Chapter Text
For Lance McClain, the world had always been big enough. He lived in California, surfing waves and searching tide pools for starfish since he was young. The ocean spreading vast in front of his secluded little beach front home. The sound of crashing waves would occasionally be interrupted by the screaming of his siblings. His oldest sisters had already moved out, leaving four brothers and a sister to run around the house, wreaking havoc as his mother tried to clean. Miguel, Leo, Marco, and Anton were his older brothers, but Miguel was secretly his favorite. Anita, Eva, and Lana were his older sisters. Lana was the only one left living with them, Anita and Eva were out at college and building their own families. Sometimes Lance's mother would tease Miguel, the oldest of the eight of them, that Anita was ahead of him despite being a year younger. ‘At this rate, Lance will have children before you go to college.’ Ana McClain would complain, hitting her oldest child upside the head with a small smile.
All eight McClain kids were fans of heat, sun, and the sea air smell. California was home to them. Papers of plans to build a boat to sail the world covered the walls . Posters of starfish, polaroids printed out of him and his older brothers with a model boat; of him and his sisters wearing face masks. A ocean themed calendar pinned above his bed, a date marking his tenth birthday circled and starred like it was the most important day of his life. It was only a few hours now, and Lance was beyond excited. For his family, going into double digits was a big deal. Being the youngest, last, and in his opinion, the best, child, the spoiled Cuban boy would be getting a party with the whole family. His grandparents, his aunts and uncles, their children, his siblings who had moved out and started their own families, everyone.
Lances’ RSVP list was well into the 40’s and 50’s. The night of his birthday, his older brothers were planning on taking him in a speed boat up the coast and back for about an hour to celebrate. Now, Lance wasn’t supposed to know this. However, almost-ten year olds are prone to prying, Lance himself included. As Lance hummed and kicked his feet off the edge of his bed, Lance's mother walked into his room.
“Lance, honey? I have a present from your father and I.” She crouched down beside her son, holding out a small black box.
“Really? Thanks, Mama!” He gave a wide grin, hopping off the bed so he stood as he took the box. When he opened it, a shiny silver necklace was revealed. “Wow!” Lance said in awe, looking back up to his mother. “Thank you!” He threw his arms around his mothers neck and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mama!” After a few second of hugging, Lance's mother leaned back and took the necklace out of the box.
“Now let’s get this birthday boy all dressed up, shall we?” Ana McClain pulled a button up shirt over Lances shoulders and buttoned it. “Finishing touches.” She smiled at Lance as she reached behind him to clip the necklace on. “Now you’re all ready, my baby is so grown up.” She placed a kiss to Lance's forehead. “Now, there is a surprise at dinner with this, so you’ll have to wait.” She poked the necklace charm- a silver shell the size of a penny- then walked out of the room.
As final decorations were set up and the final seconds ticked away, Lance was about to find out how big the world really was.
The first to arrive was his grandparents on his moms side, who he greeted with big hugs and kisses on the cheeks. “Thank you!” Lance would squeak, the words repeating for each guest that walked through the front door to their beach house, dry winds from the darkening sky blowing through the open doors. Looked like it would end up being a little stormy tonight. Despite the angry sky, the boy began to party, dance around, and eat from the trays full of his favorite foods that lined the tables. It was all a blur. Twirling with his sister, bowing to his little niece, kissing his mother's hand as a gentlemans thank you, he was a hurricane. He hopped from guest to guest, thanking them, telling jokes, and dancing. It was obvious to everyone present that this little entertainer was built for customer service; the way Lance handled his house guests was with a maturity far beyond his age.
The candles blew out.
For the fourth time, his mother had to relight the flames that refused to stay lit long enough for the small boy to make his wish. His breath held, hand gripping his new shell charm, Lance blew out the candles before the wind could steal the chance again. His wish echoed in his head as he watched blue wax drop from the candle to the base of it. His smile was as bright as the flames themselves. As the cake was being served and passed around, his oldest brother announced that it was time for him to get on the boat.
