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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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Young Love Murdered (That Is What This Must Be)

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Angst With A Happy Ending, Season 4-6 Fix-It, Break-Up and Make-Up, 4.8k Words

Summary: Keith leaves, and their relationship falls apart. Maybe, though, both of them want it back.

--- --- ---

“Why are you packing a bag? Did Allura have a mission for you?”

Keith tenses, but doesn’t turn around. He continues stuffing clothes into a duffel. “Not exactly.”

Lance is tense, too. There’s an air in the room, something crackly. Something dangerous.

“…Okay, then. What are you picking for?”

Keith doesn’t answer, not for several moments. He grips a pair of socks in his hands, so tightly his knuckles go white. Lance swallows, but it’s hard. His throat is dry. His heart pounds in his ears.

“I’m leaving for the Blades,” Keith admits gruffly. “I talked to Kolivan. They have some missions for me.”

It feels like the room tilts around him, and Lance’s head spins.

“What?” he asks weakly.

Keith clears his throat. He tries to speak, can’t, and clears it again.

“I’m resigning.”

“You can’t fucking resign!”

The sharpness in Lance’s voice startles them both, and Keith whips around to face Lance fully.

“Yes, I am.”

“No the fuck you are not. You can’t just leave Voltron! You said so yourself when we started this thing!”

“I’m not just fucking ditching, Lance. There are five Lions, six paladins. That’s what you said, remember? I’m doing everyone a favour!”

Lance clenches his fists, if only to hide them shaking.

“You’re not doing everyone a favour, you’re doing yourself a favour. You’re a goddamn coward, Keith Kogane, and you’re running away.”

Keith inhales sharply, glaring at Lance. “I’m no fucking coward,” he spits.

“You are! You so are. You’re afraid of leading the team, you’re afraid of being in a family, you’re afraid of us, of me, because you’re a coward, a fucking coward —“

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t know a goddamn thing!”

“Then fucking tell me what I don’t know, Keith, because all I’m seeing is you running away!”

Keith spins back towards his duffel bag, shoving a few more clothes into the bag before hefting it on his shoulder and turning to face the door.

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m resigning. I’ll talk to you when I land on the base.”

“No, you won’t.” Lance stands to the side of the door, fists clenched as tightly as Keith’s were earlier. His face is neutral, cold, except for his eyes. His eyes are wet and there are tear tracks dripping down his face, and his voice shakes and his shoulders shake but he stands as tall as ever. “Don’t call me if you walk out that door, Kogane. I won’t be waiting for you when you get back.”

Keith blinks at him, shocked. He can feel something sharp prick in his chest, something painful and destructive.

Lance won’t wait for him?

Suddenly he’s angry. Fuck Lance, and fuck his lack of support. He won’t wait for Keith? Fine.

“Fine,” Keith snarls, storming past him. “I don’t want you to wait, either.”

—

Keith hugs the team tightly as they wish him farewell, promising to call as often as he’s able.

Lance doesn’t come to say goodbye. Keith pretends it doesn’t bother him.

He waits until he’s in his pod, watching the Castle wormhole away, to break down.

—

Lance presses the nozzle on the can of shaving cream rapid-fire, hoping some will magically squeeze out. When none appears from the nether, he sighs, digging around in his cabinet for another can. He doesn’t need to shave too often, his hair doesn’t grow very fast, but he’s been neglecting it a bit and doesn’t want to go walk all around the castle to get a new can. There has to be some buried in here somewhere — aha!

He pulls out a bottle that was hiding behind a box of new toothpaste, triumphantly shaking it in the air. He squeezes a dollop onto his hands, and goes to rub it on his face —

His knees buckle, and he collapses to the floor so quickly he almost brains himself on the edge of the sink. The shaving cream smells so intensely of Keith that if Lance closes his eyes, he can pretend Keith is standing behind him, rubbing his prickly cheek on Lance’s because he knows it drives him insane.

He clutches the can until his knuckles turn white, and his vision goes blurry as his eyes fill with tears. He tries to breath through it, to swallow the lump in is throat. He hasn’t let himself cry since — since that day.

