#also i kind of wish i had the star wars pack for more options... but i am NAUGHT getting the star wars pack just to make my b7 blorbos 😭

[grinchthem]

i put avon on the sims 4 gallery if anyone wants to download him 😜

[honeylikewords]

uneasy lies the head (poe dameron)

In the wake of her passing, the official, if somewhat symbolic, royal title of Alderaan has passed to from Leia Organa to her chosen heir, Poe Dameron. Along with his elected position as the Galactic Senate Represenative for his home planet, Yavin V, Poe is now burdened with the responsibility of a political office he never imagined holding, and is called to attend a summit of the galaxy’s leaders that will be held aboard the Starcruiser Halcyon. 

This piece is based on a few things: one, me liking the idea of Prince of Alderaan Poe, two, my interest in Begrudging Politician Poe, and three, the new details that have come out about the real-life Halcyon experience that will be opening up at Disney World in Florida, which you can read more about here! I’ve been really excited about it for a long time, and just thought it’d be fun to tie one of my favorite characters in to this amazing new experience that will be coming soon! 

(Content Warnings: mentions of Leia’s de@th, some slightly risque flirting between Poe and his wife, and a little bit of making out, but that’s about it! Word count is 5k.)

Poe stands in front of the mirror, anxiously adjusting the epaulets of his tunic. They don’t seem to sit right on his shoulders, he thinks, passing a hand through their silvery fringe and watching them brush the snow-white fabric of his sleeves. This isn’t his kind of uniform, and when he looks at himself, he sees more a child wearing the spoils of a raid on their parent’s closet than the Senate representative he was meant to be. He tries tightening the high, pale collar of his tunic against his throat, swallowing thickly and watching his Adam’s apple bob beneath the colorless fabric. That didn’t help much dignify the image, he thinks, eyeing himself morosely.

He looks older. His beard is fuller, having let it grow out to appear more… wise, he supposes, and the grey streaks running through it match the ones appearing more and more every day at his temples. His tan fingers tease lightly at the end of his beard, trying to stroke it like he’d seen other, more senior politicians do when lost in thought (or at least trying to come across like they were). It makes him look pretentious.

Sighing loudly, he slumps his taut shoulders and rolls them a few times to loosen the aching muscles. He turns away from the mirror and steps out of the dressing room, entering the stateroom and collapsing onto the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. He hears a door hiss open and looks between his fingers at the emerging figure.

She’s still fidgeting with her hair, which is now lifted from its former looseness into a series of intricate looping braids. Letting out a huff, she takes her hands away, seemingly having resigned herself to leaving the hair as it was. Poe lifts his head a little, resting his chin on his palm as he watches her pat her dress and check the mirror in the dressing room, just as he’d been doing mere moments before.

She looks much, much better than he does. It’s an objective fact. Her air is stately and refined, with her gown framing her regally. The fabric is a delicate, pale blue, trimmed with fine threads of gold that interweave and flow, like braided ivies, trailing up her waist in a way that guides Poe’s wandering eyes to the loveliness of her figure. She seems to belong better to this world, with its mannerisms and socialites, its political politenesses. He never had the patience to be so diplomatic, even though that is his job, now.

He watches her pull a face at herself in the mirror, frowning at some flaw he’s oblivious to, and he stands up, coming to her side and placing his hands on the small of her waist, leaning his head on her shoulder and kissing her cheek amiably.

“You look like a princess,” he purrs, hoping his flattery will encourage her confidence. He hates seeing her unhappy with herself.

“I wish,” she responds, voice tinged with something wan and far away. “I… I really do wish.”

He knows what she’s thinking about: he’d been thinking about it, too. Dropping the air of adulation, Poe reaches for her hand and gently knits their fingers together, pressing their locked hands softly against her belly for reassurance. He meets her eyes in the mirror, and the two share expressions of loss.

“I miss her, too,” he murmurs. “I don’t feel like… like I can do what she did. What she left for me to do.”

He feels his wife squeeze his hand intently, causing him to lift his head up and meet her gaze as she turns to look at him, unfiltered by the mirror. Her eyes, clear and sharp, stare at him as she nods, then kisses his forehead warmly, taking her free hand and brushing it softly across his cheek.

“She chose you for a reason,” she whispers, soft and sincere, just like she always does. “Leia left you her seat and title because you’re the only person fit for the job. She trusted you.”

Her hand dips to his jaw and she lifts his head up from its morose slump. He cannot look away from her, even if he wanted to.

“I trust you, too.”

Poe takes in all the angles of his wife’s face, knowing that no single word of what she said was untrue, but searching for the possibility of a lie anyway in some small giveaway of her expression; after all, how could he be the one fit to carry on in the shadow of his predecessor? How could his shoulders carry the burden of her greatness, much less improve upon it? But there, in her eyes, Poe sees the truth, reflected over and over again: he was chosen for this job, chosen to carry on a legacy he had no option but to strengthen. He is the only one who could, whether he believes it or not.

He straightens his back a little, standing up taller,  and squeezes his wife’s hand in silent thanks, taking a moment to press their foreheads together and breathe in the scent of her. She is wearing perfume-- something they’d never had access to during the scarcity of the war-- and he marvels at how something so small changes the entire atmosphere of her presence. She truly embodies the grace and elegance of the woman who came before both of them, looking every inch the part of an Alderaanian royal.

Glancing back at himself in the mirror, Poe huffs; while she may look, indeed, just the way Leia would want the nation to be represented, Poe does not. He looks stuffy in his garb, at times like an old man in the too-tight clothes of his youth, and, at others, like a scrawny teenager in the baggy trappings of someone he was only pretending to be. She seems to sense his dismay, as she takes the initiative to comfort him, this time.

“You look dashing,” she smiles, adjusting his lapels and the ribbons of decoration on his chest. “Prince Poe Dameron, Senate Representative of Alderaan and Yavin IV. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

At that, Poe lets out a playful, exasperated huff, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be great,” he grimaces, eyeing his form in the mirror. He raises his voice into a mocking lilt, swaying his head from side to side in an intentionally cartoonish parody of a stuffy bureaucrat. “Oh, Senator Y’Barra, your engagement commission is most dreadful! Shall we discuss its heinousness over tea and crescent crumpets? Garcon, we need more gold-dusted butter for our scones if we are ever to pass this bill!”

She covers her mouth to hide the beginnings of a smile and tries to reprimand Poe, affectionately slapping his chest.

“It’s nice that we’ve been asked to attend the summit, Poe. At least try to make some--”

“Don’t say friends,” he groans. “I don’t want to make friends with these people. They’re politicians; they don’t want to do anything other than profit, and post-war reconstruction is a hell of a time to make money for slime bags like these people.”

That seems to take her back for a moment, and Poe watches her expression shift as she sorts through her thoughts, her lips pursed, eyebrows arched. She then shrugs and nods, acquiescing.

“Probably. But there are probably also people like you: people whose service in the war and dedication to their people, all across this galaxy, led them to this job. People who just want to rebuild. Do better. You’ll find them, dear: you’re an excellent judge of character.”

She taps her fingers against his nose playfully.

“After all, you picked me, didn’t you?”

“If I remember correctly,” Poe teases, lowering his eyes to her lips and smirking, “You were the one to get a crush on me first. All butterflies and nerves anytime I so much as passed you in the halls. More like you picked me, huh?”

Poe catches her face take on the familiar cues of embarrassment and flustering; he can just tell he’s got her all a-twitter, and she pouts her lips, looking down at her shoes shyly as he starts to chuckle. It’s adorable to remember how flighty and skittish she was in those early days, and how enamored of her he himself was, and remains. Getting her all shy like this is a sweet harkening back to that early, giddy tension, and he dips his face down, hovering his lips just above hers, feeling her draw in a breath of neediness and--

“Senator Dameron,” a robotic voice announces through the commlink in the stateroom, freezing Poe in place. “The ferry is beginning docking procedures with the Halcyon. Please proceed to the boarding area. A droid will be sent to collect your luggage as you leave.”

“Ah, shit,” he growls. He’d completely lost track of time.

Dodging back out into the stateroom, Poe glances out the window and sees the looming mass of a gigantic starcruiser, a sharp body of glimmering steel and inky black portholes contrasted against the star field behind it. It is massive-- far larger than any ship Poe had personally piloted in the past-- and spans more than the distance his window could afford a view of. They are extremely close, and within minutes will be aboard the behemoth, where Poe will have to eat, sleep, and breathe senatorial and princely dignity.

He turns away from the window to see his wife making sure everything was packed and prepared for departure, checking the bathroom and dressing room before giving him a confirming nod: everything is where it needs to be. They are ready to go.

They walk towards each other and Poe places his hands on his wife’s arms, stroking up and down the bareness of her shoulders to steady himself. As he feels the warmth of her skin beneath his rough palms, Poe blinks with awareness and gives her a quick squeeze, darting off to the dressing room. He opens a trunk and lifts up the topmost layer of fabric, running back into the stateroom with it carefully laid across both his forearms, then turns his wife to face him and gently lays the upper corners of the fabric on each of her shoulders.

“The cloak,” he mumbles as he fastens the pale silver silk around her neck, “Don’t wanna forget that. A princess is set apart by garments like that.”

“Right,” she hums, admiring his hands as he fusses with her collar. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that since you’re the prince, now, and I married you, I’m the--”

“Princess, yep,” grins Poe. “Princess Dameron.”

