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There were many things Shiro remembered from his childhood. For the most part, they were rather pleasant and nostalgic things. He remembered the tall, thick tree in his backyard and how its roots had protruded from the ground to twist themselves into knots as thick as his leg. During the summers, bees that were attracted to it sometimes flew into his bedroom window – he always left it open – but they never went any further than the glass of water he left on his nightstand. Like almost every other child on the street, he had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his walls.
Now, the stars reminded him more of Lance than of home. Many things were becoming like that – the green of the tree’s leaves were now Pidge’s green, and the gentle, unobtrusive yellow of the bees were Hunk’s warm yellow. Sometimes the night sky he saw in his memories was now Allura’s fractured sky, or the smell of his mother’s favourite gingerbread cookies were the same gingerbread-orange of Coran’s hair. He didn’t remember when red had become Keith, but even before he was the Red Paladin it had been him; his personality, perhaps, was more red than anything else Shiro knew of.
As a child, he’d been a leader. Even when he was young his instincts told him not to follow, but to lead – that he was better suited to giving orders rather than taking them. He was always assigned to be a leader; to lead the class lines when they walked, to be the leader of the sports team, to be the leader of the grade when it came to representing the school. He was taller and calmer than the other children, and it meant that leadership was a position he was quite well suited to.
It was the same for Voltron. He was the leader, though it was never specifically stated that he was, and if someone else directed them, then he never made a complaint about it. Somehow, he thought he was less of a leader and more of a guiding presence pressed at the backs of the other Paladins. He directed them, and protected them from falling apart when in the middle of the field. He was older, taller and had more Galra experience than them, not to mention his lion was a tad bigger and was the head of Voltron. It seemed like the leading role should naturally fall to the Black Paladin, whoever they may be.
In a way, he needed the Paladins too – not only because he cared about them, or because of their apparent and obvious importance to himself and the Galaxy. No, the Paladins always gave him one very important thing: an objective. A clear and recognisable task, a mission. They were his friends, his teammates, his charges, and it was both his responsibility and his duty to protect them, and to keep them safe. To lead them.
That’s why when he failed, not only did he fail himself, but he failed all of them too.
The team had been through a lot of hardships recently. The de-ageing weapon made by the Galra had changed their dynamic very drastically, and not just regarding those who had been personally affected by it, either. Although Shiro himself hadn’t ever been hit by the de-ageing blasts, he thought that he’d been affected by them, too. Certainly not as much as Keith and Lance had been, but enough for him to take notice of it changing him. He’d always been protective of the Paladins after they were thrown into this situation together – and even on Earth, before they were Paladins, when they had saved him and healed him – but he felt different about them now. It was like his protective feelings for them had doubled.
He was very much aware of himself now, as well. His words were cautious, and he was more open and causal with his affections. He’d place his hand on Pidge’s shoulder after Pidge had done something fantastic, and he didn’t flinch like he used to when Hunk hid behind him, or gripped him by the forearms. If Lance threw himself into Shiro’s arms during one of his dramatic monologues, then Shiro wasn’t as quick to shake him off. Sometimes, he’d put his hand on Keith’s head, and he knew Keith always felt better for it. Shiro found himself monitoring the Paladins closely, sometimes without even realising it, and he was incredibly aware of their presences.
Allura had noticed it, too. “I don’t know if there’s much I can do to change that,” he’d admitted when Allura had questioned him about it and asked after his wellbeing. “I want to help them, but they might not want my help, or they might not need it. They’re pretty brave, huh? I wish I could do more for them.”
She had given him a funny look then, and said, “I asked after your wellbeing, not theirs.”
It was a comment that had stuck with him for a long time after their conversation had ended. Had his identity become so intertwined with theirs that he didn’t recognise himself anymore? He thought that even if that was true, he wouldn’t particularly mind. Of course, he never wanted to neglect his own wellbeing and his feelings in favour of the Paladin’s, but that was mostly because it wouldn’t be conducive to his role as their leader.
When he figured that out, the rest became much easier. It was simple to think of the Paladins as extensions of himself, and it was simple to understand his desires to protect them. Oddly enough, it reminded him of how simple the decision had been to leave water out for the bees that visited him during the summers on Earth.
