Keith imagined death so much that it felt like a memory. When was it going to get him? Six feet in front of him? It almost came for him in a flaming ball. It would inevitably come again whether he was prepared for it or not. He almost prepared this time. Next time he might not be so lucky. It might end up like the times he was almost killed in accidents, or he could get lost in a Blade ship and slowly starve to death. He could be on a ship that's hit by a Galra missile and his life would end before he even knew what had happened.

Those possibilities came to him while he lay on his bed in the castle. He did fall right to sleep, but that sleep was occasionally interrupted whenever he thought of any of those scenarios. It was how thoughts of death occupied his thinking, going back to his childhood, after his mom left, and he and his dad moved into that hovel. It didn't always get to him, though, like during his early years at the Garrison, with Shiro—good old, reliable Shiro—there to take him under his wing. But then Shiro left, and Keith, worried about his brother figure's fate, would let the images of death come back to him.

They weren't the cause of his expulsion. The Garrison made it clear that it was Keith being Keith the hot-headed loner, etc. He sighed when he opened his eyes again. Yeah, he preferred solitude. But 'loner'… it made him crunch his body up more. The fetal position is the favorite of anyone going through a rough time.

Readjusting his position, he stared up at the ceiling. More like to the ceiling, because he ignored a lot of details in said ceiling. His eyes just happened to be looking up at them as he thought about his near-death experience. Or whatever popped in his mind. There was a lot to think about. He still didn't care a whole lot that he'd almost died, because the mission was more important.

But something funny kept happening.

He should have died, no question about it, and he thought that no one would care if he died. But now, whenever he closed his eyes, he could see them. They were actually blank, blurry images, but he could make out people being sad. Why were they sad? He reached out to get their attention, but his hand passed through them.

The images gradually came into focus. He kind of recognized them, but he still couldn't see their faces. It wasn't good enough. But, since he wasn't in control, he floated in between them like a leaf in the wind. Or something like that. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get their attention. There were five of them, all clad in familiar colors; black, pink, blue, yellow and green—oh, no.

He quickly realized that the figures were his teammates, and they were all in mourning. But they rejected him! Why would they be sad? I'm not dead! I'm not dead! He called out. No one heard him. He waved his arms to get their attention, but all he did was wave himself away.

And then he woke up again, kicking and flailing.

He sat up, groaning. "Dammit," he quietly groaned to himself. Another stupid dream. He was back in his room—the lights were now off and he was still alone.

He flopped back down on the bed and once again, let his eyes close.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Glenn's heart raced. Zombies were one thing, but this was something completely different.

The Saviors had captured them. They'd played games with them all day and night, and now they had them right where they wanted them. Glenn felt especially guilty, since Maggie wasn't going to get the treatment from Dr. Carson. He, she and the rest of the Alexandrians could only kneel on the ground, surrounded by armed Saviors and headlights shining in their eyes in the head of night, as their leader, Negan, rambled on and on about honor and such. Worse still, he threatened Rick that he either surrender everything they'd built up to him, or he kill them all.

Glenn himself had just been dumped on the ground from a van. He kept looking over at Maggie. He cursed himself for not doing enough to help her, but he also knew that it wasn't really his fault. They'd gotten captured. Everyone was fucked.

It wasn't the first time he felt helpless, hopeless, or whatever, only able to watch as his fellow Alexandria survivors had a brush with death. He immediately recalled one of his biggest failures and regrets, his scouting mission with Noah and Nicholas. He would never forget the terror as he, Noah and Nicholas had to run into the revolving door, only to be swamped by Walkers. Escape seemed futile, until Eugene provided the distraction they needed, and he made a plan to get them out. All he needed to do was break the glass.

It would have worked, but Nicholas had panicked after Glenn pounded on the door with his AK's rifle butt. Even though he calmed Nicholas down, Nicholas forced the door open and took off running, and to Glenn's horror, allowed the Walkers to grab Noah's leg. He'd desperately tried to save Noah, but there were far too many ravenous walkers for the both of them to hold off, and Glenn lost grip on Noah. He would never forget that moment, and Noah's surprised expression when the Walkers slammed him against the glass, that turned into horrible screams of agony. He helplessly watched the Walkers tear Noah to pieces to devour him.