“I can’t let you take him-” Lance’s mother said softly to her eldest son, looking at the sky in concern. “It looks dangerous. There’s always tomorrow.” She attempted to convince the boys, her gaze casting nervously to the smiling birthday boy who was waiting with a life jacket around his shoulders in anticipation.
“Mama, come on, look at him.” The oldest brother, Miguel, insisted. “Look how excited he looks.”
“Miguel…” She sighed. With more worried looks at the clouds above, his mother reluctantly agreed to a short trip along the coast, back in 30 minutes. The brothers took her offer, knowing that she was being very gracious. Within five minutes the boys were packed up, Miguel sweeping Lance up into his arms.
“Ready, Kiddo?” He smiled, “Let’s go.” Miguel placed Lance at the back of the boat where he would catch most of the spray like he wanted, starting up the boat. Lances other brothers piled in after them, and they pulled out from the dock that was anchored just off shore. Lance held tight to the end of the boat as he leaned over the edge. His heart leapt in his throat, so he focused on the backs of the life jackets his brothers wore. ‘McClain’ was written in blocky capital letters to claim their life jackets. Drawing in a deep, excited breath, Lance calmed down. They sped off, ignoring the dark sky with angry rain in the distance. “Lance-” Miguel yelled over the wind. “Where do you want to go? Left or right?” He looked around at Lance, the boat slowing as he waited for directions. Looking around, Lance pointed forwards, out towards the storm.
“Out!” He grinned, “I wanna feel the rain!” Usually bright blue eyes seemed to reflect the approaching storm, flickering dangerously with the light that would break through the dark layers of clouds. Lack of better judgement led Miguel to accept the request, just wanting to appease his youngest brother on his birthday. He swallowed and pushed the throttle, guiding the boat out into deeper waters. Lance had heard of a recent tsunami across the ocean, and wanted to find any debris from leaves or trees to prove that the Earth was connected. That the planet he lived on wasn’t as big as he was convinced it was.
When they started to spot branches from trees or leaves that must have been carried over by the tide from the other side of the world, Miguel was ready to head home; they needed to turn back. What he wasn’t ready for was a strike of lightning that hit dangerously close to the boat, causing a small shriek from Lance as he jumped. His laugh was infectious, the other brothers joining in on the nervous giggling. That was when the wind picked up. Waves began to push against their small speed boat, not built for rough waters.
“Lance, hold on!” One of Lance’s middle brothers yelled, pushing to the front to help Miguel turn the boat and head back towards home. As the brothers began to fight over control of the boat, Lance turned his head and spotted something floating near the surface. To get a closer look, Lance leaned in towards it. “Hi-” He began, until it was cut short by a wave crashing over his head and pulling him under.
His throat was full of water, his eyes streaming from the salt in them. “Miguel-” He tried to yell, only breaking off into coughs that were not loud enough to cut through the storm around him. Then his heart sank, the boat had turned back towards the main land and was soon cutting through the waves too fast for him to try and get their attention. Because he was usually level headed, Lance tried to remain calm, but waves kept battering him left and right. Then the lightning struck the water, probably half a mile away. His heart leapt in his throat from the shock, and he passed out.
It took the boys getting back to the dock and turning around to realize they didn’t have their little brother with them. Miguel froze, “Lance…? Lance, this isn’t funny-” But he knew there was no where for Lance to hide on the small boat. His brother was not with them, not close. Miguel and his second brother flipped out, their hands shaking as they began to yell, leaning over the edge of the boat, looking to see if the bump of hitting the dock had caused him to fall overboard. As Lances other brothers began to tie up the boat, then looked out at sea. “W-We have to go get him-” Miguel insisted.
