Poking his head into the observation lounge that had become something of a communal bedroom over the last several rotations, Coran found his ears waggling in amusement. Alejandro and Kurogane, who had finally started joining the group on a regular basis, were curled protectively around Keith and Pidge, seemingly acting as substitute older brothers in the absence of Shiro and Matt. The two in question were still back aboard the Long Wind, most likely still unaware they'd been left to sleep themselves out. It had taken nearly a varga to track them down at the end of the rotation, and when they'd been found curled up in each other's arms Pidge had taken one look, muttered 'about fucking time' and shooed the rest of the group out of her brother's room before they could wake the two sleepers. That left four paladins and two time-travellers to form the nightly comfort cuddle-puddle, a job they were accomplishing admirably and so far successfully, since so far everyone seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
After taking a moment to carefully drape a blanket over the group, Coran continued on his rounds of the Castle, checking habitually on the engines, the Lions, and dozens of other things crucial to the running of the ship. It was odd, seeing the engines running at idle, but with the Castle in a tractor-tow behind the Long Wind it wasn't necessary to waste the energy. He checked them anyway, knowing they could never anticipate the unexpected, then headed for the bridge.
As he approached the doors to the main deck, he was surprised to hear a burst of colourful language in Altean. Allura was standing at one of the control panels, several screens open that appeared to display nothing but gibberish and error messages and appeared to be the source of her aggravation.
"Everything alright, Princess?" Coran asked softly, stepping up beside her and examining the screens. Definitely gibberish, whatever files she was looking at had been so heavily corrupted as to be unintelligible, if they opened at all. Allura huffed wordlessly at the obvious stupidity of the question. Switching back to the main database, she attempted to open another file only to be met with another error message. The outburst that followed had the old advisor raising an eyebrow and making a mental note to talk to the younger paladins about what sort of language was being used around the Castle.
"It's no use." She said finally, slapping her palms down roughly on the edge of the panel. "That blasted crystal corrupted most of the database. The records from before that point are all but useless."
"What exactly were you looking for?" Coran asked, moving to bring up system diagnostics in the hopes of repairing some of the deterioration. He frowned as he noticed the dates on the records in question. "These are all from before the war."
Allura sighed, leaning back against the side of the console and crossing her arms as she watched him work. "I was looking for anything to do with the aspects, mainly. My father was the yellow paladin, he must have been aware of how the lion-bond allowed the aspects to be manifested, and how they affected the Lions as well as the paladins." She tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I thought perhaps he, or one of the others, may have recorded information about the forms they took. It would allow us to concentrate our efforts on the ones that would be most useful."
"A sound theory." Coran agreed. "Unfortunately, you're quite right about the mess Sendak's crystal made of the records. Must've been because they were so heavily linked with the AI systems." He twirled his moustache thoughtfully, considering the problem. "We could try to restore specific files, but we'd have to do it one at a time, and without knowing which files to try, it would be like trying to spot a tormel dropping in a pile of juniberries."
The princess groaned. "You don't have to tell me that. Father and the others never talked much about paladin business to me. I wouldn't have any idea where to begin." Then she paused, looking over at him with bright eyes. "He did talk to you, though. Surely you must remember something that could help us narrow it down."
The older man blinked in surprise. Allura was correct, Alfor had confided many things in him over the cycles. Hopes and fears, triumphs and losses. The trick would be calling to mind the specific things that might be relevant to their needs now. The old king had talked to him a great deal about Voltron, about the paladins and the Lions and the apprentices, and he was hard-pressed to recall if the man had ever mentioned the aspects amongst the wealth of other information.
"It's entirely possible, Princess, but I don't recall..." He conceded, hands stilling on the console. Abruptly, he dismissed the database screens and pulled up a new system diagnostic for the memory conversion chambers. He may not be able to consciously recall the information they needed, but that was the whole point of the memory uploaders. They had been commonly used by Altean scientists trying to correlate everything they'd learned in a more efficient manner, or recall some relevant fact that was eluding them. The question was, had the conversion chambers suffered the same fate as so many other systems due to the corrupted crystal? "Aha! Excellent!" He crowed in triumph as the diagnostic report came back. Aside from the one which had been actively in use on Sendak at the time, the inactive memory conversion chambers had escaped damage completely.
