Archive of Our Own ^beta

The device, so small and innocuous-looking, had bounced off of the stone floor with a harmless metallic clink, before it exploded in a flash of blinding light. It’d happened so fast, so unexpectedly, that Shiro had had no time to react. The dazzling magenta light had drowned out everything else, turning solid in the span of a breath and freezing him to the spot. It was quintessence—had to be—for the way it buzzed against his skin and in his chest was almost unmistakable after having existed as it for nearly a year.

Something flickered at the back of his mind; different from a Lion-bond, but familiar still. It wasn’t directed at him yet he was able to pick it up, an old radio suddenly sputtering foreign static. It was bright, warm and focused like the heart of a star the intensity of which he could only glimpse out of the corner of an eye. He knew what it was without knowing consciously, some deeper part of him reacting to the bone-deep familiarity that only two beings had imparted on him—Black and Allura. Only one of those could still speak to him.

The trap fizzled and shrunk, and he watched as Krolia staggered unsteadily as she was freed. He felt the edge of the barrier drag over him and he gasped as soon as his head was above it, desperate for oxygen. The violent light shrank and converged on Allura, focusing into a pulsing orb in the palm of her hand as she dropped to her knees from exhaustion. His body was already turning to her on instinct but the presence at the back of his mind hissed to stay back stay away and he obeyed, no matter how much it killed him to see Allura crumpled to the ground.

“Stand back!”

Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him away as Allura slammed her fist to the floor, the rock shattering as easily as glass in an explosion of light and fragmented masonry. She dropped out of sight to a tunnel below and the other paladins quickly followed her; he made to follow as well but the same hands grabbed him by the neck of his armor and held him firmly in place. An experimental tug against the grip accomplished nothing, their strength greater than his own, and the claws pressed softly to his nape told him instantly who it was stopping him.

“You’re still recovering,” Krolia chided, maternally, likely able to feel the fear and tension that flooded his body, “a Druid is a deadly threat to a full-fledged Blade, you’d be picked off immediately.”

“But—”

“I know, and I want nothing more than to go down there and help my son but where do you think he’d rather I be? Down there, leaving you defenseless? Or protecting you and the exit in case he doubles back?”

Shiro bristled momentarily at the implication that he was a fragile thing that needed coddling, old rage and hurt flaring up quick as thought in furious response. However—he exhaled loudly, snuffing out his anger and letting his eyes slide shut—he knew that she was right. He was still recovering, and he didn’t even know if the Bayard would heed his call; if he jumped down there and it didn’t come for him, he was as good as dead.

“… you’re right. I’m sorry.” He felt her grip loosen at his neck, her fingers rubbing gently against his nape in a way he’d come to know that was meant to be soothing in Galran culture. Krolia didn’t know about his past or his history of illness and all the opposition he’d faced due to it. She was just trying to keep him safe, like Keith would want. Krolia smiled at him, her expression soft and open in a way he wasn’t used to seeing from a Galra, and he knew that he was right. It was the mother in her trying to protect him. He didn’t like not being able to do anything to help his team but he’d listen and hang back and keep himself from the line of fire.

And then he heard Allura scream.

A barbed lightning bolt shot through his spine, speared his chest and heart, and he collapsed to the ground before Krolia could grab him. It felt as though he’d been ripped straight out of his body again but he knew he wasn’t injured, couldn’t be injured. There was nothing here to hurt him. He gasped brokenly when he felt Krolia’s hands on him, sensation pouring back into his limbs like ice water as he recoiled from Allura and into his own head once more. He could feel her pain, recognized the acid burn of Druid-poisoned quintessence searing itself into living tissue, and bile rose in his throat at his own memories of Haggar nearly blasting open his side.

“Shiro, what’s wrong? Is it your head?” Krolia cupped his cheek and turned his head to face her, her eyes pinning his own with a startled but calculated stare. It took several seconds for her words to actually translate into a question in his head.

“N-no, no its not that,” his voice was wrecked, his lungs spasming sympathetically in response to Allura’s agony through their strange link, “its Allura, she’s hurt. Please. You’ve got to go down there.” Krolia’s expression turned grim in an instant, her mulling of different scenarios and outcomes plain on her face. She exhaled sharply and nodded, patting his chest-plate reassuringly, before she lithely jumped down and vanished into the blasted-out hole in the floor.

Shiro pushed his arm beneath him and lifted himself up, the broken-glass agony already starting to fade into a hot afterimage on his nerves. He’d felt shadows through the strange bond before, barely-there wisps of emotions and presence, but nothing this strong. He had no way of telling if the bond went both ways or if it was just his own consequence for having been harbored in Allura’s quintessence, and with Black silent to him now he had no way of asking. Allura had never brought it up, so he didn’t ask. Now, however, as soon as they were alone he was going to come clean.