Keith left. He choose to leave. He wanted to leave. Why should Lance cry over him? Why should Lance miss him? Miss his hands, miss his smile, miss his heart, because that’s what Keith is, the very fucking heart beating in Lance’s chest —

The tears finally fall, and they don’t stop falling, and the smell of Keith is still so strong but he’s not fucking here, and Lance sobs until he throws up.

—

Keith stares blankly at the ceiling ahead of him, counting the seconds. It’s currently nearly four hours since he went to bed. He’s been entirely unable to sleep, even a little bit. He’s not used to the sleep schedule here, he’s hot, the sheets feel like fucking sandpaper, and worst of all no pillow clutched to his chest will never be a substitute for —

Yeah, he just misses Lance. He’s never slept as well as he has with Lance. He somehow has the softest sheets in the world, even though they were all given the same stuff when they first came to space. The two of them are also the perfect cuddling pair — Lance is always freezing, and Keith is always hot, so cuddling is always ideal.

Well, was. They were the perfect pair. Cuddling was always ideal.

They’re not anything anymore.

The thought doesn’t help Keith sleep.

—

The rest of the team does their best to stay in contact with Keith, but they don’t have much luck. Keith is sent on what seems to be dozens of missions a month, always in a different galaxy and seemingly without signal. They’re upset, but there’s nothing they can do.

Lance pretends he’s unaffected.

He is not.

In the middle of handing out supplies to refugees on one of the many planets Zarkon’s Empire has torn to shreds, Lance sees a flash of purple and black in the corner of his eye. He turns around so fast he feels like he might pull something, but he doesn’t care, because all he can see is a Blade that’s short for a Galra and their posture is defensive and their shoulders are broad and Lance forgets about his anger, about his hurt, and the only thought in his head is Keith, Keith, Keith —

“Keith!”

Before he knows it he’s sprinting for the Blade, calling Keith’s name over and over, desperation getting worse each time. He forgets that Keith doesn’t want anything to do with him, forgets that Keith left, that Keith doesn’t love him anymore —

“Keith! It’s me! It’s Lance!”

He stretches out a hand, because yes, maybe Keith’s still mad, hell, Lance is still mad, but they’ve fought before and they’ll fight again but they’ll be fighting together and that’s all that matters —

“Keith!”

He finally catches up to the Blade, curling an arm around their bicep, and he immediately knows something is wrong. The Blade deactivates their mask, and they’re not Keith. They’re not even humanoid. Lance feels his heart drop to his feet, feels the burn of tears that has been his constant companion for months make a reappearance.

“I — I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I mistook you for someone else. Sorry.” He runs off, not even back to the job he fucking needs to be doing, but his head hurts and his stomach hurts and his heart hurts and Keith is gone and he’s never coming back and —

Lance wants Keith to come back.

Lance needs Keith to come back.

—

Keith knows he shouldn’t, but he watches the Coalition Show live. He watches the whole team, proudly, but he pays special attention to Lance. Loverboy Lance, rather. He watches the team do their best to promote Voltron, even if they have to play characters they hate, but Lance seems to thrive. He captivates the crowd, laughing and shooting finger guns and having everyone watching swooning. He’s magnetizing, as he always is.

Keith hates it. He hates it so much. How is Lance fine? How is Lance just moving on, with no issues? Where is his heartbreak? Did Lance ever love Keith like Keith loved him? Or did he lose all his feelings when Keith walked out that door? Is that even possible?

Keith watches the paladins’ individual acts with a tight chest, angry and miserable. He can’t pay full attention, thinking over and over again about Lance and his smile and his complete lack of the same ache Keith feels every second of every day.

Lance’s individual act is last, leaving the audience on a high note. Keith should turn it off. He has no need to watch it. But he can’t, because it’s the closest he’s been to Lance in months, and Keith misses him just as fiercely as he did when he left.

Lance climbs up the ropes, back to the camera, the audience watching with bated breath. Then the music starts, and instead of the upbeat pop song Keith’s expecting, something slow plays — something sad.

Lance finally turns to face the camera and Keith gasps as he sees the raw pain in Lance’s dark eyes. Lance has never been good at keeping his eyes free of emotion, every feeling he’s having displayed clearly in the beautiful brown orbs, and today is no exception. His eyes are anguished, wet.