“By marriage only,” she teases.

“And I’m only the prince because she left an essentially honorary title to me,” Poe wits back. “But it suits you, at least.”

“You think?”

“Mm. Now, I think the prince owes his princess one of the tenets of royal responsibility: unadulterated affection towards one’s spouse.”

“Is that a tenet of your responsibilities?,” she smiles, brow cocked.

“I just made it up, but I like to think so.”

Once again, Poe presses his palms against the soft curves of her upper arms, squeezing in the grounding manner he knows she likes, tracing his thumbs along the creamily-smooth fabric now covering her, and he leans in close, admiring how the light shifts against her skin as his shadow draws nearer. He parts his lips, ready to feel the gentle swell of her soft ones against his, when, as if by divine interruption, the hydraulic hiss of the stateroom’s door fills the room and a silver-plated protocol droid peers at him through the now-open door. He grits his teeth to resist letting out a completely undignified expletive aimed at the droid and stares at it pointedly, trying to silently communicate that it had interrupted a private moment.

“It is time to board the Halcyon, Senator,” it chimes in the lilting manner all protocol droids seem to have, seemingly blissfully unaware of his frustration. “Please, come with me to the boarding area.”

Behind the protocol droid, a cargo lifter droid rolls by, seemingly waiting until Poe and his wife leave the cabin to enter. Poe sighs, but can’t resist letting a small chuckle out: both droids, despite their different purposes, both seem polite, in their own sorts of ways, and he always finds that endearing.

Looking to his wife, Poe gives a little bemused half-smile and shrugs his shoulders, as if apologetic but resigned. She takes his hand and turns, nodding to both droids with an impassive but gracious expression, one that Poe notes is more than befitting of an official such as herself. Distanced, but not dour, regal, but not recalcitrant. He loves it.

“Thank you,” she says, coolly polite. “Please, lead the way.”

The protocol droid begins its stiff-jointed hobble towards the boarding area and Poe and his wife trail behind, arms linked at the elbow as Poe fidgets with her fingers. He twiddles her marriage band as they walk, always comforted by the feel of it on her hand. He admires it as they silently proceed; it’s somewhat rough-hewn, made from hammered durasteel, a little uneven and dented in some places from the haste in which it was made, and Poe loves it.

He loves how it contrasts the delicate, fragile jewelry common amongst royals, how it’s not meant to glitter and shine and grab attention, how it ties her to him and he to her, with no regard for image or pomp. It is heavy and solid and made purely for the sake of love and belonging, and she wears it everywhere she goes with pride, as if it was the finest-cut Oshiran sapphire, or the most carefully sculpted gold. It is one of the crown jewels of Alderaan, now, and the thought of it-- of his parent’s simple, quickly-made wedding ring, forged in a time of war, without promise of any moment past the one they were in, now being a royal regalia-- makes his heart ache to bursting with unadulterated love.

Poe tugs her hand up and kisses her knuckles as they finally round the corner into the boarding area; somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers the droid saying something about how their luggage will be sent directly to their stateroom aboard the Halcyon, but he’s hardly listening. He’s looking at his wife, his rock, his tether, as they begin their socialite dance, seeking steadfast comfort in her as he prepares to have to play his part in a world he was never born to be in.

The droid gestures to a corridor formed between the two ships: passengers traipse from the shuttle onto the boarding area of the Halcyon, representatives from a myriad of species in a breadth of costumes and liveries. Poe and his wife exchange glances, knowing that these people will have some hand in forming what comes next in the political landscape of the galaxy, and that they, too, will be instrumental in forging the new governments of the rising Republic.

“Come on,” she smiles, trying to coax him along, tugging his hand and taking a step forward, “It’s gonna be fine. It’s not like my flyboy to get cold feet, hm?”

Poe chuckles and shakes his head, trying to dislodge his clouding worries, and walks in time with his wife, joining the throngs of senators and royals and presidents and diplomats making their way aboard the Halcyon. Some of them exchange pleasantries, others are locked in conversations: some even look at Poe and his wife and nod in acknowledgement, or turn to their compatriots and whisper.

Poe feels an embarrassed heat creep up the base of his neck; he knows rumors have circulated about his particularly unusual position as a representative for a dead planet and a living one, and about how he’d been named the next in line for a royal title he was not born into. He tries not to let it get to him-- let people think that they think, and do your job, Leia had always told him-- but the feeling of alienation and disbelonging hangs over him, shaming him into silence. He tenses, and keeps his eyes fixed forward, which grants him an ever-nearing view of the grand foyer of the massive starcruiser.

The Halcyon is unlike any other ship Poe has ever been on. He’d heard about starcruisers like this, meant to be enormous cruise ships travelling in luxury and style from one planet to another, filled with sprawling cabins and indulgent amenities, and had never even pictured himself aboard one. The thought hardly appealed to him: days, weeks, even, of doing nothing? Just wandering aimlessly around, decadent and opulent in one’s revelry? The mere idea disgusts him. Still, as he steps into the expansive entry for the Halcyon, he finds himself feeling something other than disgust: he feels strangely at home.

The area is bustling as ship workers and bellhops collect luggage and transfer it to droids, as greeters guide guests to check in areas and hand them keycards, as officers check passports and documentation against databases, all lit under the glow of thousands of lights, which reflect off polished durasteel and marble surfaces. Holo projections provide information about travel destinations and the cruise itself in hundreds of different tongues, while a massive projection of the captain glows a familiar blue and greets the boarding politicians.

Poe turns in awe, gazing at the dozens of porthole windows affording views of distant and nearby star clusters, at the navigational crew high above, checking maps and charting courses, and takes a deep, steadying breath in through his nose, squeezing his wife’s hand tight. The hum and thrall of the ship, with its thousands of moving parts and requisite workers, feels exactly like all the ships he’d served on during the Rebellion. He half-believes that if he closes his eyes and turns around, he’ll open them and see Leia there, giving orders and directing the workflow.

The memory sits on his heart, but instead of a heavy, lingering pain, it kindles a warm, growing fire: she lives on in him. She would be proud to see him carrying on the mantle, working to do what no one else has the skill, speech, or stones to do. She is never really gone. Never can be.

Instilled with strength and purpose, Poe looks to his wife, who is staring at the gargantuan hub of activity before her, almost taken aback by how bustling it is. He leans down and gently pecks her cheek, tugging her along and breaking her out of her trance. They’ve got places to be, things to do, royal engagements to avoid, after all. As they begin to move closer to what Poe believes is the reception desk, a Twi’lek in a sleek, almost military-looking white uniform steps in front of Poe and his wife, grinning from green ear to ear.

“Senator Dameron, Princess Dameron,” she greets, bowing at the waist respectfully, “I am Lyna’ame, and I’ll be directing you regarding your stay on the Halcyon. Thank you for honoring us with your patronage.”

“Uh, thank you for having us,” Poe stammers, unsure of how to conduct himself in such a position.

Lyna’ame looks up at him with a quizzical eye, but seems too well-trained to respond with anything more than a polite smile and a nod. She produces from the pocket of her grey-trimmed suit a pair of infochips, extending them towards Poe and his wife.

“You will be staying in the royal suite on Deck B, unit number eighteen,” Lyna’ame smiles. “These chips will act as your keys to the room and to any amenities you should wish to access, and will remind you of upcoming engagements or conferences you should be in attendance of.”

As if on cue, the small screens on the infochips light up and read “19:00: Senatorial Dinner In Ballroom One!” Poe blinks at it, then flashes Twi’lek a cordial but slightly cold smile, taking the chips from her hand and tucking them unceremoniously into his breast pocket.

“Alright, thanks. I think we can get it from here.”

She seems not to register his attempt to tie off the loop of the conversation, continuing anyway.

“You will also have access to all the facilities of the ship, including the swimming areas, dining areas, lounges, bars, activity centres, spas and--”

“I’ll check the brochure in the room,” Poe smiles, searching for an exit. “I appreciate it, but, uh, my wife is very tired--” --Poe nudges her with an elbow and she balks, then understands his intention and mimes a yawn, nodding sympathetically-- “--And I’d love to get her some rest before any hobnobbing, y’know?”

“Of course, your highness,” Lyna’ame says, again accompanied by a civil bow. “The elevators are to the left. Press your infochip to the pad and it will take you to your floor. Your luggage should already be in your room, and please,” she smiles. “Enjoy your cruise.”

Poe bows back, then leads his wife by the elbow to the elevators, where they tap their key card and the doors hiss open. As they board, just the two of them, Poe’s wife turns to face him and raises one eyebrow, haughty.

“Really threw me under the bus there, Poe,” she smirks. “‘Oh, my wife wants to leave this conversation because my wife is awkward and doesn’t know how to handle subordinate behavior from service workers’. Real nice.”

Rolling his eyes, Poe can’t help but smile, and instead of replying, drops his hand to the small of his wife’s back, grazing his fingers there for a moment before dipping slightly lower and--

She jumps, then giggles, hitting him with a shocked but not at all displeased expression.

“Did you just pinch my ass?”

“Maybe,” he smiles. “Why?”

“You just seemed so…” She touches his arm, searching for the right word, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Severe, before. Lost.”

“Feeling better. Feeling… like I can do this, maybe. Or at least do what I need to do, even if it doesn’t look exactly like how everybody else might expect me to.”