It did already destroy whatever optimism he had for Alexandria.

He was shivering, and not because it was a cold night—which it was, by the way. He could see his breath making steam. But his heart raced while he watched Negan continue to ramble on and on to Rick.

"I want you… to work… for me," he said, pointing his barbed wire-wrapped bat at the sullen Rick. "YOU can't do that if you're dead, now can you?" Glenn didn't know if Negan was crazy or just indecisive. Or maybe he had a point. It probably was better for that Negan spare everyone.

"I'm not growin' a garden," Negan continued, "But, you killed my people, a whole damn lot of 'em, more than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay."

Glenn gulped.

"So now…" Negan's dramatic pause felt agonizingly long. "I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you."

He listened to Negan describe Lucille. He tried to move forward, just to get close enough to Maggie, while keeping his eyes and ears on Negan. He kept talking and prowling in front of the group, occasionally stopping at one or two like he was going to pick them. He even stopped in front of Carl. But then, he stopped at Maggie.

"Jeeeeeez-uuuus!" he said, getting a sight of her awful condition. She looked away from him. Glenn felt his stomach come up to his throat. "You… look… shitty!" Glenn shook in his place. "I should just put you outta your misery right now!"

"NOOO!" Glenn got up and rushed Negan. But one of his henchmen grabbed him. The next thing he knew, he had a mouthful of dirt and a crossbow pointed at his face. The same goon dragged him back to his spot. Glenn couldn't bear it. He screamed again, but Negan only answered with a sinister grin.

"A'ight, listen," said Negan, "Don't aaaaaaaany of ya... do that again. I wil shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one's free, it's an emotional moment—" he pointed at Glenn. "I get it."

Fear gripped the group. Glenn felt the worst; a horrible helplessness. Now it was clear they were at the mercy of an angry mad man who wasn't playing around. There was little they could do. They could only watch Negan leisurely strolling up and down the line, looking for a victim. He whistled some tune.

"I got an idea," he finally said. He strolled up and down the group, going "Eenie... meanie... minie... moe..." Glenn felt his blood chill. Negan pointed Lucille's tip in their faces.

Until he came to Abraham. "You... are... it! Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father. Then we'll start. You can breathe... you can blink... you can cry. Hell... you're already gonna be doin' that!"

Negan swung Lucille down on Abraham's head with a sickening "THUD". Someone screamed. Abraham sat back up.

"Suck... my... nuts!" He said. But Negan kept brutally bashing his head in, only pausing to taunt him, until Abraham's head... if you could call it that... was a gelatinous pile of blood, brains and skull fragments.

He laughed. "Look at my dirty GURL!" He carried Lucille around, showing the bloody bat to everyone, and finally stopped at Rosita. "Feast your eeeyes on THIS!" Rosita looked away from him, preferring to focus on the ground in front of her. Glenn glanced over at Daryl. He looked like he was about ready to tear Negan's head off himself. "Oh, damn. Were you two… were you together? That sucks. But if you were, you should know… There was a REASON for all this. Red—and hell, he WAS and forever will be Red—he just took one or SIX OR SEVEN FOR THE TEAM!"

Glenn didn't want to keep looking at Abraham's corpse. Somehow, it was worse than what a Walker might do to him. Probably because Negan knew exactly what he was doing. Walkers just acted on instinct.

"So take… a damn… look!" he ordered Rosita. She didn't look. "TAKE A DAMN LOOK!"

Daryl angrily got to his feet, shook the goons off and punched Negan. Other goons restrained him and threw him to the ground. In any other situation, they'd be celebrating, but everyone felt severe dread for Daryl.

"Oh-ho, MY! That... is a no-no! The WHOOOLE THING! Not ONE BIT of that shit flies here!" One goon asked to kill Daryl. Negan ordered him not to.