Allura peered over his shoulder, eyes widening. "The memory conversion chambers? You're going to upload your memories?"
Coran nodded firmly, giving her a delighted grin. "Much better than trying to sift through them the old-fashioned way. And you never know when some brief comment made in passing that it wouldn't occur to you to remember will turn out to be crucially important. Come along, Princess, I'm going to need an extra set of hands on the controls." With any luck, in a few varga's time they would be able to start to get some insight from the old paladins as to exactly what the aspects could do.
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The blood-soaked sand squishes under his feet as he runs, ducking and weaving desperately to evade his opponent's rapid lunges and slashing claws. He leaps over the fallen corpse of an earlier fighter, stumbles, keeps going. If he falls, he's dead.
The new arm is an unaccustomed weight at his side, metal dragging painfully at the half-healed remnants of torn flesh. He can use it, a little, but not well enough yet for this, and it hurts.
His opponent, like a cross between a jaguar and a dragon and easily three times his size, lunges again, and he throws himself behind a pillar to evade. He hits the ground on his left shoulder, hard, and white-hot pain knocks the wind out of him as something cracks. This is bad. Very bad. He knows without trying that he's now down his other arm, at least for this fight, and it's only a matter of time now until his opponent realizes and finishes him off.
Not for the first time, he thinks of Matt, and he's grateful to have been able to spare him this suffering. The pain of injury, and the guilt of killing. He may have saved Matt, but for other initiates to the arena a quick, relatively painless death is all he can offer. He hopes, desperately, that the Holts are alright wherever they are. That they're safe. The thought breaks off for a moment as he scrambles to his feet, runs again, adrenaline doing what nothing else can. His opponent scrambles after him, screeching in an alien tongue that he doesn't understand.
Claws swipe at him and he blocks with the arm the druids gave him, the sharp edges grating against metal with a piercing shriek. His opponent flinches at the noise and it gives him a moment to retreat, trying to catch his breath. He can't run forever. He's running out of strength, out of options, out of time.
He thinks of Matt and Sam again, guilt flickering in his gut. He won't be able to escape, won't be able to find the Holts and take them home like he promised himself he would. That plan is the only thing that's kept him going this long, but dreams and determination only do so much when your shoulder is fractured and your other arm barely usable.
He blocks again. Doesn't know why he's prolonging the inevitable. But after all this time-how long has it been? Months? Years?-fear and that dream have solidified inside him, coated his bones in a single, unalterable iron rule. Survive. So he keeps fighting. Snarls, bares his teeth like an angry lion, and lashes back as best he can with his damaged arms. Catches his opponent's claws on his metal arm again and braces, deadlocked, size and strength against sheer willpower.
In the back of his head, he imagines hearing a lion roar in approval.
It happens so fast it catches them both off-guard. One moment he's nose-to-fangs with his opponent, feet slipping backwards in the mud, the next the claws that pressed against his arm are spinning away into the dirt, severed and smoking as his arm swings outward under the loss of pressure, glowing blinding, burning ultraviolet as it slices his opponent's chest to the bone.
The other screams.
There's no time for shock, no time for confusion, because in the arena if you hesitate you're as good as dead when most of your opponent are bigger, faster, and have much more blood on their hands than you. He can think about it, mourn over it, later, this druid-given curse/blessing/weapon that's about to save his life at the price of another's. For now he presses the advantage while he has it, lunges forward with a furious roar that echoes off the walls as he plunges glowing metal into too-yielding flesh-
Shiro's eyes flew open with a gasp, heart pounding violently in his chest. For a moment, alien blood and a vibrant pink light overlaid unfamiliar walls in his vision before his view of the latter was interrupted by pale, freckled skin and a single concerned amber eye half-hidden by ginger hair. His pulse buzzed in his ears, drowning out whatever the other was saying although he could see their mouth moving. Fortunately, they seemed to quickly realize and switched to exaggerated breathing motions, silently gesturing for him to copy. Shiro's lungs seemed to fight him at first, resisting his efforts to draw in air, but eventually he managed to suck in a breath, then another, until finally his chest didn't hurt so much and he could hear the quietly murmured encouragement.