At that she purses her lips and nods, and he can tell she’s happy for him: he’s not entirely out of the woods about this whole ‘galactic representative’ thing, and certainly not used to all the expectations that come with being the heavy head that wears the crown, but he’s going to be alright. At least, he feels like he is, at this moment, and that’s all that matters.

Poe finds himself allowing his smile to grow wider as he dips down and nuzzles her temple, teasing his lips over her ear, tempting and toying.

“I still hate the suit,” he whispers, sending her shivering, “And I don’t want to talk to these people like we’re all buddy-buddy--”

“--Acknowledged, Senator,” she teases, rubbing his arm in the way that lets him know she’s itching to get more handsy.

“But we’re gonna have a private room,” he continues, “And a lock on the door, and at least--” --He checks the infocard, which reads “17:05”-- “--About two hours before anybody’s gonna need us, so I say we shimmy out of these nice duds…”

Poe’s finger trails down the silky rivulets of her collarbones; he has to admit, he does find her massively attractive in this royal robing, but he figures it’ll be less hassle for both of them to assure he doesn’t get too rowdy while they’re wearing some of the best (and irreplaceably expensive) fineries in the galaxy, so he’ll have to bid her pretty little dress and luxurious cape adieu for their stateroom rendezvous. Not that he minds: the dress might be pretty, but the woman underneath is ten times more so. Besides, she can always put it back on again for the dinner, anyway.

“We go see what kind of minibar we’re looking at,” Poe teases, watching her roll her eyes, “Hop in the bath, and see where those two hours take us.”

“Mm, we’ll see,” she demures, patting his chest. He knows she likes to dance around it, never say anything too scandalous where someone else can hear, and he loves that; she extends the tension, making him wait for what he wants. He may not ever have been a patient man before, but she forces him to slow down, savor it, work for it. And that’s delicious.

The elevator doors slide open as Poe leads his wife out into the hall, kissing her jaw as he checks the suite numbers. They shuffle along, exchanging little pecks and touches in the graciously empty hallway (what would the other representatives think, she reminds him in a hushed tone as they pass rooms, if they saw the new prince of Alderaan and Senator for Yavin V hanging off his wife like a pubescent teen?) before arriving at suite eighteen. Poe fumbles in his breast pocket, keeping his lips planted on his wife’s neck, then slaps the infochip haphazardly against the door. It clicks open, and Poe doesn’t even bother to look inside: he just coaxes his wife in, and tumbles in after her.

The lights in the room slowly turn on automatically, rising from a low dim to a sunny brightness, illuminating white-panelled walls and a lush, wide bed, all the furniture sharply clean and sleekly modern, trimmed in shades of black and silver. A massive window shows the endless expanse of space beyond the double-layered transparisteel, and while Poe would normally be more inquisitive and peek around the room to admire it, he’s more than occupied as he pushes his face deeper in the warm, scented crook of his wife’s neck.

“Careful,” she warns as his hand starts to pet at the base of her head, eking dangerously close to the beginnings of her hair roots, “These braids took me hours. I don’t want to have to re-do them, Dameron”

“I get that,” he breathes heavily, “But you look really hot with messy hair and--”

“If we’re going to go to that dinner, I’m not going to go with my hair flying everywhere! I’ll look like a… well, you know!”

“Like a woman well-loved by her husband,” Poe teases, nipping at her jaw. “But, fine, we’ll skip the dinner, and I’ll just keep you all to myself. Nobody else has to see. In fact, I’d prefer they didn’t.”

His eyes glimmer with wolfish promise as he sets his wife down on the edge of the white-blanketed bed, staring at her as her skirts form pools of silver and blue. He’s serious: the summit dinner all but disappears from his mind as he looks at her; how beautiful she is. How elegant. So poised and pretty and his, all his, to love until all the suns swallow themselves and burn out. All these representatives won’t miss him at one measly, lousy dinner, right? Not when he has the love of his life to attend to, surely.

“What’s gotten into you?,” she giggles, kicking off one of her sophisticated shoes as she sits on the bed. “You’re acting like we’re on our honeymoon!”

Poe leans in and places his hands on either side of her hips, bumping his forehead to hers as he takes long, weighty breaths, feeling the heat radiate off of her.

“I just… This is a lot, right?”

“Mm,” she acquiesces.

“And you’re kind of… what I go back to when I’m in too deep. So, right now, all this summit stuff and the Senate and the council? I need that to take a backseat to me being with you. The person I love. And letting that be what guides me in what I need to do for… everybody else.”

She lets out a soft, appreciative “aw”, her eyes softening as she cups his cheek, and Poe leans into her hand, allowing a little lasciviousness to leak into his smile as he stares down at her.

“Plus, it’s kinda… you know, a little sexy, being somewhere so new and ritzy. I’m not used to this kind of stuff. That, and we barely got a honeymoon, if you remember--”

“Yeah,” she recalls, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, clearly vexed by the memory, “I remember. The day after we got married, that First Order outpost tried to open fire and you were up and out of bed and back in deployment after less than twenty four hours of being a married man.”

“Duty never sleeps,” he shrugs. “But… We can make up for lost time here, on this big, shiny, fancy-ass ship, huh?”

Poe wiggles his eyebrows with playfully rapacious intent, sending his wife into a fit of good-natured laughs. He adores when she laughs; it sends his heart racing, every inch of him alight with the joy of knowing that her smiles are because of him, the sound of her voice bouncing up and down with glee all caused by some silly little thing he’s said or done. Unable to contain himself, Poe leans down and kisses her, cutting off the sounds of her laughter, a deep, satisfied groan emanating from his chest.

“God,” he rumbles as they part for a quick breath, “I haven’t gotten to do that all damn day.”

“It did feel really good,” she sighs, clasping her arms around his neck. She seems to take pause, etching his face into her memory with her eyes, then comes to a decision: Poe would recognize that resolute gleam in her expression anywhere. “Alright, we’re staying.”

“...You mean it?,” he chirps.

“Yep. You tell them your poor, defenseless wife is laid up ill and needs your constant and most doting attention,” she smiles, kissing the tip of his nose. “Then when you’re done calling the front desk, you come over here and you help me get out of this dress and into that bath you promised.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, then catches himself. “I mean, yes, Princess.”

“Mm,” she beams, teasing him with a pinch on the thigh. “Much better.”

They share another deep, drawn-out kiss before Poe manages to wrest himself away from her and off to the side of the room with the comm built into the wall, but glances over at her as he taps at the screen to connect with the front desk. She grins coyly from the bed, kicking one leg out in a pseudo-sultry, semi-silly way from beneath her sumptuous gown. Poe can’t help but feel a swell of endearment.

As the call connects, Poe sighs dreamily to himself; if all else failed, at least he had her, and with her by his side, he was definitely going to enjoy a very, very pleasurable cruise.

[makesims]

I know nobody cares because this pack came out like three months ago (which was more like thirty months ago in quarantine time), but I just have some thoughts that I wanted to put out there about Journey to Batuu because I finished it. Kinda.

Okay, so you can’t finish Journey to Batuu. Which is weird. It feels like there’s a story, and then it just kind of keeps going with no ending. I thought you’d get to have some epic confrontation with the opposing side, but no. It just keeps going. Which felt anticlimactic, but I really did enjoy playing the rest of it.

The bad:

Like I said above, no ending. 

No actual Chewbacca??? Really? I understand that he’s, like, eight feet tall. So you can’t have him as a normal Sim, because none of the animations would work for him. But he could’ve been an animated object that just stands by the Falcon and maybe paces around a little. It would’ve been really nice to see him in person.

It’s annoying that you can’t live on Batuu. I wish there would’ve even just been 1-2 livable lots. I like the idea of making actual Star Wars characters and having them live on the planet, but you just can’t do that. I really wish you had the option to either vacation or live there.

You can’t be a Jedi or a Sith. You can get a lightsaber, but you can’t use the force. There’s two Force users that could’ve taught your sims to be a Jedi/Sith, but you just can’t do it. :(

The CAS was kinda lacking. If you’re going to have a world where people can only wear clothing from Batuu, maybe there should be more varied options. Some more basic clothing and some more swatches would’ve really really helped. And almost none of it would fit outside of this pack. I also would’ve maybe liked some more recreations of clothes from the movies. Like, they made Leia’s Endor costume. It would’ve been cool to have Finn’s jacket, or a Han Solo outfit, maybe one of Padme’s dresses. 

I don’t know if this is really a bad thing, but it’s too easy to get lightsabers. Like, by the time I was done playing, I had a shit ton of lightsaber hilts and kyber crystals filling my inventory. And all of the different hilts you can get have no actual impact on gameplay, they just look slightly different. 

You can’t use the blasters, and while I get it because I don’t think they can really show that kind of violence, I also just want to blast some stormtroopers. 

The good:

Some of the immersive stuff was really cool. I like that you have credits instead of simoleons (and having to earn credits separately adds a fun challenge), I like the sim-ified Star Wars music, I like that everyone is wearing clothing from the pack so no one looks out of place. And the screen wipes on loading screens! So fun.

The buy mode stuff is so cool. I think a lot of the furniture and stuff could easily be used in a lot of different ways, unlike the CAS items. There’s a lot of good run down looking stuff, and some cool futuristic looking stuff. I really love the new lights.

The world is really pretty. I play on the lowest lighting and graphic settings, and it still looked good on my computer. 

Something I really liked was that it’s largely a recreation of Black Spire Outpost/Galaxy’s Edge from Disney World. It’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to actually going. And I feel like it gives you two ways to look at it: a) my sims are actually travelling to another planet b) my sims are going to Disney World. For storytelling purposes, I think that’s fun. 