“Are you crazy?” Anton leaned back, “and lose another one of us?” He waved his arm, “We have to call the police! They can send out the navy, the coast guard, the…” He bit his cheek, his worry for his brother obvious. However, he was the most rational one. If they went back out there in their dinky little boat the waves could knock them all overboard. “Miguel, Leo, Marco-” Anton started. “Please, l-let’s go get Mama…” He turned, sprinting into the shallow waters to get home and tell his mother to call the authorities. All the McClain brothers were right behind him.
A heart-wrenching scream caused the music to die down, the voices to cease, and all heads to turn to the cuban woman who was on her knees, clutching Antons arms for support, the others surrounding him. Lance’s mother was distraught. She knew she shouldn’t have agreed, but the hopeful smile on her youngests face was too hard to say no to. She should have said no. She should have stopped them. She should have… But she didn’t. No one knew what to do, staring out at the stormy sea, helpless to save their lost family.
By the time the storm cleared, the coast guard was able to go out, aware of Lances description and whereabouts. They searched for hours, days, following along the tide and checking nearby beaches. Lance McClain's face would flash on their monitors as looking around in vain. He was gone. The search was called off after a week, planes and boats already heading in, the child never found. There was no way Lance McClain was alive, no way he had made it out of the rough seas and back to land after being ten miles out. No way he had survived a week of rough seas and lack of water.
He was declared dead an hour later.
The news broke the McClains. Their youngest son, brother, friend, was gone. Just like that. They hadn’t even seen it coming. However, no funeral service was held. They had, deep down in the hearts, the hope that their son was alive. Something told them that Lance was okay, wherever he was.
The world couldn’t be that big.
Sputtering awake, the sun beat down on the boys face. “What-” Lances eyes grew wide, and he looked around him at the stretch of land he was resting on. There were some birds hopping around nearby, and when he coughed, they screeched and flew off. Taking in his surroundings, Lance noted a soft, sandy beach that was burning because of the heat it took in from the constant sunlight. There were very few trees, causing the land to look fairly dead. From his spot on the ground, he could see cactuses peeking over the hills that restricted his view. Lance tried to get into a sitting position, but his body refused.
After a few failed attempts at getting up, Lance looked back at his body. Stiff, dry clothes clung to his limbs, feeling uncomfortable and scratchy. The life jacket he had been wearing was still a little damp, and was causing a rash to spread around his neck where it was laying. Lance, reaching up to remove said life jacket, saw his arms. The boy took in a sharp breath. His arms were discolored, pale in comparison to what they used to be. It was a sick pale, one he had seen on people at the beach who hadn’t drank enough, or gotten hurt in the water. But it was horrible. His skin was lighter, his whole body felt soft and bloated, yet he could see his bones poking where he had lost the little fat he had. There were salt patches on his arms and legs, along with rashes, bruises, and sores. Blood was dried around the cuts, the rashes on his body were burning from the salt and the sun combination. I’m a mess, he thought as he lay in the sand, life jacket still around his neck. He could feel a cool metal against his chest underneath.
Memories of the past week began to infiltrate the shock in Lances mind, giving him ideas of what happened, but not enough for him to know how long it had been. Scenes like falling off a boat, a seagull sitting on his head, swallow a big mouthful of salt water, and nothing but a wide spread of blue. But no crying. Lance had known that crying would only dehydrate him faster, so he had slipped in and out of consciousness until being pushed up on this shore where had just woken up. So after a few more tries to get up, Lance flopped back down, pressing his cheek to the warm land, hiccuping softly. He wanted to go home until something snapped in his brain. Where was he, who exactly was he, what was his address, his family's name, why can’t he remember? Tears trickled down his cheeks for the first time in a week. The fresh source of salt burned through the layer of sand on his face, stinging the cuts below. Lance wanted to go home, but he didn’t know where to go, or how.
