Bitter Wormwood
Chapter Summary: The Red Lion misdirects her bitterness about the lion swap, and Lance has an accident.
It changed so quickly. By lion standards, not even a fraction of a moment passed between the beginning of a newborn era and what happened after. Life began again as the Red Lion soared through the cosmos, shut away no longer behind a barrier blazing red in a the hanger of a Galran battleship. And then – flash. The Black Paladin was gone.
The Black Lion grieved. He sprawled in the central hanger, limp and unresponsive. Red thought he might remain that way for another millennia, but, of course, that didn't happen. She may not have heard the commission Shiro gave beyond the corrupted wormhole, but had she not carried Voltron's second-in-command since the days of Alfor?
So Keith ascended to become the head of Voltron, and Red told herself she should be proud. That carried her through the first tumultuous trade, the one with Blue wailing while her paladin pressed his hands to her shield and begged… But Blue obeyed the rules that fate had set, and so did Red. She roared, calling for one who was not her pilot, and when he arrived, she opened her maw and let him in. She let him press her controls, connect to her mind and spirit and soul. And they flew. Into battle and into sight of Keith, who was now at the helm of The Black Lion.
Intense, hot emotion had boiled up then, and Red told herself it was pride she felt – pride. But when it was all over and the Blue Paladin was panting in her cockpit, bowed over and raw with the strain of piloting her, she realized she wasn't proud. She was seething.
This manifested in the pilot chair jerking back with more force than necessary. The Blue Paladin grunted as he was partially dislodged, the tether withdrawing with a snap. He looked up, eyes wide, and she could feel his uncertainty.
'Red?'
She pinched off the connection between them. She knew it hurt him because his teeth snapped together, but Red didn't care. He wasn't hers, and she didn't want him. Eventually, the former Blue Paladin levered himself onto his feet and wobbled down the hatchway. Red was relieved to have him gone.
Things were not going well with the lions. Lance could admit that much. It wasn't terrible. Voltron could fly once again, and that mattered. He'd seen it in the faces of their allies, in the carvings on the walls of their sacred spaces, in the hushed tone that carried through their stories. The universe needed Voltron. Which is why, as he rubbed his temples with both his hands, he resolved that he was just going to have to deal with this thing between him and Red.
It was complicated, though.
He watched Allura in her new pink uniform speaking to Keith and Kolivan. Coran stood nearby, hands tucked behind him. They were making serious decisions. Lance could tell because of Keith's pinched expression. A tactician rather than a strategist, he had a tendency to get too focused. But Keith was coping, with Lance to back him up. Lance's subconscious murmured, 'Seems you've found your true niche, Lancy-boy - backup.' He forced away the words. They weren't helping. After all, he was doing what he was supposed to do, wasn't he? He'd given up his own bid for leadership, given up his ego to follow Keith, given up his lion to support his team. Wasn't that enough?
"Lance."
His head jerked up. "Yes, Princess?" Allura was frowning. He hadn't exactly been invited into their conversation, but now he wished he'd been paying more attention. Her eyes darted toward the doorway, and he got it. Ah. They wanted him to leave. He stood with barely a wobble, hiding the rubbery feeling in his legs with a smile. "Sorry," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'll just – go get some work done, then."
Keith was watching; his unblinking eyes followed Lance to the door, and Lance wished he knew what he was thinking. They'd sunk into a partnership, the two of them, and sometimes it felt right. Lance could sense it in the bond when they formed Voltron: kinship, peace, and trust, singing between them like a rope of light. But other times… Well, then Lance hardly knew where he stood. Like with Red –
He really didn't want to think about Red right now.
Of course, he couldn't avoid it. Not even for a few hours, since he'd told Allura he'd get some work done. Work meant one of two things to him: he could train or he could do chores. Lethargy weighed on him with a heavy hand, and he was sure he'd get his butt kicked by even a level four gladiator. So chores it was.
He found himself in the hanger. Her hanger. He tried not to come here, but sometimes he couldn't help it. He was drawn to her like a tide returning home. Again and again, he came, even though he knew he had no right to these stolen moments. In this case, at least, he could pretend it was duty that motivated him. Allura was too busy for menial tasks, but they still needed doing.