Lance dances to the song, and his misery is unmistakable. Every movement is wracked with pain and vulnerability, every curl and flip looks like he’s seconds away from letting himself drop to his death. Keith grips his holopad, heart pounding, terrified and strangely hopeful.

Lance is just as heartbroken as he is.

Maybe there’s a chance, for them. Maybe they haven’t reached their end.

Keith watches his show until the end, thinking hard. Maybe… maybe Lance is waiting for him. Maybe Lance wants to see him again. He pulls up his schedule, looking at all his upcoming missions. He has one big mission starting tomorrow, with someone named Krolia, to go scope out some old base. He’s got a fair bit of time off, after. Maybe he’ll go see the team.

Yeah. He’ll go with Krolia to the base, and then he’ll go talk to Lance.

Maybe they’ll fix things.

—

Keith doesn’t get to see Lance.

He doesn’t get to see anyone, actually. Not for years.

—

Lance has been neglecting his friends because of his mopefest, and he’s not having it. It’s been nearly half a year, since he’s been with Keith, and he still can’t sleep right. It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Being this heartbroken over some boy.

(Even if that boy was kind. Was brave. Was sweet, and smart, and thoughtful, and strong, and even if that boy what Keith, the love of his life —)

Lance needs to get his shit together.

He messages Hunk and Pidge, asking if they want to have a sleepover. They respond enthusiastically, agreeing to set up in Hunk’s room in an hour. Lance rushes through his skincare routine, because he knows he won’t have a chance to do the whole thing with his dorky best friends distracting him ever three seconds, and drags four blankets and two pillows over to Hunk’s room.

They set everything up in a nest on the floor, sitting in a cuddle pile together and talking and chatting and gossiping and generally having a good time. Lance almost forgets the constant ache of missing Keith.

Almost.

Eventually, though, Lance’s eyes begin to droop. It’s always been easier for him to sleep with someone else, so he can feel his exhaustion finally breaking as he snuggles up next to Hunk with Pidge leaning on his back. The last thing he hears are Pidge and Hunk dropping their voices to whispers.

He snaps awake and indeterminate amount of time later to the same two whispering voices dissolving into giggles.

“Wha’s funny?” he asks around a yawn, stretching out his arms. He’s still tired, he can’t have been out long.

“You were saying Keith’s name in your sleep,” Hunk teases.

“Yeah,” Pidge joins in, “I bet you guys have been talking nonstop. I bet you miss him so much. Your crush on him getting worse, huh, Loverboy?”

Lance freezes mid stretch.

They don’t know.

They can’t know, how much Lance misses Keith. Desperately. Painfully. Constantly.

“…Lance? You okay?”

Like clockwork, Lance feels the lump build in his throat, stubbornly sitting there even as he tries to swallow around it.

“I — I’m fine,” he assures, shooting them a weak smile. They don’t look convinced.

“Is there… something going on? Between you and Keith?”

Is there something going on between you and Keith?

Is there, Lance?

Is there?

Lance feels the lump get bigger, and the tears finally drop down his face. He recognizes the pain spreading through his chest, and he can’t break down in front of them.

“I have to go,” he chokes out, and rushes back to his room. He leaves his blankets and pillows, too panicked to care, and collapses on his bare mattress, the stuffed fabric muffling his sobs. He cries himself to sleep, again, and wakes up to his blankets carefully folded beside him and a pillow tucked under his head.

Pidge and Hunk walk on eggshells around him for weeks. Lance pretends not to notice.

—

The space whale is the worst place in the universe, Keith thinks. It’s a constant survival situation, he’s never safe, he’s fucking bored all the time, and worst of all he’s stuck with the woman who abandoned him when he was a baby.

Yeah. Not ideal.

He doesn’t know how to talk to Krolia. What the fuck is he supposed to stay? It’s bad enough that the damn whale projects scenes of Keith’s private life for Krolia to see, but what? Is he supposed to talk to her about it? Hash out their issues? Talk about Keith’s dad?

No. Keith’s not that desperate, yet. If he’s stuck on the stupid fucking whale much longer, he might be, but for now he fuels himself on rage and the reassurance that he’s gonna talk to Lance as soon as he gets off this piece of shit time dilation, or whatever.