"Aaanyway... that's not how it works!" Negan continued after Daryl was returned to the line. "First one's free! Then what'd I say? I said I would SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN!" Negan walked over to Daryl and close to Glenn. But Glenn kept his eyes on Daryl. He was the best of the lot, but if he couldn't stop Negan, who could? It just reinforced the hopelessness of their situation.

"No exceptions." Negan continued. Glenn couldn't see Negan's grin. "Now, I dunno what kinda lyin' assholes you've been dealing with... but I'm a man of my word." He looked over at Daryl. "First impressions are important." Everyone was about ready to cry. Glenn tried to hide it.

"I need you... to know me," Negan continued. "SO!" He paused to look at Lucille, and then to Daryl. "Back to it!"

Negan spun around and swung Lucille down on Glenn's head.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Keith screamed as he sat up. His heart raced faster than after his suicide attempt, sweat dripped into his eyes from his forehead, he struggled to catch his breath and he gripped the sides of the bed. He finally let go of the bed after several harrowing, white-knuckled moments and reached up to feel his head. There was no blood and no massive dent in his skull.

Then he flopped back on the bed and sighed. He still tried to catch his breath, but he took several deep breaths so he could lower his heart rate.

As he came down from that nightmare, he remembered that this wasn't the first time he'd had that particular nightmare. Everyone he knew, including himself, chalked it up to all the horror, zombie and post-apocalyptic movies he liked to watch. And because he was an anxiety-riddled mess. That was the most rational, likeliest explanation. Slav on the other hand, would probably say something about it being memories from a past life or alternate reality. If so, then why didn't Shiro ever say anything about Sven?

That didn't change the fact that it always scared the fuck outta him.

Similar dreams tormented him, apparently set in that same zombie world, but compared to other dreams, they were few and far between. Most death dreams involved him falling from great heights, or getting Shot in a firefight. And right now, he wondered if he would even survive this war.

Then he heard the roaring.

At first it was faint. He thought maybe one of the lions just felt like roaring. Did real lions actually do that? That was a rhetorical question he asked himself.

Then he could hear the roaring growing louder. But there was no echo. It sounded like it was coming from inside his head, like head headphones listening to lion sounds. Or just like the first time they heard the instructions coming from the lions.

He immediately jumped out of bed and ran out the door.

He got lost at first. He assumed that Red was the one calling him, so he went to Red first, only to find out that Red had put a particle barrier up. He tried to call to it—"III! AAAM! YOUR PAL-A-DIIIN!"—until he remembered that no, he wasn't Red's Paladin, especially not anymore. He felt like a fuckin' moron as he sat cross-legged in front of Red. She probably didn't like him anymore. She and Lance were probably very happy together.

He cursed himself. He'd let Lance's "seventh wheel" crap get to him.

"I dunno what to do," he groaned, ostensibly talking to Red. "They'll welcome me back, right?" Red didn't answer. "Gah! You're no help!"

Then the roaring returned.

At first he was befuddled. Which lion was calling him? Green? Blue? Yellow? He could probably be a leg. But that made no sense. Why would either of those lions want him? The only other option was—

He groaned. "Black," he said to himself.

He immediately knew that he didn't want to have to face Black.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Allura couldn't sleep. At all.

Even though she'd cried several hours ago, she was still on the verge of another breakdown. This one probably wouldn't be as hard as the one earlier. She nearly cried herself dry that last time. She didn't know it was possible to do such a thing, although she came close after she was forced to destroy her father's AI, the last time she would ever get to see him. And now just thinking about that was bringing her to cry again.

She sat up, hoping that this would help her calm down. It didn't work. She could still feel the excess water leaking out of her eyes. She had already cried once today. She would not cry again. She would not cry in front of people. She's a princess, a leader of the anti-Zarkon resistance. Showing weakness was out of the question.

Diplomacy was a high-stakes game that didn't allow for any slip-ups. Slipping on ice in Voltron on Ice didn't count. If she wasn't careful, someone could take advantage of anything, like a hiccup. Probably not like that. But presenting herself to leaders of worlds desperate for freedom, and then breaking down to cry would not put her in a good position to gain allies. A weak little girl was no leader to them. For that reason, she had to conceal and don't feel anything. But how long could she keep it up? Would she keep it up until she became the mask of the stoic resistance leader? Or would the mask shatter into a million pieces before she even had a chance?

