Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There's always someone with Shiro after he returns. They take turns or sometimes share, two bodies cuddled up against his own, three, occasionally more, because it’s Shiro, and they all love him. It's just as much for them as it is for him. It’s claustrophobic but not as much as being trapped inside the Black Lion was, and he understands-- it’s because they all harbour a seed of guilt that they didn’t recognise that the man they accepted as Shiro was a clone in Haggar’s control until it was too late. That's on him mostly, he became too good at hiding the damaged parts of himself behind a competent exterior.

They’re not making that mistake again though, he'll be allowed few secrets from them in the future. No more posturing as leader, no more him and them separated by self-imposed rank... and maybe he’s okay with that. Maybe he needs that.

Shiro accepts their affection with good grace, he has little energy to fend them off or redirect them to other more important tasks. There are no more important tasks, they always reply. It’s how he comes to know Keith's mother better, Krolia who watches him closely for a long time and doubly so when Keith is near him until suddenly she doesn’t anymore. Also Romelle with her gentle hands and kind smile as she brings the mice to visit him, shy at first, she's still finding her place among them and has many questions about the paladins and their behaviours.

Mostly, he sleeps and dreams, and sometimes wakes in fear that he is still trapped on the astral plane, still a part of the Black Lion. Keith always returns to his side when it happens, and lies beside him, whispering that he’s real and safe. His strong fingers dragging through Shiro’s bangs to rest on his cheek or cupping his face until Shiro’s breathing lengthens and he can sleep again, a thunderous purr rattling his mind. There are other dreams-- of things that came after he died the first time. The clone’s memories, Kuron the paladins have dubbed him, it's the only reasonable explanation.

They are a gift and he gratefully receives them. Laughing over Kaltenecker milkshakes with the other paladins, Allura’s face turning a delightful shade of grey when they invite her to share. Ice skating in his paladin armour, a strange one because he hasn’t skated since he was a child. Whispers of Shiro the hero. Arenas but without the feeling of sheer terror that the Galra arenas gave him. Video games and role playing and smiling so hard his face hurts. Wanting nothing more than to be a paladin, again, and again, and again. He empathises with Kuron's desire.

He dreams of Keith the most and the pang of longing that comes with those dreams is always so intense, it wakes him in the act of reaching, and the reality waits where the dream ends. Keith’s long body cradling his own with arms that carry new strength. He is older and Shiro has asked him more than once for the story behind that but Keith shakes his head, a long story for another time.

No darkness remains in Kuron's memories though, perhaps those ones were Haggar’s to keep... along with the arm he gritted his teeth and bore for so long. He knows they fought, and it must've been bad, from the bruises that paint Keith's body and his for days after, from the new scar on Keith's cheek that draws his hand and eyes. Keith cups his hand over Shiro's when he touches it.

"I love you."

He has the memory because Kuron wanted to hold onto something beautiful instead of the horror his life had become. Shiro weeps for Kuron many times and cannot find words when he is asked why.

His second life is filled with kisses and touches because now that Keith has shared his feelings aloud, often, proudly, and Shiro can reciprocate-- it’s like a dam has burst. They share snatched moments together, it's hard when everyone is living out each other's pockets; they push and pull at each other like the tide with kisses quick or long, gentle or desperate or sometimes a measure of both. They are so touch starved.

When his strength returns on the journey back to Olkarion, sooner than many anticipated, Allura and Coran suggest delaying any attempt to fly the Black Lion. But that’s like telling him not to breathe, and assumes that the Lion will reject him simply because Keith is the Lion’s paladin now. He smiles and tells them to have faith, he knows more about how his Lion moves, thinks, feels, than anyone. Keith is with him when he sits in the cockpit for the first time in forever, sliding into the familiar seat and settling his hand on the left control. Keith’s lips brush warm across his forehead and lights blaze as screens come to life immediately, the drag of quintessence leaving his body is halved when Keith's hand comes to rest over the other control, and Shiro knows, he just knows, that it's going to be better this way.

The Black Lion roars and the bond between paladins and Lion is powerfully renewed. 

Home is more than a geographical place, he's known it since he first became a paladin and bonded with his Lion. Home is Shiro’s heart, it’s the Black Lion’s heart, and now it’s also Keith’s heart. Home is three hearts that beat as one.

Chapter Text

The Blade of Marmora find the Lions before they get even halfway to Olkarion. Kolivan’s face looms large on the screen in the Black Lion as he hails them, and they wait as other screens appear with each paladin joining the channel. Kolivan's nostrils flare when he sees Keith in the pilot seat, Krolia to the left, Shiro at the right. There is not quite a double-take at an older Keith in his paladin armour with a new scar on his cheek; or Shiro, sans arm, and quintessence blessed hair. There can be little doubt that something profound has happened.

“The coalition was growing concerned by your failure to appear at Olkarion at the appointed time, Princess. There are reports that the Galra empire is once again at odds after the disappearance of Emperor Lotor but one of our deep agents has told us what transpired at Daibazaal. We have been struggling to catch up on all the rash decisions you employed in this endeavour to save one man.”

He doesn’t look at Shiro so perhaps he is talking about Lotor. Shiro straightens beside Keith, ready to reply, but Allura answers Kolivan first. “Not one man, the universe. Events moved too quickly to discuss it as a committee, Kolivan, and if we had waited we would not be having this conversation at all. Emperor Lotor is not dead but he may wish he was.”

