Chapter Text
James was coming down off the rush he got every time the squad left the perimeter of the Garrison. By land or by air, the fire in his veins and dust on his tongue was the only thing that made him feel alive. He could’ve brushed it off as mere adrenaline if not for the lingering thrill of success he felt when they made it back unscathed. (Maybe he was addicted but it really wasn’t anyone’s place to question him on his hobbies.) It remained as his source of purpose, pride, and most importantly control. Unfortunately for his squad’s sanity, those intense feelings never lasted and within a few hours he was ready to drive the rover right back over the horizon.
Kinkade and Rizavi had long since given up on getting him to take a break between missions. There was always so much else to occupy himself with: the first stop back being the simulator, his usual practically reserved and imprinted with the shadow of his ass by now. Then after about three hours when he was finally blessedly drenched with sweat and shaking limbs, it was time to hit the showers, grab something quick to eat, and hole up in his room going over whatever intel was gathered.
As the leader of his squad he needed to know everything and anything about what they were up against. The fact that the enemy was a superpowered alien race made no difference. They were alive and he could beat them.
He had to.
This constant cycle was what he wanted, needed even as he was loathe to admit. In fact, anything was preferable to the night hours that he spent staring at nothing in the darkness unable to ignore the panic creeping up on him. Wondering if his team could make it, if the human race could survive this war, if he even stood a chance.
Leader of the last offense of Earth and these were the fears he let plague him.
Whatever haunted him at night he couldn’t let it paralyze him during the day. Training to the point of exhaustion, running flight patterns over and over, planning, prepping: it was all his way to cope. He always was a man of action, a war just brought out his inner neuroticism Rizavi had told him once.
The paladins riding with them in the cramped rovers were currently brushing themselves off and if James was being quite honest they all looked like hell. He admittedly expected a bit more swagger from the supposed saviors of the universe. Although he supposed a pass could be made on account of them crashing their spacecraft through Earth’s atmosphere and running headfirst into Galra drones.
Collectively, they were quieter than he assumed too, huddled around in their own circle whispering back and forth. Their closeness was obvious in the way they all leaned into each other's space, unconcerned by proximity. James just felt all the more like a blatant outsider. These bonds forged in danger and blood were not something others were privy to. He was simply glad he wasn’t expected by the higher ups to play a tour guide- that was Rizavi and Leifsdottir- despite the obvious eyeing by the rest of his passengers when they thought his gaze was on the road.
Being a part of the welcome wagon was not his job. Leading was one thing. People were another.
The entrance of Garrison HQ came into view after what seemed like years. Small figures, only blurs before, were slowly growing at the entrance to the hangar. Crowds had gathered drawn in by the spectacle of their rumored only hope and James felt a flash of sympathy. There was no way to escape that level of scrutiny. It was like the first time the squad flew the MFEs, nobody could have enough praise to say about their performance, until the novelty faded. And now he can feel the tension in the air, the other officers and cadets contemplating how a couple of teenagers could hold off an entire fleet.
As the rover ground to a stop he let out a sigh feeling the strain slowly ease out of his shoulders. The green one wasted no time instantly launching themselves out of the side and falling straight into the arms of a crying woman who clutches them close, desperately petting the short hair sticking askew. James didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that he had long forgotten how that felt.
The rest of the paladins filed out more slowly, although the blue one was already being dogpiled on by a seemingly never-ending family. James let himself lean against the rover as Iverson approached them debating the merit between disappearing into the compound or watching the paladins awkwardly try to make small talk with the Commander. He didn’t even have enough time to come to a decision before his attention is drawn to one paladin in particular.
The figure stood with his back to the rovers, dark hair curling at the base of his neck, oddly familiar in a way that James couldn’t put his finger on. At least until he turned.
James felt like he had been punched. Again. Metaphorically this time though.
It was Keith- the Keith- who he had goaded again and again out of pure jealousy and childish anger. Jealousy at Keith’s talent which James had thought was a waste on someone like him. James felt a sting of regret flash across his face as he remembered the sensation of being knocked in the jaw so hard he couldn’t see straight for almost two days. Now the man standing in front of him would put him in a literal coma if he so much as tried any of that shit again.
Keith was tall, almost as tall as James himself, and his unruly hair- that James was positive had always been against regulations- curled around his face giving him an older appearance. The way he stood- if James had thought Keith commanded every room he stepped in before he was sorely mistaken. He now radiated confidence, a kind born through fire and adversity, as he stepped forward to shake hands with Iverson.
James had to audibly snap his jaw closed when Keith turned his head to make eye contact and he knew the moment the guy made the connection. His pretty eyes went wide and time itself seemed to stop. The present and the past melded together so strongly that James was sure Keith could feel the pull. They could have been standing in the same spot five years ago and James would not be able to tell that a single moment had passed.
