A/N~ Hi guys! As some of you may know, Shiro is my favorite Paladin. I feel that, out of everyone, he has truly been through a lot and deserves some loving. This fic was born when, while thinking of this, I heard a song that broke my heart and fit so well. The song in question is Heroes performed by Peter Gabriel. The specific rendition is very important to this story and I request that you take a moment to listen to it on youtube. It is important! It will make you cry! Anyways, the specific memorial service is for those who passed and their loved ones specifically, not the public one done at the end of season seven.
The words printed on the eggshell colored paper, swirling and beautiful, were heavier than any he had ever had the misfortune of having to read aloud. He thought this clearly as the crowd of a few hundred people, in front of which he stood, settled into their seats and lifted their tired and mournful eyes to him.
The words were heavy and he was uncertain if he would be able to lift them off the paper.
Overhead, the sky was blue. It was the most breathtaking shade of blue that he had had the pleasure of laying eyes upon in a very long time. He watched as white clouds gracefully slid by, visible between the close canopies of the trees that grew in and around the old church courtyard, and wondered at how the weather managed to be so perfect for such an occasion.
The sound of water trickling echoed off the crumbling stone walls of the yard, muffled by the vines and greenery, but managed to reach even his ears though the fountain from which the sound emanated as yards away. He could just make out the angel, looming over the audience in the back, and the overflowing pot she held within her hands as water spilled forth. She stared back at him, blankly, with no emotion. Numb, just like him.
He dropped his gaze back down to the paper, resting upon the wooden podium, and sighed.
The sound rolled across the yard.
Takaish Shirogane stood before the grieving families, clad in full uniform, while his fellow commanding officers lined up behind him. He was weighed down by recently acquired medals meant to honor all that he had done in the fight against the Galra. He felt like they were the only things anchoring him there while his mind wandered back to different times. Times when the most he had to worry about was school work and his budding relationship. Chaste kisses and loving whispers shared in hidden pockets of the universe, found on the Garrison grounds, but only physically. Whenever they had been together, Shiro was certain they were on another world, lost in space. Their hearts were stars and the rest of their lives were nothing but the darkness between them.
It had all been in good fun.
But that was over now and those little pockets were gone. Torn apart by weapon fire.
"It is with a heavy heart, that we have gathered today, to honor those who have fallen in the protection of this world. Not just this country. But all of Earth . . . ."
Was that his voice? He honestly couldn't remember when he had started speaking. When those swirling words had taken shape within his throat, been given air to breathe, so that they could make their way out into the world and be heard.
His gaze drifted up to the crowd where he spotted familiar faces, grim and misty eyed, and all dressed in black. The front row was taken up by the Paladins of Voltron, Allura, and Coran, and anyone else who had traveled with them. Keith's mother, Romelle, Matt and Colleen. All friendly faces, ones he trusted, who had all hefted the heavy burden of the war upon their shoulders for the sake of all living creatures of the universe. Even if they hadn't known it at the time.
They had given up the last years of their childhood for the war. Picked up weapons to fight for the freedom of the universe but heedless of what they had to let go of to do so.
Something about seeing them there, as if he had not known they were there before, caused him to falter. He rocked back on one heel as his wandering mind came crashing back down to Earth with all the force of Atlas herself. A hand braced itself against the podium and he dropped his eyes to the paper once again. Some part of him had felt that it was all a dream. He had been shuffled along and provided the paper with an unfamiliar script, set in front of hundreds of people, while the Galaxy Garrison stood back and waited for him to perform. Just as he always had. Their poster boy. Their golden child. He was the perfect one to address all the sorrowful souls below. He was so great for inspiring and encouraging others. Surely he could do it.
They didn't consider the fact that he was mourning too. Or, more likely, they did but didn't realize just how much he had been affected by it all. They didn't stop to consider that he had been tortured for a year, then spent the next three fighting in an intergalactic war, only to come home and find Earth beaten and enslaved. They didn't stop to consider that he had died and later been forced back into an unfamiliar body and dragged back into battle again.
He lifted the paper in his left hand, swallowed, and then caught sight of the Paladins once more. Keith was watching him with a frown, concern evident in the way his brows scrunched together, ignorant of the fact that his mother had rested a hand on his shoulder.
Pidge's eyes were watering.
Lance had reached over to grip her hand in his while he shut his eyes against his own tears.
Hunk had wrapped an arm around Lance's shoulders while his tears slid down his cheeks, but his face was stoic as he waited for Shiro to continue.
Allura's eyes were soft but determined. Only she could pull off such a contradicting expression.
