Sifting through some of the belongings from the shack, Bentley soon came to realise that it was empty for the most part. It didn't look at all like a home, even though the Garrison records said that Kogane had been living there for a long duration of his studies at the Garrison. There wasn't anything that even remotely resembled sentimentality; there wasn't even a single knick knack on the side to suggest the person who lived there once upon a time had a life. The shack had been long since abandoned so it was clear that Kogane and the others hadn't been there for an extended period of time after their disappearances.

After stripping the kitchen (they used the word to describe the area but really it was only a couple of metres in length and a metre in width with one oven and one side with a kettle on it), Bentley headed towards the small living space. It consisted of a sofa and a coffee table that was covered in a layer of paper that had different drawings and notes scrawled over it. The sofa itself was torn and stained as if someone had just picked it up off the street.

Bentley pulled open a draw beside the sofa but the contents didn't seem significant at first. There was a lone notebook with some pens around it, seeming innocent enough. Bentley's initial thought was that it could have been one of Kogane's books for school or potentially even a diary. It was only once Bentley pulled the notebook open that he realised how vital it could be for the investigation.

Inside of it were drawings. Drawings of Lance McClain.

The artist was good enough that each image was easily identifiable to be McClain. The drawings often featured the exact same cocky grin that was present in Lance's Garrison record and his eyes were full of so much life that it could only be the confident student.

"Come look at this," Bentley gestured to the other officer who was helping him search the shack. They walked up to his side and their jaw dropped open at the sight. "Do you think these were drawn by Kogane?"

"This shack did belong to Kogane so I'd say it was likely..." They took the book from Bentley, flipping the page over to reveal more drawings. It looked like Kogane had been observing McClain from afar, drawing him like impromptu photos. All the sketches were beautiful but so detailed that it could easily have been considered creepy. When Bentley reached for his file and pulled out the Garrison record's picture of McClain and held it up against one of the sketches, they looked the exact same, down to the miniscule freckles that formed constellations across McClain's cheeks. "Poor kid... Kogane must have been watching him for a while... who knows what he did to him."

Bentley looked up from his file to nod. "I think we just found our next piece of evidence. I wonder how McClain is going to react to it. It might trigger some memories that could help."

"We can only hope," Bentley's partner sifted through the drawings further, eyes drinking in each picture. "Do you think it's an obsession kind of thing?"

"Maybe..."

-

A few weeks passed before Lance saw the police again. When they did show up, it was the same guy but his stare was much harsher and serious that time; so much so that Lance subconsciously sunk back in his seat. Once they were past the pointless greetings and everyone in the room was holding a mug of hot tea made to their own likings, the policeman got talking.

"We have found further evidence," He explained. Lance hated the way that his blinks were infrequent and it looked like he didn't care about Lance's mental state at all. He was just glaring straight ahead of him. "It is vital that you now make a statement."

"I don't want to talk to you!" Lance didn't mean to yell but, somehow, his voice came out louder than he had planned it to. He had his arms folded and refused to meet eyes with the policeman's glare, instead choosing to look at his own lap. His bottom lip had jutted out a small amount which almost made him look like a pouting child.

"Lance, we know this is tough for you but the people you were with could be dangerous. They could be harming other people right now. If you just told us what you know... you could save all of them." Lance didn't trust the policeman's soft voice one bit. He was certain that there was irritation and exhaustion suppressed deep below the surface.

"They weren't dangerous. They were some of the nicest people I have ever met."

Lance could have sworn he saw the policeman's eye twitch but it happened so quickly that he might as well have imagined it. "We searched through an abandoned shack in the desert and we found this," The policeman dug around in his bag until he pulled out a black notebook. It had a plain cover and looked like something right out of a discount shop; far from the bright books Lance favoured. Lance didn't understand why such a boring notebook was significant until the policeman flipped it open to the first page. "Can you tell us why there are drawings of you throughout this book?" The policeman's voice was fuzzy and sounded much further away than it actually was, thanks to the ringing of Lance's ears.

"What?" Lance whispered the question as he shakily reached out for the notebook. Staring right at him was his own face. He was sat in front of a green wall that looked suspiciously liked those in the Garrison science rooms, head balanced on his hands as he stared up at the air. Eyebrows furrowing and bottom lip quivering, Lance flipped to the next page. That time it was him sat in the lunch hall with a sandwich in a tupperware box in front of him. He had his head turned with a wide grin on his face and thin eyes that made him appear like he was mid-laugh. The third page featured all different doodles of his face as the artist was clearly practicing facial expressions. In one, Lance had tears trailing down his cheeks; in others, he was smiling, scowling and gasping.

Lance was jolted out of his trance when the policeman cleared his throat and spoke again. "We need you to think back to before you went missing for us. Can you remember feeling like someone was following you or watching you? This is really important."

"I-" Lance couldn't fully comprehend the question because he was still trying to process the drawings. He gripped the paper with all of his strength, tears welling up in his eyes as they took in a picture of himself with his arm hanging around someone that looked like Hunk.

"Think. Could Keith Kogane have been stalking you prior to your abduction? Takashi Shirogane even? Whoever drew these pictures dedicated a lot of time to watching you."

Could Keith have really been a bad guy? Could he have stalked Lance? Could Lance have made all that stuff up about space?

"No." Lance decided, voice cracking on the simple word. A small sob escaped as he buckled over in his chair, burying his head in his hands. It was a position he had been in countless times since his return to Earth but that didn't make it any more comfortable. "Keith is a good guy."

