Author's Note: This is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you enjoy.
Happy Labor Day! Even though it's the unoffocial end of the summer. BOO!
To WarzonePrez: I'm doing the best I can with Hawkins & Newley. I'm trying especially hard with Newley, as you well know.
To sunshineleo: ONE MORE MONTH!
To kava: Thank you for being one of the few people (maybe even the ONLY person) who likes Morgan. Just because she couldn't make it work with Keith, it doesn't mean she's a monster.
To Susan: I'm glad your persistence paid off! Wait until you see what I have in store for Kieran. If you read the last couple of chapters of "In the End," you'll know he's alive & well...AND rooming with one of his brother's old Academy pals.
To Emie Mac: It's hard for me to watch the old episodes, too, because I want to grab them & alter them. I'm glad you're still enjoying. I'm still working on re-editing the old stories.
Title Song: "Can't Remember to Forget You" by Shakira ft. Rihanna
They couldn't sleep. How could they? They were on a strange planet, a battle could break out at any moment, and then there were the lions. Voltron, Keith thought incredulously. Who would have known that the rumors and stories would out to be true? How could anyone sleep when they had the defender of the universe within their grasp?
Well, at least the princess could.
The five of them sat outside on the balcony of the war-torn castle. None of them could sleep; they were just as wired as their team captain. "So," Lance started, flicking his lighter and watching the flame dance around, "since we're all up, let's play a game of Honesty."
"Honesty?" Keith raised an eyebrow. "What the heck is that?"
"It's kinda like Truth or Dare, except you have to give an honest answer, no exceptions, and there's no dare. The person with the best answer gets to ask the next question. I'll start: What was the stupidest thing you ever did in your life?"
"Easy. I roomed with you for five years," Sven snorted.
"Don't worry, Viking, I'll get you for that. I think the stupidest thing I ever did was not take my beanbag chair with me to Arus."
"This is ridiculous." Keith rolled his eyes. "Besides, I've never done anything stupid."
"I bet Morgan would beg to disagree," Hunk shot out.
"Shut up, Tsuyoshi."
"Hey, it's true. I've never done anything stupid, either," Pidge spoke up for their captain. "I think, logically speaking, the stupidest thing any one of us has done was getting captured by Doom on the way here."
Stunned, four heads nodded in the young Baltan's direction. "Shorty's got a point," Lance sulked. "Fine. You get to ask the next question."
The grin lit up Pidge's face. "Cool." He wiped his glasses along the hem of his shirt. "Back at the Academy, when was the most scared you ever were, and why? For me, it was that moment Graham called us into his office to tell us that we were going to Arus. Not because I was worried about our mission, but because I dreaded being separated from Chip. I'll admit it. I miss my brother. Lots."
None of the guys would dare make fun of Pidge for his heartfelt answer. "It's okay, Shorty," Hunk assured him. "Mine was during our first year, on the day Cinda showed up in Engineering 101. She was so small, and I was scared to death that she was gonna get crushed by some of the machinery we were working on. Good thing she didn't. She proved everybody in that department wrong. I was so proud of her. Still am." The wistful look on his face was priceless, and not even Lance would dare poke fun at him.
Keith exhaled. "Mine was during our fifth year, the morning after Morgan's twenty-first birthday. When we woke up, I got a really good, sober look at her tattoo, and I was terrified. I mean, there was my initial, right over her butt. And I was really scared because I thought, What if we don't make it? She'll have this K tattooed there for the rest of her life."He dropped his head. "Obviously, my fears came true."
"Ironically, mine was the same blasted day," Sven chimed in. "That morning, Morgan and I sat down in Advanced Navigation, awaiting our quiz—which, if you remember, I assumed we'd fail anyway—when Instructor Bailey came in and told us that we weren't allowed to use calculators. I think my heart stopped beating." He grinned. "And thenhe told us that he was just trying to see who was paying attention, and that yes, of course we could use calculators. Not that it mattered by that point. My nerves were shot."