The lions were big, much larger than they appeared from space, where distances were often so massive. Still, Lance took his time. With great care, he went over the Blue Lion's paneling for dings and scratches he could buff away. He examined her moving parts and eased them with lubricant. He washed her with warm water, remembering how her strange voice had once burbled with laughter in the back of his mind while he did so – before, when their minds had been connected.
All was eerily silent now.
'At least she isn't putting up a barrier,' he told himself as he diligently scrubbed. He ignored the way the paneling blurred. 'Even if you can't hear her anymore, at least she's right here. You can still feel her.'
He laid his hand on the metal. Once, it had felt textured and alive when he touched it, but now it wasn't much different than any ship. The thought pained him, and he closed his eyes. It wasn't true. She was there. He just wasn't able to sense her anymore.
'Blue,' he spoke, willing the thought to reach her. He leaned forward until his forehead touched her. 'I'm still here, and I love you.'
Nothing.
He put away all of the cleaning materials, turned off the hanger lights, and left his lion – no, Allura's lion – as the bulkhead doors shut behind his back.
Blue was being visited. Red could feel her sorrow as the boy stood in front of her, speaking soft words of regret. Blue still loved him, this child of earth. Her devotion was like the ocean; you could take away from it, but there was always more surging to replace what was lost. This was why, though she pined for Lance, Blue could accept the Altean princess. She had room enough in her heart for two.
Red did not, and her bitterness grew.
It was more than just loneliness. Every time Keith struggled, Red longed to aid him. Instead, she was forced to watch him charge around in the Black Lion, consumed by his doubts. Her new pilot made things worse. 'Shut up,' Red had hissed more than once, directly into his mind. It forced his jaw to snap shut, but only for a moment. Because Lance wasn't like Alfor or Keith. She could force him to leave her cockpit wrung out, panting, his emotions in turmoil, but she was fire and he was water. The most she seemed able to do is sear him.
Her frustration was already there when Lance arrived, the motion sensors activating and bathing the hanger in harsh light. Red hated the sticky feeling of obligation that drew him, as though she needed his petty attention. But he did come, as predictable as always. He stood in front of her, shoulders low and subdued. "Hey, Red."
He used to talk more. Babble. On and on, like a child who had not learned to control himself. Nowadays, he mostly knew better. He kept things brief, but even so he couldn't seem to help himself from saying something.
"I thought you could use a once over after that last battle. How do you feel about a bath?"
For ten thousand years, the Red Lion had sat in a Galra ship and gathered dust. She'd hated it, the stiff feeling of joints which no longer moved, the gritty feeling of congealing grease and drifting particles. To some degree, that had changed at the castle. Keith was a good mechanic, and he never neglected her, but he wasn't into aesthetics. This human was different. After every battle, he appeared without fail to clean a robot the size of a battle cruiser. He was meticulous, dutiful. Gentle.
Ugh, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Lance didn't wait for her to answer. From toe to tail tip, he missed no crevice. First the body check, searching for beaches in the hull even though he knew there was nothing but superficial damage. Still he took careful stock. Afterwards, cleaning. Brisk and hot, the way she liked it, and it annoyed her that he knew that. He was perched on her shoulder, working at a particularly stubborn mark, when he spoke. "Kolivan is here."
The Blades of Marmora were interesting allies. Of course, Red didn't care that they were Galra. Her leader had once been Galra, though that ended so poorly. Keith was Galra, though he was also human.
The rag in Lance's hand hesitated. "It's been hard on Keith. He can't stand the thought of stepping into Shiro's shoes. Allura's struggling, too. It hasn't been an easy adjustment for any of us, has it, girl?"
How dare he assume her feelings. She fumed, wishing she could make him stop.
"Hunk is doing okay, I guess. He has nightmares, but he mostly drowns out his anxiety by disassembling things. Pidge is trying to glue her eyeballs to a computer screen. Keith is having the hardest time, though." Lance cleared his throat, and something in his voice changed, grew more serious. "It doesn't help that you and I aren't syncing properly," he said, and though he had spoken almost below the threshold of human hearing, Red had no trouble detecting his hoarse whisper.
