Chapter Text
Everywhere Shiro looked, he saw signs of Earth’s healing. He saw damaged ecosystems growing more flowers and trees to replace the ones that had died, returning a wave of green that had been missing for so long to the planet. Baby animals were running or flying close to their mothers, at a distance from the human and alien masses in the cities. No matter how badly Sendak had ravaged their planet, these organisms were determined to find a way to thrive.
The same held true for humanity. Humans were resilient, determined to persist- even in the presence of aliens that wanted their subjugation- and humans were undergoing the same healing process as nature was. The cities were where the strongest proof existed. Platt City was starting to resemble itself again. Buildings that had been blasted apart were now home to swap meets, restaurants, and, in some cases, apartment buildings. All the things they had taken for granted not five years ago were slowly returning.
People walked along the street, pausing every so often in a motion Shiro recognized. They looked up, then from side to side, before taking in slow and deep breaths, overwhelmed by their freedom. Overwhelmed by comforting surroundings they never thought they’d experience again. It revealed just how deep humanity’s collective psychological wounds ran. These injuries would take far longer to repair than reconstructing a city would. They would be far less visible, and couldn’t be accelerated by assistance from the residents of other galaxies. Each of the races the Galra had conquered before Earth had been forced to handle that aspect on their own, and Earth would be no different.
“Look, Mommy!” Shiro heard a tiny boy, no older than six years old, call. He saw the voice’s owner point to a building in awe. “That’s where I’m gonna go to school, right?”
“That’s right,” said a woman, presumably the boy’s mother. “In three more months.”
Shiro watched the woman’s sudden realization that her child was going to school, and saw her shake her head in amazement as she repeated, “in three more months.”
Shiro had felt the same kind of astonishment after being freed from the Galra, and again now that he’d returned to an Earth so different from the one he’d left behind. It was why he recognized those expressions from the passersby so well. Every little detail had felt a miracle to him back then; grass, real Earth grass, waving in the wind; the sound and smell of rain; a sky decorated with stars that made constellations he could actually recognize. All the little things he’d missed while floating around in a castleship billions of miles away from home were once again within his grasp, and it was overwhelming in the most delightful way.
The fact that he could look up at night and see all his favorite constellations again was perhaps his favorite thing about being back home. As a child, dreaming of one day reaching space, the night sky had been a constant comfort to him. He would look up at it with his grandfather every night as he dreamed of flying through them. Every night, his grandfather would quiz him on the constellations and individual stars contained within them, and then, once he had successfully memorized those, would ask about ships, missions, and lists of firsts for various voyage types.
Of all the constellations Shiro had grown up with, he had always been partial to Lyra, for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of. Being able to see it and others again felt like being reunited with a dozen long-lost friends.
That was something he was especially thankful for, because there hadn’t been many long-lost friends for him here. Not live ones, at least. There hadn’t been nearly as many as he’d hoped, but Shiro had to remind himself that there were also more than he’d feared. Anything was better than the nightmare scenario his brain had created in those moments when anxiety had overcome him and threatened to drain away his hope.
Shiro reminded himself of that fact as he looked up at the daytime sky. No matter what had happened to the people of Earth, at least the stars Shiro would see again in a few hours were something he could rely on, silent and steady and unwavering.
Shiro continued to draw on the strength he always felt after thinking about space as he made his way to check on yet another part of the planet that was recovering: the Paladins who had nearly died protecting it two weeks ago.
They were all recovering, slowly but surely, but every visit reminded him of what had almost happened to them. It reminded him of the hours he’d spent waiting to see if his friends would ever wake again. Shiro shivered every time he thought of their bruised, battered bodies lying, semi-comatose, in those hospital beds.
Really, he tried, to the greatest extent possible, not to dwell on those moments. In times like this, however, it was unavoidable to think of them anyway.