Lance just lay on that empty beach, hungry and dehydrated, where hours seemed like days. Just before it was getting to dusk, he heard something. The voices of two people. He weakly opened his eyes, his vision clouding as he focused on the direction of the voices. His ears were ringing; maybe he was dying and these were angels coming to take him to heaven. The thought of that made Lance rigid with fear, and he curled up a fist. As he fought not to pass out from focusing too much, a person appeared on top of the hill. It was a person, a real person. A large, scary looking silhouette, but a person nonetheless. Reaching out a hand, Lances voice rasped a quiet plea for help.
“Oh my god-” The voice began. “Allura! There’s a kid-” A heavy body began to make its way across the sand towards Lance. “Hello?” The voice began softly as the mystery man dropped to his knees besides the ailing boy. Something about the larger man made Lance nervous. His jaw was at a sharp angle, and his hair had a streak of white in the front. It made Lance want to laugh, he looked like an old man. But the scar stretching across the bridge of the man's nose was what sold Lance on the intimidating nature of the stranger. The man pulled his phone out of the pocket of his khaki shorts, looking up to speak to Lance. “How did you get here-” He reached out gently, unsure if he was able to touch the boy. “My name is Shiro-” Shiro said, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “Who are you-” He gently reached over, removing the life jacket so it would free up Lances movements.
“Lance… Lance C.. Cl…” He scrunched up his nose as he tried to remember. “I’m Lance.” He said finally, his voice scratchy from swallowing so much salt water and not being used. His eyes were drawn from Shiro’s sharp face to a much softer, darker face of a woman.
“My name is Allura.” She smiled gently, placing a hand on Shiro's shoulder so she could crouch beside him. Lance took in her soft brown skin, and stark white hair. Small wisps of hair framed her face, the rest pulled back into a messy bun high on her head. She wore a white and pink rash guard for swimming, with bright pink swim shorts. Sunglasses rested on her head, indents from them on her nose to show she had just been wearing them. “We’re going to get you cleaned up, okay, Lance?” She looked over him. “Looks like you’ve been out here for a while, huh?” Her voice was much more calming and appealing than Shiro's, but Lance was still on guard. When Allura began to reach out to brush his hair out of his face, he shrunk away.
“P-please-” Lance said, on the verge of breaking down for the first time since getting thrown overboard. But he was so dehydrated, there were no tears left. His hands trembled as he reached up and pushed his hair back to reveal bright blue eyes, bloodshot from exhaustion. “Help-” His voice broke and he coughed. Everything felt weak, tired, and a little cold. Unable to lift his head now, Lance closed his eyes, feeling arms gently lift him up. They felt strong, slender. He thought it was Shiro at first, but the subtle smell of pine sap and cinnamon told him it was Allura, since Shiro had smelled a little like sweat, he wasn’t going to lie. Lance allowed himself to curl himself into a protective ball in Alluras arms.
“I’ve got you, Lance.” She smiled down at the boy. “We’re going to go get you freshened up, okay?” Allura motioned for Shiro to follow her, thrusting her chin back towards their camp. “So, Lance, what is your favorite color?” Her slight British accent seemed very foreign to Lance, who grew up in a Spanish speaking community. Because of this, Lance caught himself taking a moment to reply.
“I like blue…” He said softly, “And I really like purple too.” At a glance, the button down Lance was still wearing from the party looked a deep navy blue, but it was actually laced with small purple stripes. It was Lances favorite shirt. He kept his hands busy during the walk back by buttoning and unbuttoning one of the buttons on his shirt. “Do… you know where we are?” Lance asked, glancing up at Allura with wide eyes. Not that it mattered, he didn’t remember where he came from. A large ocean in front of a beech wood deck was all Lance recalled from home.
“We’re on a small island in Mexico.” Allura spoke, “Shiro and I are out here camping, we just graduated high school in June.” She cast a fond look at Shiro, one that made Lance want to smile. He was always a sucker for other peoples romances, even at such a young age. He would watch soap operas and shout the dramatic lines with his sister. That is, until Miguel would come in and sweep them off the couch, one in each arm, dropping them in the twins’s bedroom, and tickling them. That gave Lance a headache, who was Miguel?