Lance looked her in the eye. "I get it. You had to do something you didn't want to do for the sake of your team. I'm not your pilot. Keith is, and you want him back."
The words cut into her, shearing slivers off of Red's indifference, reaching to inner parts which she thought were hidden. Without her willing it, her panels started to vibrate.
If Lance noticed it, he made no sign. "I'm not going to try to take his place, you know. I don't want that, even though you're amazing." He gave a little chuckle. "You're fast and powerful. The kind of ship I used to dream of piloting. But we can't keep going on like this, Red. The others are counting on us, and I can barely think straight after we fly together. My skin always feels like it's burning, pin and needles. Like you," he gulped, "hate me."
She did. She did.
"Well, I can accept that," he said, though the hoarseness in his voice suggested otherwise. "But for better or for worse, this is the way things are right now. Can't we work together? Can't you accept me, at least as someone who's trying to keep the team together? Please?"
He sounded so earnest. It eked out of his spirit, which was attached to her own. His eyes caught the hanger lights, glassy. Hopeful.
And suddenly, Red was more than annoyed. She was angry.
Angry, that she had been taken captive by the ones who had murdered Alfor. Angry, for the millennia she had spent as their prisoner. Angry, that she'd had so little time to cherish her freedom. And angry at this brazen child who dared lecture her, as though an infant from a backward planet knew anything of her history, anything of her legacy, anything of her bond with her pilots. Her desire to place blame had until now been frustrated. As much as she might want to, she couldn't blame the Black Paladin. Or Keith, for accepting the role he'd been destined to take. Or Blue, for being flexible when Red was not. Yet the vitriol inside of Red tormented her. It had to go somewhere. So she chose to blame Lance, the only one who was listening. The only one who was there.
"Red," Lance said. He was sweating all of a sudden, and his bare hand, which had been resting on her panels, yanked back. "Ow! Hey, what are you –" Waves of heat began to rise from the metal. Its color changed, and soon it was too great for the fabric of Lance's clothes to protect him. He struggled to adjust his position without touching the red-hot metal with bare skin. "Red, stop!"
She did not listen.
Lance's was panting. Moved beyond the threshold of tolerance, he was forced to move. He slid his legs free, intending to swing for her leg, but the moment his hands made contact, pain blazed through their bond. Immolated fingers spasemed, a scream rent the air – and he fell. Red watched him slam into her leg on the way down. Watched him hit the ground with a crack. Watched his neck twist on impact. When he stopped moving he was on his side, and his hair was gory with blood.
Red remained in her place until the motion-sensitive timer expired and the lights in the hanger went dark.
Keith walked the halls, uneasy in his mind. He knew something was wrong. Actually, that was an understatement. Everything was wrong. In fact, "wrong" seemed like a pretty dull, inexpressive word to describe the knife that went through Keith every time he thought about Shiro, who was out there somewhere while he stayed in the castle, floundering around in an attempt to lead. Lotor was playing them for fools, everyone's confidence was down the latrine, and the only bright spot was that he and Lance were getting along, which, considering their history, it was kind of a miracle. Yet Keith had come to depend on Lance, who always seemed to know when he was at his lowest.
Hence the hall-walking. After being on the receiving end of that weak-ass smile Lance shot him on the bridge, he knew something was bothering his second-in-command, and this time he was determined to be the one who did something about it. The problem was, Keith couldn't find Lance anywhere. "Where are you?" he mumbled.
Out of nowhere, a spike of adrenaline hit him. It whited out his senses, and when he came back to himself, he was leaning again the wall, his ribs aching. Someone was shaking his shoulder, and he realized it was Hunk. "Keith, what's wrong? We heard you yell all the way down the hall. Are you hurt?"
Keith shook his head. "Where's Lance?" He hadn't intended to say that, but now that the words were out, his throat clenched around anxiety. "Have either of you seen him?"
"Not since this morning. Why? You think something's wrong?"
Pidge was frowning. "We can check with Allura and Coran. If they haven't seen him, we can always use the ship's computer."
Keith nodded. "Do it. I'm going to check the lion hangers."
