Chapter Text
Shiro stood, listening to his friend's worried voices as their situation slowly became worse.
“Allura, I need your help! I’ve got two on my tail!”
Galra drones were swarming Shiro’s team and he could do nothing about it. He felt so helpless, so useless, just standing there and watching it happen, and to top all of it off, his headache had started up again.
“I’m sorry, I can't get to you, they’re all over me.”
If things continued the way they were currently going, they would to lose. They had to form Voltron, and now. Shiro couldn't take it anymore. He spun, pushing through the throbbing pain in his head, and marched off towards Black’s hangar.
“What are you doing?” Asked Coran
“Whatever I can.”
Black’s chair slid forward, slowly gliding Shiro to a halt in front of the controls. The seat felt familiar, yet foreign. He wondered how long ago it was that he had last flown his lion. He hadn't the slightest clue. Time had a way of doing that in space.
Shiro took a deep breath, readying himself, before gripping the handles. He could still hear his friends yelling from their coms. They needed the black lion. They needed Voltron. They needed Shiro. If he didn't do something, they might die. They would die. Zarkon would get the lions, and it would all be over.
Nothing.
“Please!” He begged, “People’s lives are at stake. You trusted me once. Trust me again.”
Shiro paused, not even daring to breathe. Suddenly one of the screen’s lights flickered. Yes! This was it! Shiro leaned forward, anticipating the oncoming battle, but nothing happened. That was it. Just a flicker.
“What? No! Black, please! They’ll die if I don't do something!”
The screen flickered again.
“There! See, you know I’m right. You know they need me. Why won't you just let me save them!”
An image flashed across his mind. It was of himself, strapped to a table, screaming as a Druid injected him with some purple, glowing liquid. The image left, leaving just as quickly as it had came, but it left a bad aftertaste in his mouth. Feelings of hatred and loathing wafted over him as the lights flickered back on again, this time staying on.
Lance’s panicked voice came through Shiro’s helmet, “I’m hit! Allura! Hunk! Anyone, help!”
Shiro didn't have time to think about what he just saw. His team needed him. Black had accepted him, and that was all that mattered. He thrusted the handles forward, blasting through the launch bay doors and taking a direct route towards Lance.
“Lance, I’m on my way!”
“Shiro!” Everyone called.
“Lance, how damaged is Red?” Shiro asked, as he dived in, blasting off the several drones surrounding him.
“Not too bad I think, but she’s not going to be making any sharp turns any time soon.”
“Good.” He eased Black in, grabbing the red lion with her teeth before streaking off to join the others. “Then let’s form Voltron.”
“Aww yeah! Shiro’s back!” Lance cheered. "Go Voltron!"
Their lions soared in the sky, circling around each other in the black canopy of silver stars. It felt wrong. It shouldn't have felt wrong. Shiro tried his absolute hardest to maintain his bond with Black, and to keep the connection with his team, but it felt so, so wrong. Black wouldn't stop sending him waves of malice and disgust, making it clear that she wasn't his. She would never be his. And that had this situation have been any different, any less pressing, he wouldn't have been there. He didn't deserve this.
It was a miracle that they were even able to form Voltron, let alone win the battle. His team didn't notice Black’s outburst either. Perhaps his connection to the team was weaker than he had originally thought.
Black entered the bay faster than she had left it, ripping Shiro’s chair back and practically spitting him out. Shiro stumbled down the ramp, clutching his head as his headache started up again. He could still feel the black lion’s hateful presence in the back of his thoughts as the mouth snapped shut behind him, leaving its two last words still lingering in his mind.
Not Shiro.
His legs gave out underneath him. A new vision appeared, only this time different. The man in the image was no longer strapped to a table, but instead lying on his side in a dark, violet colored cell, quietly muttering to himself. Feelings of guilt and sorrow and self-loathing crashed into him as he made out the words “abandoned” and “deserve this” from the other him and he knew, just knew that he was seeing this live.
He lay there, dazed as the pieces slowly fit into place. No wonder that Black had rejected him. No wonder that she hated him. It was so obvious now why everything felt so foreign. Why his interactions with Keith seemed so off. Why he had woken up in a Galra ship with hair longer than it should have been, and had escaped so easily. The headache probably had something to do with it as well. He wasn't Shiro. But if that was the case… then who was he?
“Shiro! Hey, Shiro! Are you alright?”
Lance’s voice snapped Shiro back into reality.
“Y-Yeah, sorry.” He said, grabbing Lance’s hand as he helped him up, “Just... tripped. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Said Lance, frowning, “Is, uh, is everything alright?”
Shiro took a step back, pulling his hand from Lance’s grip. “Yeah, everything's fine, why’d you ask?”
“It’s just that, well…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “You didn't answer your coms, and when I got here, you were just lying there Shiro, and it's not just that. Ever since you’ve gotten back you’ve seemed… distant. You barely escaped from the Galra the first time. It must have been devastating to be back there again. You were half dead and delirious when we found you. Are… are you sure you’re fine? Because we’re here for you man. You know that right?”
“Y… yeah. Yeah, I know. I just… need some time alone.”
“Well… alright then.” Lance turned to leave, “And Shiro?”
“Yeah Lance?”
“Don't be too hard on yourself. I know the Black lion didn’t accept you when you first got back, but she did today. A paladin’s bond can't be broken by something as simple as leaving, I mean, just look at Zarkon! Him and the lions were separated for over ten thousand years! Don't worry Shiro. You were a great leader before, and you’ll be one again. Just give her some time. She’ll come around.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time,” Lance smiled before he turned and left, the bay doors quietly sliding shut behind him.
Shiro couldn't help it. He fell to his knees again as another wave of hatred sliced through him. Filth! Never replace Shiro! It pounded in his mind, making his dull headache feel even worse. Should have known! Should have let die! Not Shiro!
Shiro thought back to Lance. He had told him not to worry. That he had been a great leader before, and would continue doing so. Shiro almost laughed. He wasn't a leader, and never would be. That spot was saved for Shiro. The real Shiro. Imposter! Black screamed, Cheap imitation!
One thing could be said though. Much like the real Shiro, his bond with Black was strong. It felt forced and unnatural, and almost definitely unwanted, but still strong. He didn't simply sense her presence, he heard her words. She actually spoke to him, told him to jump out the airlock occasionally, but he still heard her. Heard every single insult and offense. Every curse and death threat. He heard it all.
Yet, his connection ran deeper than that. He didn't just hear her, he felt her. He could sense her hatred and loathing. He could feel her longing to go back, to realize her mistake and stop herself from saving him. Her hope that he would just die. Drop death then and there just so she didn’t have his undeserving thoughts rummaging through the mind of Shiro's lion.
He felt all of her anger towards him, yet he couldn't feel any back because under all of that fury and malice, was love. Black loved Shiro. She didn't want to replace him. Shiro had been broken and despitefully used just like her. He was so much like her. They had both been betrayed. They had both been abandoned. She swore, when she first accepted him as her paladin, that she would never abandon him. She would never cast him aside. Not like the Galra did. Not like his home World did. No matter how bruised or broken he got, Shiro, her Shiro, would always be hers, and she would be his, and this thing parading around as her paladin, wasn't going to get in their way.
Shiro sat up, removed his helmet and began headed towards the bay doors, pausing only to wipe the few tears starting to form in the corner of his eye. He glanced back to his, no, Shiro’s lion.
“I’ll find him.” He said, straightening his back “I swear on my life that I’ll find him.”
Black stood there, cold and silent. Shiro turned, and headed to the door. It was just as the doors were sliding closed behind him that he heard it, a deep growl coming from the back of his mind.
You had better.