"-you go, good job. You're doing great, Takashi, just keep on taking slow breaths for me. That's it."
He closed his eyes for a moment, blinking away the last of the dream, and shook his head. "I'm okay." He whispered hoarsely. "I'm out of it now, Matt." As out of it as he ever was, with bloody memories hiding in the back of his mind and always ready to ambush him. They'd been coming back in bits and pieces since he'd escaped captivity, sometimes triggered by battle and others returning in dreams like this one. This particular one was an older one that he'd relived a few times already. It never got any easier.
"Okay. Glad to hear it." Matt was giving him a gentle smile, all understanding and concern, but not a trace of pity, for which Shiro was grateful. He sighed again, pressing his forehead to Matt's and trying to sort out his scattered thoughts. He was with Matt. In Matt's quarters on the Long Wind, where the other had taken him last night to rest his leg. They'd talked about that, about a lot of things, and Matt had-
Oh.
"You're my boyfriend now?" The words tumbled out of Shiro's mouth before he could stop them and he promptly went red. Nevermind the surprise and hope that he knew had laced his tone. He groaned, turning his head and hiding his face in the pillow.
Matt burst out laughing. "As of last night, yeah. And you're not allowed to change your mind, because given that you seem to have spent the night in my room, I estimate at least 80% of the ship knows by now and by the end of breakfast everyone will know. Everyone. This place is worse than a high school for gossip."
Shiro snorted into the pillow. "Alteans, I'm guessing?" He was all too aware that Allura delighted in knowing anything and everything that went on in the Castle, making full use of her link with the mice, and while Coran was more subtle and good at withholding what he'd learned he was just as excited by rumors and news as she was.
"Always Alteans." Matt huffed, rolling his eyes. "Biggest gossip-mongers in the universe, I swear. I mean, I suppose diplomacy does get easier when you know where all the skeletons are buried, but it does get annoying sometimes."
The black paladin burst out laughing. "I never thought of it that way, but you're probably right. Keeping pointy ears to the rumor mill as a cultural imperative. Evolution is magical."
Matt laughed as well, rummaging around in the blankets for his leg brace. "It sure is. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I've seen, and most of it would have given my bible-thumping grandma a heart-attack. First contact with Earth is gonna be fun."
"No kidding. Not that it's likely to happen anytime soon, mind you, so maybe things'll be different on Earth by then." Shiro mused. At the moment the Galra Empire was the only major exploratory effort among the stars, and the paladins were doing their damnedest to keep their attention well away from that sector of space. And Human technology was still a long way from penetrating the interstellar void-while there were research domes on the moon and a manned station on Mars, Kerberos had represented a major leap in exploration of the Sol system.
Before Matt could respond to that, there was a rattling against the door. Seeing that the other was still strapping his brace into place, Shiro rolled to his feet to open the door and found himself nose-to-muzzle with a H'ress standing outside with a squirming Galra cub tucked under one arm. "Um, hello?" Shiro glanced uncertainly between the visitor and his boyfriend. Wasn't Matt off-duty at the moment?
"Good trading, Black Paladin. Good trading, Matthew." The H'ress peered around him as they greeted Matt, adjusting their grip on the cub who seemed to be chewing ineffectually on their arm. "I hope we are not too early."
Matt looked up and grinned happily. "Morning, Lreshk'wren! Morning Sevit! It's fine, we were already up. I'll be ready to go in a tick, just hang on." Giving a last tug to make sure he fasteners were secure, Matt pulled the detachable leg of his pants back on and zipped it closed before pulling himself to his feet. Shiro couldn't help but grimace as his boyfriend limped over to the door, despite the reassurance and forgiveness he'd received last night. Matt may have forgiven him, but he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself.
To his surprise, the massive H'ress crouched low, allowing Matt to scramble up onto their back between the middle and rearmost limbs. Once the Human was settled, Lreshk'wren passed him the cub, Sevit, who blinked up at the ginger with wide eyes and immediately started making little chirrups and purrs that didn't translate to Shiro's ears, although Matt responded as if they did, humoring the little Galra just as he would a small Human child. Then the H'ress set off down the hall and the paladin had to scramble to catch up before he was left behind.