Lance began to laugh. "Mine was during our third year. Do you guys remember that huge blizzard, the one that dropped three feet of snow on us overnight, and classes were canceled at 1400 hours in preparation?"
Sven threw a chunk of debris at him; he knew exactly what his old roommate was going to say. "I'll kill you, McClain. Don't think I won't."
Lance ignored him. "Yeah, so I had class until 13:50, but my roommate here did not. His classes were all canceled. Stupid navigation." He scowled. "So anyway, I finally get out of class, I go back to my dorm room, and I swear I hear grunting from behind the door. I'm thinking that, hey, maybe the Viking's working out or something—you know, push-ups or crunches or whatever. So I stick my key in the door and turn the knob to unlock it, and I hear this angry stream of Norwegian curse words coming at me. It was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me in my life, not just at the Academy." He started to laugh so hard there were tears in his eyes, and his friends—minus Sven, who looked annoyed—followed suit. "Yeah, my esteemed roommate here was in the middle of a workout, all right...he was closing the deal with his girlfriend."
Keith wiped the tears out of his eyes. "So that's the reason you were hanging with me and Jeff for so long that afternoon."
"Heck yeah. I was too afraid to go back in there after that. An angry Norwegian is not someone to mess with." He winked. "Besides, Chief, I figured you owed me for all those times your roommate had to sleep on my floor."
Sven still looked annoyed. "It wouldn't hurt you to remember not to mess with an angry Norwegian, McClain." Then his expression softened, and they were all quiet for a moment. "Guys, I have to be honest: I know that the question was about the Academy, but I've never been more afraid than I am right now."
"Why's that?" Pidge piped up.
"You afraid of the Doomies? Don't worry, we'll crush 'em," Hunk reassured him.
Sven shook his head, and Lance, having lived with him for so long, knew what he was going to say. They all watched as the navigator lifted up the chain from underneath the collar of his shirt. "I'm scared that we'll never make it back to Earth," he admitted, gripping the small platinum wedding band that belonged to his fiancée. "I'm terrified that I'll never see Lenora again."
It was a sobering statement, and the silence was thick amongst them. Finally, Lance cleared his throat. "You really love my Sis that much, don't you, Viking."
"You know I do." He dropped his head and closed his eyes. "You know I do. As I told her before we left, not even death will come between us."
"Don't worry, Sven," Hunk assured him. "We'll make sure you get home to Lennie."
But for some reason, the navigator felt a nagging tug in the pit of his stomach that it wasn't going to be so easy.
Stupid. This is so stupid, Morgan chastised herself as she trudged over the quad to the dorm buildings. It hadn't been so long since she graduated from the Space Academy that she'd forgotten her way around campus. Jeff owes me big for this. BIG. Like, so big that I can't even imagine how he's ever gonna pay me back.
Building #672. She already knew the passcode to get inside; Chip and Rocky had lived there back in the day. She found it ironic that Christiane lived there now. Punching the set of numbers into the keypad, the door slid open, and she went right in.
As she made her way up to the fourth floor—the top floor of any dorm building, not just this one—she wished desperately that Lenora had come with her and wasn't trying on wedding gowns right now. Her Wifey and Keith's little sister were both systems analysts; they'd understand each other. But no, Jeff had been adamant that no one in their family find out about Christiane's existence. It was something Keith had begged of him, and he chose to honor.
Why in blazes would he honor anything Kogane said? Those two were just as poisonous for each other as roommates as we were as lovers. But as much as she didn't like it, she would keep quiet about this girl. It didn't have anything to do with Keith. She would honor her promise to Jeff.
Making her way up to the room in question, she hesitated before knocking on the door.
It took all of three seconds for an answer. Keith's sister whipped the door open, almost as if she had been expecting a knock at that exact moment, and assessed her visitor.
Morgan found herself lost in Christiane's turquoise gaze. She has Keith's eyes. Her vision glazing over in tears, she began to shake wordlessly on the threshold of the dorm room. Oh, God. I'm not ready for this.