Shiro hears some snorts from three of the other screens and reminds himself that they are still young and Allura couldn’t possibly known what she said, right? His mouth twitches slightly. It’s disrespectful to their steadfast ally but Shiro is not sure Allura cares at the moment. She’s told him what happened to Lotor while Kuron was in a cryopod but the reality of leaving Lotor behind in the quintessence field must’ve been so much harder to bear for someone who feels so much about all life.

Kolivan looks as if he is sucking on a particularly sour lemon or whatever the space equivalent is. “That may be, Princess Allura, but a meeting is what we will be having when you land on Olkarion.”

She snaps back quickly, her tone so brisk that Shiro shivers. “If you came only to reprimand us, consider that task done, Kolivan. We will see you on Olkarion. You need not linger.”

It’s not smart to send them away though, the Blade were their first true allies and surely this is not why they came all this way. There is a painfully loud sigh. “No, Princess, we came to offer assistance after....” Kolivan studies Shiro like he's a bug on his windshield. “Perhaps the reports were wrong,” he says finally.

Again Shiro takes a breath to speak and again Allura beats him to it. There is a new leader in town and it’s not him and it’s not Keith. “They were not but it is complicated and we will speak of it at length later.” They talk back and forth about how the Blade can practically help the paladins and when they end the conversation, it's on a painfully cold note.

Directly afterwards, Kolivan opens a channel to the Black Lion alone, a risky political move since he’s essentially been dismissed by the princess but Kolivan never did seem the type to not get to the heart of something as quickly as possible.

“Krolia. Keith.” There is a dramatic pause that goes on so long Shiro wonders if he should step out of the cockpit but Krolia’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, pinning him in place. “Shiro. It is Shiro, isn’t it? Not Haggar’s clone?”

There is an air of discomfort in the cockpit. The wolf whines nervously at the sudden build up of tension. Kolivan wants to talk about the elephant in the room with the elephant, or possibly the elephant’s clone. How he’s come by the information is anyone's guess, it’s been a tightly held secret within the empire for so long.

“Yes and no,” Shiro replies, slowly.

Kolivan catches the inference immediately. “Are you a threat?”

“He’s not a threat, Kolivan, it’s Shiro-- the real Shiro,” says Keith quickly, attempting to shut down any doubt. Keith’s support has been strenuous since he returned to life, not that it needs to be, and Shiro's heart swells a little at the defiance, dangerous though it could be.

Krolia glances at Shiro and shrugs. “I also do not consider this one a threat, Leader.”

Shiro turns to her in surprise, catching a rare smile. “I appreciate the support, I do, but we can’t say that definitively.” He returns Kolivan’s frown with one of his own. “Is there any way to truly know if I'm free of her?”

“Perhaps… but it will be knowledge or death, Shiro.” Kolivan looks unsure for a moment, considering the implications of Shiro dying during a Marmora trial and his organisation becoming an enemy of Voltron. “Are you prepared for that?”

Keith gasps and turns to him, face drawn with more than a hint of fear. Shiro wants to wipe that fear away, it's not easy to leave it there, raw on his face. "Shiro, no, you can't. I can't...." He can only be recalling his own trial and what they've already been through not so many quintants ago. Some of the bruises still remain and Shiro aches when he grows tired but he felt like that before he died.

Glancing at the stump of his missing limb, mind on the possible pain ahead, Shiro considers what he is being offered. His hand tightens into a fist, fingernails digging into the flesh, blood pools there, it's visceral and real and he closes his eyes for a moment. The paladins trust him implicitly but the coalition will not extend the same privilege-- not unless one of their most powerful allies vouches for his state of being. “I’ve died once, Keith, it’s time to live.” He bends to whisper in Keith's ear. "We know I'm clear but I have to do this, no one outside of you and my Voltron family will trust me again if I don't. Ever."

Kolivan interrupts them. "I will make arrangements. You will convince the princess that stopping at our base on the way to Olkarion is necessary."

Chapter Text

Shiro excuses himself after Kolivan’s face fades out, drifting towards the makeshift sleeping area in the back. Krolia and Keith talk, the back and forth is quick and, on Keith’s part, heated at first but Krolia is patient with him, her voice never rises to meet Keith’s. Shiro listens until it's a quiet murmur, he can’t make out specific words but he finds the noise peaceful enough and drifts into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes to Keith crouching over him, the wolf has dragged part of Shiro’s blanket off and is curled up on it, watching them both.

“Hey,” says Keith, smiling but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that has nothing to do with Keith being half-Galra.

“Hey,” replies Shiro softly, still drowsy with sleep. “Anything more from Kolivan?” He turns a little so he can see Keith more clearly.

Shaking his head, Keith says, “No, radio silence. We’ve heard from Coran though, he wants to come over and check this….” He doesn’t quite touch what’s left of the prosthetic limb, his hand hovers above the metal before closing into a fist and returning to his side. “He’s been studying the scans from the cryopod.” Keith’s eyes are pinched with concern. Shiro wonders what else Coran might have said, with no castle to care for he’s found a new project in Shiro. He’s caught the damn thing on the edges of doors, the pilot’s seat, and open lockers, a half dozen times already, each time jarring, pain shooting through his body, retching once. He downplays it, in his usual way, but Keith knows him too well now to overlook the signs.

“Okay. You’ll… you’ll be here?” It shouldn’t worry him, it’s Coran. Having people scrutinize the arm though, tinker with it-- that’s always been hard. There’s not much left though. He needs to keep reminding himself, not much left, he could probably let them take it all and be free of Haggar’s insidious gift completely. Keith’s fingers slip under his chin and lift it to look into Shiro’s eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Keith says firmly, lowering his lips to brush across Shiro’s. “Okay?”