“Mexico…” He said softly, looking up at the sky, “Am I from Mexico?” He peered around the landscape, frowning at how dead everything was looking. The two of them picked a pretty crappy place to vacation, he thought.
“I’m not sure-” Allura started, glancing him over. “It’s really hard to say…” She figured he looked hispanic, but his accent was clear and northwestern. “We’ll find out after we wash you up.” She reached up carefully with one of her hands, brushing dried salt and sand off Lances cheek to reveal a rich, warm, brown tone. It was a little pale because of how sick Lance was, but Allura could just tell that he spent days in the sun when he was home. Her breath caught when she saw something peeking up from the collar of Lances shirt, but she decided to investigate when they got back to camp.
Upon arriving, Allura promptly set Lance to rest in her pop-up chair. “I’m going to get water from the stream nearby.” She smiled, “sit tight, hun.” Her hip bumped the chair as she stood up, grabbing a bucket and starting out to the sound of running water. This was when Shiro made his way over, being the one in charge of helping Lance undress and doing damage control.
“Hey.” He smiled, softer than Lance thought he was capable of. “I’m gonna help you get ready, okay?”. He continued to talk after receiving a confirmation from Lance, “Y’know, I have a little brother around your age. I think you two would be good friends.” Shiro's touch was gentle as he unbuttoned and removed Lances favorite shirt, leaving it folded on the chair arm. By the time Shiro returned his gaze to Lance, he gasped.
Bright pink, raw scars were traced along lances upper chest, ending around his neck and collarbone. “S-Shiro?” Lance sounded worried, then looked down. He bit his cheek, “What is that?” He sounded a little panicked, reaching up and placing a hand on the skin. It was red around the area, but there was a definite darkening of his skin with red scar tissue where something had attacked him. Flashes filled Lances mind and he choked, curling up in a ball, hiding his face.
“Hey, hey buddy, it’s okay! It’s okay, it’s just skin. It’ll be just fine.” Shiro reached up and placed a hand on Lances shoulder, not seeing any cuts or sores there. “We’re going to get you all clean, then take you to a doctor. They’ll fix you right up.” His voice was reassuring, yet commanding. Shiro knew how to keep people calm for sure. Lances heart rate slowed, and he took to inspecting the intricate scars that laced his chest.
When Allura returned, they helped him wash off his cuts, getting rid of the salt and sand that clung to him. She ran shampoo and conditioner through Lances hair, trying to clean him up a little more. The shampoo stung his cuts when it ran down his body, but Lance didn’t care. He felt clean and happier than he had been a few minutes ago. Shiro, luckily, had found a pair of pants that belonged to his little brother, Keith, in his suitcase. They had gotten tangled up in his packed clothes. Lance pulled them on, and they fit fairly perfectly. A little small though. The dark navy blue cargo shorts complimented his eyes. Staring around their little camp, a voice registered in his head.
“-nce… Lance!” The voice called louder, causing him to whip around. “Lance, come over here.” Allura motioned, crouching by the fire pit that was smoking a little. She seemed to be cooking; Lance could smell beans. Allura gave Lance a bowl full of baked beans with a little plastic spoon. That was when Lance realized he was starving. Quickly wolfing down the beans, Lance allowed his body to sink into the camp chair that they had allowed him to use. The now empty bowl rest on his lap, and he closed his eyes. Suddenly something cold touches his cheek, causing him to jump in surprise. Opening his eyes, he sees Shiro with a bottle of water,
“Drink up, you really need it.” Shiro gestured to Lances dry skin. “I have more if you want some. We are going to fly to the mainland in the morning to find your family, okay?” Shiro’s face and voice didn’t give away the worry he felt. The smiling little face in front of him didn’t seem to know who he was or where he was from. Watching as Lance chugged down the water, Shiro tried to decode the whole situation. A boy shows up on a beach, covered in scars and cuts; his memory was unreliable, and he didn’t talk very much. A small sigh escaped his lips, and Shiro stood up straight. There was no cell service out here, so it would be a little while before they could take the boat back to the mainland. To keep Lance busy, Shiro began to tell stories when night fell. They laughed, and Shiro and Allura shared a beer, not wanting to get drunk with such a little guest around. However, seeing the two laughing adults gave Lance some comfort. Sure, they were a little tipsy, but they didn’t seem hindered by his presence. That was all Lance could worry himself with, bothering these two new strangers.