Coran offered him a sad smile.
Shiro flipped the paper over, the back bare of any words, and resisted the urge to grimace.
"No death," he said a moment later, voice trembling with barely restrained emotion, "is ever in vain. Every sacrifice provides us with a moment of clarity. A chance to learn and grow. What happened here on this planet has given us all the opportunity to look upon the universe with new understanding. There is far more out there than we could ever have hoped to imagine, so much that we do not yet know, but we must not let that fear drive us. Just as the brave men and women who laid down their lives to protect their home, this little blue planet, did not let it drive them."
Those standing behind him lowered their eyes to the ground. There was a bit of shame mixed in with the mournful sadness there, and a few, Iverson and Holt, were certainly able to discern the admonishing words he had chosen easily enough. It was not directed at them, they knew, but frustrated and regretful frowns marred their faces nonetheless.
Shiro scanned the crowd while he gathered his thoughts, lips tight, before he took a breath and continued. "We have reached out into the void and found allies. Allies who will help us rebuild and prepare so that we can learn and grow, as is our way, and overcome any obstacles put before us. Nothing can replace those who we have lost along the way," he paused, hands clenching into fists atop the podium, "But we can honor them by continuing the fight so that no one will ever experience what we have again. Our light will never go out. Let us share it with all those in need."
Tears still flowed freely from many of those within the crowd but he was satisfied to see several stunned faces, hopeful and determined, and considered his job done.
"Thank you," he said simply and stepped back from the podium.
There was a light applause as Shiro followed the other commanding officers while they filed off the stage to allow the small hired orchestra to set up.
Shiro paused once his feet had hit the cement walkway that hugged the old church and led to a set of doors under an overhang. The church had worked to make it look more like a patio, with sets of chairs and small tables provided for comfort, but it was obviously a rarely used entrance.
His mind was struggling to catch up. His heart was the surface of a calm sea with monstrous beasts roaming its depths. He dared not give names to them. If the serpents in the deepest darkest parts of his soul were identified for what they truly were, labeled and examined, he was afraid it would break him. And there would be no cruel Galra Empire to force him to survive and be reformed.
He lifted a hand to his mouth, wide eyes pinned to the cement under his feet, unfocused, and wrapped the prosthetic over his stomach in thought.
"Shirogane."
He startled and lifted his gaze to Iverson as he approached, friendly smile plastered across his face, but it all felt so fake. "Iverson," he greeted in response.
Keith scanned the crowds around their little group in an effort to locate Shiro but he wasn't having much luck. Krolia stood next to him with crossed arms and her own eyes roving over the unfamiliar faces around her. She perked up a bit, ears lifting, upon sighting the familiar head of white hair hidden beneath a military cap.
"There, Keith," she tapped his shoulder and gestured with her chin in the direction of the church.
Keith's head whipped around to follow her gaze and let the tension leave his shoulders as a small wave of relief washed through him. But his brows scrunched together as he watched Iverson approach and pull Shiro in for a one armed hug, his other arm holding a small box, before he stepped back and offered it to Shiro. His brother seemed to pause, confused, and dropped his eyes to the box that had suddenly found its way into his hands. Iverson leaned forward to speak quietly in Shiro's ear and then stepped back.
And Shiro broke.
Keith could tell in the way his shoulders slumped and his head lowered, and the box was lifted to his chest. Iverson looked so mournful, seeming to regret his actions, but the damage had been done. He gripped Shiro's shoulder in an attempt to offer support but Shiro rejected the action in such a kind stoic manner - he brushed the man's hand away, and instead, patted Iverson on the shoulder to assure him all was well before he shuffled towards the back entrance of the church and disappeared behind the door.
Iverson watched him go.
Keith smacked at the person next him without looking, and hurried towards the church.
"Ow! Keith!"
Lance's voice trailed after him, and judging by the sound of footsteps in the grass, Lance himself did so as well.
"What's going on?" Hunk questioned as Keith passed him.
"I don't know, Keith just smacked me and walked away," Lance growled out, but Hunk fell in line next to him as they walked.
"I just heard," Pidge muttered as she stepped up next to Keith and joined him on his trek after their friend. "Don't you think we should give him a moment?" she asked a second later as they shuffled through the door and into a long hallways. The walls were tall and white, the carpet a deep forest green and worn, and the light that spilled in through the glowing windows illuminated the dust collected over the centuries as it floated through the air. It smelled of old books and coffee.
"He's been through enough on his own," Keith shot back quietly, voice low in the stuffy hall.