While I do wish there was an option to live there, vacationing there is really easy. You can take care of all of your needs by sending your Sims into a rabbit hole, which would normally be really lame, but when I’m just trying to boost my sim’s faction rankings it’s nice to not have to deal with the hassle. 

Hondo Ohnaka. That’s it.

The custom voices for Rey and Kylo were neat to me! I swear I heard Rey say “may the force be with you” at one point. 

Gosh, I love the droids. I love that you can build a droid, and that you can upgrade them and give them different personalities based on faction. I love that they just follow you around on your adventures. And they have no needs! I’m never giving my sims pets ever again, they’re gonna get a droid. 

Overall, would I recommend it? Sure. I got it on sale, and I would not recommend paying full price for this. If you haven’t gotten the pack, and it looks like absolute trash to you, you probably won’t like it. But if you’re like me and were intrigued by the pack, I’d say go for it. I spent maybe 7 hours playing through this, and I had fun with it. Putting my sims in another universe for awhile was a lot of fun, and it really does feel like another universe. It also works as a cool vacation destination, because it’s heavily based on Galaxy’s Edge at Disney World. There’s not much depth to it, and there’s parts of it that are very disappointing, but I don’t regret getting it. I had a good time, and I really love Star Wars, so it was fun for me.

[pulpwriterx]

SOLO’S RUN

For Reylo Week 2020. A Star Wars AU in which smuggler Ben Solo never falls to the Dark Side, but in a way, still becomes Kylo Ren,

Ben Solo extinguished his lightsaber, unclenched his fist, and looked at the blood on it.

And Luke Skywalker lying in a heap on the floor.

Ben panicked. 

“Oh shit. Shit!  I am in so much fucking trouble! Farkled! I am farkled!  What do I do? I gotta get out of here. For good. Forever. This is too much. I almost…maybe I did kill him.”

Ben walked over to where his Master, his Uncle,his guardian since he was 15 lay unconscious against the wall.

He crouched down, got Luke’s lightsaber, opened the housing, and pulled a few wires out.

Just in case his uncle wanted to attack him,again.

Then he gently shook his Uncle’s shoulder.

“Master? Uncle Luke? Are you dead? Please don’t be dead. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Give me a happy ending, here!”

His Uncle groaned

“Ben. Fight the Dark Side. Ben…”

Then he was out again.

“Yeah. That’s it! No more running from the Dark Side!  I will fight it!  After I get as far from this place that focuses Snoke into my head like a laser beam. Master Snoke. Sith Lord. He’s the badguy. I hope you can still hear me.”

In a panic, Ben was shoving all of his belongings into his pilot’s chest.

“I’ll never get out. He’s here. Maybe right outside this hut. I’ll kill myself. I’ll cut my own fucking head off before I join him. He’ll never get me. Never. But I don’t want to die. I want to live. I need help. But you’re too crazy to help me, Uncle Luke. And you’re unconscious. Mom will never believe me? And I still love the Old Man, but he’s kind of a fucking asshole. I wish Uncle Chewie was here. He’d know what to do. What do I do? Where do I go? I’m all alone. Armi’s gone, and Hela. Back to Arkanis. None of the girls really give a shit about me, and I don;t have any other friends. I’m all the fuck alone.”

“You are not alone, Ben. You have never been alone. I have always been with you. I only wish you could hear me. And see me. The way you used to.”

The room glowed softly blue.

The hulking man in Jedi robes standing in the doorway was about the same size as he was, and he had the same prominent features; his hair was reddish brown, though, instead of black.

“Grandfather?” Ben asked.

He could feel fear leaving him.

“Yes, Ben! You can see me, again? Finally?”

“Grandfather!”

Anakin Skywalker was glad that Ben could see him, glad that he could give the frightened boy the reassuring hug that he needed.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Grandfather. I’m really farkled.”

“You are not really farkled.” Anakin assured him.

“How?”

“I’m here to help you. I can already feel your fear leaving you. That is good. But you can’t relax your vigilance. Listen to me. Now that you know my presence? Don’t be fooled by anyone imitating me. Your instincts are sound. It’s time for there to be no Dark and no Light. No Jedi and no Sith. Time for a new path. A path of balance, where the Force is United. But you do need a guide. But I know now is not the time. It’s not always the time for philosophy.”

“Tell your son that.”

“He never listens to me. What you need now isn’t philosophy. You need to feel safe. Protected. You will have me to protect you. I am more powerful than Master Snoke. I will keep him away from you, until you have recovered from this terrible attack.”

“Can you get me out of here? Without him getting me?”

Anakin opened the door.

Master Snoke was lying on the ground, unconscious.

“The pretender is no match for me, Ben. He’s no match for you, either. He has lied to you. You are strong, where he is weak. He wants to hide behind your strength. Use your power. But without you? He is only a Pretender to the Emperor’s throne.”

“Why did Uncle Luke attack me?”

“He sensed a great darkness here. A great evil. He saw what you might become. Luke shared your nightmare.  And he was afraid. And when Skywalkers get scared, rage comes. You know that, Ben.”

Ben nodded.

“I know. I was angry, too. But I was more frightened than angry. I knew I could never out-duel him. But I’m a big guy, and he’s a little guy, so I did something he wasn’t expecting and punched him out. I punched him too hard. He flew all the way across the room! Like a rag doll!  Will he be OK?”

“Yes, Ben. My son is a Jedi Master. He had enough time to reach to the blow, but not avoid it. But had you punched an ordinary man like that? You would have crushed his skull and killed him. Learn from this? A big man should never punch a smaller man or woman as hard as he can. Unless you are in combat, and you are justified in killing. Also? Sometimes retreat is your only option for victory. Had you given in to your rage and struck my son down with your lightsaber? You would be a pawn in Snoke’s hands, now. Luke is as frightened as you are. Leia will be furious. It will be her instinct to immediately focus her considerable powers to destroy the threat. It falls to me to lead you all. I have been waiting. I am ready.”

“What should I do, now? Find my own way in the Force?”

“You must reach your own balance between the Dark and the Light, Ben. Then I can guide you. But first? You must admit that both live in your soul, and only then can you find your equilibrium. While you undertake this task? I will protect you from Snoke. But, after I become your guide? You will have to learn to deal with him.”

At least it was a plan that made sense to him.

“What about right now?”

“We well go to the spaceport. I must leave you, once we get there. But you can get on a freighter at first light, and leave this planet. After? When you are stronger, talk to your mother. And I will speak with my son. Eventually, you must speak to him, too. But not yet. As for Snoke? My daughter and I will deal with him, for now. But in the future? When you are strong enough? You will destroy him, and his evil.”

“You will be my Master, grandfather?”

“No. You will be your own Master, Ben. I will be your teacher. And your guide. You will be safe. You will not dream of the Dark Side.”

“Will I see more of you now, Grandfather?”

“Yes. Almost as much as if I were alive. All the love and attention that you have not had from your mother, your father and your Uncle? You will have from me. I have no other distractions. No other purpose, Ben, than to love and teach and support you. My love for you gives me form, and purpose, and the ability to come to this world. The next time you lay your head down? Sleep well, my boy. Sleep well every night, knowing that Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, is watching over you. I am your sword and your shield, until you learn to defend and protect yourself. Sleep. And know how well you are loved.” Anakin promised.

“Yes, grandfather. What do we do, now?”

“Sometimes, Ben, a student asks his teacher a question he knows the answer to. Try to answer your own questions, before you ask your teacher.”

Ben thought about it.

“We should hot-wire a speeder and get the fark out of here.”

“An excellent idea. Get your trunk.”

After Ben ran out, Anakin ignored him cursing Snoke, and kicking him in the ribs.

“Motherfucker!” Ben spat.

“Don’t kick him twice. Once is enough.” Anakin instructed.

Anakin got a pillow, and put it behind Luke’s head, and covered him up.

“I will take the boy’s training from here, my son. You have more pressing matters to deal with. The Sith have regained their strength. The Empire will rise again.”

***

“Hey, mister. You need to load up, faster? I can carry twice as much as the guys you’re using. I know how to fly. And I can fix most of the things that go wrong on a vintage YT-1300 Frieghter. I grew up on one.”

The Mandalorian captain took a good look at the big kid.

He was big, about six and a half feet tall, and he looked strong.

He also looked nervous.

If he was waiting around the spaceport at dawn, with his pilot’s chest packed and his gun hand twitching nervously, moving from the hip where his blaster was to the hip where his lightsaber was?

He was in trouble.

Also, he was dressed like one of those Jedi apprentices.

And he had a lightsaber.

“Are you over 21?”

“I’m 23.”

“Did you do something wrong, kid? I don’t care if you’re just tired of Jedi school. Or maybe you got in trouble with a girl. I mean did you break the law?”

“I didn’t. Somebody at the school tried to cut my head off with his lightsaber in the middle of the night. I’ll level with you, Captain. My father is a smuggler. I wanted to go into the family business. This Jedi School shit was my mother’s idea. I never thought it was worth my time, but it’s sure as fark not worth my life.”

“Do I know him?”

“I don’t want to get him involved.”

“Okay, kid. I get it. I’ll get you off the planet. I’m on my way to the Outer Rim. If things work out, you can stay on. If not? I’ll drop you off.”

“Great. I’m Arkanian. So that’s good news.”