Of course, it’s not like Keith ignores her. They need to rely on each other a little, after all. It would be stupid not to. But Keith ensures all their conversations are strictly business related, at least until she gives him a reason to treat her as anything other than a coworker.

“You wanna take first sleep?” Krolia offers. Maybe she’s trying to win his trust. It’s not working. Keith only accepts because he’s fucking tired, not because he’s accepting her olive branch.

He lies down on a grass-woven mat he made, curling his arms around his stomach and imagining he’s back on the Castle, in Lance’s bed, holding him close. It works well enough, knocking him out fairly quickly.

He dreams of Lance, as always. Of their time together, of the future they dreamed of.

“As soon as this stupid war is over, I’m gonna take you home, Keith. Straight to Varadero.”

“Yeah?” Keith asked, trailing his fingers down Lance’s face. Lance leaned into his touch, eyes closed in bliss.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “my family’s gonna love you. And then we’re gonna buy a little house, right on the beach, and spend every day with no stress and nothing but love.”

Keith smiled, eyes crinkling. “Tell me more.”

Lance turned his head to press a kiss to Keith’s palm, before snuggling closer and leaving his head on Keith’s chest. Right about his heart.

“Mm, okay. You’re gonna get that fixer upper bike you’ve always wanted, spend your mornings doing that. I’m gonna take up scrapbooking, maybe. Or gardening. Something pretty.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Then we’ll spend the afternoons together, in the ocean.”

“Of course.”

“Mhm.” Lance’s breathing evened out, mumbling about their future right into dreamland.

“We’ll have that beach house, Lance,” Keith whispered into his hair, just before he nodded off himself. “I promise.”

Keith flinches as Lance’s cold hand brushes across the back of his neck, but his lips quirk up. Lance’s shitty circulation really never fails.

“Mph, s’too early, Lance,” he mumbles. “Come back to sleep.”

“Keith, it’s your turn on watch.”

Keith shoots up, tendrils of sleep falling away immediately at Krolia’s voice.

Right. He’s on the stupid fucking space whale. Not in bed with Lance.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He gets comfortable as he can on the rocky ground of the cave floor, looking morosely out the entrance.

I hope you’re waiting anyways, Lance.

I miss you.

—

“Wait, you haven’t heard from Keith either?”

“Not as of yet,” Kolivan says carefully. “It is unusual for him, but not so unusual for the Blade he is currently working with. I have full confidence that we will hear an update from them shortly.”

Shiro nods, as if that is at all an acceptable answer. “Good. Let us know when you hear something. Now, for the —”

“That’s it?” Lance demands. Shiro turns towards him, eyebrows raised and disappointed, but Lance holds his gaze. “‘We’ll keep you updated’? You’re satisfied with that?”

Shiro narrows his eyes at Lance, obviously annoyed with the interruption. “Kolivan has given us the information he has, Lance. No need to start something.”

“Keith is apparently fucking missing! Missing! And you’re just gonna lie there and accept it? Keith tore the fucking universe apart looking for you, Shiro, and you suddenly don’t care? He could be dead! He’s your brother, and —”

“Oh, so now you decide to care?” Shiro asks coldly. Lance rears back as if slapped, and Shiro smirks at him.

“Yeah, don’t give me that. I was there when he said goodbye, Lance, and you sure weren’t. You’ve claimed to hate him from day one.”

“T — that’s not true, I —”

“Oh? ‘Rivalry’ doesn’t ring a bell? C’mon, Lance,” Shiro attempts to sound reassuring, but all Lance can hear is condescension. “You’ve got your second to shine in the conversation, it’s time to drop it. Keith will turn up when he wants to turn up. You know how he is.” Shiro turns back towards Kolivan, back to Lance. A clear dismissal.

Lance gapes at Shiro’s back. What the shit was that? Shiro’s changed since he came back, sure, but in no universe did Lance ever expect to see Shiro dismiss the possibility that his little brother could be dead.

Lance clenches his hands together, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. Keith — Keith could be dead. And the last thing that Lance said to him was that he didn’t want him to come back.

All Lance wants if for Keith to come back.

—

The relief of finally being free of the fucking space whale is as overwhelming as it would have been two years ago.

Keith is different, now. He’s taller, for starters. Bigger. He has a dog, now, and a mom. A relationship with his mom, even. He’s had a lot of time to think, a lot of time to reflect, a lot of time to forgive himself and forgive others. A lot of time to grow and change.

