How could I have forgotten to post these works on FF? I've been spending too much time on AO3 and Tumblr lol.

This was written for Platonic Week 2017, and as you can probably tell, it's been almost a year since then! Yikes! I should really give my account here some more love, seeing as I have more followers here than on AO3.

Lance found Hope in the Red Lion's hangar, working on a repair job for Pidge while the little gremlin got some sleep for once. He chuckled to himself at the sight. Pidge tended to leave tools and equipment like a hurricane leaves debris, but Hope's tools were few and piled in a tidy stack next to the Lion's paw.

She had become such an integral part of the team, Lance wondered how they had ever coped without her. She was so versatile, it wasn't an uncommon sight to find her sparring with Keith on the training deck, cooking with Hunk, helping Coran mop the floors, or working on a project with Pidge. Visitors to the castle (few as they were) were often surprised to find another member of the team who wasn't a paladin. She existed quietly in the background, performing tasks others were too tired to do, helped out with repairs and cleaning jobs, and boosted the team's morale whenever she could. She did so much for everyone and never tried to toot her own horn about it, so she was often taken for granted.

Lance had noticed many similarities between Hope and himself. Both of them cared deeply about their friends (well, they all did), and were observant enough to notice when someone wasn't feeling or acting right, then adjust their interactions accordingly. Contrary to popular belief, Lance wasn't stupid. He loved to flirt, especially with Allura and Hope, but he knew when it was and wasn't appropriate. He enjoyed getting a rise out of Keith, but even he knew it wasn't always a good time to do so. He was aware enough to notice social cues, even if he chose to ignore them.

Hope was the same way. He'd seen her on the receiving end of a snappish comment from Coran (probably not meant to be malicious), then watched her modify her responses and reactions to accommodate what was probably just a lack of sleep on Coran's part. She was good at sensing the feelings of others, and then adjusting her responses to fit the situation.

It was because they were so alike in this way, Lance could tell when something was up before anyone else could catch on (except possibly Hunk). Her expressions were controlled, to a degree, so it was hard to pick up on, but since Lance's own expression was also carefully metered, he could recognize when something was amiss.

When he entered the hangar, Hope didn't notice him right away. She was absorbed in her task, using a mix of Altean tools and Olkarian tech-wizardry to adjust the tension and controls in the Lion's legs so it didn't jerk so badly when he moved the controls. They'd determined it was actually a problem and not just a result of Lance's inexperience with the Red Lion. She wore an old shirt over what Lance recognized as the pants from an old Galaxy Garrison uniform. Her ever-present teal earrings dangled from her ears, pulsing with glowing light as she worked.

The earrings were important to much of the work she did. With some help from Pidge and Coran, she'd tinkered her headdress – the glowing, mysterious object every Olkarian used to interface with their unique technomagic – into a pair of earrings that resembled Allura's. The only difference was they were teal instead of violet, and didn't work as communicators. But they allowed her to use her technomagic anywhere she went, without having to keep track of her more cumbersome headdress.

As Lance drew closer, he noticed she was talking to the Lion, murmuring soft words only the two of them could hear. He almost didn't want to disturb her, and was just wondering if he should come back later, when she turned and noticed him standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hey Lance." She said, her caramel-smooth voice echoing about the massive chamber. "I didn't see you there." She placed her tool back into the box and wiped her hands on a cloth as Lance came closer. His footsteps resounded with a muffled thump, sounding deafening in the stillness of the hangar.

"Come to see if I've done a good job?" She asked, half-jokingly, but Lance could hear the underlying tone in her voice, as if she was mentally comparing her skills to Pidge's.

"Yeah, but I also wanted to check on you." Lance said. Might as well bite the bullet. Despite his carefulness in calculating his reactions, he'd never exactly been one to beat around the bush.

Hope cocked her head to the side, looking mildly curious, but apprehensive at the same time. "I'm going to bed as soon as I'm done with this, don't worry. I'm not like Pidge."