“Oh yeah? What clan?”

“The Raven Clan. I’m a Skywalker. No relation to the Jedi Master.”

“I guess you can tell I’m a Mandalorian. I’m a Saxon, myself. Din Saxon. You got a first name, Skywalker?”

“Kylo.”

“OK. Kylo. Grab your gear, and I’ll show you where you bunk. Then you can start loading.”

***

Luke Skywalker awoke with a splitting headache, and a bloody nose.

There was a pillow behind him, and a blanket over him that told him his vision of his father had not been a dream.

Anakin had dire news.

The Sith had regained their strength.

The Empire would rise again.

And Ben was gone.

When they were at crossed lightsabers, Ben had punched him in the face, as hard as he could, and Ben was as big as Father, and just as strong.

The blow sent Luke flying to the far wall and he had hit his head.

He had a vague memory of Ben, in a panic, checking to see if he was OK.

Poor Ben.

Luke knew he had failed his nephew,

He stood up, shaking his head, and saw that Ben’s hut was cleaned out, and his pilot’s chest was gone.

“Shit!” Luke exclaimed.

He went to his own hut, got cleaned up, announced to his students he had been called away on Republic business and they had a free day, and then jumped in his speeder.

The spaceport was about two miles away.

Maybe he could still catch Ben.

Luke spent the whole day, asking around about Ben by name to the people who knew him, and by description to those who didn’t.

One of the dockworkers said he’d seen a young man answering to that description ship out with a Mandalorian on a YT-1300, but he forgot the name of the ship and didn’t know the Mandalorian’s name.

Try as he might, without a warrant, Luke couldn’t find out any more details.

He didn’t want to face his sister’s wrath, so he went back to the Temple, and radioed the Falcon.

“Han, I…I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think Ben’s run away for good. Maybe from all of us.”

“What? What do you mean, Ben ran away for good? What happened?”

“I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“You know, Ben isn’t like my other students. Let me finish, Han. I’ve dismissed kids because they aren’t of the Light. It’s tragic, but some people just are of the Dark Side. With Ben? It’s a shifting balance between the two. And you know Ben. He doesn’t like rules, he doesn’t get along well with most kids his age, and he’s not a joiner-in. I would have let him go his own way, find his own path, but he’s just so powerful. I’ve never seen power like his. It scares me, Han. I mean it. And this obsession he has with his grandfather? Not just Anakin Skywalker. But Darth Vader? That scares me, too.  Ben just…he understands Father’s duality too well. He even looks like him. If he didn’t have black hair and dark eyes, they could be twins. I always feared that Ben would turn. And I have sensed the Darkness in him. And around him. Last night, I had this overwhelming feeling of evil, and it was coming from Ben’s hut. He was asleep. Dreaming. And I saw into his dream. I saw what he could become. I saw war, Han. And death on a horrendous scale. I panicked. I drew my lightsaber, and…I was going to strike him down.”

“You mean kill him? Because he was having a bad dream? Luke, are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“I was. With fear. And my fear led to anger. Ben sensed it woke up. And when I saw the terrified look of betrayal on his face, I knew I had it all wrong. He was just my nephew, Ben, a terrified boy who’s master had betrayed him. He was having a nightmare. Some Dark Force is pursuing him. Trying to seduce him. Haunting his dreams. That’s why he’s always running away from the Temple. I realized the truth, but it was too late. Ben got his lightsaber and jumped up. When we were at crossed sabers, he hauled off and punched me in the face as hard as he could. I went flying back into the wall, and hit my head. Before he left, he checked me, to make sure I was still alive, and he told me about a Sith Lord. Master Snoke. When I woke up it was morning and he was gone. I asked around the spaceport, and I found out he made the spaceport by dawn and took off on a YT-1300, like the Falcon, with a Mandalorian captain.”

“Saxon. Din Saxon. I know him. Ben doesn’t. He’s OK. Especially for a Mandalorian.”

“What do we do, Han?”

“Ben’s not a kid, anymore, Luke. He’s 23 years old. Old enough to decide what he wants to do. If he wanted to go off with this Dark Side Sith guy, Snoke? You gave him the motivation. And if he wanted to be a good little Jedi, he would have laid there and said “Yes, Master Luke” and let you cut off his head. But what he did was knock you could, bug out, and get on the first freighter at first light with the first smuggler he spotted. I’d say Ben’s made it pretty clear what he wants to do. I’m going to let him do it.”

“But what if we never see him again?”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Luke. Let the kid go. Let him find whatever he flew off, looking for.”

“You’re saying that because you know you’ll see him again.”

“Well, for a while? Maybe you shouldn’t. And I am not explaining this to Leia. You farkled up. You tell her.”

***

Captain Saxon liked Kylo Skywalker, and his work, well enough that he didn’t drop him on Arkanis during his first run.

He kept the kid on for several runs.

After the second run, he almost left Kylo on Arkanis, because he was an hour late for takeoff.

The Mandalorian waited, and what showed up almost scared him.

“Kylo? Is that you under that mask?”

“Yes. What do you think? I’ve had the whole thing made for me, special.”

“I think you look like another Darth karking Vader. I don’t want any of that kind of trouble, Kylo.”

“I’m not thinking of joining up with those assholes. I’m going to use this when we board ships. To intimidate people. I finished my lightsaber, too. I want you to get the full effect, Captain.”

Kylo ignited his lightsaber.

The blade was red, and it had a hilt that was made of two deadly beams, as well.

“It’s pretty goddamn terrifying, Skywalker. And I’m a Mandalorian. And you were intimidating to begin with. OK, next time we board a ship? You can try it out.”

 ***

The Mandalorian’s next port of call was on Chandrila.

At the spaceport, they saw Crimson Dawn’s flagship freighter.

And from the way his dark eyes lit up, the Mandalorian knew that Skywalker had ideas.

The thing about Skywalker’s ideas, they were always crazy.

The other thing was, they always worked.

“Captain? You see what I see?”

The Mandalorian peered through the snow.

“Yeah. A Crimson Dawn guy smoking a good cigarillo.”

“Past him. You see the way that whole fucking freighter glows? It’s full of coaxium. Chock full. How do you feel about Crimson Dawn?”

“Fuck Crimson Dawn. They make the Hutt Syndicate look like the Jedi Knights. There never would have been an Empire without Crimson Dawn. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Unless you’ve been having another one of your big ideas. Talk to me, Skywalker.”

“My grandfather was a Jedi. He was betrayed and murdered by the Empire. They turned him to the Dark Side, and used not just his Force sensitivity, but his personal power, his physical strength, and his skill in battle for their own uses. And when he realized that they had fucked him over, royally? They murdered him. An Arkanian never forgives a betrayal, and never forgets one.”

Saxon laughed, under his helmet.

“Leave it to an Arkanian. You’re just as tough as we are, but I think you’re a little crazier. So you’ve got a blood vendetta against the remnants of the Empire, and anybody connected with them?”

“They want me, too, Captain. I almost lost my head over it. And I mean they want me. They want my work, my life, my soul, my total allegiance. They’ve wanted it since I was a little kid. I used to think I could just run for it, but you know something? I’m not a little kid, anymore.”

“You’re done running, and now you’re ready to stand and fight?”

“Yeah. And That New Republic bullshit about no capital punishment, letting Sith cultists live? It was a disgrace.  Not to mention,  Crimson Dawn with a ship full of coaxium means just one thing. Another of those “last stands” the Imperials keep making is in the works. Now, us with a ship full of coaxium? That means money. Serious money. Fuck you money.”

“I don’t get you, Skywalker. You talk about revenge and honor, and then in the same breath, you talk about money.”

“I can’t live on revenge and honor, can I?”

“No. But you know you’re a madman, don’t you?”

“Why? I want that coaxium.”

“So do I.”

“And I want to see all those Crimson Dawn fuckers dead.”

“So does everybody. I’m waiting to hear about your plan.”

“OK, then. Let’s be real friendly to the crew at the cantina. Get ‘em real drunk. Then, when they go back to their ship. We board ‘em, kill ‘em all, take the coaxium, and blow up the ship and the hangar. I can see just how intimidating my uniform is. I was born here. Chandrila is a real quiet place. This is their biggest city. They’ll have every cop and fireman on this side of the planet investigating the shitstorm we ignite. It’ll be a perfect cover for a nice,  clean getaway.”

“Skywalker, I like the way you think. You’re a real ruthless fucking pirate. Your Old Man must be proud.”

“He might be. He will be, if I pull this off.”

“How good are you with that lightsaber?”

“Supernaturally farkling good.”

“You had better be. This is Crimson farkling Dawn”

***

After completely fucking Crimson Dawn, and blowing up a hangar and their flagship Freighter, Captain Din Saxon and Kylo Skywalker blew out of Chandrila in a hurry.

Saxon decided to take his ship and his half of the coaxium back to Mandalore.

The Arkanian wanted to take his part back to Tattoine.

“My ship is at the Mos Eisley Spaceport, right now. You and your guys help me load up my share of the coax, and we’ll shake hands and part as friends.” He explained.

“What about the Hutts?”

“That’s my problem. I’m square with the Hutts. You can just help me unload. It won’t be a problem.”

They had disguised the coaxium in crates that were meant for transporting equally volatile but far more mundane industrial chemicals, so it wasn’t the cargo that was remarkable.

It was Skywalker’s ship.

It was a YT-2400, but a definite custom job.