They parted ways, and Keith headed toward the space where the lions were held. Red's hanger seemed like the place to start, but when the doors opened, it was dark and unoccupied. Still, he stepped inside. The sensors activated, snapping on like the shutter of a camera lens. In that moment he saw Red. "Hey, girl," he greeted, but the rumble of welcome he expected didn't come. There was a scrub brush at his feet, the kind they used for washing their lions. Keith kicked it, surprised to find it lying around. He scanned the area. There was a shadow just beyond Red's claws. Keith squinted to make it out. His brain registered a sneaker, a foot. Cold horror shot through him, and he bolted forward. "Lance!"
Keith grabbed him, intending to give him a shake, but stopped when he saw how limp he was. With trembling fingers, he pressed the space beneath his jaw…and felt the flutter of a heartbeat. Only then did Keith actually breath. Lance wasn't dead. But he was in bad shape. His hair hung in hunks over a halo of partially congealed blood. Quiznak, how long had he been lying here? If it had been any amount of time, shock would have set in, and the fact that he was still unconscious was a bad sign. He needed help.
He ran to the nearest comm and slammed his hand down on it. "Coran!"
Coran answered almost instantly. "My good man, you're right where we need you. The computer says that Lance is in the Red Lion's hanger. Is he with you?"
"He's here, but he's hurt." Keith looked back over his shoulder. "Coran, I think he fell."
"From the lion?" Coran sounded shocked. "Is he conscious?"
"No, and, Coran – his neck looks strange."
Silence echoed back. Finally, Coran answered. "I've alerted the others, and I'm on my way. Keep him warm, and, whatever you do, make sure he stays still."
The only thing Keith had was his jacket, which he draped over Lance. "What happened?" Keith whispered in confusion as he hunched, waiting for the others. "You're so careful around the lions."
The lions.
But no, that couldn't be. Keith looked at the silent beast overhead, his former companion, and a question began to form in his mind. The lions weren't just metal and pistons. They were alive, and they were connected to their pilot. How could Lance have fallen without Red intervening? And why had she not sought help? A roar of anger echoed in his mind, and his eyes widened. That didn't sound like Black or Red.
It sounded like Blue.
"Red," Keith said. "Did you…do this?"
Before he could fully process the idea, the hanger doors opened and there were pounding footsteps. Hunk's cry of anguish – "Lance!" – was quickly overridden by Coran's hurried orders as they secured Lance's delicate parts and lifted him onto a gurney so that he could be safely moved. "Is he going to be okay?" Hunk asked, tears flowing unashamedly down his face. He was clinging to Lance's hand.
Coran compressed his lips.
"The healing pod is waiting," Allura said. They were already moving toward the door.
Standing erect, Keith looked again at the Red Lion. His eyes smoldered.
Red waited.
She waited a long time after they took Blue's cub away. He hadn't moved, not when they called his name, and not when they touched his head and the bones yielded beneath their hands, and not when they lifted him. There was a blotch on the floor that no one had cleaned yet. It was brown, tacky.
Red listened.
She listened to the hum of the castle and its minds in the background of her own. The Black Lion was displeased. His rumble was castigating. Blue had not stopped roaring. If anyone had doubted her attachment to her former pilot, there was no doubt now. Active and furious, she paced her hanger and yowled out her rage. Red flinched every time their minds brushed, but she kept her distance.
And Keith. She could hear Keith's thoughts, too.
He finally came to her, late in the ship's night. He came like a cloud of thunder. His boots snapped against the metal panels, and he squared with her – small, like organic life tended to be – but equal in measure of fierceness and fury.
"Red," he bit out. She wanted to explain, but he cut the air between them with his hand when she tried to connect to his mind. "Don't!"
Wounded, her eyes lighted. She crooned to him.
He jabbed with his finger. "I saw his hands. They were blistered down to the bone. If it weren't for Altean magic, that alone would have crippled him. His legs were a mess, too. We had to cut the fabric off of him, peel it away from raw skin. Do you know what that smelled like?"
Red didn't know. She couldn't smell, but she knew the sizzle of burnt flesh. Knew the texture, the color.
