"Holy shit, Bentley, come and look at this!" Bentley turned his head and followed the voice outside. One of the other officers from his precinct was bent down by the doorway, in front of a rather large hole. He raised his gloved hands and waved something in front of Bentley's eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on the object but, when he did, he realised the guy was holding a switchblade caked in dry blood.

"Jackpot!" Bentley couldn't help it as he yelled, face lighting up like the sun. The entire investigation seemed to be reaching a million dead ends but further evidence was enough to fuel it for a bit longer. All Bentley wanted was to get to the bottom of it and find out what happened to Henry Griffin, a single man who had a kid that was probably still grieving his loss, and the Garrison students. "We need to get it dusted for fingerprints and find out for sure whose blood it is. I'm pretty sure we already know but just in case."

The other officer nodded before gently placing the evidence into a clear bag. Bentley couldn't wipe the grin from his face their entire journey back to the precinct, excitement bubbling all the way through him. There was a chance the knife would have the killer's fingerprints on it and, if so, it was enough for a prosecution. The small knife could be the reason Bentley got a promotion and could finally afford to look after his girlfriend and their baby. He needed it to go his way.

The results were sent to him inside a white envelope. Bentley didn't need to open it to know the results but he was obligated to check, even though the forensics' report only confirmed his thoughts. The only problem was that it wasn't enough to arrest Kogane as his fingerprints didn't appear to be part of the equation. He must have been smart about it. He must have worn gloves.

Bentley was dealing with a murder investigation so he knew Kogane was as dangerous as he had originally thought. After finding the knife, all Bentley needed to do was find Kogane and question him. He was sure he could get a confession. He was going to arrest Kogane, no matter what it took, for his girlfriend and baby, for Griffin's son, for the children who were still missing but, most importantly, for his own sanity.

-

A knock on the door broke the silence that had washed over the McClain house. Each of the family members were sat around the dinner table, eating but not saying a word. Lance had hardly touched his food as he, instead, decided to push what had once been his favourite meal around his plate until it turned into an unappealing goop. It loosely reminded him of the space goo he had eaten on the Castle of Lions but that thought alone made him feel anxious. Lance's dad was the one to stand and walk towards the door, pulling it open whilst the rest of his family observed.

The policeman that the McClain family had become all too familiar with was standing at the door, a frown filling his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt your meal but it is very important that we speak to Lance as soon as possible." The frown on his face suggested that there can't have been any good reasons that they needed to talk. Lance nodded before fleeing the table and finding a seat in the living room opposite the policeman. The policeman didn't waste any time before rummaging through his bag until he was able to pull out a transparent bag with what appeared to be a switchblade inside it. "Do you recognise this knife?"

As Lance leaned closer to inspect the weapon, he came to the realisation that the blade was covered in dried blood. The sight itself made his stomach drop as he murmured out, "I don't... I don't think so?" His words sounded more like a question because there was anxiety embedded inside his head. There was one person that he knew loved knives more than they loved anything else and that person was Keith... but there was no way that one of Lance's best friends had used a knife to hurt anyone with malicious intent. Keith wasn't like that.

The officer's next few words were enough to drain Lance's face of all colour. "We found this buried outside of Keith Kogane's shack. It still has blood on the blade, as you can see. Do you have any idea whose blood it may be?"

Lance shook his head but he really didn't want to know. Keith wasn't a murderer. There was no way.

"It belongs to someone named Henry Griffin, do you recognise that name?"

Somehow, Lance's face grew even paler because everyone knew Henry Griffin. The only people who didn't know him were those who had lived under a rock with Patrick Star since the beginning of time. His name had been broadcast over all of the news stations a million times since his disappearance.

Henry Griffin had been one of the teachers at the Garrison and even had a son that attended the school. He was known for his fiery temper, shouting at almost every kid he came across, no matter how innocent or well behaved they were. Lance had crossed his path once and Griffin had yelled his head off for having one button of his blazer undone. He was most people's least favourite teacher (including Lance's, even though he had never been taught by the man). That was until he went missing without a trace a year or so before Lance and his friends had.

"I see from your face that you do."

"Who doesn't?"

For a second, silence lapsed throughout the room. In that time, Lance's shoulders fell and his eyebrows creased, confused tears filling his eyes. He was sure the officer was indirectly asking him to make the link inside his head but he refused to. He knew Keith better than most people and he was not a murderer. He didn't kill Henry Griffin.