—
Shiro wished he could say that he’d arrived at the hospital as soon as the injured Paladins had. But even as they had been rescued- Keith first, Hunk last- Shiro had still been trapped onboard the Atlas. First they had had to evaluate the sky for any further threats. If one Robeast had appeared, they had no way of knowing another wouldn’t too. Then there had been the process of figuring out how to transform the Atlas back to its regular form, which had been considerably harder than the initial transformation to mech form. Then there was the challenge of finding a bit of solid ground on or near the Galaxy Garrison base big and undamaged enough for the craft to land. And then, once they managed that, there was the task of making sure those under his command were safely evacuated off the ship.
To make matters worse, ten members of the Atlas crew hadn’t survived the fight, and making sure their bodies were handled with the proper care before transfer to the morgue had been yet another responsibility he’d had to attend to. Not that he would ever complain about it; as captain he was responsible for every person on the craft, and ensuring that the deceased were given the respect they deserved was the least he could do to honor their sacrifice. But it had still been very difficult to get through it when he knew his friends were gravely injured at best, and at worst, about to join the ten bodies whose transfer he’d just overseen.
It was only the presence of Shiro’s bridge crew, including an equally rattled Coran, that got him through the ordeal. Otherwise he would never have been able to handle the emotional or practical challenges. His gratitude to them was too great for him to express in words; he’d only been able to manage a weak smile that was echoed back on four equally weary and shocked faces.
Exhaling, Shiro had said, “good job, team. Earth is safe and the Atlas is now clear. I’m sure you all have people who are worried about you- go reassure them that you’re okay. I’ll call you back if needed, but I doubt we will be for some time.” Then he’d nodded at Coran, a silent promise to find out the fate of the Paladins together.
By the time Shiro and Coran did arrive at the hospital closest to the Galaxy Garrison, all of the Paladins were out of the operating room and in the recovery ward, save Allura, whose Altean anatomy had provided the all-human team of trauma surgeons quite a challenge. Coran had immediately been brought to the surgical suite to fill in the gaps in the doctors’ knowledge, and that had left Shiro agonizingly alone, since no one was allowed to visit the Paladins yet. Even those whose anesthesia had worn off were still unconscious, which wasn’t a surprise; even aside from the injuries from the crash itself, they’d had little sleep since returning to Earth, and the Robeast had drained their quintessence on top of that. To make matters worse, none of them had stabilized. It wasn’t even certain that they’d make it through the night, let alone recovering.
Shiro had nothing to do but sit in limbo and let his thoughts drive him crazy. It seemed that way, at least, until the moment two of his bridge officers, Veronica and Curtis, approached him. Veronica was a mess, tears blurring her vision to the point that Curtis had to guide her with one arm around her shoulders, and it was only then that Shiro realized, with more guilt than he could bear, that he’d forgotten Veronica was Lance’s sister. He’d completely forgotten to invite her to join him and Coran, and the orders he’d given his crew…
Oh, he might never forgive himself for this. “Veronica!” Shiro cried as he rushed to her side. “Lance is out of surgery, they’re just waiting for him to wake up- he’s really banged up. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think-”
Veronica waved him off. “It’s okay, Captain. You had more on your plate than any of us combined.” But the apology made Shiro feel guiltier instead; more so when Veronica’s tears started anew and Curtis hugged her tightly.
Their communications officer looked exhausted himself, even beyond most of Shiro’s other crew. The bags under his eyes, the haunted and worn look on his face, and the almost lethargic way he moved made it seem like he hadn’t had a decent night of sleep in months, if not years. Under other circumstances Shiro would have ordered him to go rest immediately, but he could tell without attempting it that Curtis wouldn’t listen. His loyalty to Veronica ran too deep.