"And what's worse," Keith said, "is that he didn't make a sound. Do you get that, Red? I was sure he was paralyzed or brain dead or – or something, but what I still don't get is why."
This time he let her in enough that her thoughts could be known to him. She spoke into the space that used to be sacred between them, whispering of the gaping loss she felt, of the ache in her metal bones when she saw Keith flying the Black Lion. She spoke of fire and water, how incompatible she and the Blue Paladin were, of how much she hated being forced to take another, so soon. She showed him Lance in her cockpit, struggling to control her speed and power. Showed him carefully removing a scorch mark with his too-gentle hands. Showed his awkward attempt to woo and wink at her before he'd finally given up and merely endured, as she did.
She showed him that day, and the rage that had billowed up like steam from a geyser. Rage she couldn't contain. Couldn't ignore. She drew in Keith's mind the fumble of Lance's burnt hands. The crack of his head, the gush of blood. The silence and dark that followed. She revealed it all, because this was her pilot, and how could she hide anything from him?
By the time she was finished, Keith's fists were trembling. "So that's it," he said. "You were angry about the situation we're in, so you decided to murder your paladin."
She recoiled. Murder. No.
"Don't act like you didn't know what you were doing. What did you think was going to happen?" Keith snapped at her.
Keith was wrong. Red didn't like Lance, but she didn't want him to…to cease. He was Blue's cub. Her favorite child. For her alone, Red wouldn't want him permanently gone. Blue roared in the back of her mine, vengeant, bereaved, and Red saw an image of Lance's injured body play over her memory banks.
Keith's eyes were whetted. "Now you're sorry?"
The lions could not physically tremble. They weren't made that way, but Red did feel a great unhappiness, as big or bigger than the unhappiness she'd felt before, when Keith left her.
"Listen to me, Red," Keith said. "Do you think I want to pilot the Black Lion? Shiro's lion? To sit in the seat where he sat, to reach for you and know you aren't there? But we aren't the only ones affected. Lance spends hours in Blue's hanger, and she never talks back. Sometimes she even puts up her barrier. How do you think that makes him feel? I know she has her reasons. I know that everything, all of this, is for a reason, but it sucks, and the only one of us who hasn't been an emotional baby about it is Lance. You saw, Red. If it hadn't been for him riding my tail, I'd have gotten us all killed on Thaseryix."
Thaseryix had been terrible. Lance had shouted at Keith again and again, and no matter how Red boiled up to silence him, he had not relented. True, in the end, Lance had helped them survive, but Red had not been able to forgive him.
"You were wrong, Red," Keith said, and he didn't look so much angry anymore as sad. "You were wrong, and if Lance dies, I swear on my father's memory, I'll never pilot you again."
Red roared a denial, getting to her feet, but Keith turned and walked out of the hanger.
Several quintants had passed before the hanger door activated again, admitting a slender shadow. Lance worked up the nerve to step into the huge space, trembling like a newborn calf. Coran said the tremors were a side effect of the nerve regeneration, a byproduct of how deep the cyropod had needed to work into the layers of his tissue. It was supposed to wear off in time, though the crease in Coran's forehead hadn't exactly been comforting. 'Think about it later,' Lance coached himself, stepping farther into the room.
He passed the place where he'd fallen. There was nothing to mark the spot anymore, but a shiver went through him all the same. He could remember it, faintly. The impact at least. After that, there had been a splintering moment of pain, then nothing. Judging from haunted expression on Hunk's face, it was probably for the best. At least Hunk hadn't been the one to find him. No, that was poor Keith, which was almost as bad. At least Hunk would clutch him and emote all over the place until it was out of his system. Keith… Well, Keith had glared at Lance from the moment he got out of the cryopod, which might have been offensive if it weren't, you know, Keith.
'Why do I always have to be the one to fix everything?' he wondered, but not with real annoyance. He was flying around space with two aliens, two introverted nerds, and a socially awkward penguin. Of course he had to initiate everything. That was the reason he was here, even though he'd barely had time to grow used to the new, fleshy-pink skin on his hands and thighs.
"Anybody home?" he said into the void.