"We believe Keith Kogane was involved in his disappearance and we are now treating it as a murder investigation. Do you understand how important this is?"

Lance stiffly nodded whilst not daring to meet eyes with the officer. His heart had started to pound inside his chest and nausea was washing over him quicker than he could have said the word himself. "But he..." His voice was weak and pathetic as he attempted to come up with an argument. So many words were fluttering around his mind like a wild group of butterflies on drugs but, for some reason, they never made it far enough to escape his mouth.

"We know it isn't easy for you but... could you tell us a bit more about Keith? Maybe what happened on your last day before you disappeared?"

"Keith wouldn't murder someone. Sure, he was impulsive and hot-headed but he's sweet. He wouldn't- I know he wouldn't-"

"It's okay," The policeman held out his hand and placed it on top of Lance's slumped shoulder whilst forcing a smile. "This evidence is not sufficient to make an arrest but we need to question him. Do you know where he is?"

"He's..." Lance let out a soft breath that could have doubled as a sigh. "He's in space."

"Lance, this is serious. Keith Kogane is a potential murderer and could be dangerous to anyone he may come across. We believe that Tsuyoshi Garret and Katie Holt may have already been killed or have been roped into trafficking and you somehow got away," Lance's face scrunched up at the thought of his friend murdering his other friends or selling them for sex. Just the idea made him want to throw up, even though he knew it didn't happen. He had been there and he'd been in space, as he kept trying to tell people, so there wasn't even the slightest chance that they were dead. "Both of those kids' families are worried sick right now so we need to know where he could be hiding out."

Lance leaned forward, keeping his face rigid so his distraught feelings weren't showing on the surface. When he spoke, he kept his voice a monotone to add to the authority and reliability behind his words. "He's in space. I'm not lying."

"Okay..." The policeman let out a dramatic huff, having clearly given up for the day. With the way he was acting, you'd have thought that it was his friend being accused for murder not Lance's. "I'll be back to speak to you tomorrow."

It wasn't like Lance's story was going to change overnight but he said his farewells to the officer anyway.

-

Keith could be a murderer. The evidence was there. Lance had seen the knife and the blood so there wasn't a chance he couldn't believe the policeman's accusations. But... it was Keith. Lance couldn't wrap his head around the idea that his friend, Keith, who had been unable to repeat a dumb Voltron chant and had enough emotional baggage to build a mountain the size of Everest, was a murderer.

Lance pulled his legs towards his chest and hugged them tightly. Tears streamed down his cheeks and, despite trying to wipe the first few away, he soon accepted them by letting them fall freely. He couldn't help but wonder whether the police (and his parents) were right about everything.

Could he have repressed the truth? Could Keith have really been trying to kill him? Could his brain have made up Voltron as a way of coping with trauma?

Lance clenched his hands into fists and began to hit them against his forehead. His entire face scrunched up as he begged himself to remember the truth and to stop making things up. Who knew the day would come when Lance couldn't even trust his own mind?

There was no way Keith was a murderer. He was Lance's friend.

...Wasn't he?

-

"Do you think I could have made up Voltron as a way of coping with my trauma?" Lance murmured, eyes cast down at his lap. He was picking at a loose thread on his trousers, too embarrassed that he didn't understand his own brain to make eye contact with his psychologist. Despite having known Dr Anderson for a couple of months by that point, he still didn't feel comfortable opening up to him. It was generally difficult to explain to someone that your brain was keeping secrets from you and making the weirdest things up.

"I think that's highly likely, yes," Dr Anderson said, over gesticulating with his hands like he always did. He paused to think for a moment as he pushed his round glasses up his nose. "But I can't say for sure because it's your brain."

"I don't know if I made it up. At first, I was certain that I didn't but now... I'm not sure. The police keep coming to my house and they have evidence..."

"But you don't want to believe something bad may have happened to you?" Lance nodded. He swallowed thickly as he shifted in his seat and began to chew on his bottom lip. "Look, repressed memories are something science can't explain well. They're complex and much isn't known about them. Our brains are powerful and can repress memories unconsciously so it's out of your control."

"So I could have made Voltron up without even realising it?" Dr Anderson nodded his head at such a pace that Lance almost felt like he was being demeaned. "I made it up... didn't I?"

Now, I have a couple of questions for you...

Do you think Lance made it up?
Do you think Keith is really a murderer?

I'm really curious as to what you think; feel free to theorise :P