What Dreams May Come

A Gift Fic for AquaLion

Written by:

DrowningBlonde

A/N: This story is based on Voltron:Legendary Defender takes place between Episodes 1 & 2, with elements of Season 3 canon. It is part of Mylari's Fic/Fanart challenge and was written for AquaLion based on a prompt of: A current pilot/Paladin meets a former pilot/Paladin.

Hunk lay on his side in his new bed, the thin blanket pulled up to his chin. His eyelids were heavy with fatigue. It had been a rough couple of days. Real rough. Unbelievably rough, in fact. Less than a week ago he was a cadet at Galaxy Garrison, puking into a storage bin and failing a mission simulation miserably. Now, he was light years away from Earth, kidnapped by a robot lion to a whole other galaxy, awakened a beautiful, sleeping princess, and found himself thrust into a battle to literally save the universe from an immortal, evil overlord. And that wasn't even the most unbelievable part. He was a leg. The left leg, to be specific, of Voltron: Defender of the Universe. He was also the Paladin of the Yellow Lion, although those things weren't mutually exclusive. I'm a leg, he mused. And I fly a lion. Yep,this is my job now. He mused about how that would look on a resume: Current position: Paladin of the Yellow Lion. Special skills: Hand canon wielding and left leg of Voltron Defender of the Universe. You can't make this stuff up.

His body still tingled from when they formed the super mecha and his mind still flickered with residual images. Most were flashbacks from the battle and of that wild first trip across the universe in Blue Lion. But others were not his own, startlingly clear impressions of people he'd never met in places he'd never been: a nagging sense of guilt that definitely had something to do with Pidge and someone named Katy...Breaking apart a relleno de papa (how did he even know what that was?) on a paper plate in a strange kitchen. There was a flower covered table his cloth and a brown haired woman stirring something on white gas stove...Pancakes and eggs sunny side up at roadside diner he'd never eaten at. Outside the window he could see saguaro cactus holding their arms out against the deepening skyline as cars with their headlights on drove past as clearly as if he'd been there himself.

Mmm...pancakes...His stomach rumbled. He wasn't exactly hungry. No, for dinner he had eaten a big bowl of non-delicious but super nutritious day-glo green food goo, courtesy of Coran. Nutritious it might be, but it was about as satisfying as boiled bean curd. He took a deep breath and rolled onto his back and stared unfocused in the dark as he thought about pancakes...Better yet, he thought as a sense of homesickness came over him, as his eyes drifted closed, some panipopo or fa'auasi and spam frying on the griddle…

The earth was shaking. Well, not exactly shaking, more like waving—or undulating, like an inflatable pool raft. His eyes popped open and he bolted upright. And nearly overturned the dugout canoe he was in.

"What the—quiznak?!" he said out loud, righting himself and settling the tiny craft back down in the water. He was surrounded by water, floating-adrift really-in a canoe in the dark. He looked around, his anxiety building. He was alone, it was empty, oar less, and all he could see was the glow of unfamiliar constellations in a night sky. Bright and colorful galactic clouds shimmered, covering half of the sky like the inside of an abalone shell. He'd seen the arms of the Milky Way many times, and this was definitely not them. In spite of the breathtaking beauty above, a primordial shudder coursed through him. There was nothing more unnerving than the sky being strange. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the low light and he could see the low rolling waves glimmering in starlight in all directions as far as the horizon. At least growing up in Samoa, going fishing in the ocean with his father's small boat meant he wouldn't get seasick the way he got airsick. Oh, man...where am I? Is this even real?

"Uh, hello?! Is anyone out there?" He called out. His voice carried over the water and faded away. He scanned the horizon once more. Nothing. "Hey! Ahoy?! Anyone?! Yellow?!" Maybe his lion could hear him. A light breeze ruffled his hair back from his face. Hey, maybe...let me try to summon him with my mind…Yellow? Yellow? If you can hear me—or, uh, feel me, I'm uh, lost in a canoe somewhere…

His heart skipped a beat as he saw a light streak across the sky. "Oh, awesome! You heard me! Way to go!" Then he saw another, and another, and then they faded into the darkness. Meteorites. "Oh...quiznak."

Maybe this wasn't real. Maybe none of it was real. What if he'd hit his head on something back at Garrison and this was all some kind of weird fever dream? All of it – the lions, Voltron, Allura, Zarkon- was just some fantasy? He reached his hand out and dipped it in the water. He splashed some on his face and tasted it. It was salty and felt wet enough. Hunk's throat tightened and he tried to stem his rising panic, "Yellow, if you can hear me...please..."

A distant rumbling sounded port-side of him. He turned to look and saw a bright red glow on the horizon. The wind picked up and he caught the acrid smell of smoke. Fire? Where there's fire there got to be land. Or maybe it was Keith in Red?! He shifted to his knees and began paddling with big strokes of both arms towards the glow.