“I don’t know the Paladins, besides Lance of course, very well,” Curtis began softly, looking to Veronica and then Shiro. “But what I saw them accomplish in the fight… they’re so brave. They don’t seem like the kind of people to ever give up, no matter what the odds. Especially Lance; he’s probably the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, except his big sister.” He playful rolled his eyes at Veronica, earning a faint laugh, before continuing, “Lance will be okay, ‘Ronnie.” He looked back to Shiro. “They’ll all be okay, Captain. They won’t stop fighting as long as others still need them.”
Shiro wasn’t sure what surprised him more: the accurate assessment from someone who only knew one of the team members well and had barely spoken to the others; the realization that Curtis was as concerned about Shiro’s emotional state as Veronica’s, despite being Veronica’s best friend; or the fact that Curtis’s words had actually succeeded in snapping Shiro out of his panic. Maybe it was the fact that Shiro already knew the truth of what Curtis was saying, but had been too terrified to accept it. Hearing someone else vocalize what Shiro knew about his team allowed him to recenter his thoughts. It was only natural to be scared in a situation like this, but, he reminded himself, all was not lost. The Paladins who’d fought Zarkon so fearlessly wouldn’t surrender now.
“Thank you, Commander,” Shiro said in a soft voice that he hoped conveyed just how touched he really was.
He had known Curtis for a while, but mostly on a professional basis; he never would have blamed the man if he chose to focus on supporting his best friend and keep conversation with Shiro to formalities. But he hadn’t. Curtis was making sure to look after both of them, even though it was so easy to see that Curtis himself was barely able to stay awake.
And still, even as the awed thoughts repeated in his head, Shiro found himself unable to verbalize his appreciation. Oh, he hoped Curtis didn’t think Shiro was taking this for granted. Later, when he recovered from the shock, he’d fix this, Shiro decided. He would find Curtis and spell this out for him. Compassion had been something Shiro had sorely missed when he was out in space, fighting a hopeless war against the Galra.
“We’ll get through this together,” Shiro finally managed. It was part a statement, and part a question, a request for affirmation- a desire to hear again that he could count on these two staying at his side. He couldn’t do this alone.
“Together,” Curtis agreed, a weary smile on his face as he hugged Veronica tightly. He reached a hand out to Shiro, then withdrew it, awkwardly setting it by his side.
Hiccuping, Veronica agreed, “together.”
And so the three- four, once Coran returned an hour later- waited through the long, dark hours until one-by-one, word of the Paladins’ awakenings reached them.
—
Out of habit, Shiro visited the Paladins in the order in which they’d first woken up. First was Lance, who was recovering remarkably well. Other than a few bandages, it was hard to tell he had even been injured in the fight.
Shiro kept this visit short, as Lance’s niece and nephew were also here, and Shiro didn’t want his presence to be disruptive for them. But Silvio and Nadia had other ideas, prattling about how Shiro was “just like the T.V. show!” Shiro was happy to live up to their hopes and dreams, if nothing else. And he could tell that their delight was having a ripple effect on Lance.
Shiro knew Lance had hidden how much he missed his family from the team, trying to keep his complaints about homesickness to a minimum in the face of the other, much worse problems they faced. Shiro was happy that Lance could finally be with them again and get the hugs and kisses he had so sorely missed. And since Lance was still too exhausted to play with his niblings as much as he wanted to, Shiro doing it for him was the next best thing.
Shaking his head in amusement at the squeals the kids let out as he carried them around the room with his prosthetic arm, Shiro set Nadia down and announced that he had better get going. This earned him a silent, grateful look from Lance and a round of complaining and begging from the children, pleas for “five more minutes” that quickly became ten and then fifteen.
After finally extracting himself, he made his way to Pidge’s room. She immediately waved him to sit on the edge of her bed, eager to show Shiro their fictional counterparts on the show Silvio and Nadia had been raving about.
Shiro liked what he saw from the first episode, dubious animation quality aside, but then Pidge, in her excitement, accidentally let it slip that the character based on Shiro died rather early on in a fight against Haggar. Shiro sighed heavily. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think? I think I’ll skip that episode.” He had struggled hard enough to come to terms with his own death. He certainly didn’t need to see it depicted in cartoon form.