By the time the next morning rolled around, he had gotten a good night’s sleep and the water was returning to his body. Much more energized, Lance was returning back to his normal self. Pulling himself out of the tent that he slept in between Shiro and Allura in, he walked over to the campfire. As the birds chirped, Lance decided to climb a trail up a hill. Soft, arid wind blew in his face, tangling his hair. At the crest of the hill, Lance could see the whole island. It was tiny. It’s a miracle I landed here…, Lance thought, and could see a few islands out in the far distance. A nice horizon view… Why is it so familiar? The thought couldn’t get out of Lances mind. Where did I come from? Glancing down at his bare chest, Lance traced his finger over the scars that now decorated him. What caused them. As he tried to remember, Lance sat down to make sure he didn’t fall over from the dizziness.
I remember a boat… There was someone there- a man? Then I fell over. Vague memories filled Lances head. Of course, he remembered things like math, spelling, his personality. But what was missing were names and faces. Who is my mother? Where do I live?
His heart was aching. Somewhere, someone missed him. He knew that much. For a second, a loud crash rang in his ears, but it was from in his head and not the outside world. Slamming his hands to his head, Lance tried to subdue the sudden headache. Lightning. There was a bang. Everything went black. He wheezed and tried to shake off the remaining pain from the headache.
He started to hear a voice carry over the dry breeze, hearing a female shout his name. Turning, he tumbled back down the hill and smiled at Allura. Because he was too trusting, and open, and friendly, Lance threw himself into Alluras arms and hugged her. “Am I going home?” He asked, eyes wide.
“Lance!” Allura laughed in surprise, stumbling back from the force. “We’re all packed and ready to go, we’ll take a boat to Mexico and from there to customs to figure it out, alright?” She ruffled his hair, smiling at how soft it really was compared to yesterday when it was full of salt. “The boat is ready now, so come on!” She set Lance down and beckoned him to follow her.
The boat ride was fairly calm, other than Lances original freak out. He felt fine until he was on the boat, a life jacket around his neck. It made him panic, he grasped Shiro's arm and breathed heavily, staring at the sky with wide eyes as if it would suddenly open and swallow him whole. Not again. Lances mind raced and as Shiro attempted to calm him, he squeezed his eyes shut and hyperventilated until Shiro removed the life jacket. Once the jacket was off, Lance calmed and loosened his grip on him. That’s when he realized, after the panic died out and the boat had returned to normal, that Shiro's arm was hard. It wasn’t warm or squishy like Alluras had been. This man's right arm felt fake.
“Lance-?” Shiro asked, looking down at him in surprise. “Are you okay-” When he saw Lance poking at his arm, he laughed. “Oh. My arm.” He pulled his sleeve back. What Lance had failed to notice yesterday was a scar along the top of Shiro's arm, connecting metal pieces to flesh.
"You’re a cyborg?” Lance gasped in awe, only reading about those in the story books on his shelves. He winced at the sudden past memory, but continued to smile at Shiro.
“I guess so, huh?” He laughed. “Is it weird?” His cyborg arm came up and pressed against Lances head.
“It feels so soft-” Lance seemed surprised. “It’s like a cold hand.” His hand took Shiro’s and began to inspect it. “I like it!” He laughed, forcing Shiro’s hand into a fist so he could fist bump it. “Now we’re bros.”