One thing that has not changed, or even waned or lessened, is his love for Lance.

He knows, now, that he made a mistake. He wasn’t wrong, exactly — he needed to go. He needed to figure himself out. But he could have figured himself out and kept Lance, but he rushed, and he regrets it. He regrets how he left, the pain he knows he left with Lance. Now, he has to fix it. As he flies off the stupid whale, Kosmo and Krolia and Romelle and the fate of the Universe tucked safely in the pod with him, Keith thinks of Lance.

“Oh, hey, I think that’s the Neflexxer nebula,” Romelle comments, pointing out a swirling mass of turquoise and pink and spots of bright white stars. Keith gasps, almost doubling over.

“What the fuck are we doing, Lance?” Keith demanded, rough and annoyed. He had to look for his brother, and Lance was insisting on some frivolous joyride.

“You need to bond with Black,” Lance said matter-of-factly, voice tinny from Black’s speakers but no less firm. “You’re the only one of us who hasn’t spent any time with her. You’re wondering why you’re struggling so badly? It’s because y’all don’t talk.”

Keith glared through his window at Red, imagining he was glaring a hole right through to Lance’s stupid face. Why couldn’t he have gotten Hunk as a right hand, or something?

“Black and I are fine.”

“See, you speak, and it’s like all I hear is ‘Lance, please convince me I’m wrong’. It’s fun for me.”

“Can you just get to the fucking point so we can go back,” Keith snapped.

He couldn’t see it, but he knew that Lance rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine. Jesus. See that nebula to your left?”

Keith glanced over, seeing a swirling and colourful nebula. A new one, by the looks of it.

“Yeah.”

“That’s Neflexxer. You know what it’s notorious for?”

“Get to the point, Lance.”

“Yeesh, okay. It’s got a lot of rock storms, asteroid belts. We’re gonna play a little game.”

Red twirled suddenly, facing the galaxy, looking ready to bolt.

“Think of it as a training exercise! And a way to get out your aggression! You’re gonna chase me and Red through the nebula, and if you catch us, well.” Keith could hear the grin in Lance’s voice, the competitive flair, and he found himself grinning a little, too. “If you catch me, you can do what you want with me. But you won’t.”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky, Cargo Pilot.”

“We’ll see, Dropout. See ya!”

Red fired off, a blur of red and silver in the dark backdrop of space.

“Hey!” Keith called, shooting after them.

Lance cackled, and the sound made Keith smirk.

“Oh, it’s on, you little fucker.”

“Come get me, Keith! Betcha can’t! In fact, Keith —”

“Keith!”

Keith startles out of his memories, only to see everyone looking at him in concern.

“Sorry. My bad. Let’s go.”

He pushes heavily on the thrusters, flying them as fast as they can go.

I’m coming, Lance.

Please still be waiting.

—

As much as Lance tends to enjoy himself at parties, or at least use them as a distraction, there’s nothing he wants less to be at this one, in the arms of some random stranger.

“You’re very beautiful,” compliments the stranger, who’s name Lance does not remember even slightly.

“Thank you,” Lance says tersely, pointedly avoiding eye contact. This feels wrong. Being in someone else’s arms, especially in a dance — Lance feels gross. It feels like a betrayal. Like cheating.

And that doesn’t make sense, because he doesn’t even know if Keith’s alive, let alone if Keith still wants him. Just the thought of what Lance said to him — Lance wouldn’t take himself back, either.

Regardless, Lance does his best to keep himself at arm’s distance, trying desperately to imagine that these stranger’s hands are rougher, covered in leather, touching him gently.

“You look bored,” Keith whispered.

“Of course I’m bored. This planet it boring.”

Keith snorted, turning it quickly into a cough lest they both get in shit.

“You know,” he said quietly after a moment, “I heard this planet has pretty good music, actually.”

“Not for us,” Lance whispered back. “They have some really expensive concerts open, I checked, but they’re all heavily gated. Most of them are happening right now, actually. We can’t go.”

“Huh.”

Keith turned back to the meeting, and Lance thought that was the end of the conversation. A half hour later, Keith stood abruptly, making a loud gasping noise.