The ship was raven-black, except for blood-red trim, and Beskar chrome accents.

She had black opaque molded domes over all her external cannons, and even for a YT-2400, she was sleek and streamlined.

There wasn’t a port, or a flap or a rivet that wasn’t flush with the body of the ship; her lines were custom-built smooth and close to perfect.

“I call her the Hellfire. I’ve been thinking about her, and planning her out since I was 13 years old. When I turned 21, I got some money from my mother’s family, and I sunk every penny into my ship. I even helped them buld it, on Corellia.  Everything inside and out was made to my exact specifications. Even the compartments on the inside for swag are specifically designed for each kind of cargo. And she is the fastest ship in the Galaxy. While she was under construction, I took her out and put her through the Kessel Run. I kept making modifications until I made it in 11 and a half parsecs. It was the domes on the guns that got me that extra half a parsec. And she has one of those experimental space-time hyperdrives. That cost me the most money. I melted down two engines before we got it right. But she’s worth every penny. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.” Skywalker proudly explained.

“You can’t fool me, kid. You Skywalkers might be from Arkanis, and it’s good to see you’ve taking your ancestors and your clan seriously, but you’re a Solo. From the ground up. When your old man sees that ship, and finds it full of coaxium? He’ll be the proudest father in the Galaxy.”

“You think so, Saxon?”

“I know, so, Skywalker.”

***

They knew Ben, well, at the Mos Eisley Cantina.

By his name, Ben Solo, and by his alias, Kylo Skywalker.

By now, everybody knew that some crazy son of a bitch had ripped off Crimson Dawn for the biggest coaxium heist since the one Han Solo pulled to get in the game when he was a kid.

A heist that involved killing ten Crimson Dawn members, and blowing up their biggest freighter and their private hangar on Chandrila.

There was one survivor, and he told a terrifying story about a big man, a huge man in a black mask, dressed all in black, wearing a black hooded cape and a black mask, a man with a red lightsaber that had a glowing red hilt for a tripartite blade, who dealt swift death to the other ten men as if they were rookie Stormtroopers.

“He was unstoppable. And I never saw anybody who could move like that. Use a lightsaber the way he did. It was like the blade was part of his own flesh. I’m not a young man, I’ve been with the Dawn since I was his age, and once I saw Darth Vader, in action. That’s the last time I saw anything like that. This man was another Darth Vader. I’m sure he only let me live so I could tell what I saw. And he told me something else. He said that we had crossed the wrong man. The Empire, the Sith and all who served them. And now? We were all going to pay for it. With our fortunes. And our lives.”

The survivor told the story all around the Outer Rim, and there had been that persistent rumor, for decades that Luke Skywalker was somehow related to the man who became Darth Vader.

In fact, old timers on Tattoine would tell you that Ben Solo looked like a negative of a photograph of Anakin Skywalker, who had been a Jedi Knight.

People in the rest of the Galaxy might have believed the story that Ani Skywalker’s father was the Force, but on Tattoine and Arkanis, people knew that Ani Skywalker was the illegitimate son of Kylo Skywalker, the Chieftain of the Raven Clan of Arakanis who had died in battle after a betrayal by a usurping cousin, who sold the concubine Shmi Skywalker and her son into slavery on Tattoine, making way for his own legitimate heirs.

Ben Solo knew it, too.

Hence his alias.

Clearly, it would take a Solo to plan such a daring heist, and have the balls to pull it off, and a Skywalker to have the skill to carry it out.

This was Ben’s way of getting the word out that he was a Solo, and a Skywalker, and nobody had better forget that

When Ben loped in, a few tough customers were sitting in a certain corner table, Han’s table, and even though neither Han Solo nor Chewbacca were in sight?

They got up and left so Ben Solo, in his black pilot’s shirt, vest and pants could slide into the booth.

Back to the wall, facing the door.

He ordered two meals and they were both for him.

As Chewbacca’s godson he was a member of a Wookiee clan, and it suited him; the man was the size of a short Wookiee and he ate like one.

Ben was halfway through his first pitcher of beer when everything stopped and a purple Hutt in a purple hat wearing a purple belt filled the doorway.

“Junior!” he yelled.

“Muffkin!” Ben called back.

They shook hands.

“You got out! Big time! Good for you. All that religious nerfshit? It’s bad for business.”

“I appreciate you letting me and the Mandalorian unload here. I’ve sent a token of my esteem to your palace.”

“I got it. That’s why I’m here. You’re too generous, Ben. Let me pay you something.”

“A man can never be too generous with his business partners.”

Maude, the owner, brought Rotta’s drink.

“When the rest is on the market? I’ve got a bid ready.”

“We’ll take your bid first, Mufkin. And give you a discount. I stole it, so it’s all profit. Fuck Crimson Dawn.”

Ben raised his pitcher and Rotta his glass

“Fuck Crimson Dawn!” Rotta replied.

Ben Solo and Rotta the Hutt drank to their mutual dislike for Crimson Dawn.

“You know, nothing I did was ever good enough for my Old Man. He was the Mighty Jabba, and I was always going to be just Mufkin. I’m still in his big, fat shadow. I hope this gets you out of Han’s. But more important, Junior. I hope the pirate bastard finally thinks you’re good enough to be his son.”

“I hope so, too. Mufkin.”

The root of the friendship between Ben and Rotta that was behind their business partnership was their difficult relationship too and with their legendary fathers.

Rotta thought if he could crush Crimson Dawn, then he would be proved worthy of the great Jabba the Hutt; it was the young Hutt’s life’s work.

“I sent my people to the Hellfire, with your goods. They’re in your hangar. Meanwhile? I need charger packs for blasters.”

“I’ve got zip. But the Old Man has some. We'll bring a couple pallets, later this month.”

“So you’re done with that Jedi business?”

“Done with the Jedi. Done with the Sith. I have a different path to follow. I won’t let the Jedi take my balls, like they did to my Uncle and tried to do to my grandfather. And I won’t let the Sith take my soul, like they did to my grandfather. Nobody but me cares about vengeance for Anakin Skywalker. Or Darth Vader. Nobody but me cares about finishing what he started, and bringing balance to the Force. So it’s up to me to do it.”

“I respect that, Junior. The only problem with it is, there’s no money in it.”

“There will be, the way I do it.”

“Because you’re a Solo, from the ground up, Junior.”

“And I think you’re a better Hutt than your father was, Mufkin.”

“Well, I don’t want to be here when Han shows up. It’ll be awkward. I’ll see you around Junior.”

“You know you will, Mufkin.”

***

Han and Chewie showed up just as Ben’s food arrived.

Ben got up, and yielded his father’s place at the booth to him, sliding down a little.

“You know, I could probably do 11 parsecs in the Hellfire, right, kid?”

“That’s why I’m never letting you fly her unless I’m there with you, Dad.”

Maude came over.

“Just three more of what Ben’s having. And a pint for me, and a pitcher for Chewie.”

“OK. Han.”

Ben was looking at him, expectantly.

“Chewie, will you remind me that Ben takes everything I say absolutely literally? Look, kid. I know I’ve never been the Father of the Year. Especially not when you were little.”

“Yeah, but I was a rotten kid.”

“No, you were a weird kid. That’s why we sent you off with your Uncle. He’s a weird guy, too.”

“Skywalker men are all weird guys.”

“Yeah, but you were never weird in a bad way. I don’t know what to tell you, Ben. I never planned to be a husband. Or a father. I did my best.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I think you did a better job when I was a little kid. You made me food, and taught me how to fly the Falcon. And how to beat up bullies. And you never gave me bullshit when I asked you a question. You didn’t let me down until you gave me away.”

“I just thought your Uncle would be better at the whole thing than me. But I took you back when you ran away from Jedi School! I did that.”

“Yeah, Dad. But you always sent me back there.”

“I thought it was good for you!”

“I begged you not to send me back there.”

“Yeah, but you never told me why you hated it so much. The worst thing I ever did, though? It was all that stupid shit I said to you, a couple years ago. It was all shit, and I didn’t mean a word of it, and I’m a fucking asshole for saying any of it. But I was pissed off when I said that shit to you about how you weren’t the son I wanted. I had just spent a small fortune buying you back from Fenrir Darkstar, because you literally lost your ass to Hela in a Sabacc game! I didn’t mean it. You’re not weak, you don’t disappoint me, and after thinking about it? I do understand you, Ben. You want to be your own man, and make your own way in the world. But look, you didn’t have anything crazy to prove to me that you have balls of Beskar steel. I’m your father. I love you, even though I’m not good at it. And I know you’re tough. You get that from your mother. She’s the toughest son of a bitch in the Galaxy. So, do me a favor? Don’t do any more crazy, suicidal shit to get me to notice that you’re a Solo, too. I never would have let you make one run with me if I didn’t think you had what it took, kid. That said? Gimme a hug, you crazy bastard!”

Ben couldn’t remember the last time his father hugged him.

He hugged Han back.

“I knew it was you. The day I heard about it? I told Chewie, that was Ben. Ben did that. I didn’t figure I’d ever hear from you again. You coulda knocked me over with a feather when you said you wanted us to meet up. Son? I’m really proud of you. Even if you weren’t cutting me in? I’d still be really proud of you. You know what this means, Ben?”

“It means you’re back in the big time, Dad.”

“It means I’m finally Han fucking Solo, again! And I can say fuck you to everybody.”

“I’ve always wanted to be able to say fuck you to everybody.”