Shiro nods and shifts to lie on his back, raising his arm across his eyes. Moisture beads on his lashes, hidden from view. The skin on his bare arm gooses up. “When?”

“Soon. When the Lions are in position, Coran will cross over to us.” Keith’s hand comes down on his shoulder, not hard, it’s just unexpected, and Shiro jumps, his nerves are already fraying.

He feels the momentum of the Black Lion change, watches through her eyes as she slows and rotates to face the Blue Lion, both maw entries opening in silent synchronicity. They are so close, barely a whisker of space between their jaws, it’s beautiful flying if he’s honest, and he expects nothing less of Keith and Allura. The other three Lions take up defensive positions around them as Coran appears in the Blue Lion’s maw and, with minimal help from his jetpack, leaps between the two Lions carrying a large bag. The two great jaws close and the Lions return to the predetermined flight path. It takes ten doboshes at most out of their journey.

Shiro hears Coran approaching but doesn’t yet uncover his eyes.

“Number One,” says Coran warmly as he kneels next to Shiro, setting aside a helmet, and patting the starwolf. “If you’re ready, we’ll take a look at that arm when Number Four gets here.” His voice travels a little louder on the last part, and Keith arrives a tick later, sliding down to lean against the wall beside Shiro’s head. His fingers card through Shiro’s hair and he begins to slowly massage away the tension that has built up.

Krolia is kneeling in the pilot’s seat, leaning over the back, hands clasped loosely, watching them all.

Coran removes a device from his bag, it’s smaller than the medi-scanners from the castle but larger than the hand held tablets. The screen lights up and Coran shows him how it’s going to work, using his own hand first. “You can see that bionic finger there, how it connects to the first nerve cluster. I lost the original to a dappled blortac, you know, on a field study during my last year of university. I was a young buck and showing off to a friend that eventually became the Queen of Altea.” His eyes grow misty for a few ticks and then he glances down at Shiro who has uncovered his eyes and is studying the scanner curiously. “So, Number One, shall we get it over with?”

Screwing his face up, Shiro nods. “Should I stay like this or do you want me to sit up?”

“Let’s have you sitting so I can get all the angles,” Coran replies, his hand out ready to pull Shiro up. With Coran and Keith steadying him, he finds a comfortable position to sit, hand tangled in Keith’s shirt, crossing his legs. Keith’s fingers begin to soothe circles into his lower back and he shivers violently.

Coran’s eyes flick up to his, frowning his concern. “Ready, Number One?”

“Sorry,” Shiro murmurs, attempting to stay still but fighting a rising tremble in his entire body. “Go ahead.”

“Pish, nothing to apologise for.” If Coran notices that he’s shaking, he doesn’t mention it, scanning the entire shoulder joint and the remainder of the prosthetic swiftly. “You can try to sleep again, I’ll need some time to study this. Number Five is keen to have a look as well, if that’s alright with you?” Pidge doesn’t usually ask, it’s routine to find her poring over information that she acquired on her own time and without permission.

“Sure.” He feels oddly exhausted and droops down, head slowly falling into Keith’s lap. He stares up at indigo eyes that return his gaze warmly. “You okay?” he asks and Keith snorts.

“Am I okay?” Keith chuckles and runs his fingers through Shiro’s bangs, pushing them back, again and again. The gentle repeated motion puts him to sleep before he can hear Keith’s answer.

When he wakes again, it’s to Keith and Coran talking, Pidge is on the forward screen, her voice low, and Hunk breaks in with a thought every so often from a screen to the right.

“When the arm was last scanned, Shiro was recovering from injuries sustained fighting Haggar during the Princess’s rescue-- there was more there. You can see that in this image. We didn’t scan him again until now so we don’t know what he had to begin with in this body. If it’s the same as his original body, then there’s further tissue, musculature, and bone missing but the casing is obscuring parts of the shoulder and arm pit.” Coran manages not to sound clinical. “I think we can all be grateful that it doesn’t appear to have entered the chest cavity, the metal seems to be only lying over top of the skin there.”

Keith makes a frustrated sound. “When we were fighting, the arm and the quintessence in it, it changed… I don’t know how to describe it more than it took over his entire arm, moving up until it had almost all of it including his shoulder, it was like the metal was consuming him. When I had the chance, I cut it away and everything changed, it was like Shiro had control back briefly.”

“You mean the clone though, right?” That’s Hunk.

“No, I mean Shiro. They were both Shiro! When did you guys forget that?”

Pidge weighs in for the first time since he woke up. “Regardless of the semantics of who the primary consciousness was at that time, Keith, we need to talk to Shiro about this. We’ll be a whole lot happier when the entire casing is removed so we can see what’s going on underneath it. Hopefully, it’s just a lot of scar tissue and not something else that Haggar left to screw with him. And us.”

“It won’t hurt Shiro to remove it?” asks Keith quickly, and Shiro feels tears prick at his eyes at the emotion packed into that small sentence.

There's silence until Coran replies, his voice tired, “Hard to tell, Number Four, but we three agree, what’s left of the Galra arm should be removed and sooner than later.”

Shiro groans and sits up slowly, awkwardly readjusting to lean against the wall. “Just do it, please. I need to be free of her.”

“You… heard all of that?” asks Keith slowly as he turns in the pilot’s seat. He studies Shiro’s face carefully. “Are you sure, Shiro?”