“Oh, Lance, you’re feeling sick?” he asked, in a voice so clearly fake and practiced Lance would bash his head against the table if he didn’t want to laugh so hard.

“Oh, yes,” he said, playing along immediately. He pressed a hand to my stomach. “So sick. I need to leave immediately, I’m so sorry.”

The head of the meeting blinked worriedly at him, exchanging a look with the rest of the aliens. “You’re feeling unwell, Red Paladin?”

Lance nodded, doing his best to look pitiful. “Yes, terribly ill. So ill I might not be able to walk myself out of here. Very sudden.”

The head alien person pursed their lips, gesturing for the door. “Please, then, make haste for medical attention.”

“I’ll help him,” Keith announced, standing again and grabbing Lance gingerly by the shoulder. Lance bit back a giggle.

“Yes, much obliged, Black Paladin,” the alien agreed. “We shall continue when your paladin is at full health.”

Keith and Lance rushed out the door, barely holding in their laughter.

“You snake!” Lance teased, as Keith led him through a back path to a large, chain link fence. Keith leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Lance’s cheek.

“My baby wants to go dancing,” he responded, eyes twinkling. “I can’t very well withhold such a humble request!”

Lance rolled his eyes fondly, and the two hopped the fence as quickly as they could, sprinting towards the sound of music. They stopped just outside the venue, music plenty loud enough to hear. Keith turned to Lance, bowing playfully.

“May I have this dance?”

Lance yanked him back up, laughing, and the two twirl around, silly and offbeat, to songs that are barely meant to be danced to. They spend hours spinning around, dipping each other to their hearts’ content, and all Lance could think was how much he never wanted Keith to let him go.

“…which is why I think you would be an excellent mate,” the stranger continues, and Lance blinks. He glances subtly at his watch, and yikes. He’s had his head in the clouds for a couple hours, now, ignoring whatever the hell this rando is spewing. Time to ditch before this guy really gets some ideas.

“I’ll have to regrettably decline,” Lance says lightly, gracefully twirling away, and booking it for the door as soon as he’s out of sight.

Please be alive, Keith. I can’t do this without you.

—

Keith’s landing on the castle is a mess. It’s rushed. There’s a crisis, they have a homicidal prince to stop, but when Keith and Lance make eye contact on the bridge, for the first time in either eight months or two years, it’s like time slows to a stop. Like the world narrows to the two of them, everything and everyone else dropping off of it.

Lance takes the first step forward, reaching out like he’s not in control of his own hand, to cup Keith’s face like he always does. Like he always did.

But he hesitates, millimetres in front of Keith’s cheek, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. There’s fear in his eyes.

“Lance,” Keith breaths, and slumps forward. Lance hand finally touches his face, and he doesn’t hesitate, this time, before rubbing a gentle thumb over his cheekbone.

“Keith,” he whispers, just as reverent. Keith brings up his hand to Lance’s, just to hold. Just to touch.

They stare at each other for what feels like decades, hungry eyes drinking in the sight they’ve missed and missed like you might miss the air when you’re too deep under water.

“I missed you,” Lance says, voice so quiet it’s barely audible. “Every day. All day. I missed you, and I waited for you.” A tear slips down his face. “I never stopped.”

Keith huffs a quiet laugh, eyelashes wet and salty. “I missed you too. I — I never meant to leave, Lance. Not like that. I’m sorry, I just —”

Lance brings up his other hand, cupping Keith’s face wholly, now. He wipes his tears, gently, slowly.

“I shouldn’t’ve said what I said. I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you’re a coward. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known, and I loved you for it. I still do.”

Keith leans down, pressing his forehead to Lance’s. He closes his eyes, feeling joy for the first time in days. Weeks. Months. Years.

“And you’re the most loyal. I love you too, Lance. I never stopped.”

Lance sobs, arms moving to wrap around Keith’s neck. He presses kiss after desperate kiss to Keith’s lip, muttering apologies and ‘I-love-yous’ between every peck. Keith does the same, arms tight around Lance waist, kissing back just as hard.

“We’ll try again, okay? Take two. No more running away.”

Lance nods quickly, breath hitching. “No more accusations. Take two. This one’ll be it, Keith. To the end. You and me.”

“You and me, Lance, always.”

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