Published April 27, 2017.
Updated September 2018 to incorporate new information.

"On the Willows"

Wandering between two worlds, one dead,
The other powerless to be born,
With nowhere yet to rest my head,
Like these, on earth I wait forlorn.
Their faith, my tears, the world deride—
I come to shed them at their side.

~ Matthew Arnold, "Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse"

A few days passed before homesickness settled in. Or maybe it had been trickling in for a while, and Lance had simply not noticed it until he saw how much had gathered inside him. After that, it left and returned like a tide, only with less regularity, so that it could not be predicted.

In general, the paladins tried not to think about Earth too much. Of course it was inevitable that they mentioned different things form Earth's culture, the same way Allura and Coran mentioned things from Altea's culture; but they rarely spent time dwelling on memories, or even hopes for some point when they might return to Earth. Doing so distracted them from their immediate and ongoing missions

But while Lance was asleep, old, familiar places and people and events appeared in his dreams. He saw his family, his home, the beach, the church his family attended, his old schools, even favorite vacation spots. These were bittersweet reminders of everyone and everything he was distancing himself from by being part of Voltron. Of course, he had been apart from them while staying at the Garrison, but he had still been in regular contact and looked forward to every break with the certainty of seeing them. Now he had no idea how long it would be, or if he would ever be able to see them again.

What if he missed his relatives' biggest milestones—birthdays, quinceañeras, Confirmations, graduations. What if Marco, Rachel, or Veronica got married? What if Luis and Lisa had another baby? In the time it took to defeat Zarkon, Lance could miss out on the chance to be a best man, a sponsor, a pallbearer, or even a godfather. So far Luis and Lisa had chosen their kids' godparents from among Lance's older siblings, who were mature enough to be their spiritual mentors and would be able to take care of them should anything happen to Luis and Lisa. Sylvio and Nadia loved their youngest uncle, but they were so young, it didn't seem impossible that they might forget about Lance.

What if he was away for so long that his grandparents died, or some terrible accident or disease caused a younger relative to die unexpectedly? Lance realized, with something akin to horror, that even if he returned to Earth, he might never see some of his loved ones again, and the youngest ones might have no memory of him.

The worst thought was the remembrance that his family did not know where he was. If the Galaxy Garrison was handling the disappearance of their students the same way they handled the disappearance of the Kerberos mission crew, the world might think the students were dead. They must be worried sick. Lance could just imagine his grandparents calling a prayer meeting, asking for special Masses, or setting up some kind of ongoing vigil, to pray for his safe return. For the first time, he felt guilty for causing them so much anxiety.

One night, he had a dream about attending his family's annual reunion, and helping his cousins look for rosaries to distribute. Praying the rosary was one of the only things Lance's entire family did together. At parties and other gatherings, they usually broke off into groups, the adults talking, the kids playing, the teenagers gossiping or roughhousing. Various duos and trios went off to do things apart from the general assembly. Yet everyone, young and old, came into the same room to pass around the necklaces, count the beads, and recite the prayers. Depending on who led the call-and-response, they might recite in Latin, Spanish, or English. The devotion usually took less than half an hour, but for the kids it was annoying to have to stop playing or eating and recite memorized words that carried no personal meaning.

Even when awake, Lance could just hear his elder relatives' voices as they announced each Mystery, reading a brief description of what had transpired and why that event was significant. It was like Mass, in that the words were familiar enough that they washed over him without impression, yet had never been truly grasped and consciously remembered. He remembered mixing up the Apostles' Creed in the rosary with the Nicene Creed in the Mass; both recitations put his mind on autopilot, so that he sometimes skipped lines of the Nicene or added lines to the Apostles'. Becoming conscious of this mistake was not embarrassing so much as annoying. When he had complainingly asked why they didn't use just one or the other, an older cousin who was studying history launched into an explanation about different church councils and official decisions that Lance could not have been bothered to remember.

As he thought about the ritual, Lance was startled to realize he could not remember all of the Mysteries. He tried to list them: five Joyful, five Sorrowful, five Glorious … and there was that other set that got added later on, whose name Lance could not remember.

He started to worry about what else he might forget, or might have already forgotten without realizing it. How many other parts of his life had he assumed he would always remember? The Mass would probably have to be the biggest. He had neglected that sacrament while attending the Garrison, often using homework or extra training as an excuse. Yet, every time he went home for a vacation, he had found himself surprisingly pleased to be back in his home church, to see the stained glass and architecture, to hear the music and liturgy he knew so well. There was something reassuring about being able to come back and find it all unchanged. The feeling of joy only lasted for the first or, at most, second time he came back to it; then it went back to being just a weekly commitment, something done because it was an obligation and a family outing.

Lance had taken the Mass for granted, and passed on the opportunity to celebrate it when it was available to him; but now that he was away from all of Earth's churches and priests, and did not know if or when he would celebrate it again … he actually missed it.

What if he died out here in space? He had already had quite a few brushes with death, so it was not too far-fetched a possibility. Wasn't there a sacrament for people who were dying—last rites or something? Final Confession and Communion? Anointing of the Sick? Could he go to Heaven when he had gone so long without confessing his sins? Lance didn't think he could be in danger of Hell—he had been baptized as a baby, and eaten the Eucharist, and even accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior in case Protestants were right about personal conversion being necessary for salvation—but if he died in a state of sin, the intensity of Purgatory might be greater.

It had been a while since Lance had felt so insecure. Most of the time he acted cool and confident. It was only in private that he ever stressed about his shortcomings—the struggles with attention deficit disorder, the doubts about his abilities as a pilot, the fear that no one would marry him and he would end up alone forever.

In an attempt to ease his conscience, Lance knelt in front of his bed, rested his clasped hands on the mattress, and prayed. He recited the Lord's Prayer and the Hail Mary, and the Act of Contrition, and tried to mean them even though the words were fancier and more old-fashioned than any he would have used. Then he spoke from his heart, in colloquial language. He apologized and asked for forgiveness, professing trust in God's mercy. Then he named every relative he had left behind and asked God to bless every area of each one's life. He prayed for help remembering everyone and everything he had left behind, and begged to be allowed to return home.

Music: This chapter is named after a song from Godspell by Stephen Schwartz. The lyrics come from Psalm 137, which fits Team Voltron's situation pretty well, since the Alteans lost their home and the paladins are far from theirs, leaving both groups uncertain about how to practice their home's traditions.