Frustrated, she threw her covers off, got out of bed and left her bedroom. She would walk herself to sleep, and didn't care where she went.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Keith stared up at Black, clenching and unclenching his fist and taking several deep breaths to calm his heart rate. He said nothing to Black, since he didn't have anything to say. He didn't even know what to say. He was sure Black had rejected him for Shiro, but he was also confused about why Black had called for him. Why? Blue had already rejected Lance after the latter took over the Red Lion, taking his place in turn. It wasn't easy to figure out, but it also wasn't hard to get a good idea. Maybe Black liked Keith enough and was worried about him after his little escapade with the Blade. That was the likeliest reason, just like his own issues were the likeliest reason he had that zombie movie nightmare.

He didn't know what Black was doing, or thinking. Obviously he wasn't like Garfield or any other sentient cartoon cat. The Lions existed in their own little niche the Paladins had yet to figure out. Even so, if he could talk to Black, Keith had all those questions he wanted to ask him, aside from 'why me?' Why had Black accepted him in the first place, only to go back to Shiro? Was Black really so busy with the Voltron Show that he couldn't try to help him once in a while? Was he crazy for thinking he could talk to a giant robotic cat?

The last one probably made the most sense… kinda.

Most importantly, what did Black want?

He got impatient. "What do you want, Black?!" he called. He quickly felt as stupid now as he did the first and second times he tried to talk to Red. But then Black's next move caught him by surprise.

Black got up of his haunches, stood up straight and then leaned down on his forelimbs in front of Keith. When his head reached the floor, he opened his mouth. Keith immediately understood what Black wanted, but he was still confused.

"Uh, what?" he asked. He put that thought away and moved towards Black. He paused, hesitating. Then he remembered that hesitation wouldn't have gotten to Voltron in the first place and stepped inside Black's mouth.

Once inside the cockpit, he sat down in the pilot's seat. It didn't feel as familiar and comfortable as Red, but it was still both of those. But he still didn't know what to do. Shiro did tell him about that bonding moment with Black when he (Keith) and the others went to that mall, and Shiro hadn't even left the castle.

So… now what?

"You wanna bond?" he asked. Nothing. Then he remembered that he forgot that he needed to grab the controls. Without much prompting, he reached out and took hold of both handlebars. Black's control panel immediately lit up. His stomach clenched as Black came to life. The instruments activated, displaying charts, graphs, needles, and the castle's hangar. With his stomach still clenched, he groaned. He didn't want Black to respond to him, Shiro was Black's paladin! This wasn't right!

"Black! What are you doing!?" he shouted. "Black! Stop! I'm not a leader! I can't do it! Shiro's the leader! I'm just… I'm just a Blade of Marmora!"

Black must not have been impressed by Keith's assertions, as it roared/growled to contradict him.

"Oh, come on!" Keith groaned. He kicked himself mentally for arguing with a lion of all things. What was he thinking?

"WHAT are you trying to tell me?" He asked.

He suddenly felt a great surge of energy coursing through his body, first through his chest, then to his head, then to his arms and finally to his legs. Then, as if being teleported, flew with Black into another wormhole, out into space, and in front of a green and blue planet. He stopped and stared at the planet for a second, but Black promptly ejected him into the atmosphere, screaming all the while. At first he was scared, but then saw that his body was surrounded by a purple light.

He was expecting something to happen, but this was different. Through Black, he could see a world not unlike Earth or Arus, a castle right out of an old sci-fi book cover, and five lions that looked almost exactly like the ones he and the other Paladins flew. He watched, as if suspended in mid-air, as the lions did battle with a giant, ugly monster. He looked down and saw that he was still in his astral form.

"Ready to form Voltron!"