With his flashing light eyes and dark hair, Keith had been a lot more unassuming then, small in stature and short in his interactions with others. A leader had taken that place. He no longer was that small orphaned kid who preferred watching the sky and reaching for the stars.
James had watched him for long enough to notice the difference.
Keith had obviously physically changed but as James slowly pulled off his helmet he realized he could still discern the core traits of Keith: The way his eyes had tracked those coming to greet them with wariness, how he angled himself away from the conversation with Iverson, and his familiar hair curling out from his paladin uniform. It made James’ chest feel tight in ways he refused to think about.
As he turned away from Keith’s searching gaze he wondered what the other saw when he looked at him. Hopefully not the same stubborn kid from all those years ago.
A few hours had passed and while left to his own devices James exploited the blissfully abandoned gym. He supposed the attractive pull of the saviors of Earth took the fun out of working out. James himself was just seeking to avoid being isolated with his tempestuous thoughts, particularly about one dark-haired, extremely built paladin.
He tightens his grip on the weights in his hand as he pushes himself one more rep past his usual. It burned from wrist to elbow and he was thankful for it.
Pain was another deterrent for wandering thoughts.
He didn’t need or have time to think about-
The door suddenly slid open as James finished his last extra set and he looked up to see Kinkade stalking towards him, all business as per usual. He puts down the weights gingerly, knowing that whatever had dragged his friend down here would most certainly interrupt his session of not-thinking.
“You need to shower,” Kinkade, never one for wasting words, orders, “We got a council meeting in ten minutes.”
James starts at that because the next one was not scheduled till tomorrow morning. Then the arrival of the paladins sunk in again and the abrupt change made sense.
He got to his feet with a sigh, a pleasant ache settling into his muscles as he followed Kinkade out. He could feel his friend glancing at him out of the corner of his eye but James refused to give him the satisfaction of asking what he wanted. He could guess what landmine Kinkade was considering stepping on. It was the one he had evaded in his own head for years. When they finally reached the elevators to get back to the dorm rooms Kinkade turned around.
“Look James. If you want to talk about-” James interrupts wherever that sentence was heading.
“K I’m fine. I was just working off some steam, “ About a certain savior of the universe, his mind unhelpfully supplies. “Commander Holt told me to stay out of the sims today.” A bald-faced lie but he didn’t need to know that James was dodging any chance of coming in contact with the paladins.
Kinkade looked unconvinced but said no more as the elevator finally opened. One quick shower later and he was standing in the last place he wanted to be. Right in front of Keith.
It wasn’t that James was avoiding him per se, he just was hoping to deflect any kind of conversation with him, barely even make eye contact, and move on with his life. Definitely not avoiding.
Whatever he was doing seemed mutual as Keith’s gaze stayed glued onto Commander Holt who was catching them all up to speed. The paladins had a lot to learn about if they were all going to be prepared. Then the meeting took a turn as the yellow lion’s pilot started asking more about the others left outside their walls. The guy sounded fearful and James knew that look on his face. He had to wake up to it every morning in the mirror.
This paladin had family outside. James felt a pang of sympathy. The not knowing was excruciating every waking moment but what else could they do? There simply weren’t enough resources to take in everyone and that was something he knew he had to live with. As a leader he recognized the validity of their restraint but as a person he couldn’t help the niggling feelings that they were dooming thousands to die.
Dooming his own family.
Then the guy kept pressing the Commander and James’ sympathy began to sour. It was like he didn’t see that the cost of war was high, that there was guilt written all over the Commander’s face, that the room had started to heat with tension. Their soldiers remained too few and dwindling fast. Their firepower too weak to stand a chance. They were facing total annihilation against a race of aliens who held the universe under its thumb for centuries.
Voltron was the last hope of Earth for a fucking reason.
James’ family may be alive or dead but that would not deter him from the mission. He might wake up sweating in the middle of the night reaching out for parents he couldn’t see. He might turn in a crowded room searching for a shadow of his mother. He might hear his father’s laugh echoing in his ears when surrounded by silence.
That couldn’t stop him. This pain he felt not knowing was nothing compared to the suffering of those who lost loved ones to the Galra. His mourning now in humanity’s final hour would not bring them back.
A paladin should realize that much.
“Do paladins not understand the chain of command?” He shouts before he could even think about what he was saying, “ Your CO said it was too dangerous!” The team across from him all look startled and the yellow paladin is shaken to the point where he physically jumps back from James.
That might have been too harsh.
Commander Holt instantly turns on him, the words on his tongue scalding James' pride, but James suddenly doesn’t regret a thing. Keith’s eyes are on him now, arresting in color and intensity. He’s staring James down as though daring him to go on and he’s reminded of the look in Keith’s eyes right before he threw that punch so long ago.
It sends a shiver up his spine.
He steps back, giving way to the request of Commander Holt and returns to stewing in his own nerves and anxiety. Keith’s eyes don’t leave him for the rest of the meeting.