"Did you sleep well, Paladin?" Lreshk'wren asked conversationally as they walked. Nobody they passed batted an eye at the sight of a Human riding on a H'ress's back, so Shiro supposed this must be something Matt did regularly. Given his handicap, and how tightly-knit the Icebringer community was, he supposed that made sense.
"Just Shiro is fine." He said. "And I did, thank you. Did you, Lreshk'wren?" He stumbled over the alien name, his tongue refusing to wrap itself around the tangle of consonants, let alone the pitch. "Sorry, I think I said that completely wrong."
The alien chuckled. "It's fine. Human mouths don't take kindly to H'ress names, any more than H'ress mouths and Human ones. Compared to Matthew's, yours is pleasantly easy to pronounce." Shiro nodded understandingly, underneath the translator's words he could hear Matt's name sounding more like 'Naa'su' from the H'ress's mouth. "And I slept quite well, thank you, at least until Sevit decided he wanted to get up for our morning walk with Matthew almost a varga early." They sighed the unmistakable sigh of the put-upon parent.
Shiro laughed. "Kids. They want what they want and good luck reasoning with them." He glanced back at Matt, who now had the cub perched on his shoulders, a long whip-like tail wrapped around the Human's thin wrist as they continued to talk. His boyfriend looked perfectly at home here, surrounded by aliens who had taken him in and made him part of their family. "So you do this every day, then?"
"Yes. One less long walk for him to make each day, since the cafeteria is so far from the medical areas. Matthew is part of the Long Wind pack, Shiro. Pack takes care of each other. And many of us are particularly protective of our lonely little Human cub." Dark eyes fixed Shiro with a knowing stare, and Lreshk'wren's tone became distinctly teasing. "Although maybe not so lonely anymore, I suspect?"
Shiro reddened. Matt hadn't been kidding about gossip getting around. "Um, yeah, not anymore." He admitted, shooting his boyfriend a fond smile and receiving a familiar, cheerful grin in return. "He's too good for me, but if I'm what he wants…"
"You are." Lreshk'wren's firm tone took him by surprise as he glanced over at the large alien. "He spoke of you often, always with fondness and love in his voice. He spoke of your kindness and selflessness, and the way you sacrificed yourself for him without hesitation. He loves you, Shiro, and from what he has told me, I trust you to do well by him."
Shiro fell silent, stunned at the unexpected vote of confidence from one of Matt's makeshift family members. Someone who made it a habit to help Matt cope with his injury, an injury Shiro had caused, was the last person he would have ever expected to approve of the relationship. "I'll do my best to be worthy of that trust." he said finally, staring down at his clenched right fist.
"You'll do fine." Lreshk'wren patted his shoulder as they turned the corner and entered the cafeteria. Some distance away he could see the familiar armor of the rest of his team, and even as he watched Lance stood up and waved to them. "Come. Your packmates are waiting."
When they reached the table Matt passed a loudly-protesting Sevit back to his parent before turning to Shiro with a small smile and accepting his silent offer to lift him down. The motion drew a chorus of 'awww's' from Lance, Alejandro, and Hunk that made the black paladin blush and shoot the three of them a mock glare. They subsided, but that didn't lessen the grins on their faces one bit as he and Matt slid into two of the open spaces at the bench. "No Coran and Allura this morning?"
"Allura said they were working on something." Pidge explained. She was regarding the two of them with a thoughtful expression and narrowed eyes, resting her chin on the back of her laced fingers. Shiro couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety as he served himself, did she not approve of him and Matt? Not that he could blame her, right now it felt like he was the only one doubting his own suitability and it was downright strange. He kept cautious eyes on her when she opened her mouth to speak just as he took a bite of blue goo. "So, since your clothes both look like you slept in them, I'm guessing you haven't thoroughly debauched my brother yet."