Pidge bit her cheek but gave him a curt nod in response, she was well aware of the fact, but Keith knew best when it came to Shiro.
Lance sidled up behind them in time to piece everything together and get a real grasp of the situation. He was in the process of opening his mouth, ready to question how they were going to find him in the large building, when a crash echoed down the hall.
"I'm gonna assume he's that way," Hunk commented fretfully, and the others nodded in response.
It was truly a sight to behold.
They stumbled to a halt in an open doorway of some sort of office, though it looked as if it hadn't been touched in a while. The light of the setting sun streamed in through a floor to ceiling window in front of which sat a desk, now knocked over on its side, while years of loose paperwork settled on the forest green carpet. A glass vase was shattered on the ground next to the mess of the desk, dried flower petals scattered about, while old water soaked into the fibers beneath it.
Pidge watched as a sheet of paper fluttered down to the ground before her eyes lifted to the figure sitting on the floor. His back was pressed up against the underside of the desk, one leg bent and supporting the elbow of the arm that held his uniform cap over his face in shame.
There was a hushed silence that had fallen over the room and not one of the four other Paladins dared break it as they stared at the man before them.
The box sat resting on the floor by his foot, innocent and simple, and threw a small shadow across the carpet.
Pidge was the first to move. Tears had sprung to her eyes at the sight and she couldn't take the thought of him suffering alone any longer. She fell to her knees at his side and threw her arms around him, startling him out of his morose state for a moment. He pulled his hat from his face, revealing red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks, and dropped his gaze to her in confusion. Only a moment passed before he was wrapping an arm around her shoulders, but the hat returned to his face as his shoulders began to shake.
"Man . . ." Lance whispered, speechless at their fearless leaders grief. He glanced up at Hunk from the corner of his eye and nudged him, urging him to join Pidge as he stepped into the room himself. Hunk jumped to and dropped to the floor next to the man as well. Hunk wrapped his arms around Shiro's shoulders and squeezed for all he was worth, pulling the man into his embrace so that his head could rest on his own shoulder. Lance patted his knee as he bit his lip.
It wasn't fair. Everyone had gone out and found themselves among the stars and were able to reunite with their families and loved ones upon touching back down on Earth. But Shiro had lost his memories, lost himself, lost an arm, died, and came back home only find that the last loved one he had was no longer among the living.
What kind of person could survive after taking so many hits? What kind of person could keep going?
"Keith . . ."
Shiro's voice was broken, strained, and warbled as he called for his little brother who had yet to move from the door way. He stood there, staring wide eyed, and did not know how best to handle the situation. He had never seen Shiro in such a state either. Sure, he had seen him beaten and defeated, but never so distraught and inconsolable.
But upon hearing his name he broke from his trance and rushed to join the growing mess of limbs on the floor. "I'm here," he mumbled and reached for his shoulder to give it a squeeze.
"He gave me his ashes, Keith . . ." his voice was muffled and weak through the hat as he stammered, "but I can't . . ." he pulled in a haggard breath, "I can't keep them, they have to go to his mother."
Keith nodded mutely and squeezed his shoulder again.
"I was hoping he would be here . . . when we got back," Shiro continued in that horribly small and quivering voice, "I wanted to apologize. I wanted to see if he'd be willing to start over after everything . . .He just didn't want to stand by and watch me wreck myself when I was already dying . . . I understood that . . ."
"It's okay, Shiro," Keith murmured.
"It's not okay, Keith," Shiro grunted, rage at the unfairness of it all rearing its ugly head, "We fought and then I left and he thought I died. We never got the chance to talk, to make things right . . ."
"It's not your fault, Shiro," Pidge spoke up quietly, she squeezed his waist and lifted her eyes to his face, still hidden behind his hat.
"Isn't it?" he shot back in a whisper, shoulders slumped.
Keith grit his teeth, eyes meeting Lance's, and snorted. "If you hadn't gone on the Kerberos mission, Shiro, the Galra would have found Earth and destroyed it and Voltron would have been lost. Regardless of why you were there on that day, the fact that you left has given the entire universe a fighting chance . . . I'm sorry that you've had to pay a price far greater than any of us to do so . . ."
"Don't say that," Shiro admonished weakly. He didn't like the sound of Keith belittling all that he and the others had experienced. Besides, what he went through was nothing in comparison to Allura or Coran, who had lost all they had known.
"Stop being Space Dad for a sec," Lance cut in, "It's okay to be selfish and grieve for what you've gone through."
"Yeah, you've had our backs this whole time, so let us have yours," Hunk added through his own tears and squeezed the man tighter.