“‘You’ dying is in the title of the episode and everything, you’ll know which one it is,” Pidge promised. “I mean- if you watch it on your own.”
That was what Shiro found strange about hanging out with Pidge. She loved to talk, and yet was just as happy not talking at all, so long as there was something else with which to occupy her mind. Shiro had never met someone who was such a perfect combination of an introvert and an extrovert. It made for nice, low-pressure visits, though. If he had something to say, Pidge would be happy to talk, but if he didn’t, it never got awkward.
Watching the T.V. show, as campy as it was, was strangely comforting. Maybe it was the fact that a T.V. show being made about their adventures in space was a sure sign that their efforts to keep the universe safe had worked. Their planet was healing and people felt far enough removed from the occupation to make cartoons about the Paladins. It was nice, Shiro thought, to imagine that their existence brought people so much comfort.
After finishing the second episode and promising Pidge he’d watch more the next time he came, Shiro entered Hunk’s room, which was, fittingly enough, right across the hall from Pidge’s. Shiro felt overwhelmed with gentleness the instant he entered the room; Hunk was one of those rare people who could make someone feel like they were being hugged without actually touching them. It was the softness of his voice, the kind words and empathetic tone. Hunk’s kindness never ceased to amaze him.
After checking in with each other, Hunk asked about the Garrison, which then, of course, led him to start thinking about their upcoming return to space. “I was just thinking how cool it’ll be when the Atlas launches,” Hunk was saying. “I’ll be in charge of the kitchen. All those tools at my disposal!” He sounded thrilled, and Shiro couldn’t blame him. It sounded like a chef’s dream, being allowed so many industrial-grade kitchen implements and unique ingredients, even if the challenge of cooking for hundreds each meal was a rough one.
But the mention of the Atlas nonetheless made him frown. After all, the last time Shiro had been onboard, he’d been stuck on the bridge, helplessly watching as his friends nearly perished. It had been one of the worst moments of his life, if not the worst.
Some of what he was feeling must have been mirrored on his face, because Hunk suddenly reached a bandaged hand out to hold Shiro’s metal one. “I know what you’re thinking, man. I was so scared- I thought that was the end for all of us,” he confessed in a hushed voice. “But… I survived. We all survived, we’re gonna be okay. And that’s what matters… right?” He trailed off at the end, as though he was unsure.
Shiro could only nod and whisper, “yeah. That’s what counts.” But it was a lie, because Shiro didn’t feel that way at all. All he could think about was watching the Voltron Lions plummet to the ground like a flock of wounded birds. Sure, the Paladins were all okay, but that was only by chance. They nearly died, his Paladins, his friends, and Shiro had been far away on the Atlas bridge instead of fighting and nearly dying with them like he was supposed to.
It wasn’t right. They were a team. A family. And yet in their darkest hour, Shiro hadn’t been with them.
But what could he do? Shiro didn’t have a time machine, and no amount of wishing otherwise could change what had happened. And he should be counting his blessings, really, that he was visiting them at a hospital instead of a graveyard. He could talk to them and touch them and watch them smile, which was more than he could say for other people he’d cared about, like Adam.
With that thought, Shiro did what he’d become so skilled at as the Black Paladin; he hid his own worries as he smiled reassuringly at Hunk and promised that everything was okay. After all, Hunk, with his endless kindness and compassion, deserved that reassurance more than anyone Shiro knew.
It should be about them, Shiro told himself. They were the ones who had been wounded, not Shiro. But try as he might, he just couldn’t shake the unease clinging to him.
Hunk insisted on hugging Shiro before he left, which made Shiro laugh and smile in spite of himself. He didn’t know what it was about hugs. He liked them once he got over the shock of being hugged, but could never bring himself to initiate one. Thus it was always others doing it, catching him off guard.