Another scream ripped from the tunnel, but it wasn’t any he recognized. The malevolent, purple flash that sparkled in the cave made him hope that it was the Druid in his death throes. Shiro managed to get to his feet, his breathing evening out to normal as he saw the first movements down in the dark. The soft blue light was all he needed to see to know it was one of the paladins; Keith and the others had succeed, then. A jet pack fired and brought Pidge up to the surface, her armor dusty and scratched but intact. She caught him staring and gave him a tired thumbs-up before flopping dramatically to the ground on her back.

Good. Everyone had made it. But he still had someone he needed to see.

Leaving Keith alone in the Black Lion had been hard, but Shiro needed to be with Allura or he’d never rest. Keith, at least, didn’t seem too upset about his absence for a night; he hadn’t been properly alone for over two years, so maybe a night of peace and quiet would do him good. Romelle and Coran opted to bunk with Pidge and Green, and he didn’t envy her in the slightest once the inevitable squabbles over the video games began. He’d been too weak to leave the Black Lion for the first phoeb, most of it spent sleeping as his body—the clone body—recovered. He knew Keith would be fine for a night or two with Black and his wolf.

Shiro hadn’t been inside the Blue Lion for what felt like—well, he supposed it was a lifetime ago for him. Despite having been severed from the Black Lion he remembered what it had felt like to be connected to the Lions, all of them, together and individually. Blue was special, even among such unique and indescribable beings as the Voltron Lions. He knew that she missed Lance and had been reluctant to give him up, but she’d come to love and cherish Allura as the Black Lion had with him. He didn’t have time to reminisce, however; he had come here for a reason. He waited until the Lion was in flight and conversation had dropped off, offering a thin shell of privacy, before he let himself into the cockpit.

“Allura,” she turned around in the pilot’s seat, her movements stiff and telling of the wound she’d suffered, “can you—I mean, we—can we talk? Privately?” Shiro watched at least three different emotions cross her face at the same time and for a moment he dreaded that she would decline; he remembered fragments of the clone’s memories, of how distant and sharp they’d grown before the bitter, violent end.

“Of course, Shiro.” Allura stood and tapped one of the control panels, dismissing the communications and giving Blue the freedom to fly as she wished. He felt the change in the Lion instantaneously, how her body rumbled and shifted around the two of them as she stretched her limbs and settled into a lower trajectory than the others. They probably had a little time before someone noticed the coms were off and tried to hail them, which helped stamp down his lingering doubt and want to drag this out. He stepped out of the way and the rear cargo door opened for her instantly, and he followed her down into the hold. Unlike the Black Lion, Blue’s hold was filled almost to capacity with supplies from the Castle of Lions, with only a few cots and some open space in the middle free.

“Did you tell the others?” Shiro asked as soon as Allura sat on the edge of her cot and saw the way her shoulders squared, almost in defiance, “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, but—” she waved him off, a quick, dismissive gesture that made him question if he was overstepping boundaries that were placed after his death. It felt as though he was back at the beginning and it unsettled some deep, vital part of him.

“They saw it, they know. I got back up. I’m fine.” Allura’s voice held an edge he’d never heard before, and for the first time he suddenly felt as though his presence was unwanted. He swallowed around the apprehension in his throat and tried to steel himself; one way or another, he was going to get closure for the both of them. He owed her that much, at least.

“Can… can I check it? I remember how much Druid wounds hurt,” he kept his voice soft, trying to frame everything as a simple yes or no choice for her, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Allura had her back to him, the armor and jet pack scorched and cracked apart to expose the black under-suit; her dark skin peeked through some of the worst tears, but he couldn’t see more than a flash. She was rigid and only the slightest tick of her ear towards him gave away that she’d heard him at all. The strange link between them was silent, little more than a fading echo in the dark; faint and untraceable, but there nonetheless.

She inhaled and her hands twitched in her lap, before her fingers went to the latches of her chest-plate and popped them loose. Even though her back was to him and he wouldn’t see anything Shiro still turned away to give her privacy, only looking up when he heard the armor clatter loudly to the floor. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled it over her shoulder, giving him access to the zipper of the under-suit that started at the back of her neck. A part of him wanted to stay standing there, to wait for verbal confirmation that he could approach, but he somehow knew he would merely wait in vain.

Shiro lowered himself and sat on the other side of the cot, balancing but leaving enough space between them so she wouldn’t feel crowded. He let his hand brush against her shoulder to let her know he was there before he tugged at the zipper, which slowly came undone until he reached the middle of her back. The suit was in tatters in the center of her spine, the zipper only able to go down so far before he feared it wouldn’t zip back up. There were dark, radial burns across the expanse of her back, but they lacked the sickly glow he’d come to associate with Haggar and her Druid ilk and they were already healing.He wasn’t sure how that was possible; he’d been blasted through armor and suit alike and was left with the horrific injuries that’d nearly sickened even Coran, but Allura had no trace of.