Sympathetically, the seer gazed back at Jeff's friend, the one person he had trusted enough to stand in for him. Taking Morgan's face in her hands, she closed her eyes and saw everything. The tears, the screams, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the hurled navigation text—it was all there.
But that wasn't all she saw. She saw the love. The sweet gestures, the hand-holding, the stolen kisses. There had been a genuine connection between Keith and Morgan, though it hadn't been powerful enough to sustain them.
"You loved him." She spoke gently when she finally broke the silence. "And he loved you as well."
"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Morgan sniffled pathetically. "And I suppose, in his own way, he did too."
"Oh, Morgan." Christiane wrapped her arms around the navigator and hugged her. Closing her eyes, she saw so much of Keith intertwined with this one woman. There was so much pain and joy, love and hate, elation and sadness. It made her mourn the fact that she didn't know her own brother so well.
"Yeah, I know. No need to say anything else about that." Morgan melted into the young girl. She had finally found a home in a Kogane's embrace. Not in her ex-boyfriend, but with his sister.
And perhaps that was the most surprising of all.
The bridal salon was outrageously exclusive; the staff doted on Angelie and Lenora as though they were the only two women in the world. Fawning over them both, they swathed the bride-to-be in the most expensive of gowns while plying her mother with cup after cup of fine tea, served in gilt-edged bone china. Too extravagant for me, Lenora thought with an internal eye-roll as one of the staff members zipped up her dress. I would never wear anything like this for Sven. Only for Mom.
Angelie was enjoying herself too much. After their lovely meal at the Russian Tea Room, complete with a bottle of pricey sauvignon blanc, she revelled in the lavish attention that the staff had given her. "Nora, darling," she cooed, the vestiges of the wine still in her voice, "come out and show me."
"You heard the lady. The show must go on." The bride-to-be turned back to glance at the staff member, who opened the curtain for her to exit the dressing room.
As Lenora stepped out, the billowing white silk chiffon skirt surrounding her in a cloud of fabric and making it difficult for her to walk, she watched her mother's eyes dampen. "Oh, my darling!" she exclaimed, her shaky hand causing the teacup to rattle against its saucer. "You look absolutely breathtaking!"
She didn't feel breathtaking; she felt like a ball of fabric. "I'm glad you like it, Mom," she mumbled, turning to the side to allow her mother a view of the back of the dress. "It's not my favorite." She imagined what Sven might say if he were there. He would probably snort at the gown.
Angelie shook her head. "Oh, hush. It's a simple, classic, gorgeous ballgown. And that fabric!" She clasped her hands to her chest and swooned. "That silk is simply divine!"
"Your mother has excellent taste," the salesgirl noted.
"Yeah, she does." Lenora turned to face herself in the full-length mirror. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the dress looked beautiful on her. It just didn't feel like her.
It didn't feel like Sven, either.
Sinking to the floor, she stared at her reflection and touched his ring, strung around her neck. Where are you, min elske? she wondered, her knees shaking so much that they knocked together. Are you safe? Are you warm and sheltered? Have you eaten? Do you think of me as often as I think of you?
"She's in shock. That dress is the one," Angelie declared.
Lenora inhaled at her mother's completely off-putting misinterpretation of her stance, but at the moment, she didn't have the energy to fight. "Maybe. But most likely not."
"We have other dresses for you to try on," the salesgirl reminded her gently.
"Um...yeah. Sure. Okay." She lifted her head up, wondering if her expression could possibly convey what she was really thinking: that she was trapped in a prison of silk and lace, that she would rather be in her fiancé's arms than a billowing ballgown, that the wedding didn't mean nearly as much to her as the man she was pledging her heart to.
Shooting her a sympathetic smile, the salesgirl looked as if she understood.
They still hadn't formed Voltron.
It was becoming a sore spot on behalf of the Voltron captains, and particularly on Commander Hawkins. Every day, the team practiced a series of drills, runs, and most importantly, mastering the art of assembling the three subunits. While it was true that they were becoming tighter and faster in handling their mecha, the formation of Voltron—or lack thereof—was the proverbial elephant in the room.