Red wasn't in her usual spot. Instead, he found her tucked into the farthest corner, and his eyebrows rose into his hairline. He'd never seen the lions curl up like that. Pity shot through him, despite everything. He'd never been able to figure what the lions were, whether animal or robot or something unlike either of those. What he did know is that they were alien – and not alien like Coran and Allura, whose emotional lives were in many ways much like humans. No, the lions were truly otherworldly. It didn't change what happened, but it did give him perspective.
"Red?"
Yellow eyes burned out of the darkness.
"It's me, Lance," he said, though it was hardly necessary. He rubbed his hands up and down on his arms. "I know. Probably not the one you were hoping to see."
She shifted, movements as liquid as though her muscles were flesh and bone instead of cord and metal. He wouldn't lie. It made his heart hammer to see her approach him like that. She didn't attack, though. Something in him must have known she wouldn't. She stopped just beyond, and he sensed her waiting. Waiting for what?
Lance took a deep breath. "So, Keith is pretty upset."
He might have been crazy, but Lance thought he saw the lion shudder. Could the lions even do that?
"He won't talk to me much, because he's managed to make this all his fault. Plus he's angry with you, so, of course, he's miserable. I think it would help if you and I, I dunno, talked or something?" It sounded stupid, really stupid, when he came right out with it. What exactly did one say to a giant robot lion who might have maimed or even killed you? Another tremor went through him, and his knees knocked. He really ought to sit down.
The Red Lion moved. She lowered her face, putting them at eye level. A soft sound came from her, the quietest sound Lance had ever heard her make. He hesitated. Then, tentatively, he touched her cool nose. The connection snapped instantly into place. It wasn't the first time, but somehow it was entirely new. Instead of an intense heat that scorched the edges of him, Lance found himself in a mental space that smelled like cedar. Cool green flames tickled him like driftwood on the beach, and he couldn't help the little gasp that came out of his mouth.
Red spoke.
It was a song of sorry's. It was a confession about the frustration still knotting her inner parts. She wailed it all straight into his heart, and Lance listened, never removing his hand. He listened to everything, and when she got to the image of him on the ground and he mentally looked away, he felt her remorse. In the end, Lance took a deep breath. Smiled a wan, half-formed smile. "I understand."
Red roared. It filled the whole space and no doubt had his friends dashing from wherever it was they were. He hadn't exactly told them he was coming here. No doubt they wouldn't have let him, at least not by himself, but he and Red needed to be alone. He let the concussion of sound roll over him, and when it was over, Red sank down onto her belly, her head lolling. She was a picture of wretchedness.
Lance patted her huge face. "It's okay, girl. I forgive you. Let's start again," he suggested, even as what sounded like a herd of cattle headed in their direction. Clearly their moment was about to be cut short. "What do you say?"
The hanger door burst open, and Keith sprinted through. When he saw Lance standing quietly beside the Red Lion, his eyes narrowed. "Lance."
"Hee hee," Lance said, scratching the back of his neck. "Um, hey, Keith. What's up?"
"What are you doing here?"
Lance looked at Red, who seemed to be regarding him. Their situation hadn't really changed, but he thought perhaps they had. And to be honest? He was relieved. Solve the problem between him and Red. That had been his goal before all this happened, hadn't it? So he'd had to crack his head open to do it. What was a little cranial trauma between friends? The Red Lion returned to her proud, tall stance. Lance stood beneath her, a hopeful smile dancing around his lips. Was this the real beginning of the new Red Paladin? He gave Keith a toothy grin. "We're mending," he said. "But I think we're good for now."
Keith gave his former lion a look of speculation. However, he must have seen something that reassured him, because he heaved a heavy sigh. "Let's go reassure the others. I passed Hunk on the way, and he was so tangled up in whatever wiring he was working on that I think he might strangle."
Lance joined Keith. "Let's go save him then."
Just as he passed through the door, Lance threw a look over his shoulder. The Red Lion's eyes were still following him. He winked at her and could have sworn he heard a scoff. She was, after all, Keith's lion.
Author's Note: Okay, so I actually prefer the lion swap interpretation where Red relishes having temporary custody of Lance. This was just a 'what if' scenario!