“Now you can. You and me, kid? We are going to take this whole fucking Galaxy for every penny its worth!”

Ben’s smile spread all over his face.

And as for Han?

He felt like he finally had a handle on this father thing.

“You have no idea, Dad. It’s all money, Dad. All of it. Everything is for the taking. Snoke gave me all the details about the First Order. They’re what the remnants of the Empire are re-naming themselves, for their next uprising. He tried to sell me all this shit about my place and my destiny, just like Sheev Palpatine tried to sell it to my grandfather. Well, Grandfather put me wise to that shit, long ago, and you can’t fool a Skywalker twice. But you know what I was hearing?  The sound of money. Money beyond anybody’s wildest dreams. Dad, you wouldn’t believe what these First Order assholes are like.  They’re just as dumb as the Empire.  It’s all about their goddamn conquest. They’re so stupid. You wouldn’t believe what they have. Just lying around! The spoils of almost sixty years of conflict. And I know where all of it is!  Everything. Money. Guns. Good booze. Cheap booze. Cigarillos. Rubbers. Coaxium. Uniforms. Medical supplies. Food. Imperial Gold Coins by the chestful. Wealth and swag beyond my wildest dreams. You know where they keep it? Warehouses. Farkling warehouses! They got the goddamn Imperial Gold Coins on a goddamn Star Destroyer that’s older than I am. With a skeleton fucking crew. And their defenses are shit. Total and complete shit. I mean, the whole Galaxy is about to be at war, and they’re just sitting on all this stuff. And I can’t farkling sleep at night, thinking about all the places we can move all this shit to once the shooting starts, again. We’re already back in with the Hutt Syndicate. What’s Mom calling the new Rebel Alliance?

“The Resistance.”

“Yeah. Whatever. So we can sell guns and uniforms and medical supplies to the First Order and the Resistance. I mean, it’s all profit, because we’re going to steal it all, so we can sell her the good stuff cheap and sell the First Order back their own cheap shit garbage at crazy prices. They’ll shit their pants to do business with Kylo Skywalker, the grandson of Darth Vader. As soon as they see the outfit, those old Imperials will be down of their knees, wanting to suck my dick. Get this?”

Ben leaned over.

So did Han and Chewie.

“The Hellfire is fucking loaded with coaxium and Imperial Gold Coins. I swept onto that Star Destroyer in my new uniform, telling them I was Kylo Skywalker, Lord Vader, Master Snoke’s apprentice and they had better get my money onto my ship, right now. Most of them just started following my orders? This one prick Admiral tried to give me some shit, so I Force-choked him into the ground and after that? It was “Yes, my Lord.” These assholes are completely fucking brainswashed. It’s so much gold that looking at it all in the smuggling compartment on my ship made my dick hard! It’s that much gold!”

“Shit, Ben, we can buy off all the guys who guard or own all those warehouses without ever firing a shot. Holy mother Force, we can buy anything we want!”

“But there’s so much more, Dad. The way they loaded my ship up, I know that score was just a fraction of the Imperial gold the Empire still has. We can do it all. Crush Crimson Dawn. Even corner the market on coaxium. We could be the richest me in the Galaxy, Dad. It’s gonna be great.”

“There’s only one problem. It sounds like the Empire is gearing up for the Big One. I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume they really needed you for their side. But even without you being Vader Junior for them? Shit’s going to get bad. We might have to get into it, if it looks like they might really win.”

“That’s even better for me.  Mom made a mistake, letting one Sith live. Or any of the Imperial high ranking officers. Pardoning the little guys was alright. They were either out and out slaves, or just grunts. But look what happened because she didn’t just line the bigwigs up against a wall and shoot them, like you used to tell her to? I’m not making that mistake. No fucking way. Those cocksuckers are going to pay for what they did to me. And to my grandfather. To my whole fuckin’ family. I used to think Uncle Luke was just a cold man, but the older I got, the more I realized? He’s not there. Uncle Luke is so fuckin’ destroyed inside by the war, he’s just a wrecked shell of a man. They’re gonna pay with their fortunes, and with their lives. That’s a fuckin’ promise.”

“Your mother won’t go for that kind of talk. Her and your Uncle Luke don’t understand that dead men make no trouble and tell no tales.”

“Then I won’t tell her that part.”

“Good. So, how much coaxium are we going to give the Republic Army?”

“Give? Whaddya mean, give?”

“Hey, it hurts me, too, kid. But if we don’t give your mother something, now? She’ll never pay us for more, later. And you have to face your mother, Ben. I know you don’t want to. But you have to.”

“Yeah, you got a point, Dad. But I’ll let you negotiate with her.”

“Good idea.”

 D’Qar- The Newly-Built Resistance Base

Ambushed, again.

The Old Man had said that his mother wouldn’t be there, to receive the coaxium in person.

He probably believed it, too, from the way he was trying to charm her pants off.

Literally.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Solo boys. Smells like war? Time to make a fortune!” she snapped.

“You should be glad to see me. It’s been three years.”

“Don’t try to charm me, Han. Just don’t. You and I are going to have a nice, long talk, later, in my tent.”

Ben kept unloading the coaxium.

“I know what that means. I’m staying on the ship. And if you guys meet on the Falcon? I’m staying in a tent.”

“You wait till you get married, Junior. It’s not all fun. Sometimes you have to fight, first.”

“You guys have done nothing but fight and screw for, like, my whole life. And you can never do it, quietly. I will never get married.”

“Just unload the crates, kid. As for you, Your Worship? I don’t want you getting my son involved in another one of your Galactic Wars. He’s safer with me, on the money end of it. I was right about that Jedi shit being bad for him. And other than selling you the good stuff, cheap? I’m not getting involved, either, unless things are completely farkled for your side. I don’t want to get killed, and I don’t want to get Ben killed!”

“Now you care about Ben? Now that he’s old enough to make you money, and big enough to throw crates of swag around! He’s only doing this because of you, Han! Because he wants to feel like he’s a good son, and his father loves him, and is proud of him! And you think you’re doing a great job, because you’re letting him prop your old ass up!” Leia snapped.

“That’s not true! Why do you have to twist everything up, and make it sound terrible that me and Ben are trying to do something as father and son?”

“Because it’s piracy!”

“Well, if it wasn’t for piracy, Mom, your shiny new base wouldn’t have coaxium. Or uniforms. Or tents.”

“See? He’s defending you! Ben, stop that! Put those crates down! You too, Chewie. We have people I pay to do that work. Ben, you don’t have to live your father’s life. You’re a Prince.”

Ben stopped working

“Aw, shit, Mom! Can you just stop with the Little Prince Organa-Solo deal! I am not that guy! I will never be that guy! Your fucking ambassador for all your political lies and bullshit! Mom, I am not Prince Organa-Solo, Jedi Knight. Look at me. Just look at me, just once and see me for the man I really am, whether you like him or not!”

That surprised both Leia, and Han.

“You want to be honest, Benjamin? We’ll be honest. You’re right about what I wanted from my son. And you’re right about me spending years trying to shove you, a square peg, into a round hole you were never going to fit into. I was wrong. I admit it. But I’m still your mother, Ben, and I don’t want to see any potential you had in your life to go swirling down the toilet because you want to be a piece of shit criminal! That’s who your father was, when I met him, and even he didn’t like that guy! Did you, Han?”

“Well, uh, I…I really didn’t know anything else, Leia.”

“That’s right, Han. You didn’t. But you don’t have that excuse, Ben. You’re just lazy, because you had everything handed to you, and being a pirate, for you is like falling off a wet log! You like to fight, and you love money and pussy, and as long as you have both, you figure, fuck it, let’s have another pitcher of beer!” Leia chastised Ben.

“What’s wrong with that?” Ben demanded.

“Because you do know better! You knew better that to spend all your money on drinking and girls and you did it, anyway.”

That made Ben angry.

“I did not! I built my ship, Mom. The one I’ve been planning since I was a kid. The Hellfire isn’t just a dream, anymore! I made it a reality. I even helped build her! And I’m not this wicked seducer you think I am. What girls are you talking about?’

“You might have been a late bloomer, Ben, but I know you know about lot of girls.”

“You mean like Trixie at the Yavin-4 Spaceport Cantina?”

“Please tell me you didn’t. Even if you did.”

“I thought about it. Yeah I know a lot of girls. But it’s not like you think. I know just about every girl at the Jedi Temple who’s over the Galactic Age of Consent. Not that I’m complaining. But they only like me for a little while, or they only like me at night, without my pants on. Like at the Temple. They all act like they didn’t even know me. Until they did. Sure, I like women, but I don’t use them. I’m not that kind of man.”

“No. You let them use you, and you like it.”

“So? I’d spend some money on a girl, if I could keep one.”

“All of ‘em, kid? At the Temple.” Han interrupted.

“Yeah. I still don’t know what they see in me. But I let them have it, just the same.”

“Good job, son.” Han told him.

Ben blushed.

Leia wanted to laugh.

“Ben, your female classmates took a vow of chastity. They can’t act like they're crazy about you in public.”

“I never thought of that. You think maybe they miss me. I miss them.”

“They?”

“Yeah. I had the girls spaced out to different days of the week. Every day, I miss that day's girlfriend.”

Leia was at a loss for what to tell him.

And she was still trying not to laugh.

“I used to do that.” Han mused.