“No one asked me when they took my arm the first time. If it’s my decision now, then I want Coran to remove what’s left of the Galra arm, if he can.” It scares him but what’s left of the old arm serves no practical use and he’d rather they learned it’s secrets before those secrets hurt anyone else.

Coran makes a noise and holds a hand up placatingly. “Well, we can’t do anything until we have the correct equipment and a sterile environment. It’s not a procedure I’m going to do on the fly in a Voltron Lion with the tools we have on hand.”

“What about the Blade of Marmora base?” asks Keith heavily, he’s turned away from Shiro. Krolia nods her agreement but she’s watching Keith with a frown, her gaze flicking back to Shiro who shrugs. “It won’t delay us by much and they have medical facilities there.”

“That could work,” replies Coran thoughtfully, tugging on his moustache. “Yes, that’s a fine suggestion, Keith.”

Keith asks Shiro again later, when they are alone, or as alone as they can be with two other people and a star wolf crammed into the small space. The lights dim and the doors close between the cockpit and the rear compartment. “Is this what you truly want? You’re not just going along with Pidge and Coran?”

“Yes and no.” He smiles gently, he finds it easy to get lost in Keith’s eyes now, they’re watching him more, endlessly deep and dark. “I’ve always wondered what it’s ultimate purpose was, why Haggar gave it to me, it never felt safe….” He’s still for a moment as he recalls the battle at Project Kuron, when they both saw exactly what it was capable of. “Even broken it doesn’t feel safe, Keith... I’m still afraid of it.”

They lie quietly for a while, Keith’s arm is around his waist, fingers tapping a frustrated tune on Shiro’s hip. He has a new question, asks it lower, maybe so his mother doesn’t hear him. “Are you really going to... If Kolivan expects you to fight.” His words stutter to a stop.

Shiro leans in closer, mouth on Keith’s jaw, kissing gently down his neck then baring his teeth against the carotid artery. “Then I’ll fight. Do you really think I’m helpless, Keith, after everything you saw?” He doesn’t like to think about it, that Keith saw the Champion in all his horrifying glory. Keith’s body shifts but he doesn’t tense up as Shiro expects.

“No, no, I don’t, but it doesn’t mean I think you should throw yourself into something with the Blade. You have nothing to prove. I don’t understand how it’s supposed to reveal anything new about you anyway?” Keith’s arms tighten around Shiro’s waist as his voice rises then falls away in confusion.

“Kolivan told me the suit creates a virtual mindscape, reflecting the wearer’s hopes and fears. I-- Keith… you’re right, it might not prove anything.”

There is a rumble from Keith, unvoiced and unhappy. “Or it proves you’re free of Haggar. That the clone was free of her too, in the end, that he knew peace before....”

Shiro thinks Keith needs to believe that he was. Sighing, Shiro murmurs, “Do you really think that the clone was me?” It’s been on his mind since he heard Keith say it.

“You don’t?” Keith sounds surprised by the question.

“No, I know it was me but it’s nice to hear someone else say it.” They lie quietly for a long time, their bodies heavy with the need to sleep. Shiro’s eyes fall closed eventually, Keith’s mouth is on his neck, sleepily pressing small breathy kisses into his skin. Shiro sighs when he stops.

“I don’t think you should do it,” Keith whispers raggedly, then, “But I guess I have one more save left in me. If you need it.”

“I seem to recall you saying as many times as it takes,” Shiro grumbles without malice. He reaches back to smack Keith lightly on the cheek. “Sleep. That’s an order.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

They land on the next barely habitable planet and two of the Blade of Marmora ships join them while several others remain in orbit. The Blades set up a camp and establish a protective perimeter in short order. The camp has many of the trappings of glamping from Earth, Shiro is used to going rougher in the wilds but just this once, he doesn’t mind the extra comfort.

A tent is assigned to them, it’s large and houses all six paladins, Coran, Krolia, Romelle, four mice, the cow, and Keith’s starwolf, with room to spare. Pidge’s trash buddies remain in the Green Lion, hiding in the shadows. Soft pallets line up along the floor with pillows and furs for warmth. Before they can get too comfortable, Coran tells Allura about Keith’s plan. Then with a breath and a glance at Shiro, Keith tells her about Kolivan’s plan.

Shiro feels a little betrayed but knows the argument was going to happen in any event when the Princess learned of it. If she learned that they knew ahead and didn’t tell her, that would be a greater betrayal.

He underestimates the strength of her reaction.

“I forbid it!” Allura has never been angry like this at Shiro and he’s not sure if it’s all about him or if some of it is her still smarting over Lotor’s duplicity. He winces as she gets right up in his face, her finger an inch from booping his nose violently. “I forbid you to do this very stupid thing, Black Paladin!”

Keith says little, they’ve already talked about it, he’s let Shiro know his feelings on the plan, but there’s a vicious little smirk on his face when Shiro catches his gaze a few times in desperation.

Allura is just the first to express her displeasure. Shiro weathers accusations of being the absolute worst ever, and an ocean of tears, for half a varga before Kolivan steps into the tent and everyone quiets down, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle. Krolia walks over to the Blade’s leader with a wry twist to her lips and grips his forearm as he grips hers. They don’t speak and she returns to stand with Keith again.

“I see your decision is not, by and large, a popular one, Shiro.” Kolivan stands at military ease, hands clasped behind his back. His mask is off, hood down, and his face is unmoved by the emotion running rampant in the tent.