Shiro promptly choked on his mouthful of goo, coughing violently and pounding his chest to try to clear his windpipe. Beside him Matt spat out his water and let out a scandalized "Katie!" as he turned a vibrant shade of crimson. The rest of the table varied between choking on their own food and drink and bursting into gales of laughter, Lance actually toppling sideways into Hunk as he went red-faced from lack of oxygen. In the middle of all the chaos Pidge sat smirking, looking thoroughly pleased with the mayhem she'd caused and ignoring her brother's cry of "Katie, you can't just ask things like that, you little gremlin!"
"Well, there'll be other opportunities." She sighed in mock-disappointment, putting her cheek in her palm. "Especially if Matt has anything to say about it. You should see-"
Whatever it was Shiro should see he didn't find out as Matt threw himself out of his seat and charged with impressive speed around the end of the table at his sister, who shrieked and dove under it to get away. Matt scrambled after her and people's legs had to be quickly pulled out of the way of the violent wrestling match that seemed to be taking place if the way the table shook and thumped was any indication. After a moment they tumbled out from under the end of the table, Pidge writhing violently in an effort to escape her brother's headlock, and ended up in a heap on the floor.
Right at Shiiar'keh's feet.
"Good trading Matthew, Green Paladin." Shiro winced. There was no mistaking that deceptively mild tone used by reproving parents everywhere, the one that made you feel two inches tall and was typically accompanied by crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. The H'ress was doing neither of those, but you could still hear them in the tone.
Matt could hear it too, judging by the way he blushed furiously and released his sister to scramble to his feet. "Good trading, Pack Leader Shiiar'keh." He mumbled, quickly returning to his seat and making himself busy with his breakfast while pointedly ignoring Alejandro's teasing grin. Pidge, long immune to parental disapproval, merely nodded as she picked herself up, stooped to collect the false glasses Coran had made her once she gave Matt's back, and flopped back onto the bench beside Keith.
"Good trading paladins." Shiiar'keh continued in a much less disapproving tone as they turned their attention to the rest of the group. "I apologize for interrupting your...discussion," they shot another look at Matt and Pidge, the former of whom slunk lower in his seat and the latter of whom grinned unrepentantly, "but the technicians analyzing the Black Paladin's arm would like to speak with him at your convenience once you've finished your meal. Engineering lab 12, Matthew knows how to get there." Matt nodded, the redness of his face finally starting to subside. "Good hunting, all of you."
The pack leader turned to leave, then glanced back over their shoulder. "By the way, Matthew. Congratulations." They nodded meaningfully at Shiro, then departed.
Matt groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "See? Everyone."
"At least they all seem happy for you." Alejandro commented cheekily.
000000000
"So you still haven't found the override?"
Lance kicked his legs restlessly where he sat on the edge of one of the lab's tables, running his fingers over the edges of his helmet where it sat in his lap. Pidge was perched cross-legged beside him, chewing on her lip as she watched the technicians' spokesperson discuss Shiro's arm with the black paladin and the two time-travellers. Matt was also hovering near that group, studying a copy of the scans with a frown.
The Olkari engineer shook her head apologetically. "No. We have been over every component a dozen times. Despite all evidence to the contrary," she nodded to Shiro, "on a technical level there is no indication that this is anything other than a standard Galra-made prosthetic."
Alejandro frowned unhappily. "So what do you suggest we do, then?"
Letting his gaze wander, the blue paladin briefly examined on the various incomprehensible diagrams and machines, far beyond even the decent amount of technical knowledge he'd picked up living with Hunk, although the yellow paladin seemed fascinated by them; glanced over at Matt, who wasn't wearing his glasses-after so long without, the older Holt sibling seemed to be having trouble getting back in the habit of putting them on; and finally landed on his older counterpart. He studied the scar on Alejandro's face thoughtfully. What had made a mark like that? And how lucky had he been not to lose an eye?
"That's up to you. You may want to consider replacing the prosthetic anyway as a preventative measure against remote override, although I do realize that means giving up a formidable weapon in exchange."
His future self had several other smaller scars littered across his face, but nothing anywhere near so prominent as the gash along his nose. Lance moved his attention to Kurogane instead. From this angle he could clearly see the claw marks that raked across the side of his head and the gap where the man's ear had once been. Could he still hear on that side?