"How are you not—"

"I learned new powers while you were in the Black Lion. I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"... okay." Shiro carefully zipped the tattered suit back up, but he didn't look away. He prodded at the worst of the holes in the fabric and his fingers traced the edge of one of the marks absentmindedly, too lost in thought to even realize he was doing it. Allura jolted as if she’d been shocked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean—” Shiro immediately jerked away, dread like ice water filling his gut. He and Allura had been very close before his death but never actually intimate; they’d shared beds, blankets, curled around each other when the nightmares got to be too much, but never crossed that final threshold or gave a name to their affections. For Shiro it seemed as though it was only a few weeks ago that they were on easy terms, leaning into each other and silently communicating with body language, touching and holding and open. Now he was confronted with the reality that years had passed for Allura, and that his touch was as foreign to her as any stranger’s would be. Something nameless cracked inside of him and his hands started to shake.

He wished, not for the first time since waking up, that he had more of the clone’s memories if only to fill in the gaps and know what had happened in the time he’d been dead. He felt as if he was repeating the motions that had destroyed he and Adam’s bond all over again, and the realization almost killed him right then and there. Before they’d grown to love each other romantically they’d loved each other just as fiercely, but with no name or title to dictate it. He hadn’t just lost his fiancé when Adam walked out, he’d lost his best friend.

For a brief, shadowed moment he wondered if reversing his death had been a mistake. It’d cost them Voltron, weakened the Lions catastrophically, and thrown the team’s dynamic into turmoil. The Black Lion had closed most of herself off from the other Lions to protect him, weakening them all, and the effort of separating him from her own quintessence had strained Black to near breaking. If he’d remained he would have persisted for decaphoebs, maybe, but eventually her walls would have buckled and exposed him. She never told him in words what would have happened when that came to pass, but he knew it would be final and killing. The Black Lion was the center of Voltron and the Lions all drew power from her. His quintessence was so finite and fragile that even the gentlest of touches from the other Lions would have swallowed him whole, bled him to nothing. Maybe it would have been better that way, maybe then the Lions would still be healthy and functional.

A bright, painful throb roared into being at the back of mind, nearly knocking him to the floor with its intensity. He gasped and folded under the mental weight but strong hands gripped his shoulders, tight enough to ache down to his bones, and pulled him back up so fast his head spun. He heard Allura say his name, felt her loose hair tickle his face, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed her turning around to face him.

“Shiro stop, you—you can’t just—” her voice cracked and Shiro’s attention snapped, everything else vanishing as he focused on her and her alone, “I can hear you. I’ve heard you since you’ve woken up, since we both—” her eyes slammed shut and tears slid down her cheeks, “the Black Lion couldn’t disentangle herself from you, I had to sever the link or you’d get drawn back into her but without a source of quintessence you and the body would have died and—I bonded you to my own and didn’t even stop to think—”

Suddenly everything slammed into place. Her avoidance, Black’s silence, the back-feeding of sensation from Allura, she’d forged a link between them to keep him alive and it was still there. She felt guilty. The understanding opened the floodgate in his head, her emotions clear and loud, just as Black’s own had been before he died. There was no anger or coldness, just a deep sense of loss and loneliness and the joyful hope that his miraculous survival in the Lion had given her. She felt guilt not for his return, but for her own actions in the course of it. She thought she’d betrayed his trust.

“—I could have found another source but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again so I used my own quintessence. It was selfish and I don’t think I can undo it. I tied you to me and hurt the Black Lion and changed you and didn’t once think of the consequences. When I realized what I’d done I was so horrified at myself. I didn’t—I never gave you a choice.”

“Allura.”

Her words stuttered to a halt and she opened her eyes, even her breathing going as quiet as she could force it. Shiro was at a loss. What he’d thought had been distance had been fear, fear of him resenting her for tying them together and changing him into something neither human nor Altean, for breaking his bond with his Lion. His heart skipped and he felt ice melt in his blood.

“Allura you—you brought me back to life. You found me, saved me when I barely even knew myself,” Shiro reached out tentatively, cupping her cheek and thumbing away the tears there, “I thought that I had been selfish and hurt you somehow. I gave you space because I remember, bits and pieces, of the clone pushing you away and hurting you and I was scared to find out if the damage he’d done was permanent.” He watched her take it all in, exhaling and drooping with relief. He leaned forward and so did she, resting their foreheads together. Shiro hadn’t realized how much he’d missed physical touch and how much he’d missed her.

“We are definitely quite the pair.” Allura sighed, the corner of her mouth tilted up in a smile. Shiro laughed quietly, the first real laugh since he’d woken up, pulling away just enough to press a quick, chaste kiss to the crown of her head. He let his hand fall and instead interlaced his fingers with hers, reveling in her warmth and her presence.

“We really are," he whispered, "I'm not... not upset over what happened with the Black Lion, or what you did to save me. I was confused, didn't understand what had happened, and when I realized I could feel you in my head I was afraid to tell you. I was afraid of being in silence, I guess." Shiro inhaled and let it out slowly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, "thank you, Allura. We'll figure out where to go from here but, for now, I don't think I'd change a thing."