Eventually, once he had figured out his complicated instincts, he’d started to work on the remaining problems that arose aboard the castle. The first thing to solve on his list of things-to-solve was Lance. He thought that Lance was the one who needed his attention the most, for now. Obvious reasons aside, Shiro was sure there were things Lance couldn’t work through on his own, and things that he needed help with. That was where Shiro would begin.
From what he could see and what he knew, Lance had gotten really close to Keith over the last few months. Maybe others would think such opposite people – blue and red, ice and fire – wouldn’t get along, but Shiro knew better. Despite how opposite they may seem, their personalities were quite similar, and they got along well because of it… Even if that did manifest in a lot of bickering and competitions.
Regardless, Shiro was quite sure there was something more to their bond than just their preferences for one another as children. They were reluctant to part ways, and often moved in a fashion that Shiro had only seen in years of training between very dedicated partners. He hadn’t expected to see that in Lance and Keith, so it was something he noticed rather quickly after Keith had aged back to normal and Lance had completely healed. He was sure he wasn’t the only one on the castle to notice, but he was the only one to ever (casually) bring it up to Lance.
“Are we really?” Lance asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. Shiro made sure to keep his voice soft and open because he didn’t want Lance to think his relationship with Keith, whatever it was, was a bad thing; it wasn’t. Still, Lance flinched, his eyes flickering skittishly. “I never noticed.”
That seemed unlikely, but Shiro didn’t point it out. Instead, he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You seem happy, and so does Keith.”
It had been just over two weeks since they’d saved Lance from the Galra, but Lance’s jumpiness hadn’t faded away. If anything, it had only gotten worse. That was another thing on Shiro’s list of things-to-solve.
“Well, that’s because I am,” Lance said, peering up at Shiro curiously. “You’re not going to give me The Talk, are you? Cause I know you took care of me and all when I was stuck as a baby, but that would just be way too awkward, man.”
Shiro flushed, suddenly quite embarrassed too. “No! That’s not it at all. I just want to make sure you’re both okay with everything, you know? De-ageing couldn’t have been easy for you, for either of you.” Not to mention you haven’t been the same since you came back. “I’m just worried.”
Lance grinned, that same shit-eating grin of his that made Shiro want to groan. “Yeah, sure, that’s why. God, you’re such a dad.”
Shiro did groan at that. Lance was still being insistent with his whole Space Dad Shiro thing, and Shiro couldn’t even seriously ask him to stop because some weird part of him enjoyed it. In some ways, it gave him a definite, leadership role in their group dynamic, even if it was just Lance joking around. Besides, he supposed he did act like a dad sometimes, but he was sure it was only because the other Paladins could be a little childish, and he was the oldest of them all. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Regardless, he continued to keep a sharp eye on Lance and Keith. They sat next to one another at the dining table and Keith always followed Lance to his room at the end of the evening. Shiro knew they never did anything too bad – there was no way he would miss anything as inappropriate as that – but their attachment was quite obvious. He thought that maybe Keith was just as worried as he was about Lance, maybe even more so, especially after what had happened with the Galra. Or, more specifically, what they didn’t know had happened with the Galra.
There was something about Lance that still bothered Shiro. The dining table had been repaired, but Shiro’s eyes were sharp enough to see where the old metal had been welded with the new. Even with his Galra hand, Shiro didn’t think he could so easily wrench it from the floor, if at all. There was no way Lance could do that, and yet…
And yet he had.
It scared him. Shiro didn’t remember often being scared, but that side of Lance definitely scared him. When he thought of Lance, or recalled images of him to his mind, it was never anything frightening. He remembered Lance as he was before all of the de-ageing occurred; he was confident and bright-eyed and flirtatious, and although he was still like that now, it wasn’t the same. He remembered Lance as a baby, too; small and vulnerable and needy, with the same bright eyes and infectious laugh. Even when he was injured or tired or grumpy, he was still a really likeable person.
He wasn’t some Galra, half-breed monster.