Soon he saw the low shadow of land on the horizon and could hear the breaking of waves in the distance. The current picked up and he felt it start carrying him faster to shore. The sharp smell of smoke and the sound of the waves grew stronger and he began to get excited even though he didn't know exactly where he would end up. The outline of the island became more distinct and he paddled faster. Before long he felt the waves take over and pull him into shore.

He got out of the canoe, sloshed though the easy rolling surf and hauled it up onto the beachhead. He was startled at how warm the water was; it was nearly hot, like bathwater. The ground was rocky and hot on his bare feet as well. His wet pajamas clung to his legs and he plucked at them nervously as he looked around for some sense of where he was. He saw nothing except the stark outline of piled stone all around, but he could hear the sound of waves hitting the rocks to his left and the hiss of steam as well. A briny odored cloud washed over him and he sought out its source. His eyes had adjusted to the starlight and he could see he rocks had a faint red glow and spider web like fissures of bright orange.

Another wave rolled in and there was another burst of steam. He looked down and saw that the place where he stood had occasional dull glowing cracks. Why his feet weren't scorched and blistered, he had no idea.

Oh, man, lava. Cooling lava. This is crazy…I'm standing on a volcano. An erupting volcano. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire…He glanced back at his canoe, and wondered if he should head out back to the ocean and take his chances drowning or dying of thirst? Or stay here and probably get burned alive? There was a faint tremor and a gout of molten lava swelled up in the water behind him and he was engulfed by a huge cloud of steam. A large wave rolled in from sudden uprising and he panicked and ran up the hill and away from the shoreline. It crashed onto the shore, submerging the place he had been standing with a gulping, swallowing sound. As the smoke and steam cleared he saw his canoe floating off, the red glow of the lava still spewing into the ocean reflected off its hull, amid geysers of steam in the boiling surf. Oh, man...This is really not good. This is totally bad. He turned back around and watched a tendril of the steam-smoke float off and disappeared into the sparkling sky. Well, at least I'll have a spectacular view before – wait, what's that?

Something moved about thirty meters ahead of him. He stepped forward cautiously. He could see an outline of what might be a humanoid head and shoulders jutting up from the silhouette of rock. As he watched the shape leaned forward and what was obviously an arm reached out to move something. Then he noticed three things: the humanoid figure was sitting and stirring something. It had large ears (or perhaps was wearing a funny hat) sticking out of it's head. And the humanoid was large-even larger than himself. Hunk almost called out, then caution overcame him. He decided to watch for a moment before approaching. After all what kind of alien lives on lava? It could be a Galra, and then he'd be in even worse trouble.

The alien turned to face him.

Hunk froze where he stood.

"Talofa!" the alien called out and waved.

"Uh—talo—talofa!" Hunk stammered. Of all the things he he had expected this, a greeting in his native language, was not one of them.

"Come, come! Sit by the fire, I have to tell you something!" the alien's voice was deep, and had a sort of calm insistence to it.

Hunk's mouth ran dry. OhmanohmanohmanI'mdeadandthisisheavenorworseitisn'theavenandI'msodeadohmanohman

The alien waved at him again and Hunk walked forward on leaden feet. As he got closer he saw the alien was sitting by an umu and stoking the coals with a stick. Instinctively, Hunk knew it was male. It was shirtless and wearing a yellow bark cloth sarong. It was also large and brown with rounded ears (not a hat at all) on top of his head and long dark hair, almost as dark as his own. The hair was styled in two pigtails; sectioned to fall forward over his shoulders. Most remarkable, however, were the alien's bright violet eyes and yellow, green and purple tribal marks, like tattoo, under his eyes, across its forehead, shoulders, chest and torso. It also appeared unsettlingly familiar. Hunk was struck by a conflicting bolt of instant recognition, yet was utterly unable to place where or how he knew the alien, sort of like when he ran into an instructor from Garrison off campus and out of uniform.

"Am I dead?" Hunk asked.

The alien looked at him with a deadpan expression, "No. You're a leg," then it bellowed with laughter.

Hunks relief was palpable and he burst out laughing too, "Yeah, Yeah—I am a leg!-wait, how did you know?"

"I was also a leg," the alien replied, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"Wait, you—how—wait-?"

"You know me, Paladin."

"I do?" Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, Hunk remembered, "I do! I do know you! Gyrgan! You're Gyrgan of Rygnirath, the Yellow Paladin of Voltron." Somehow the Yellow Lion had given Hunk the information when they had bonded. Hunk didn't know precisely when or how it had happened, but he knew.

