troubled and hurt by their friend's disappearance, kept plodding away at the ever-growing task of defending the universe. Now, with yet another life lost to the hands of Zarkon, Princess Allura threw herself and all of her energies full tilt into planning the next move and preparing with the Blade of Marmora. Likewise, Coran found his hands full repairing the damage sustained in the final battle against Zarkon. If he was being honest, he was surprised to see the ship still able to support life, let alone be on its way back to the Balmera in order to harvest another battleship-class crystal.

This left Lance ample time to himself to think. Normally, now he would be sleeping, or training. He could never tell what time it really was without the sun. But he had decided that it was probably night time back on Earth. Lance sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time in the span of about an hour (or a varga).

He looked out the window at the stars passing by as this fantastical ship soared through the universe. Earth, he thought. Home… Mom… He shook himself as he felt a tear begin to well up in his eye. No, not now. I have to be strong. She would want me to be strong... So would Shiro… That was the last straw. His chair gave out a high-pitched screech as it slid a couple feet on the hard metal floor. Lance ponded one fist against the clear window as he stood and began to walk out of his quarters.

That was stupid, he told himself as he shook the tingling sensation out of his hand while his feet carried him to some unknown destination aboard the ship.

Lance tried to make himself useful when he came across Pidge in her hanger, but she simply shooed him away. When he found Hunk elbows-deep in a bowl of foul smelling purple and yellow sludge, he decided to excuse himself before he might vomit. He walked onto the bridge and was promptly ignored by all individuals deep in thought for planning the next move, so he continued on until he found Coran working in a compartment off one of the main halls. He didn't stay long, however. Once Coran started telling Lance about the delicacies of the Altean waste disposal and pest control systems, he had had his fill and was ready to be alone once more.

Again, he was left to wander the halls of the ship, until he came upon a room that had quickly become one of his favorites: the pool. The mellow feeling that had plagued him since returning to the ship after the last battle melted away as he stepped through the doors and heard the cool water lapping at the edges of the pool. He quickly grabbed his swimming trunks from his self-designated cubby and carefully ran to the locker rooms.

Lance was never really sure which one was the men's room, because the signs all over the ship were in Altean. But Allura never joined him in the pool, despite his frequent requests, and Pidge rarely left her labs. So, Lance figured that whichever one he used would be good enough.

A splash resounded as Lance's body hit the surface of the water. He let himself sink for one second, two seconds, three. His toes hit the bottom of the pool, and he kicked as hard as he could, rocketing himself upwards through the cool water to the surface. He gulped at the air before plunging himself headlong into the water once more.

His mother had been the one to first teach Lance how to swim when he lived back on Earth by the sea. Back before the Galaxy Garrison, before Voltron… Lance often came to the pool when he found himself troubled or missing his home world. The icy touch of the water reminded him of the place he had left, the place he looked forward to, one day, seeing again. The sounds of the shallow waves as they struck against the metal edges of the pool reminded him of home, and days spent with his family. He was at peace.

It seemed like only a few ticks had passed when Lance heard Hunk calling him over the com system for breakfast. I must have spent more time down here than I thought. Begrudgingly, he pulled himself out of the pool and let the water slide and drip off of his body as he walked to grab his towel and change into normal clothes.

Keith didn't show up to breakfast. But no one blamed him. Allura had also refused to stop her work for something so simple as a meal. No one talked. They simply stared down at their plates and picked at their food. Hunk had managed to rescue his purple-yellow slop, but none of his friends much felt like eating after their exhausting night.

Lance walked in on the solemn meal with a fake smile that he hoped looked genuine. "Sup, guys? What's the grub?" He was met with sideways glances and a couple nods as he slid down into his chair. The mess on his plate seemed to stare up at him as he began to join his fellow crewmembers in the silence that was their breakfast table. "So…" Lance began. "Where's Keith? I mean, like I don't really care. But shouldn't he be here sulking or something?"

Hunk responded with a mere shrug. "I called him. Guess he doesn't feel much like eating."

Silence resumed and filled most of the meal, while Lance tried to make small talk without much luck. Once his plate was finished, Lance placed his dishes in a neat stack and excused himself. He needed some space.

As he passed through the lounge, he saw a familiar mop of black hair poking up over the edge of the couch. When he got closer, he saw Keith sprawled out on the cushions, his bayard resting near his hand where he dropped it. Looks like I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep last night, Lance thought as he looked down at the form of his greatest rival. While Keith slept, Lance almost forgot the hatred and bitterness he often held against this boy. He saw himself; a tired, scared teenager thrust into a situation he wasn't even sure he wanted to be in.

Lance removed his jacket from his shoulders and gently draped it over the sleeping form on the couch. "We'll make it through this," he whispered as he stood up and left the room.