When Jeff complained, post-practice, to Cliff and Crik, he found them to have mixed feelings about it.
"Yeah, mate, I want to get this Voltron business down too," the Aussie Land Team captain agreed, running a hand through his damp blond locks. "I feel like our blokes know how to get the subunits together." He shot a knowing grin over at Crik. "Even Hutch and Marvin."
While the Miran returned the smile and the dig at his friends, he did not return the sentiments about forming Voltron. Perhaps it was all the meditation he performed that granted him such profound patience, or his sixth sense that reassured him that their giant robot was in the immediate future. "The time is coming, my friends," the Sea Team captain assured them. "Don't stress so much about it."
Jeff made a face. "That's coming from the guy who could meditate his life away."
Crik clapped him on the back. "You should try it, my friend. You might feel more at peace with the Voltron situation if you did."
"Somehow, I doubt it." Jeff made a grab at Cliff's beer bottle and took a swig.
"Hey, mate!" the Aussie shouted. "Who do you think you are, Dalloway?"
"Except without the long blond hair."
Crik raised his eyebrows. "And on that note, my friends, I am going to retire to my room. Have a nice evening, the both of you."
As the door slid shut behind him, Cliff swiped his beer bottle back. "What a pleasant fellow," he mused, taking a sip. "I really like him."
"I do, too." And that was Jeff's problem. Aside from not forming Voltron, he really did like Crik. And Cliff. And he had no clue who he wanted to pick for his second-in-command.
He was failing in every aspect of this job. Commander Hawkins was going to be so disappointed in him.
It was the first night in many years that Allura slept soundly and peacefully. Also, it was the first night that she had fallen asleep in her own bedroom, and not Allistaire's.
Her brother, the crown prince of Arus, had led the charge against Doom's forces when Zarkon first attacked her planet, and as such, he had been one of the first to perish in battle. Though ten years older, the two of them had been remarkably close, and she missed him perhaps even more than she missed her parents. In addition, her bedroom had sustained considerably more damage than his had, so it only seemed logical that she used his quarters instead.
But not tonight. Tonight, she could sleep happily on ten pillows, feeling safe for the first time in as long as she could remember.
"Oh, Allie-cakes, you gave up my room just like that?"
That voice. That name. Her eyes filling with tears, she rolled over and pushed herself upright, only to come face to face with the spirit whose face had haunted her since he died. "Allis?"
"The one and only." Even as a spirit, he look smug and proud, with his wavy strawberry-blond hair and merry aquamarine eyes.
"Thank you for coming here."
He shrugged. "How could I not? I saw Voltron formed for the first time today. Under your leadership. Under you." He spoke the last word with conviction. "Allie-cakes, I know you still think you're only a kid. But you aren't. You're not only the last reigning monarch of Arus, but you're becoming a woman."
"You sound cheesier than I remember." She used the crack to lighten the tension as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Say what you like, but you know it's the truth." He crossed his arms over his chest, and his expression grew serious. "This is it, Allura. You'll be the one to conquer Doom. You'll be the one to destroy Zarkon and restore Arus to glory. After all, you have already seen the resurrection of the Defender of the Universe. Things can only go up from here."
"You sound so certain, like it's a done deal." The princess felt very small, shivering under the threadbare blanket. "It's a lot to ask of me, Allis."
Reaching forward, his ghostly fingers brushed her forehead. "And I wouldn't ask it of you if I didn't know that you were capable," he replied. "But you are."
"You sound so sure. How can you be so certain?"
"It's your destiny, Allie-cakes." His expression was one of regret. "I thought it would be my destiny, to protect Arus from Korrinoth. Obviously, I was wrong. The mantle has fallen onto your shoulders."
She could tell from his pained tone that he was sorry that she had to be the strong one, the one who had to pick up the pieces of their broken planet. But what other choice was there? Somehow, she had known all along that, eventually, she would have to become a champion for her people.
And she was incredibly grateful that these five space explorers, with their foreign curse words and their squabbles and their long hair and their...Lemon Drops...had arrived just in time to resurrect Voltron and help her in her new mission.