“I will not allow it, we’ve only just got Shiro back. From death, Kolivan, death! ” Allura heads in his direction and Kolivan lifts a hand to ward her off. She stops but vibrates in place, emanating fury.

“If Shiro has been unable to convince you that this is the only wise course of action, then accept it from me. The coalition will not trust what appears to be a clone that Haggar created and controlled against you for phoebs, creating a situation where the Black Paladin was seen to defect from Voltron, after abducting the reigning Galra Emperor and delivering him to his enemies. An Emperor that hasn’t been seen alive since. I questioned the nature of your interest in Lotor from the beginning, and I was not the only one. You will weather many more questions in quintants to come but I have a few of my own first. Where is Lotor? Where is the Castle of Lions? Who is that Altean? What is that?” Kolivan points at the cow and then the wolf. “And that?”

Allura’s mood deflates slowly and Shiro eases in beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder as she turns away from the Blade, away from the implication of a romantic entanglement gone sour. “Lotor is trapped in the quintessence field, Kolivan, there was no time to retrieve him, he was still alive when we left him there.” Shiro includes himself in the statement, he was there, in a manner of speaking. “The Castle of Lions was sacrificed to repair the damage that Lotor created when he tore holes in the fabric of our universe. The Lions will have feeds of the battle that can be shared with our allies in the coalition. This is Romelle, she is from an Altean colony that Lotor kept hidden from the wider universe, Keith can tell you more. That’s a cow, it’s an animal from our home world that we found in the space mall, and that’s Keith’s wolf.”

There is no discernable change to the Blade’s expression until he asks, “Is the cow edible?” It’s a straightforward question but Shiro snorts at the collective gasp that does a wave around the tent. Then a second wave when Kolivan remains unmoved by the first one.

Lance places his hands over Kaltenecker’s ears as she continues to masticate her feed, and whispers an enraged, “How dare you?”

It’s a challenge to keep his face neutral. “No, cows are not edible. This one is more of a pet.” Krolia turns to look at Shiro curiously, his eyelid flickers in a surreptitious wink and her eyes widen slightly but she doesn’t correct the lie.

Kaltenecker lifts her tail and they all freeze for a moment. There is a small squishy sound and the tail goes down again with minimal damage done. “Oh god,” gasps Hunk, clutching Pidge as they put their helmets back on, closing the face plates to breathe suit air.

There is a hum of disbelief from Kolivan as his nose twitches but he turns to leave, pausing only to add, “Krolia, Keith, I will receive your reports in my quarters.”

Shiro is resting when the two return, he’s covered in thick furs the Blades left. The one he found himself, then others that Pidge, Hunk, and Lance, have dropped over him when they thought he was asleep. The starwolf presses further warmth into his back along with pointy wolf elbows and a wet nose that keeps finding his ear of all places. Allura is lying in front of him, her face clouded, lost in thought, Platt next to her cheek. The other paladins are trying to be quiet but it’s like sleeping in a zoo.

Keith stays apart, obviously troubled, and fiddles with the heating unit in the centre of the tent with Hunk, translating the symbols for the controls. Pidge is working on her laptop, borrowing power from a small generator that the Blade have lent her. They’ve all shucked out of their armour and Lance is wandering aimlessly around the tent.

Shiro notes on a third passing, that Lance is wearing his Lion slippers and smiles, reaching up as Lance reaches down, and their hands drag together for a moment. “Lance, you need to rest. You look exhausted. We’ll talk later if you want.”

The young man nods and finds a pallet to curl up on. One of Allura’s mice tucks itself beneath his chin with a small chittering sigh.

Allura raises herself up to rest on one elbow, looking down at Shiro. She strokes Platt’s tummy where the mouse lies on her pillow, snoring. “Shiro?” she says softly.

“Yes, Princess?” He replies as quietly, he has been waiting for a conversation with her but he’s not sure which one this will be. The one about Lotor? The one about Keith and Shiro? Maybe it will be the one about Project Kuron, will she ask about other clones?

Her gaze shifts to Platt, and he wonders how far the divide between Kuron and her must’ve opened in the last few phoebs if she can’t simply open her mouth and talk to him like she used to. “I have missed you, Shiro, more than I was aware until you truly returned to us. I have sorely noticed the absence of your counsel and your many kindnesses in recent times.” There isn’t anything he can say to console her, Kuron wasn’t all bad, but when she needed him the most, for his support, that was when Haggar was firmly in charge and tipping the scales for Lotor’s gain. “Shiro? You and Keith, how did you know?” There is a sadness in her voice, a longing that Shiro recognises. It’s painful and it’s familiar and until very recently it went unresolved for him. “That what you felt was more than….” She stumbles on her words and falls silent.

It’s going to be the Lotor conversation.

Keith slumps down behind him, shifting the wolf, and lifting the furs to slide up close, his arms circle Shiro’s waist, cold nose bumping into Shiro’s neck, his mouth curling into a smile when Shiro jerks away from the icy touch with a cry of disgust. They both shiver and the wolf moves to settle near their feet. The three of them watch as it circles before curling up again. “That’s not easy to answer, Princess,” he replies finally.

Shiro can’t see his face but Keith’s low interruption is welcome. “Is that the real question you want to ask, Princess?” For all that Keith doesn’t waste words or emotions, somehow they still managed to dance around I love you’s for too long.