Shiro gripped the top of the hat tightly, rumpling it against his face, and ground his teeth together to silence the growing sob.
Lance lifted his eyes to the doorway, upon hearing the lightest of breaths, and was not surprised to find a concerned Allura and Coran there. Allura had chosen to wear a pink dress that day, found in Colleen's closet back at the Garrison, and a black cardigan to honor both her and the other paladins mourning culture. Her hair was pulled up into a pony tail and stray strands fell about her face. Her eyes watered and she had lifted a hand to her mouth as Shiro spoke.
Coran stood at her side with a face of regret and sadness, a hand to her shoulder, and nodded as Lance's eyes landed upon them. He had opted to wear a black suit, provided to him by Sam himself, as he had no other clothing that suited the event.
Shiro pitched forward, puling himself out of Hunk's arms unintentionally, and brought both hands to his face as he wailed. He had lost the battle against his vocal cords and it was such a heart wrenching cry that escaped his throat the other's eyes widened.
Hunk rubbed the man's back.
Once the long note of despair had come to an end, Shiro leaned back against the desk with a dull thud as his back made contact with the wood, and dropped the cap into his lap. Red eyes stared up through the top of the windows. The sky was just as blue and beautiful as it had been when he last looked at it and it made him angry. But he was emotionally spent and could not bring himself to act on the irritation. Still . . . how dare it look the same as they day he had left. How dare it stare down at his now broken form like nothing had changed.
He was mere pieces of himself, smacked together with glue and tape, walking around like a ghost. His soul, downloaded to the Black Lion, shoved inside of a mass produced but broken clone body, with an Altean and Earthen prosthetic.
He chuckled grimly.
"Shiro . . .," Hunk mumbled, concerned.
Shiro lifted his hat and stared at it for a moment before he dropped it back into his lap uselessly. "His mother is here . . ." he stammered and rubbed the bridge of his nose against the rising headache, "I don't know if I can face her . . ."
The room fell silent and all eyes lowered to the floor. It was a heavy burden and they all knew it.
"You have to, Shiro," Allura spoke as she stepped into the room. All eyes, but Shiro's, lifted to her as she gathered the skirts of her dress in one hand and sat on her knees before him with imploring eyes. She reached out a hand and patted his knee with a sad but endearing smile. "We all know you can, and you will, because it is the right thing to do . . ."
Shiro lifted a hand to his mouth and nodded as she spoke. He knew she was right, he would do it, but it didn't make it any easier. His heart was a cold ball of twisted and jagged metal in his chest, he wanted it to stay that way, but he didn't know if it would last if he spoke to that kindhearted woman he had met so long ago. He was certain she would undo him.
"And we will all be here for you when you do," Coran added with a grim smile as he stood behind Allura with his hands on his hips.
Shiro's lips quirked in the slightest of smirks at his stance and unwavering determination. He dropped his gaze to his hands as they worked to straighten the cap and pull it on once more. Anything to stall the upcoming reunion that he knew would break his heart.
He missed Black's reassuring presence in his mind.
But a soldier must move on.
With the helping hands of his team he managed to push himself to his feet and brush off his uniform. The metals clinked and sparkled in the low light of the setting sun but they felt heavier than ever as they weighed him down. He was led back through the hall but the figures around him seemed to flutter about, moving around him, as he slowly trudged along on another plane of existence all together. It was disorienting.
The doors were opened and the light flooded his eyes one more, though it was far softer than it had been before, tapered with a bit of darkness as it crept in. And the crowds may as well have lined up to pave the path to her, because there she stood. Adam's mother. Her eyes were red rimmed as she spoke with a few others, tissue in hand but a wet smile plastered across her face. Allison Williams. Her blonde hair was pulled into a mess bun and her slight figure was hidden beneath a black dress. No where near as vibrant as he remembered.
As fate would have it, her eyes lifted to his the moment he set foot back into the courtyard, and that wet smile faltered along with his heart. It was replaced with a mournful upturning of the mouth, barely a smile, but the gesture kickstarted his heart back into action and he returned it in kind.
The others scattered about the crowd, positioning themselves so they could keep an eye on their leader, but just far enough to offer some privacy if needed.
"Allison," he greeted lightly, or tried to anyways, because his voice was still thick with emotion.
"Takashi," she greeted in response and stepped up to cover the remaining distance between them. She reached for his hands then, clasping them both between her own, and stared down at the prosthetic forlornly.
Shiro watched her as if he were looking down on himself from outside his body.