"I wasn't talking about sleep." Said Lance, sitting down on one of the Lion's massive claws. "You seemed a bit off today, and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Hope smiled gratefully. "Thanks, actually." She said. "You're the first person all day who's bothered to ask me how I am." Her voice contained no bitterness or resentment, but that was to be expected. Hope never asked for or required recognition for her own deeds, however much she might deserve it.

"So what's up?" Lance persisted, crossing his legs and leaning back against the Lion's huge paw.

Hope sighed, seemingly collecting her thoughts as she finished putting away her tools.

"After I crashed on Olkarion," she began quietly, her eyes gaining a far-off, misty look, "I didn't remember much of who I was. What my life had been like, what kind of person I was, anything, really."

Lance nodded. He'd heard the story before in different situations, and wondered where she was going with it this time. He listened patiently, knowing how much it meant to Hope to be listened to without interruption.

"I had nothing to go off of," she continued, "nothing to hold onto but a few snatches of memories from before. Everything I am now is a result of what I picked up from the Olkari." She stopped and looked up at the Lion's majestic figure, and a flicker of longing crossed her face.

"Shiro told me a little of what he remembered from our time at the Garrison." She said, and this time there was definitely a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I wasn't such a nice person. Now I almost wish I hadn't asked him."

Lance listened patiently, wondering vaguely what she was getting at. But for once, he held his tongue and merely waited as Hope sat down on the edge of the toolbox with a sigh.

"On the one hand, I've left my past behind. Who I was doesn't matter much to the present time. We're at war, and everything I am now is because it's necessary to help with the war effort. But I can't help but feel…conflicted…like this isn't who I really am. Like the real me – the not-not-very-nice me, is still there."

She looked at him for the first time since their initial interaction, and Lance wondered if she was expecting some sort of reply from him. But Hope had always been the externalizing type – she had to talk about something to make sense of it herself. She'd often complained about a project sounding better in her head than it did when she actually spelled it out for someone to hear. She would sometimes find someone – anyone – who would listen to her long enough for her to make sense of her own thoughts. Understanding wasn't required of the listener. All they had to do was nod their heads occasionally and act like they were paying attention.

With that in mind, Lance thought it best to remain silent until it was clear she was asking for some kind of advice.

"I know I've changed." Hope said. "There's no doubt about that. But I can't help but wonder if all of this change is simply because I can't remember the old me. And that if I somehow remember, the current me will disappear and I'll be back to my nasty old self."

Lance couldn't keep silent any longer. "What do you mean by 'nasty old self?'" He asked. "You can't have been that bad."

Hope chuckled, but the sound had no mirth to it. "That's a bit of an exaggeration, but I often got into arguments with teachers because I thought I knew best. I wasn't exactly arrogant, but I was known for being a bit stuck-up."

"That doesn't sound that bad." Lance commented.

Hope gave him a look. The one that she made when she was upset or concerned about something and someone wasn't taking her seriously.

"I slipped a bit of hydrogen peroxide into the sodium iodide mixture some girl was making in lab class once." Said Hope without any trace of emotion in her voice. "It exploded, of course, and the teacher had to evacuate the entire third-floor lab."

Lance didn't laugh. It wasn't funny.

"Of course, no one could actually trace it back to me, so I have no idea if it actually was me, but someone remembered me having had an argument with the girl earlier, so the teachers were suspicious."

"I'm sorry." Said Lance awkwardly. He didn't know what else to say.

"It's stuff like that that makes me wonder how much of the old me is still here, and whether the current me is actually the 'real' me."

She had such a look of distressed anguish on her face, Lance felt a tug at his heart, and wished he could conjure up some incredibly comforting and helpful words of encouragement that would help her. But though he was a master of witty comebacks, encouraging words often escaped him at the best of times.

"Are you looking for advice, or are you just venting?" He decided to ask. Might as well start with finding out if she was actually looking for help or not.

Hope frowned, her rather bushy eyebrows furrowing together as she kicked her heels and stared at the pressed metal floor of the hangar. With a deep sigh, she finally looked up.

"I don't know." She whispered. "I don't even know anymore." Her eyes were bright and glassy, and Lance could see a buildup of moisture in the corners. He bit his lip. He was no stranger to crying girls, but somehow the situation was different when said crying girl wasn't one of his sisters. Waaaay more awkward.