“Oh, uh, it is difficult and somewhat personal.” She blushes and her thoughts appear to turn inward for a tick. “I-I began to feel something towards Lotor. I did not want to trust him but he was very charming and attentive, he deferred to me almost always and listened to my opinions which in hindsight everyone does already….” She bites her lip in realisation and continues regardless. “I thought that he had feelings towards me in return. Do you believe it was all false? Ancestors, I am such a fool.” Tears she’s been holding onto for quintants begin to trail down her cheeks as she returns her attention to Platt who is awake and holding her finger in his paws.

Coran kneels down behind Allura and eases her hair from the twist, brushing it out in long strokes. She relaxes into his ministrations slowly. “He had us fooled, Allura,” the Altean says, he has moments of his own where the loss of his grandfather’s greatest work undoes him. He bounces back but the pain is still fresh, and each time it takes longer to return to his good-natured self. They can’t arrive on Earth soon enough. “We all wanted an end to the war and with Lotor defeating Zarkon and taking his place as Emperor, with his fine words about remaking the Empire... it felt so close. Who wouldn’t choose peace when the alternative is more war.”

Keith reaches over Shiro’s shoulder to catch Allura’s tears, his thumb wiping them away tenderly. Her expression is so vulnerable when she turns back to them. “You’re a beautiful Altean Princess, that’s the rarest of the rare but you're also smart, courageous, forgiving, funny, kind, and so strong-- Allura, no one can fake falling in love you. Everyone you know has already fallen.”

Shiro picks up her free hand and kisses the back of her palm delicately. “Keith, is right. Try not to dwell on things you can’t control, Princess, you need to rest, we all do, but I’ve noticed that life takes from you much more than is fair or just. Lotor was manipulative and deceptive from what I’ve been told and what little I remember. He allowed you to see things in him that he didn’t want others to see, and we will never know if there was good in him, but you need to trust your own instincts on that because you have a knack for bringing out the very best in people, you always have, Allura.”

Romelle looks over from where she sits behind Coran, her chin resting on her knees as she listens. Her eyes speak volumes to the betrayal she and the Altean people suffered under Lotor, but she has a kind heart, and doesn't appear to find it in herself to criticise the lonely Princess for wanting to find a connection with another Altean. Even one so duplicitous as Lotor.

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance have stealthed their way closer too, snuggling in.

Allura turns Shiro’s hand and presses it to her face. “Why must you endure a trial when you have already endured so much, Shiro? Why can the coalition leaders not accept my word that you are no danger to them?”

“We live in complicated times and the politics are harder than ever, Princess Allura.” Krolia stands side-on to them, her hands warming in front of the heater. “Not to overstate but the future of the coalition’s working relationship with you and Voltron hinges on whether Shiro can prove that he’s not an agent of Haggar. Kolivan is right, it will strengthen your case that Shiro is still the good man you all know he is.”

Sighing, Allura relinquishes Shiro’s hand to Keith who gives it a kiss before lacing his fingers through Shiro’s.

Shiro's eyes close and he yawns into his pillow, it’s been a long few days.

“Beloved paladin?” she asks, reaching out to stroke Shiro’s bangs out of his face. He opens his eyes a crack.

“Yes, Princess,” the paladins all reply in unison then giggle because they all know who the Princess's favourite paladin is.

She clicks her tongue. “Let me rephrase. Shiro?”

He smiles sleepily at her. “Yes, Princess?”

“Why is Kaltenecker in the tent with us?”

Shiro answers quietly. “Kaltenecker is symbolic of Earth, Princess, and Lance cares about her wellbeing because you know how much he loves and misses Earth and his family and he was concerned that she would be cold and lonely outside, because sometimes he feels lonely and on the outside of things even when he’s not.” He lets that sink in for a tick before adding in a louder voice, “Are her farts too much? I can ask Lance to take her back to the Red Lion if you’d prefer.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Please say yes, I think we’ll all be dead by morning if you don’t.”

Keith snorts into his shoulder.

Allura blinks at Shiro for a tick, then laughs. “I did not want to be the first to point it out,” she says as everyone groans and agrees. “It will be alright though, I do not want her to be lonely.” Her gaze flicks towards Lance as she says it.

“I don’t care if she’s lonely,” says Krolia dryly, she’s dragged a chair over to the heater and wrapped a fur around her shoulders. “It’s better than asphyxiating.”

Chapter Text

The medical suite on the Blade’s base is impersonal and cold, and like all the Galra installations that Shiro has visited-- the ones he can remember, it lacks charm and that desire to return anytime soon. He’s been lying in a bed that’s too large for him, staring at the ceiling, and trying not to disassociate, for the past varga. The bed is built for Galra-sized patients and while he can’t recall anything specific that could be causing his discomfort, other than that one time when Ulaz had released him before another limb could be removed, it was on an examination table like this one.

He chalks it up to a more deja vu sensation that’s beginning to press in all sides than an actual memory.

It’s all his own fault. He could’ve just died again, but no, Keith yelled him back to life, and that was a gift no man could turn down. And yes, he said he would fight the Blade to prove something that was going to be impossible to prove and they’d have to take it on faith anyway. And yes, he told Keith he wanted to live and he would kick as much Galra ass as he possibly could before they dog-piled him and he died of suffocation, he said it knowing Keith could yell him back to life again. And yes, his ears still hurt from Allura bellowing at him for being dumb and agreeing to fight all the Blades. And yes, his chest still ached on her behalf because her heart was broken and she was trying to be strong for the group and venting at him was one way of not dealing with her actual feelings.