“I’ll see you soon, buddy,” Shiro promised, patting Hunk’s leg as he stood and exited the room. Down the hall was Keith, who had sustained the gravest injuries of all the Paladins. It wasn’t surprising. As the head of Voltron, he had been at the center of all that explosive force, on top of the long, uncontrolled fall the others had experienced. Allura’s surgery had taken longer, but Keith’s had come the closest to failing entirely.
It horrified Shiro, knowing how close Keith had come to never waking up again. Anything going differently- another minute here, a different judgment there- would have resulted in his death. It was a bona fide miracle that Shiro was sitting here with his best friend at all.
Yet here Keith was, head and torso tightly bandaged, but still awake and alert. He looked to be in bright spirits, legs propped up on a pillow and what seemed to be a comic book in his hands. As Shiro entered the room, Keith glanced at the doorframe and smiled, setting the comic aside. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Shiro smiled and sat down, placing a gentle hand on Keith’s knee. “How are you holding up? Is the pain better today?”
Keith nodded. “It is. I’m still hurting but I’m actually still in a lot less pain than they expected. They think it might be my Galra blood or something. Full Galra don’t experience pain as strong as full humans, I guess, and since I’m in between…”
Shiro thought about that and could only agree. The Galra he’d fought never seemed hampered by the injuries that could incapacitate a human. Only more severe, life-threatening injuries were able to truly keep them down, and even then, they recovered much faster than humans. The very thing that had caused the Paladins so much grief over the past few years was what had saved his best friend’s life. Shiro appreciated the irony. “I’m so glad,” he murmured. “Kolivan and your mom were worried sick about you. So was I.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Keith closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s weird. I was on my own for so long, and now I have all these people worrying about me. I’m not used to having to think about others’ feelings before I do something.” A pause. “I still would’ve done the same thing even if I did have time to think about them first, though.”
Shiro gave a wry smile. “I know. You did what you had to do.” And that was what he hated: the attempted sacrifice was the correct choice. Certainly it was the one he would have made if he’d been in the Black Lion.
The choice he would have made if he had been given the chance to nearly die with his team.
But he hadn’t.
Shiro looked away. The guilt was getting harder to manage as time went on. It ate at him from the inside out.
“Shiro?” Keith blinked at him. “You okay, man? Are you having a flashback or something?”
Shiro sighed and decided on a half truth. “No, Keith. I’m okay. I’m just worried about all of you. Don’t wear yourself out worrying about me, okay? You have more important things to worry about.” He patted the back of Keith’s hand.
Keith hummed, but Shiro didn’t know if he accepted the explanation or not; he fell asleep before Shiro got the chance to ask for clarification.
It was a good thing, Shiro knew. Sleep meant healing. Keith was listening to his body, sleeping when he needed to instead of stubbornly fighting it like he would have in the past. Chuckling wryly, Shiro tousled Keith’s hair. “Sleep well, buddy. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
And now came Allura’s room. She was recovering well too, in that she was out of danger, but her actual recovery had started to plateau. Altean physiology was even more easily affected by stress than humans’, and consequently, the thoughts weighing on Allura’s mind seemed to be hindering her physical recovery as well as her emotional one. Shiro sighed as he entered the room and glanced around. It was plain, giving no indication that a crown princess resided here; not that Shiro expected it to, of course, but it was jarring nonetheless, mostly because of how he kept thinking of the Castle of Lions. The plainness of the room kept jostling him out of the memories of the Castle that he was getting lost in.
The Castle hadn’t been made to transform, but then again, neither had the Atlas, and she had transformed just the same. But the Atlas’s change to mech form hadn’t felt like what he experienced in the Black Lion, forming Voltron. Atlas’s energy had felt, if anything, closer to the energy he felt when he was by Allura. It felt like the energy of infinite possibilities, or like the feeling he got when he witnessed Allura’s alchemy.