"That doesn't explain these drawings. We think he may have been watching you for a long time and planning to kidnap you. Do you think this could have been the case?"

"They didn't kidnap me! I spent my year defending the universe!" Lance went silent as he tried his hardest to catch his breath. He shut his eyes and remembered all those times he had seen Keith around the Garrison. Lance had always considered them rivals because Keith was the best fighter pilot and Iverson was always comparing Lance to him. That meant that Lance was often glaring at Keith or trying to read his work over his shoulder. They hadn't interacted much at all which explained why Keith couldn't even remember him when they had stumbled across Shiro on their last day on Earth. The times that Lance did see Keith, he didn't pay enough attention to him to notice whether he was staring in his direction or drawing him. Still, Lance knew Keith. He knew he was a good guy. As for Shiro, Lance hadn't seen him around the school in person but Shiro had always been his hero. There was no way that 'Shiro the hero' was a kidnapper. "Keith and Shiro didn't do anything! I- I-" Further sobs shook Lance's body and made it difficult for him to form coherent sentences. "I didn't make Voltron up..."

"The evidence says-"

"Fuck the evidence!" Lance jolted up onto his feet, tears blurring his vision. He threw the notebook as hard as he could to get the point across whilst his parents watched with similar expressions of horror on their face. "Leave me alone! Stop making stuff up! Stop it! I know what happened because I was there. You weren't! Stop trying to tell me what I went through!" Lance didn't even realise he was waving his arms around in the air until his dad grabbed them so he didn't hit the policeman. "I'm not lying! I'm not! Why don't any of you trust me? It happened! I went to space!"

"Okay, Lance. Calm down." His dad started to mumble, trying not to speak loud enough to startle his son further. Lance didn't need to be a genius to know that everyone standing in the room thought he belonged inside a mental asylum and wasn't fit to be at home. He could picture the sympathetic looks they were all giving him, certain they were thinking 'there Lance goes again! He's crying for the third time today and it isn't even lunch yet!' He hated it. He hated that no one trusted him. He hated that his friends weren't on Earth with him. Most significantly, he hated that Keith and Shiro were being framed as stalkers and kidnappers.

"No! I can't calm down! My own parents don't trust me! I'm not insane. I didn't get tortured. I'm perfectly fine!" Fine. That word heavily contrasted him at that moment. With red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, he was much closer to the word 'mess' to 'fine'.

"I've asked you enough questions for today." The policeman pulled himself up onto his feet and placed his half empty mug on the table in front of him. He forced a smile at Lance's dad, eyebrows furrowed in a kind of sympathy that had to be genuine. Lance knew that every single person in the room thought he had lost his marbles but there was no way he could prove what he had been through. It was his word against the rest of the world. For a moment, the only sound in the air was Lance's heavy breathing.

"Feel free to ask more questions in the future." Lance's dad said, still holding onto Lance's arm. Lance tried to pull himself away but his grip was too strong to break.

"Thank you for your time."

Once the policeman let himself out, Lance's dad finally let go of his arm. Lance didn't say another word as he made his way upstairs to the safety of his bedroom.

-

"Lance, we need you," Keith said, holding out his hand and lightly grazing Lance's tear-stained cheeks. He had been crying non stop since the policeman had left which meant his eyes stung and were surrounded with the colour that matched Keith's lion. Without thinking, Lance held out his arms and pulled Keith into a hug he needed more than anything else in the world. Lance made sure to bury his head deep in Keith's neck, breathing in his scent so he knew that he was really with his friend. Even if his parents told him that he dreamt Keith, Lance clung to the hope that maybe he didn't. Maybe Keith visited Earth occasionally to come and see him. "The rebels have began to attack," Keith whispered into Lance's hair. "We think they're going to infiltrate a ball that is being held in a week's time. We can try and protect the civilians of the planet but... we don't think that's possible without Voltron... or at least our sharpshooter."

"I know, I'm sorry," Lance's words were muffled by Keith's neck but, somehow, Keith was still able to make them out. "I can't leave my family again." Lance let out a soft sob, still not making any effort to escape the hug. He was basking in the warmth of feeling loved when he had been feeling mostly pain since coming home.

"We understand. We can try our best to defend Alkafa but... we just aren't as strong without you here."

Lance chose to stay silent, his hand brushing up against Keith's signature red, cropped jacket. If you had told him when he was up in space that he would miss the mullet-head's stupid sense of style, he would have laughed in your face. Yet, there he was, basking and finding a home in the sight. At least it wasn't the weirdest thing Lance had experienced. "Keith, can I ask you something?" He eventually whispered.

"Yeah but hurry, I need to get back to Alkafa."

"Before we left Earth... did you draw me?" Lance retracted from the hug enough to see Keith's face. Redness had blossomed across his cheeks but he forced a smirk and said, "Of course not. I didn't even know who you were before we found Shiro." Keith was lying. Lance could tell. Keith had distinct tics that came out whenever he wasn't telling the truth: he would rub his elbow and his voice would raise ever so slightly in pitch. Sure enough, he was doing exactly those things.

"Oh... okay."

"I need to go. Stay strong for us, okay Sharpshooter?"

Lance nodded before letting go of Keith completely. He wanted to hold onto the other paladin for the rest of eternity but he couldn't. He had to let Keith go. "You too, mullet."

Keith sent Lance a broad smile before swinging out of the window. Lance got up and rushed to watch him but his eyes had opened before he could even look at the ground where Keith would have fallen.