Being part of something larger than his own impending death, not just to be the best and to leave a mark because dying young was not something for anyone to aspire to, but that more intangible feeling of love and inclusiveness and family. He didn’t have anything to prove, not to himself, not to anyone else. 

After all the voices died down again, Allura and Keith had arm wrestled over who could carry the mantle of 'Strongest One' after he’d said something in a snarky throwaway when he’d been tired and feeling low. Suddenly the title was up for grabs though Shiro didn’t recall surrendering it. Pidge had inferred he’d done it when he wore “the shirt” and then everyone had nodded and Coran had spontaneously apologised for… something. He’d asked to take on the winner, it was only fair, but they’d both given him-- The LookTM --and he’d crawled back to his bedroll to nurse his wounded pride and plan his revenge. He still had one arm, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t use that one to wrestle them with. They would rue the day. Revenge, he’d been told, was best served cold. Like goo. Who had told him that? Oh, yeah, Hunk.

He looks at the metal stump, they’d cut away the cuirass and Keith had helped remove the remaining armour, so now Shiro’s lying around in his under-suit, his underwear really, in a strange Marmora base wondering about his life choices for the first time in maybe forever. He wonders if Krolia packed any of the meagre belongings he collected while alive, the vest from Earth particularly. It’s comfortable and warm, and Keith gave it to him so it means something for that reason alone. In the absence of the vest, the Blade physicians have given him a blanket made of something wool-like but thicker and heavier, and he clutches at it, squeezing the fibres between his fingers relentlessly.

Pidge is watching him like a hawk, cross-legged on the end of the bed, her foot resting on his blanket covered ankle, toes tapping out a tune only she knows, torturing him slowly for dying with a tactile guessing game he’s given up on half a varga ago. She’s looking at the most recent scan of his shoulder but glances over at him every few ticks and, if he’s honest, and he’s trying really hard to be less secretive about his emotions and state of health these days, it’s bugging him big time. There’s a twist to her lips that isn’t normal Pidge with her shit-eating grin.

Then there is Keith’s starwolf on the floor beside them, gazing up at him with the eyes of a wolf who’d rather be on a bed than the cold hard floor, and no matter how many times Shiro says, “You wouldn’t like it, buddy, it’s just as cold and hard and I wouldn’t be here if I could be anywhere else.” The wolf keeps looking up at him with eyes that say but I’m a good boy and why do you hate me like this? No doubt Keith instructed it to stay behind which was kind because, yes, he is feeling a little vulnerable.

If his blanket goes missing he knows who to talk to first though.

Shiro throws his arm behind his head and sighs. Where the hell is Keith? It’s been vargas already.

Pidge glances at him and this time he catches it, she smiles but it’s wobbly around the edges. She’s been left out of the team planning the removal of what remains of the prosthetic, and is passive aggressively not-speaking-to-any-of-you-bastards, mostly because she’s already hoarse from arguing with anyone who so much as walks into the room.

Kolivan isn’t letting him anywhere near the rest of his people with even a tiny piece of Haggar’s creation still attached. Shiro just wants it gone because then they all fight, or not, or he sees his greatest hopes and fears or doesn’t, and since he’s already lived and died through many of the fears part of that equation, he wouldn’t mind seeing some greatest hopes. Not that he knows what to do with hope other than a distant wish for world peace and goodwill amongst men-- or more realistically universal peace and goodwill amongst all the aliens of every gender who lived out here. Except Haggar, she can go fuck herself. He might’ve snorted because Pidge side-eyes him but mentally he’s on a roll so he pretends he didn’t notice.

He was ready to die, or thought he was. He’s not sure how to live as enthusiastically but guesses it’s like riding a bike. He’s gonna fall off it a few times before he gets good at it again but Keith has said he’ll save him as many times as it takes so that’s something. “I might fall a lot,” he’d joked.

Frowning, Keith had repeated himself with a strange intensity in his eyes, like he needs Shiro to know this very important thing. “As many times as it takes, Shiro.”

He got a shiver down his spine, like someone dancing over his grave and at the time, and he’d said, “Same here.” Because what else do you say when someone offers to save you as many times as it takes. He’s already died twice that he remembers. He’s in deficit. Life needs to let him work off the debt somehow.

Anyway, he fights the Blades and then he lives or he dies. Everyone moves on. End of story. The way it was originally written. Or not. So yeah, he actively hopes for stuff now instead of passively. Who knew he was capable? He finds hope more cruel than anything else he’s lived through though. Success or failure on the flip of a cosmic coin. The odds have always been stacked against him.

Pidge looks at him again, a death glare.

“I’m not going to die again, Pidge. Not anytime soon,” he says gently, wiggling his foot under hers, ignoring the irony of wrestling with his own mortality for the last varga and then telling her he isn’t going to die. She grabs his ankle in a death grip and stares at him, Keith and Krolia had left him in her care and Shiro could see she’s taking the role of Shiro-sitter very seriously. Even if she isn’t talking to him.

“Sure.” She turns back to her screen and adds a scathing, “You weren’t supposed to die the first time either.”

He gasps. Ouch. Like he had a choice. To be fair, she didn’t know he was already dying so she thinks he had some control over it. He gets it, he does. His death brought it all home. Any of them could die out here and go unnoticed for phoebs, not even when the fairly obvious clone goes inevitably rogue.

“I didn’t exactly plan to die horribly, excruciatingly if I’m being honest, and we all know I’m being honest now, I didn’t intend to get vaporised in the Black Lion. It wasn’t top of my list of ways it was going to happen.”

She ducks her head and holds out her hand, middle finger extended. “Give me that list, I’m gonna burn it.”