Shiro looked uncomfortable, glancing down at his arm. "Replacing it, what would that entail? Medically, I mean."
Lance's gaze slid lower, looking for other scars, but was abruptly caught on Kurogane's neck. The older red paladin was wearing a slightly lower-collared shirt than usual, and Lance could clearly see the upper portion of a shiny burn scar wrapped around his throat. He squinted. The shape was weird and uneven, almost like a-
-a wound in the shape of a handprint burned deep into his throat-
One of the other techs, a large lizard-like alien, stepped forward. "It's a fairly standard surgical procedure. We'd put you under, remove the Galran prosthetic, and install the transmitter chip for the replacement limb before closing up. I understand you have Altean healing pods, which will speed up the recover immensely and let us make final adjustments to the arm immediately afterwards. All surgical procedures are overseen by an expert in the biology of the patient's species, for you, that would be Medic Matthew." They nodded to Matt, who hummed in agreement without looking up from the tablet in his hands.
"Pidge. Hey Pidge." Lance whispered, poking the green paladin rapidly in the side without taking his eyes off the scar on Kurogane's neck. That had to be a coincidence, right?
Shiro seemed slightly less uncomfortable as he glanced at Matt, not that Lance blamed him. Healing pods were one thing, but undergoing surgery at the hands of aliens had to be nerve-wracking. "Okay. How long would it take to prepare the replacement prosthetic?"
"What, Lance?"
"You talk to Kurogane more than I do, how did he get that scar on his neck?" Lance kept his voice low and his gestures small, not wanting to alert the subject of their discussion that he was being talked about.
"Perhaps five rotations?" An Altean put in thoughtfully, eyeing Shiro's arms. "Your base structure does not seem too different from Altean, although the arm wouldn't need to accommodate shape-shifting. We would take some scans of your other arm in order to match its functionality. Manufacturing and assembly will take the bulk of the time."
Pidge blinked, adjusting her glasses out of habit even though the ones she had now were plain glass, for show and habit rather than function, as she peered at the time traveller. "...Oh. That's from the fight with Shiro when Haggar took control of him, I think. When we were here last time Alejandro mentioned she made Shiro try to choke Keith with his hand active."
His blood ran cold and the discussion on the other side of the room fuzzed out into white noise as images flashed in front of his eyes again.
-the odor of burning flesh-
-Keith was writhing, struggling, burning-
-despair and fear in his eyes-
Lance shook his head roughly, forcing back the images again and stubbornly forcing himself to take several deep breaths. Only once he felt sufficiently under control again did he speak. "That's when he fought her control off, though, right?"
The green paladin nodded, looking sideways at him with a confused expression. "That's what he told us, yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Dreamed about it a little while ago. The fight, I mean." He explained. "I didn't remember seeing that scar before, but I must have, otherwise why would I have dreamed about Shiro doing that to Keith? I guess my brain must've put the pieces together without me realizing it."
"Was that the night you woke up in a panic and started manhandling Keith and Shiro?" She asked curiously. There was an odd gleam in her eye that Lance knew meant she'd found something interesting to think about. What was so interesting to her about Lance's overactive imagination putting Alejandro and Kurogane's suffering into his head at night? He nodded in confirmation and she hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right. Brains are weird like that."
Lance sighed and nodded. "Yeah, it was probably a coincidence or something. My brain likes making shit up." He huffed in annoyance. "Frankly I wish it'd stop. I could do without the nightly panic attacks." Since the two time travellers had arrived with their painful revelations he'd only had one solid night's sleep without at least one anxiety-inducing nightmare. Naps seemed to be the better option, although the group sleepovers did help him get back to sleep more easily. It also helped that he wasn't the only one with night terrors, as Alejandro seemed to wake up almost as much as he did, and Kurogane and Shiro both had some of their own.
"Right. Just a coincidence." Pidge said quietly. She seemed to be staring off into space in the direction of the other group, who were finally wrapping up their discussion and scans. Seeing that they were almost ready to go, Lance pushed himself off the table to join them.
He didn't hear her mutter "and three times is enemy action." to herself behind him.