Gyrgan smiled and nodded, "See, Leg, you do know me. Come sit by the fire, you're hungry, aren't you?"

Hunk's stomach rumbled and the smell of panipopo wafted it up to him. He sat and Gyrgan lifted the cover of banana leaves from the coals and fished out a couple rolls. He placed them on a taro leaf and handed one to Hunk.

"Oh my god. This is so good." Hunk said around a mouth full of the warm coconut bread bun. "Are you sure I'm not dead?"

"Gyrgan laughed, "Yes, very sure."

"You have no idea how long its been-" Hunk licked the sticky crumbs from his fingers and took another huge bite.

Gyrgan laughed, "Actually I do. For me it's been ten thousand years."

Hunk paused, suddenly chagrined as a sense of the decades Gyrgan spent as a Paladin and the millennia of a consciousness trapped in stone overwhelmed him, "Oh man—that's, wow, what a stupid thing to say… I'm sorry, I'm an idiot-"

"No offense taken, Paladin, time is different for me than it is for you. Here-" Gyrgan fished out another bun, "Enjoy your food, Paladin, even after all this time I haven't forgotten what Coran's food goo is like."

Hunk tucked into his second bun and Gyrgan ate his. After a moment the alien said, "This is good. I'm glad he picked you."

"He?" Hunk frowned.

"The Yellow Lion. You are a good fit together."

Hunk was quiet, at a loss for words.

"There's a lot you need to know, most of it you'll have to find out for yourself. But I have to teach you something," Gyrgan paused and finished the last few bites of sweet bread.

"Are you sure I'm not dead?" Hunk asked again. Back home, on Tutuila, when he was a child, his grandmother used to give him sweet cakes when he'd had a bad day, or there was some bad news to tell.

Gyrgan gave him a long deadpan look, "You. Are. Not. Dead. Not yet anyway. And if you'd like to stay of your side of the Divide I need to explain something to you."

"Is that why I'm here?"

"It is. Come with me. I'll show you," the alien stood and brushed the crumbs off his hands. Hunk did the same, noticing he was a full head shorter and quite a bit smaller.

They walked further up the hill of cooled lava, Hunk noted two of Gyrgan's tattoos, one on each shoulder, had the abstract face of a snarling lion, bordered by stripes and spots that came over his shoulders and wrapped around to form a chevron pattern down his spine. They disappeared beneath his sarong. Hunk realized that these were far more than ornamental body art. Hunk swallowed as their symbolism became clear. The circles are all the battles he's fought, the stripes are for family and luck… He touched his own tattoo on his bicep and felt a little ashamed of his spearheads, a warriors mark because of his victories in rugby tournaments. His ancestors may have been warriors, but he'd only fought one in real battle, and honestly Voltron did most of it. He wasn't any kind of a warrior. Not compared to Gyrgan.

It was a very small island and they reached their destination quickly. Gyrgan pointed to an overturned large sea turtle shell.

"I've been trying to get this up, but I can't do it alone," Gyrgan said.

Hunk nodded, but was confused. Gyrgan was plenty strong enough to pick up an empty turtle shell, even one as large as this one. But he wouldn't rude enough to say so. "Sure, no problem. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to help me erect the pillars of my fale," Gyrgan explained.

"Uh, yeah..." Hunk looked around skeptically. Digging holes and setting up the pillars of the traditional open air dwelling was definitely a two person job...at the very least. But he didn't see any tree trunks on the bare hilltop. Or shovels for that matter. As he looked around, to his amazement, he saw small green leaves and shoots grow out of the deep cracks in the cooled lava. "Whoa! Dude!" The leaves grew into teve and masoa plants. "Do you see that? How did that happen?"

Gyrgan laughed, "You did that. You knew what was needed and called them into being."

"I did that?" Hunk backed up a step. This had to be either a dream or some alternate reality.

"Come help me, there's not much time. I'll never be able to show you what you need to know if we don't hurry," Gyrgan walked over to the edge of the plants and pulled one up. Hunk's mouth dropped open as it stretched and swelled and became a tall, sturdy post. "Well what are you waiting for? Gyrgan gestured to a cluster of plants about twenty paces from the lone post he stood next to.

Hunk walked over and pulled on a plant, to his amazement it grew into another post. "Hey, man, this is a lot easier than I remember it being."

In a remarkably short time an oval of posts had been erected and Gyrgan walked over to the turtle shell that still lay in the middle, "Come, Leg, this is the hard part."

Hunk, raised a skeptical eyebrow and pursed his lips. The shell was big as turtle shells go, but it wasn't nearly large enough to roof the fale. But, then again, this whole place was full of very strange and powerful manna. Just roll with it, man... Hunk thought and picked up one end and Gyrgan picked up the other. It was unbelievably heavy and it took several tries before they were able to get it up to their chins.