“Yeah? That sounds good, Buddy.” His voice trailed off as Lance fell into a deep sleep, letting the boy rest against his shoulder. When he glanced over at Allura, he saw her eyes shining at her boyfriend and Lance. About 8 hours later they reached the mainland. Lance shifted, beginning to wake up. Lance stretched out, awake but uncomfortable. Shiro smiled, standing up when the boat docked. He saw Lance with his hand up to his neck, nervously playing with a silver chain around his neck, but he didn’t question it as they unloaded their things from the tiny boat.
“Come on, hun.” Allura bumped Lance gently with her hip as her arms were full with the chairs and the cooler. “Would you mind grabbing this folder?” Allura asked Lance, kicking at a manilla file on the ground. “Hold on to it tight, ‘kay? It’s got all our important stuff in it!” Watching, Allura smiled as Lance held the folder up to his chest.
“Okay!” Lance said softly, casting his first genuine smile at Allura. “I’ll keep it safe!” His small hands gripped the folder tight, and they head off towards a car rental nearby.
The air was warm, which Lance liked. But it felt wrong. Something made Lance wary, like he didn’t belong here. Instead of worrying more, he stepped close to Shiro’s side and grabbed a hold of his shirt. Shiro made him feel safe; it must be because Shiro was nearing six feet tall, and clearly worked out. He made Lances brothers look like sticks that could be crushed under his feet. That made Lances head hurt. Brothers? His head pounded and he tugged Shiro’s shirt gently.
“I don’t feel real good.” Lance rasped, lights pulsing around him. Steps faltered and Lance groaned in pain at the approaching migrain. “Ow…” He let go of Shiro’s shirt and pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to relieve the pressure. “My head hurts!” The boy leaned back, stopping his steps all together. Tears filled Lance’s eyes. He began to hiccup, his chest heaving with frustration at the memories that were just out of reach. Lance knew he had a mother, a father, and siblings. He knew his home was somewhere warm- he could almost hear the waves from the memories he couldn’t reach. Lance knew the necklace around his neck was a gift from his mother, but he didn’t know why she had given it to him. Nothing clicked into his head, everything was like it was right behind a thin sheet of ice. But the longer Lance spent with Shiro and Allura, the icier the wall got. His whole world was being closed off from him. Everything he had once been was now drowning, stuck on the other side of a seemingly unbreakable wall. As he sunk to the ground, crying to himself, Shiro passed his stuff off to Allura.
“Lance-” His voice cut though Lance’s head. “It’s okay, look at me.” Shiro smiled. “I know you’re scared, and hurt, but we’re going to get you home. You’re safe now.” Lance wouldn’t know until years later that he had mumbled about his family and forgetting them while in his panicked trance. Shiro’s words managed to calm him once more, and he allowed Shiro to give him a piggyback ride all the way to the car rental. Before heading out, Shiro purchased a few snacks and drinks for the road.
“It’ll be a long way back to America.” Allura twisted in her seat to look back at Lance in the back seat. “You just sit tight, we’ll get there soon.” Her smile warmed Lance’s heart.
“Okay…” He munched quietly on potato chips that Shiro had bought, a water or two balanced on his legs. “Is it okay if we play a game?” He knew the rules of a few car games, knowing he had played some with his family on road trips to nowhere, or that’s what he remembered anyway. “We count letters off of road signs or licence plates.” He bounced a little in his seat as he explained. “And you can’t lose the game, which makes it perfect!” Lances little grin caused Allura to giggle.
“It sounds fun, Lance. Let’s do it!”
After a few rounds of it, Lance finished his turn and had just found a X on a passing licence plate. “Your turn…” He mumbled softly. After a few minutes, Allura got lucky and found a Y on a road sign. Lance yawned, curling up and pressing his cheek against the warm window. “Z...Shiro… you… turn…” Lance was unable to finish his sentence, a deep sigh emitting from him.
“Z.” Shiro smiled, glancing back and making a soft ‘Zzz’ sleeping noise as he poked Lances nose. “Sleep well, world traveler.”