With that realization, she lifted her chin defiantly. "I will do my very best. I promise."
"That's my girl!" His eyes twinkled like stars. "I knew you would."
Then her eyes dropped. "I miss you, Allistaire."
"I miss you too, Allura." His voice softened. "I always miss you, but don't forget, I'm always watching over you."
Although she knew the answer to her next question, she had to ask it. "Will this be the last time I see you?"
"Yes." He didn't mince his words. He never had. "Don't forget about me, Allie-cakes."
"I never will."
"No, you won't. You're a good girl. A better sister than I ever deserved." His image began fading quickly. Too quickly, and she struggled to keep his outline in sight, seared into her memory. "Remember, I'm always watching. You're in good hands with these guys—they might seem a little crazy, but they'll take care of you." Suddenly, only his aquamarine eyes were visible in the darkness. "I love you, Allura."
"I love you more, Allistaire."
Then he was gone, and Allura fell back onto her mattress, clutching the pillow and burying her face in it. She was full of mixed emotions—fear, anger, worry, love, and an overwhelming amount of sadness. But she knew that her brother was right, that she had to be the one in charge now. There was no one else to take over the royal throne and lead Arus to victory against Zarkon and his forces.
It was all on her shoulders now. Officially.
King Barquiel Aragrave had been trying so hard to contact Pollux for his son's—as well as Romelle's and Bandor's—sake. It was impossible to get a message through to King Cova, and nearly as much to receive word about what was happening on the planet. He feared that something dreadful was happening, and there was no way to help or prevent it.
Tristan felt the same way.
"I know that something terrible is going on there, and they're holding Amue hostage," the young prince seethed, slamming his fists against the console in the Elnorian castle's control room. "Why else wouldn't they let a transmission from us in? Elnor and Pollux are allies!"
"Used to be allies," his father corrected him. "We can't read Cova's mind, and we have no idea why Pollux has severed ties with us. We can only proceed cautiously and hope that Amue's family hasn't done something regrettable in the wake of the queen's death."
Tristan didn't like that answer. "Proceed cautiously? Are you out of your mind? This isn't a war we're trying to avoid, it's my trying to get through to my fiancée!"
"It might as well be a war we're trying to avoid." Tristan's mother, Queen Orianthe Boden, stood in the doorway. "My fear is that Cova has gone mad since the death of his wife. And let us not forget, she and I were the two who arranged for your engagement, not him. He may be acting out of grief, or he may be taking the situation into his own hands and changing it at his whim."
The prince stared at his mother in shock, then turned to face his father. "Do you agree?"
"It may be so," the king demurred sadly.
"Perhaps," Orianthe suggested, "it would be better if you forgot about Romelle. There are other princesses in the galaxy. It might be the time to make their acquaintances."
"Are you mad? No! No! I will not just forget about Amue. I love her!"
Warily, the queen looked over at her husband, who shrugged. The king obviously shared his son's sentiments—he loved Romelle like his own child, and looked upon Bandor with great fondness. And it was odd to him that his wife, by her own admission, was the one who had arranged the marriage, and now she was the one who was encouraging him to get over the girl.
Moving on would not be easy for Tristan. Or for any of them, really.
"He's right. We will not simply forget about Cova's two younger children." Barquiel narrowed his eyes at his wife. "We will do everything in our power to rescue them from that madman. And we will not stop until our dying breaths."
Little did he know how true his words would be.
Because practice was over, Modoch wandered the hallways of the Explorer by himself, trying to memorize the ship's layout. There were common areas, restricted areas, and of course the hangar and the bridge. One day, he thought, I'll memorize the entire floor plan. Unfortunately, I might be retired by the time that actually happens.
Sometimes he preferred being alone with his thoughts. Shannon called him a brooder, although that term was often better used to describe the Irishman himself; the gentle giant was not brooding. Rather, he was thinking about Kelly, how much he loved her, how much he missed her, and how he couldn't wait to see her again.