He froze and looked around for the source of the voice. Then, he found himself inside a lion's cockpit, looking at the figure of a human man dressed in a white and red space suit not unlike his old Paladin armor, and he could feel a tinge of familiarity, because the person in the suit looked a lot like him, only a couple years older. The person carried an authoritative determination about him, which he could see in his eyes. Again, they looked so much like his.

Realization hit. Was Black showing him a version of himself from an alternate reality?

"Activate interlock! Dynatherms, connected! Infracells, up! Mega-thrusters are go!"

The leader's orders dented his amazement like Negan's bat did to his dream persona's head. Who the fuck even talks like that!?

"Let's go, Voltron Force!" He heard four others cry.

VOLTRON! So this was an alternate reality version of him, it had to be!

He suddenly found himself ejected, for lack of a better term, from the Black Lion's cockpit to watch the other lions flying towards each other, morphing into familiar shapes. The Black Lion slimmed down to form the body. Red and Green's legs retracted to form the arms. Blue and Yellow did the same, to form the legs.

"Form! Feet and legs!" The leader ordered. "Form arms! And body!" Red and Green connected first, followed by Blue and Yellow. "And I'll form... the head!"

He gazed at Voltron, or at least this particular reality's version of it, for several seconds, before he heard his name being called by one of the lion pilots.

And then the vision ended.

He felt himself being pulled backwards, out of the planet, out of space, and out of this reality, and back—

Back into the castle's hangar.

Confusion hit first, but annoyance followed. He groaned at first and bellowed, "What the hell was that!?" Black answered with a growl of its own. Keith wasn't impressed. "Who the quiznak talks like that!?" Black growled again. "So that's it? You want me to lead? Forget it, I'm not leading if—wait, what about Shiro—I'm talking to a stupid lion again!" He growled, grabbed his head and rubbed his face. For a grand epiphany, this felt more like a cartoon.

"Do you want me to pilot you? Is that it?" He asked again. Black growled. At least this time it sounded positive, and it fit with how it instantly came to life as soon as he touched the controls, so he figured it out quickly.

Still, he wasn't sure if he wanted to, or was ready.

"What about Shiro?" He asked. No answer. His eyes arrowed to show his annoyance. "Fuck."

"Shiro!" The voice interrupted his thoughts. "Shiro, are you in there?" He looked down and saw Allura, dressed in her nightdress, looking up at Black. "Are you trying to bond with Black again?"

Without thinking, he called out, "It's me, Allura." And then remembered that he couldn't exactly talk to her without turning the lion's speaker on.

So he lowered Black down to the floor and, after a moment's hesitation, emerged from Black. Allura gapsed.

"Keith! What are you doing awake at this hour!?"

"I couldn't sleep," he answered. "Looks like you couldn't, either."

"No," she answered.

Now that he was close to her, he could get a good look at her, and it surprised him. She'd already cried once today in front of him—behind him, technically, begging him to stay—but this looked very different.

"Are you okay, Allura?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered, barely able to cover up her cracking voice. Keith saw right through it.

"No, you're not," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're lying."

"Lying!?" She sounded hurt, but more offended that she'd been caught lying instead of... whatever she was actually thinking.

"Allura, what's wrong?"

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Hello everyone, did you like the chapter?

Things are about to get a little hectic, what with the holidays coming up, at least in the US. Means I'll be getting pretty busy. So I wanted to get this chapter in before things got really crazy. Hard part was making it long enough, because writer's block was starting to get to me. Luckily I already know what I want to do with this story.

Keith's Glenn dream was inspired by a piece of art on Tumblr by the user Vrepitsalt. As for whether it's a vision of a past life in another reality or just the ramblings of an anxiety-riddled mind, I'll let you decide 😉

But I just want to make it clear that I don't wat The Walking Dead, so if you have a problem with the events in the dream? Take it somewhere else, because I can't really argue with you on it. All I did was watch the scene and scene leading up to it to know what happened. So like I said, go easy on me. Of course, I wish that I could've saved Keith's second vision for the next chapter, but I couldn't find a good transition point. Sorry.

In the meantime, please sit tight and let me know what you think of the chapter, please?