Maybe that was why Shiro started to notice that maybe he was. It wasn’t exactly a sudden thing, but… Shiro did start to notice it, especially after the table incident. He had thought his eyes were tricking him, that Lance’s skin couldn’t have turned purple, but the more he thought about it the more it bothered him. His eyes didn’t trick him like that, not anymore, not when he had people like the Paladins to look after. Sure, sometimes he still faltered, but he was getting better. Lance wasn’t.
What really cemented his concerns was Hunk. “I think there’s something wrong with him,” Hunk said. He’d come to Shiro late at night, when the others were all asleep. Shiro tended to stay up until their lights were out anyway, Pidge excluded.
“Why?”
“He’s not eating like he used to,” Hunk said, “and he sometimes looks at me like I’m not… like I’m not me. I don’t know how else to explain it. He told me that the Galra messed with his mind, that they somehow used us against him. What if he doesn’t believe we’re us? That’s possible, isn’t it?”
Shiro frowned, straightening. “I’m not sure, Hunk,” he said, because he wasn’t. He hadn’t gotten that vibe from Lance at all, but Hunk had known him for longer, knew his mannerisms better. “Have you talked to him about it?”
Hunk lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I tried to bring it up with him,” he said, “but Lance got really… twitchy. I didn’t ask about it again.”
Twitchy? Shiro’s frown deepened. That certainly didn’t sound good. He put his hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it too much, yeah? Lance will be fine.”
Sometimes Shiro forgot that it was Hunk that caught Lance when he was tossed overboard by the Galra Commander. Hunk had never shared what Lance had rasped at him, but Shiro could see it haunting Hunk, sitting behind his eyes and making his features heavy. It had been Hunk who was there for Lance for years before Voltron. They were roommates and best friends and Shiro had no doubt that Hunk was a first-hand witness to the homesickness Lance grieved with when they moved to the Garrison. When Lance suffered, Hunk did too.
Shiro decided he wouldn’t press Lance about what the Galra had done to him in detail unless Lance or Keith came to him about it. Lance, for obvious reasons, but Keith because Keith placed a lot of importance on Lance’s health, too. Shiro was sure Keith would be smart enough to come to him if he suspected anything. Wouldn’t he?
At times, Shiro dreamed that Lance and Keith were infants again. They were odd dreams that drifted through his mind like wisps of smoke, but he didn’t dislike them. As much of a trouble as it had been, he’d enjoyed seeing them as children. When they’d re-aged, they’d seemed fresher, like things had become clearer to them. He’d hoped that that atmosphere would last, but with Lance how he was now... It had started to disintegrate. He didn’t know when or why, but it had. Maybe he could fix it, whatever it was.
In his dreams, he was always looking after them, like he did when they were re-aged. Lance had fit into his arms so well that it shocked him every time. Keith was different, because he had only ever wanted Lance, but he had still been intriguing. Even in Shiro’s dreams the two of them were well suited for one another.
One evening, when they were all relaxing together, Shiro noticed something odd. Lance had been quiet all afternoon, but it could have been accounted to tiredness. They had spent the afternoon training, moving through the motions of one of Allura’s more vigorous schedules. Everyone was tired, and if Shiro hadn’t noticed Lance out of the corner of his eye then he didn’t think he ever would have.
Lance was sitting on the same couch as Shiro, with Keith in between them. It was the usual arrangement; Keith’s thigh was pressed against Lance’s, even if no other part of them touched. Allura was talking, though Shiro couldn’t remember what exactly she’d been saying. His attention had turned to Lance, for no particular reason, and he’d found Lance staring strangely at the floor. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were so constricted that Shiro could hardly see them.
He looked angry.
For a moment, it even seemed like his eyes had turned yellow. Then he blinked, and twitched, and nothing seemed wrong with him. His eyes – blue like the ocean – flickered to Shiro, and he twitched again before jerking his gaze away. His shoulders had gone stiff enough for Shiro to see, and he was no longer fixated on one thing, but rather his eyes darted around erratically. He looked suspicious of his own shadow, and then suddenly he stood up.