And even though he felt like he was wallowing in David Rackens' seven hells without her, he was grateful that at least he had her two closest friends with him on the Land Team.
"Modoch! What are you up to?"
Shaken out of his thoughts, he turned to look over his shoulder. Cinda, still dressed in her brick-red Land Team uniform, had followed him out of the common area and chased him down. "What's wrong?" he asked out of instinct.
She caught up to him. "I was worried about you. You looked so..." She frowned. "Sad."
He shrugged. "Just thinking about Kelly, that's all."
"I understand." She began to walk again, and he followed suit, sticking closely by her side. "I was thinking about chopping my hair off. You know, to fit under my helmet better, like Ginger's. But then I said to myself, You know, normally I'd work this through with Kelly. And now she's not here."
"You're not telling me anything I don't already know." He looked over at her. "And besides, I am the last person you want to be asking about hair. Especially women's hair."
She giggled. "Well, I trust a man's opinion. I used to bounce a lot of ideas off of my engineering partner. He was a guy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. He's stationed with Chip's brother now. I miss him, too."
Modoch read between the lines. There they were, two teammates, the best friend and boyfriend of the same girl, both of them missing their heart's desire. It would take a lot of pretending to forget...provided, of course, that they wanted to forget.
There were no words of comfort to be offered, and certainly no hair advice on Modoch's part. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder in comfort, and the two of them walked together with no destination in mind, allowing themselves to feel the weight of their sadness.
Dread ran through Yurak's veins and settled low in his stomach as he entered the throne room. He already knew that Zarkon was going to tear him into pieces for the fact that he had retreated from battle on Arus, it was only a matter of how badly he was torn apart. And if that blasted old witch Haggar was present, well, it would make the verbal lashing that much worse.
"Yurak. Come here."
This is bad. The commander tried to show no apprehension as he approached the throne. Zarkon was seated there already, with Haggar standing arrogantly next to him, stroking the equally-blasted blue cat in her arms. "My lord Zarkon," he began, sinking down onto one knee.
The king looked mildly interested, or perhaps sarcastic. "Commander Yurak. I know you have already told me about your retreat, but now I would like for you to relay, in detail, what you saw on Arus to me and Haggar."
Well. He hadn't expected this. Worse, he wasn't sure how much lower they were going to drag him. Better to not let his guard down. "I saw five...lions...my lord. Five mechanical lions of five different colors. Then they joined into one giant robot."
"It is as I thought," Haggar cackled. "Sarga does not lie. Voltron the Defender has returned."
"So it seems." Zarkon closed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought. "Yurak, though I am not pleased with your retreat, I do understand why you did so. You cannot fight an enemy of this caliber without strategy and weaponry." He glanced over at Haggar. "And help."
"Help, my lord?" Yurak repeated. "What sort of help are you referring to? My fleet is full, and I cannot lead any additional ships."
He laughed. "I'm not granting you additional ships, you fool. It so happens that Haggar has graciously offered help from her lab. She will create robeasts for you, ones which will help you to defeat Voltron."
No. Yurak despised the witch; the last thing he wanted was to haul around one of her creations. What was worse, he loathed the idea of Haggar taking the credit for the mighty robot's defeat. "But my lord, I—"
"No buts." Zarkon's voice rang with authority, tinged with anger. "You will do as I command now. You will not retreat from Arus again, and you will accept Haggar's aid. Do not forget about what happened today, Yurak. I hate to think of what might happen should you fail me again."
He bowed his head. "As you say, my lord Zarkon."
"You are dismissed."
Yurak lifted himself from the ground and headed for the nearest exit. He would never forget about what happened under his watch, nor would he ignore Zarkon's thinly-veiled warning. The next time, he had to be smarter, stronger, faster...better.
Or he would die, by either the mighty robot or his king's hand. He wasn't sure which idea he dreaded more.
PS: Next weekend, my brother MaveriKat & I are headed to Hascon in Rhode Island to (possibly, hopefully) meet Peter Cullen (a.k.a. the voice of Commander Hawkins and the narrator in DotU). Wish us luck!