"Alright, we have to work together now…and push!" Gyrgan said and they struggled and strained with each centimeter. Finally, Hunk didn't know how, but the shell settled on top of the posts and afa, made of woven coconut fibers, lashed themselves around the posts in intricate patterns and knots and bound the shell tightly to the posts.

Hunk's amazement was short lived and immediately replaced by utter astonishment as the inside of the sea turtle shell turned infinitely black.

"Now, I can show you what I called you here for," Gyrgan said.

"What you called me here for?" Hunk titled his head.

"Look," Gyrgan pointed his finger to the center of the shell.

The blackness was permeated by a single prick of light that grew in intensity until it burst, brighter than a flash of lightning, across the expanse of the dome. Swirling light of every color Hunk could imagine, and some that he couldn't have, covered the darkness and started to form shapes. These shapes contracted until they became glimmering pin holes.

"Is this what I think it is? Is this The Big Bang?" Hunk asked.

"I don't know," Gyrgan replied, "what's The Big Bang?"

"The creation of the universe."

"This is the creation of all universes. Each light is a universe."

The lights grew in number until they filled the dome and no black could be seen at all.

"Whoa..."

Gyrgan pointed again at one spot and the glowing dome zoomed in until single light appeared. It grew larger until it became a multitude of galaxies, then a small group of galaxies, then finally one. Within that galaxy brilliant nebuli coalesced into a stars surrounded by swirling discs of dust and gas and planets came into being around them. Hundreds of millions of planets, billions even. And life began to take hold. Creatures of every design came alive, to flourished, and died. The process repeated itself over and over, and more and more combinations emerged into existence. Some had shapes and biology Hunk seen before, others were beyond rational description. And it was to one of these forms that Gyrgan pointed.

"There, that is what I meant to show you," he said.

"Uh, what is it?" Hunk stared at the creature, or rather creatures, as he began to figure out some sort of pattern or shape among them. His engineer's brain took over. "Wait, wait...those are silicates….or mineral life forms."

"Yes, that's right."

Hunk watched as they formed fractal shapes and interlocked like gears and then other took and the shapes of fantastic creatures. One became a writhing serpent. Another an equine with six legs. Still another a spoked disc that fluttered and flapped in the vast starscape of the dome. It defied everything he'd learned in physics. "How is this possible? They can be anything..."

"Because they work together. There's no hierarchy. They are symbiotic. That's why they can do anything. Be anything." Gyrgan explained.

And finally one took on a very feline appearance. It was joined by others and they merged into a very anthropomorphic silhouette. Suddenly Hunk knew, "That's Voltron. But how…?"

Suddenly a violent tremor shook the island sending both of them stumbling.

"I'm sorry Paladin, our time together has come to an end," Gyrgan shook his head sadly.

"But wait, I need to know, how did they form Voltron?"

Another tremor sent Hunk to his knees, this one was accompanied by a loud blaring noise. Water rushed over his legs and hands. The island was sinking.

"I have a gift for you before you go," Gyrgan said and another wave washed over Hunk. This time it engulfed him. A fierce burning gripped his left calf. Oh no! The lava! Hunk panicked and the blaring noise grew louder, along with the sound of excited voices. Over the noise and the burning, swallowing waves Hunk heard Gyrgan's distant voice call, "Remember, Paladin, you are a – THE CASTLE IS UNDER ATTACK! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

Hunk bolted up from his bed, before he was fully awake. One foot was caught in his blanket and he tripped, falling to the floor and catching himself with his elbows.

Coran's voice shrieked over the intercom, "ALLURA IS DEAD! ALLURA HAS BEEN KILLED! THEY'VE CUT OFF HER HEAD!

"Holy—what that quiznak?!" He kicked himself free from the bed covers, jumped to his feet and opened the door to his room and ran out into the hallway. Shiro zipped by him at a dead run to Castle Control. He followed, padding awkwardly on bare feet, still fighting off the fog of sleep, and completely disoriented by the blaring klaxons. What just happened? Was that a talking bear? A painted talking bear in a canoe…? Quiznak! He hated when he couldn't remember his dreams.

Epilogue

Hunk shrugged off his pajama top and hung it on a hook. Another drill and another test he'd failed. And worse, as much as he'd tried, he couldn't remember his dream. It seemed important. There's been a painted bear in it for sure, a canoe and coconut bread. He wished he could remember it just for the panipopo. He pulled off his bottoms and grabbed the leggings that went under his paladin armor and paused. There was blood dripping down his left ankle. He turned his calf so he could see where the injury was and his breath caught. There was a tiki tattooed there, in the Polynesian style. A lion head...He smiled and nodded to himself.

You are a leg. Work together.

He remembered, at least, that much.