"I want to feel like I have changed. Whoever I was before shouldn't matter now, should it? We're in the middle of a war. This team is struggling with Shiro gone. I don't have time to be struggling with my own problems while the rest of you are trying to cope! I should be helping you, I should be-" She broke off and hiccupped, looking very miserable.

Lance drew in a deep breath and laced his fingers together. "It's okay to not be okay." He said quietly. "I'm not okay myself. This thing we're doing – it – it's hard. Really hard. And now Shiro's gone, and yeah. We've probably been taking you for granted. You do so much for us, it's hard to think only a few months ago you were worried about being excess baggage."

Hope chuckled, and actually smiled through the pained expression on her face. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I did find a purpose here, even if it wasn't what I'd expected."

A lightbulb went off in Lance's head. Suddenly he saw a connection between Hope's earlier problem about purpose and her current crisis. He suddenly knew what to say.

"And that right there is proof you have changed."

Hope cocked her head to the side; messy bangs falling in chunks over her face.

Lance was excited now. He scooted forward as far as he could without falling off his seat. "No, you have changed, and it's not just a result of the crash. You made the decision this was what you were going to do. You could have chosen not to help Keith when he came back from the Blade of Marmora. You could have chosen to just sit and gripe about not having a purpose on the team, but no – you went out and found one. And now you're just as irreplaceable as any of us."

With a painful sting, Lance realized he was speaking a lot of the words he needed to hear himself. Hadn't he just talked to Hunk a couple of nights ago about feeling useless, like he was in everyone else's shadow?

This may not get better right away, he thought, but at least I have friends to help me through it.

Hope regarded his words thoughtfully, looking down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "Perhaps you're right." She said quietly. "I'm just so confused. I want to help everyone, but how can I when I'm so caught up in my own problems?"

And now we get to the heart of the issue. Lance thought. He had a hard time believing Hope's entire personality was a fabrication – a product of memory loss and the war effort. Helping people was so ingrained in her being (he'd never met someone who was so utterly ISFJ), it was impossible to imagine her without it. And that was what made Lance decide her fears were mostly a result of uncertainty and confusion.

"Hope, you're not perfect." He said. "Believe it or not, I'm not either. I don't have it all figured out. You're human. This is part of being one."

She smiled and looked up from the floor. Lance continued, seeing no reason to pause and potentially ruin the moment.

"And if it makes you feel better," he said, "I'm no expert on head injuries, but from what I've heard, personality changes aren't very common, or pronounced. Sure, it can affect your memories, and make you a bit more impulsive, but I wouldn't be worried the crash somehow changed who you are. If anything, it revealed your true self. The one that was buried under whatever bad stuff you did." He spread his arms wide and gestured to the hangar around them. "Look at you now! You're on a frickin' alien spaceship fixing ancient cat-ships while we fly around trying to topple an empire that's been ruling the universe for ten thousand years!"

Hope almost laughed then, and hid her mouth behind her still-greasy hand. "Well, when you put it that way…"

Lance got up and put his hand on her shoulder with a smile. "Maybe crash-landing on a distant planet and spending two and a half years with aliens was the best thing that happened to you." He said. "If not, you wouldn't have had this opportunity. And you're doing better than I know I would coping with memory loss. We'll keep helping you through it. But for now, don't freak out. You've changed significantly, and everyone can see that."

A single tear rolled down Hope's cheek, and she brushed it away with the edge of her hand. "Thanks, Lance." She said. "That was really…wise." She sounded disbelieving, as if she hadn't thought Lance was capable of such a feat. To be honest, Lance hadn't known either. Talking to his sisters or giving Keith a pep-talk was one thing, but this was on a different level. Instead of thinking about that, though, he decided to make a joke.

"Oh, well." He said, scratching his head as he offered the other to her, feigning nonchalance. "Happens sometimes."

Hope's laughter was like warm caramel, sweet and smooth, and her smile lit up the whole hangar.

"Come on." He said, flashing her an equally brilliant grin. "Let's go for a ride. I'll bet Red's itching to move after you fixed him."