“Boy am I tired,” he said, voice loud and jovial as he stretched his arms above his head. “I might head to bed, you guys. See you tomorrow.”
“Ah, night,” Hunk said, surprised. They had been having a perfectly interesting conversation, after all, but Lance only grinned sheepishly at him. “Night, Lance.”
Keith stood to follow him, and in the same moment that he moved, Lance’s eyes jerked towards him. The look on his face made Shiro grab Keith’s thigh, his hand low enough that Lance couldn’t see it. Keith stopped in his tracks, stiffening, but relaxed within seconds. It all happened so fast that Shiro felt like he’d get whiplash.
“I’ll come down a little later,” Keith said. “Goodnight.”
Lance nodded, grinned, and then turned around to leave. As soon as he thought no one could see, his expression fell into something terrifying, though Shiro didn’t know what about it scared him so much. Maybe because Lance suddenly seemed so cold when he was always so warm before. When had there started to be a “before” in the first place?
Keith turned his dark eyes over to Shiro when Lance left. The others had settled back into the conversation, but not Keith. He looked angry too, but Shiro just knew that something bad would have happened if he’d bothered Lance at that moment. Still, he found he didn’t have the words to explain it to Keith, so he let go of his leg and turned back it the conversation, hoping he could drown his worries in it.
He couldn’t.
Some nights, Shiro couldn’t sleep. He jokingly blamed that Pidge’s insomnia was catching, but he’d been restless at night ever since he’d been captured by the Galra. He still sometimes had nightmares about being captured again, though those particular dreams had expanded to include the other Paladins now, too. He didn’t exactly have a way to work through them healthily (which was to say he didn’t have a way that wasn’t relentlessly overworking himself on the training deck) so he decided to wander around aimlessly through the corridors of the castle instead. Usually, he eventually tired himself out enough to catch a few hours of rest. Sometimes he’d visit Pidge, if he was feeling particularly bored or on edge.
One night, about a week after the incident on the lounge, he was doing just that when he spotted Lance lingering fat the end of a corridor. He knew Lance had gone to bed earlier – he’d checked in at Keith’s room and they’d both been snoring – so why was he awake? He was walking right towards Shiro now, but something about him was… different. He walked stiffly, and like he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. His arms hardly moved, and his expression was blank.
Shiro approached him. “Lance-”
He stopped talking when Lance got close enough for Shiro to properly see his face. His eyes were surrounded by deep, dark circles, and he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. The skin around his temples and the corners of his eyes had turned a deep purple, like he’d been hit in the face and bruised, but the colour of it reminded him more of the Galra than anything.
Lance walked right by him, and didn’t say a word. It was eerily frightening.
Shiro went to Keith’s room. Keith wasn’t too happy about being woken up, but Shiro was insistent. “Have you noticed anything strange about Lance recently?” He asked.
Keith sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “No,” he said irritably. “Why?”
Shiro frowned. “I just saw him walking around the hallways. He was right next to me and he didn’t even notice.”
“He must have been tired,” Keith said. It sounded like a far-fetched excuse.
“Keith,” Shiro started carefully. “His skin was turning purple.”
“Bruises. Happens often enough with our training.”
“What about the other night? You can’t tell me you didn’t notice how strange he was acting. And when he ripped up the table, too-”
“Shiro, drop it,” Keith snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with him, you hear? Leave him alone.”
Shocked, Shiro said nothing. Keith laid down and rolled over, turning his back on Shiro. When Shiro stood and murmured an apology, he received no answer. Keith only hunched further into his shoulders.
Something was definitely wrong.
He returned back to his room after that, changed his clothes, and shut off the lights. Even in the dark and in his bed sleep continued to allude him. His mind was full of problems that he couldn’t solve. Maybe he should talk to Allura. Could they put Lance in the healing pod to fix something they didn’t know the name of? He knew they had to figure out what was wrong with him. It couldn’t just be Shiro that was worried about it.
As he was almost drifting off to sleep, he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Lance. The footsteps stopped as they reached his door, where they remained for several minutes. Shiro hardly breathed. Then, they were gone again, back in the direction of Keith’s room.
Something was really, really wrong.