Despite having been made on Earth, the Atlas still felt distinctly Altean. It felt like Allura herself. It felt like the energy of magic.
Shiro thought that over as he waited for Allura to wake up and notice his presence. It took about half an hour, by which time Shiro was almost ready to give up and go home.
“Shiro! Hello. It is nice to see you.” Allura smiled at him and adjusted her position on the bed.
“Nice to see you too, Princess.” She had been asleep the past few times Shiro had come to visit. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m well, thank you for your concern.” She gave a smile as Plachu climbed up on her shoulder. “But how are you? You look…” She hesitated before deciding on, “Troubled.”
“Sorry,” Shiro said. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about the fight.” It was more than he’d told Keith, and even that had felt like too much. He regretted saying anything even as the words fell out of his mouth. “It still bothers me, that we almost lost you all.” A pause. “But I’m so glad you’re all okay,” he added, and meant it.
Allura went quiet, thinking Shiro’s words over. She shook her head with a sad smile. “It’s the worst position to be in, isn’t it? Standing back, helpless, while the others risk their lives. That is why I started to fly the Blue Lion after we lost- after the fight with Zarkon. I never wanted to lose another Paladin under my watch.”
Shiro tapped his chin as he listened, thinking over each word carefully. “So you prefered flying the Blue Lion to being in the Castle of Lions?”
“Not entirely,” Allura said. “I liked- still like- that I am in the heat of battle with the other Paladins… but sometimes I do miss the Castle of Lions. The Castle felt far more intuitive for me than the Lions, even though my life force is connected to them. When given the chance, I prefer to have extra time to think, which was afforded to me in the Castle, but not in Blue.”
“Intuitive,” Shiro muttered, nodding once in agreement. Intuitive was how the Black Lion had felt for him, too. Everything had made sense when he was flying her. He wasn’t flying just a machine, but a sentient being that understood as much about flying as he did. Atlas… she was alive, but she didn’t have that matching energy Black did. He didn’t understand her as easily as he’d understood Black.
Of course, the Atlas was a newborn in comparison to the Black Lion’s 10,000 and some odd hundred year lifespan, and he had no way of knowing if this would get better with time. He fully acknowledged that. But…
“The quintessence of a pilot is mirrored in his Lion,” Allura had said all those years ago. He’d felt himself mirrored in the Black Lion, but Atlas didn’t feel like himself. Atlas felt like Allura through and through.
“Shiro?” Allura was looking worried again, and Shiro sighed.
“Don’t worry about me, Princess. I’m fine, really. Worry about yourself now, okay?” He sat up straighter.
“That is always how you respond when somebody expresses concern for you,” Allura chided gently, but she didn’t push the issue. She never did unless it was urgent, and Shiro appreciated it.
“It’s because it’s true, alright? There are more important things to worry about than who’s flying what.” The self-doubt was back; that little voice in his head that told him he was too selfish, too broken, too this-or-that for anyone to want him around. Asking, even considering asking, Allura to leave her Lion for him… He curled his hand into a fist, then stood abruptly. “I should go, let you get some rest.”
“Shiro, I just woke up; I do not need to rest yet,” Allura protested. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to hit a nerve-“
“You didn’t hit a nerve, Princess.” Shiro gave a bitter sounding laugh. “I did that plenty on my own.”
“Shiro!” Allura called, and it was only then that Shiro consciously registered that he had already returned to the doorframe, his body having moved on instinct. “Please, come back!”
“I’m sorry, Princess… I just-” He had to go, before he asked something he knew he never could, in good conscience, ask the brave Altean who had given so much already. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.”
There was nothing wrong with making a tactical retreat, he tried to tell himself, even as that doubting voice in his head started chiding him for being a coward. It would sort itself out. If he stayed silent for long enough, the issue would resolve itself completely without his input, and then things would go back to normal. Or, at least, back to the new normal that didn’t seem to have a place for his happiness in it.