“No burning shit on my watch, Pidgereno, not unless Hunk and I are there to help light it up.” Lance trots into the room with a cheerful grin and a tray of goo and a pouch of water. He taps Pidge on the shoulder. “My turn to Shiro-sit for the next varga. Go have something to eat and get some sleep, the bags under your eyes have bags.” He deposits the tray in Shiros lap unceremoniously and looks for somewhere to sit. “No chairs, what to do....”

The blanket twitches and Shiro glares at the wolf whose head is lying innocently on its paws. The wolf stares back with the eyes of a blanket coveting klepto.

“Shiro?”

Shiro looks up at Lance, a little guilty that he got sucked into a staring contest with an oversized space Pomeranian. Lance is studying him and then the wolf, a tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows that smooths out a tick later, and he grins. “My money’s on the wolf, he’s stolen my slippers twice, drooled all over them too, didn’t you, you furry monster? It’s not like I can make another quiznaking pair anymore. He’ll get the blanket eventually, it’s what he does, and he just ate your goo, by the way.”

His goo? Shiro looks down at the tray-- the bowl is clean. He hears the tell-tale sign of a wolf licking its chops. Pidge has gone too and he didn’t see her leave, or feel the weight of her disappear from the bed. “Where’s Pidge?”

“Gone to eat or sleep but most likely going to yell at Coran some more for cutting her.... Did you just space out on me?”

He looks back at Lance. Did he? “No. No. I’m just hungry, Lance. And bored. And tired.” He looks down at his empty bowl then back at Lance then back at the bowl.

“Hey you, fuzzy, go make yourself useful. Get Shiro some more goo since you ate his last meal.” Lance points at the empty bowl and then at the space wolf then at the bowl again, it tilts its head at him and vanishes for a few doboshes but returns with one of Hunk’s little bags tied around its neck. Lance carefully removes it and the wolf vanishes again. “Hunk sent you the good stuff this time.”

It’s a sandwich with mystery meat. That’s good, Shiro can handle sandwiches easily, and he tears at the wrapper with his teeth. It smells incredible, like a don’t-care-what-meat-this-is-balls-ish sub dripping with I-have-no-frickin-clue-sauce on who-the-hell-knows-if-this-is-even-bread. He’s still salivating over it when he hears licking chops next to his ear and jams the entire sandwich into his mouth before it can be eaten right out of his hand. “Mine!” he mumbles through a mouthful of sub, his cheeks are bulging but at least he’s not choking yet. And if he dies, Keith can just yell at him again.

The wolf whines then whuffs and collapses on the end of his bed, snuffling the blanket.

“Real mature, man.” Lance is cackling though. “You almost got in a fist fight with a wolf over a sandwich.”

“I’m very mature,” he replied though Lance has to get him to repeat it a few times before he can understand him and they’re both crying by then. Shiro finishes his sandwich ignominiously, sauce smeared everywhere. The wolf helps him, licking his chin clean before returning to it’s new post which isn’t the floor.

Lance has found a chair and dragged it over. He looks like he forgot something important and it tastes bad. “Shiro?” he begins.

Shiro’s suddenly nervous because Lance internalises a lot behind a cheerful expression and smile. This chat has been a long while coming, at least as long as he's been alive again.

“Shiro, there was a moment when Allura was with Lotor on Oriande and you said some stuff to me. I was worried about my own feelings and I don’t think I gave what you were saying as much thought as it deserved.” Lance is actively wringing his hands now.

“I only get snatches of the clone’s memories, Lance. They weren’t mine, a lot was lost when….” When his clone died and Shiro moved in. He didn’t feel guilty so much as sad. “It’s hard to describe what’s left and how I parse it all but the clone was me, Lance, in a very real sense, working with my memories and my experiences even though he hadn’t lived them.”

Lance won’t look at him. “But, I saw stuff that was out of character for you and didn’t do anything with it. I should’ve told someone. Allura told me she was struggling with you too and I argued her out of it.” Fat tears begin to gather in his eyes. “You… the clone told me, he practically spelt it out to me and I….”

Shiro spills from the bed and kneels in front of Lance, he reaches out to cup one cheek, wiping away the tears there. “Lance, this is not your fault. None of this is your fault. We couldn’t have imagined that Haggar would clone me-- because well, it’s me, Shiro from Earth, the most back water planet there is, and guys like me don’t get cloned by aliens.” The wolf has jumped down to sit with them, it’s head in Lance’s lap, whining softly.

“Robot,” whispers Lance, sniffing. “I thought you might be a robot but you were too alive to be a machine. Then I thought you’d been brainwashed but when you played monsters and mana, you were so… you! I stopped thinking about it when Lotor became more invasive in our mission. I might’ve come around to clones eventually but yeah, robot was my first guess.”

“Robot?” says Shiro, incredulously, leaning back. “Me?”

“Your hair was so--” Lance throws his hands up in an “I don’t know” gesture. “I wanted to shave your head but Keith said you probably cut it in the dark or with your eyes closed or something.”

It bubbles out of him and he knocks Lance’s forehead against his, laughing. “I can’t believe Haggar’s clone could’ve gone completely unnoticed except for a bad haircut.”

“To be fair, it was a spectacularly bad haircut.”

“It was fine,” says Keith wryly, he’s come into the room at some point during the conversation, watching them with one hand on his hip. His expression is soft and thoughtful as he takes in the two of them on the floor crying and laughing. “It’s time, Shiro.”