Her lips trembled as she lifted her eyes to his face, taking in his scar and white hair, and she patted his cheek reassuringly. "A little banged up but you made it home," she mumbled and her eyes glistened in the dying light.
Shiro breathed out a laugh through his nose, but it was weak, and he bit his lip. How could he tell her that he didn't even feel like Earth was his home anymore? Regardless, those words seemed to reawaken something within him and he twisted his hands about to grip hers in his instead. They trembled as he did so and her eyes widened, alarm washed across her face and she caught his eyes with hers.
Shiro stared back, a bit confused as to why such an action would alarm her so, but then understanding dawned and he smiled grimly. "I'm not sick anymore, Allison, I'm alright," he answered her unasked question. The relief that was evident in her face caused his heart to stutter. How could she care so deeply for the man that had broken her son's heart? "I was given . . ." he started but trailed off, instead choosing to gesture towards Keith, who approached with the box in hand. Shiro took it from him reverently and offered it to the woman before him hesitantly.
Allison stared and then gasped, understanding, and reached for the box with fresh tears falling. Her own hands trembled as she clasped the box to her chest. She shut her eyes for a moment before she scrabbled for the chain around her neck and pulled it over her head to offer to Shiro.
His eyes caught sight of the metal as it glinted in the sun and they burned. He wanted to refuse. He didn't know if he could bear having anything of his for fear it would break him every time he caught sight of it. But how could he say such a thing? He had no right to refuse. And so he took the chain in hand and slipped the dog tags over his head and tucked them away beneath his uniform for safe keeping. They were warm against his chest and something about the observation soothed his frayed heart, if only a little. As if he could imagine that Adam himself had just been wearing them and they were still warm from his own body.
Allison stepped forward and wrapped an arm around him as she cried and the action crumpled whatever composure he managed to work back into place. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and stifled a sob as it wracked his body. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"You were following your dreams, sweetheart, don't ever apologize for that," Allison murmured in response.
Shiro lifted his eyes to the darkening sky. Stars scattered through the growing darkness, defiant against the string lights and torches the church had set up for the event, and his heart fluttered lightly at the sight. Despite all that he had been through, despite the horrors that had befallen him in space, there was nothing more beautiful to him than those twinkling lights strung about the velvety darkness. Never ending and mysterious, filled with countless wonders and worlds, and it called to him like nothing else could. Even as a child, when he did not quite understand, and his mother had stoked his dreams with stories of her own findings.
They called to him. He yearned for them. It was all he was and all he ever could be. Adam had not understood that but it seemed his mother had.
Maybe, had Adam survived, Shiro could have worked to help him understand. Maybe they could have started over and built something together. Maybe. But, life wasn't about the maybes. It was about the definitelys. And there was definitely still a war to fight, still more of the universe to explore, still so much more to do. And he needed to be a part of it all as surely as he needed air to breathe.
You are a Paladin, young one, a Paladin of the Universe. That will never change.
His grip on Allison tightened before he pulled back and wiped at his eyes. Yes, that sounded right, especially spoken from the most familiar of voices. He felt the rumble of approval in his mind more than he could hear it, and he smiled.
"Thank you," he stated quietly and gripped her arm with a reassuring squeeze. He couldn't say if he was thanking the woman before him or the Black Lion within his heart, maybe both, but it felt right regardless.
He still had so much to do, so much to give, the universe didn't even know all of what Takashi Shirogane was capable of. He was determined to reach for the stars, again and again, whatever it took, until things were set right once more and he had seen all that he could.
The other Paladins lifted their eyes to his figure as he stood within the fire light, illuminating his white hair and silver grey eyes, while the stars painted a beautiful canopy above him. They had heard the Black Lion's words too and understood. Their fearless leader was something different. Something far more powerful than they could have ever imagined. A Paladin of the Universe, not just of Voltron, and not even Zarkon would have dreamed of such a title.
"What have we just witnessed, I wonder," Allura commented as she clasped her hands together before her, eyes bright in the night.
"Something truly amazing, I have no doubt, when even the Lions bow before a mere mortal," Coran answered with an amused glint in his eyes. He tugged at his mustache while laughter broke out in the distance from a group off to their right. A child ran by, soon followed by who he presumed was her mother, while the orchestra on the small stage started in on a more light hearted song.
For it was true. All five Lions, positioned in a circle around the church, had dropped their heads to the ground as Shiro lifted his eyes to the stars with an honest smile for the first time that night. Laughter and conversation flowed as the mood grew more joyful in the memories of loved ones and hope for the future. And the five lions watched over them all protectively, eyes bright in the dark, while they plotted and planned among each other.