“Han? Stop. Ben, you’re still too young to worry about getting serious about a girl. It will happen when it happens. We’ll talk about your lack of respect for yourself, later. Tell me about your ship.”

“It’s great! I’ll bring her here, Mom and take you for a ride! All black, black as a raven’s wing. With red piping and Beskar steel chrome. And I had  mouded retractable housings put over all the guns. To make the ship more aerodynamic. She has the latest model hyperdrive, and I specifically designed the, uh, secret compartments to fit their different cargoes. Two layers. Where each false bottom has a false bottom. And in the cargo bay, a station for my TIE Fighter. I had the whole interior done in Beskar chrome, black leather and red Endor mahogany. I made the Captain’s cabin a little bigger than usual, so it’s big enough for me. Wait till you see her, Mom.”

“See, Leia? He’s in love, already.”

“I can see that. Space really is your home, isn’t it, Ben?”

“I am a Skywalker. The stars belong to me.” He replied.

“Well, since you’ve got your own ship, that means you should finish your last year at the Republic Academy.”

“I don’t need a commission to be a pilot, Mom.” Ben bristled.

“But you liked the Republic Academy. And as well as you fly it will be six months. You want to be a pilot, not a Jedi? I accept that. But you have to finish your education. Even your father finished school at the Imperial Academy. I want you to finish school.”

“Do I have to? Dad, do I really have to?”

“I’m with your mother on this one, kid. Like she said. Even I finished school.”

“On Coruscant?”

“Yes. Maybe you and your old man can come home for the Fall semester. I haven’t sold the penthouse, yet. I’m not living at this base. It’s just a precaution. In case this latest Imperial uprising gets out of hand. Or First Order. Whatever they are calling themselves, now. And we can do family shit, until you graduate. Yell. Throw things at each other.”

Ben laughed.

“I could do that.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Han agreed.

“Ben, I want you to concentrate on what you want to do. Who you want to be. I admit it. I was wrong. I pushed you too hard to do what I wanted. So, can we compromise on this? You can go play pirates with your Dad, as long as you finish school. You know. In case you ever want to do anything else with your life.”

“I’ll give it a shot, Mom. You’re…you’re not mad at me? Really?”

“No, Ben. I’m not. I’m furious at your Uncle, though. What was he thinking? He could have killed you.”

“I keep telling you that Luke’s losing his mind.” Han told her.

“I have to talk to him. Well, Ben? Do you trust me, yet?”

Leia felt the conflict in Ben.

He wanted to trust her.

But he was afraid.

“Also? I had a long talk with my Dear Old Dad. I hate it when he’s right and I’m wrong. But I have to admit it. He was right. I was wrong. And now I’ve got big problems. Especially with this Sith Lord. Somebody just needs to kill this guy, and take him off the table.”

“I can do that.”

“No, Ben. You can’t. At least not yet. But back to your grandfather.  I’m not opposed to him guiding you. As long as he lets me in on what he’s doing. And I think I'll take over your non-metaphysical training. “

“Mom, I already…”

“Ben, just because you paid some nut to make you a Vader suit and you built yourself a scary new lightsaber and you killed a bunch or drunken pirates with it does not make you ready to battle the Sith! Not even close! You’ve created quite a persona for yourself. Not that I object. In fact, I might be able to use you as a double agent…”

“A double agent? When? Now?”

“Hey! Over my dead body!”

“Not until he’s ready, Han. Let me talk to Ben. You know about the smuggler stuff. I know about the Arkanian warlord stuff. Okay?”

“Because you are one, Your Worship?”

Leia didn’t reply to that.

“Ben, there’s no short cut to mastery. And you may not want to hear the philosophy. I didn’t. But you need the practical training. That’s something I know. You need to develop your strength, your resilience your endurance. Your toughness. Both mental, and physical. The next few years aren’t going to be easy for any of us, and you need to be ready when things go bad. I can train you for that. Lightsaber drills. Obstacle courses. Beating the drone with the blast shield down. Except I’m not going to coddle you, like Luke coddles you kids. It’s going to be hard. The way reality is. I’m not going to nerfshit you, Ben. You’re a tough kid. But if you want to step into Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader’s boots and piss off the porch with the big boys? You’re going to need more than a big dick. You’re going to have to get one fucking hell of a lot tougher. You know. Like me.”

“That’s pretty tough.” Han agreed.

Ben had to laugh.

It swept the last of his conflict away.

He knew she was with him.

“Can you teach me to talk as tough as you do, too? I don’t know if I can ever be as tough as you, Mom. But I can try.”

“Good.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me to do or do not. There is no try.”

“No. Because every time your Uncle Luke said that to me? I wanted to cut his head off.”

 Jakku. Five Years Later.

For the next five years, Ben Solo/Kylo Skywalker worked hard under his teacher and grandfather's watchful eye.

This was how he would find his balance.

It didn’t give him much time to think about metaphysics.

Or listen to voices from the aether.

By the time he was 27, he was a graduate of the Republic Academy, officially Captain Solo, of the Hellfire.

He had mastered his mother’s tough, practical, and entirely non-mystical brand of what he came to think of as Grey Jedi training.

And he wasn’t just Han Solo's kid, anymore; Ben was a pilot and a pirate in his own right.

They had an official business in Anchorhead, Solo Shipping and Receiving, and Leia was proud that Ben actually had his father doing some legitimate business.

But then again, being a pirate was legitimate business on the Outer Rim.

Ben had found his balance, and in his 28th year, he was a year into his grandfather's teaching about the New Path of the Force United.

Anakin and Leia were no longer blocking Snoke from Ben’s thoughts.

He had the strength, the confidence, and the raw power to do it, himself.

In the legit business realm, Ben had bought salvage rights on Jakku, Yavin-4 and Endor, because there was a fortune out there, rusting.

He heard the best scavengers in the Galaxy were on Jakku, and he wanted to hire the best, so he would know what was garbage, and what was gold.

He had no idea that meeting the best scavenger on Jakku was going to change his life.

***

The Force is strong with this one.

Ben almost slapped himself for thinking that.

Especially about a young woman that he’d been looking at, for the job, for weeks.

Maybe he was looking at her for more than the job.

There was something about her, something alchemical.

Whatever it was, the Force is strong with this one, was an insult to it.

It was just the kind of arrogant, shitty, self-important Uncle Luke bullshit that he had always hated.

What did Grandfather teach him?

If you want to think for yourself, learn to think in your own words, not in the cliches and platitudes of others.

She has abilities she doesn’t understand that saddle her with responsibilities she doesn’t even know about.

And she’s always here first, with the best stuff.

And?

She’s looking at me, again.

Maybe she feels the same thing.

Time to talk to the girl, but don’t give her the Ben Solo, Hotshot Flyboy and Ruthless Pirate snow job.

Be honest.

The Force flows from her; she’ll know if you’re lying.

“Hey, Rebel Girl!”

“What? Oh, the X-Wing helmet. It’s to keep the sun off my head. You looking for something, Flyboy?”

“Yeah. And not what you’re thinking. I’m looking for a scavenger. Are you looking for a job?”

“You mean a real job?”

“Yes. A real job. I’m Ben Solo. I’m a pilot, and I’m in the transportation business. I just bought salvage rights here on Jakku, and on Yavin 4 and Endor. I know there’s gold in that garbage. But I wouldn’t know the trash from the treasure. I need to hire a good scavenger. There’s good money in it for you. Plus a roof over your head and three meals a day for the next month. If things work out, I’ll probably hire you for the Endor and Yavin-4 jobs. I might hire you to be a part of my crew, after that, if things work out. What do you say, Rebel Girl?”

“You’re really Ben Solo? Why would you want to hire me? I’m nobody.”

“Not to me. To me, you’re the one I’ve been looking for.  I’ve been watching this trading post for days. You’re the best. So, does Plutt own you? Do I have to buy you from him?”

“No! I’m not a slave!”

“Don’t get upset. There’s no shame in it. My grandfather was a slave on a desert planet. And my father was so poor he didn’t even have a last name. The Empire gave him one as a joke. Well, nobody laughs at the name Solo, now. Or Skywalker. What’s your name?”

“Rey. I'm so poor, I don’t have a last name, either.”

“We’ll find you one. It’s a big Galaxy. The flat I hired only has one bedroom, so you can sleep on the couch. I don’t fit on it. I’m too big. You got any stuff to pack?”

“This knapsack. This spear.”

 “Good enough. You tell me. Where’s a good place to eat?”

“Do you mind cantinas?”

“I do most of my business in cantinas. Show me.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, aren’t you even going to ask me if you have to sleep with me, first?”

“I was kind of hoping you would expect me to sleep with you.”

“You’re a hungry Little Rebel Girl, aren’t you. That’s OK. I like hungry girls. But this is my work we’re talking about. I have money in this. So, business before pleasure, OK.”

“Okay.”

 ***

Rey knew her table manners were lousy, but so we’re Ben’s.

Both in style and quantity, he ate like a Wookiee.

For dinner, he had four sandwiches, two pitchers of blue milk, one pitcher of beer and a bowl of baked potatoes.

Rey, who never got to eat real food ate about half as much.

Eating so much made her sleepy.

She sacked out on the couch, and woke up in the middle of the cold desert night covered in a blanket with a pillow under her head.

He had also taken her boots off.

Rey got up, and found the bathroom.

From the sound of the snoring, she figured the bedroom was right through the other door.

She liked Ben; he wasn’t a liar, and for a guy as big and blessed with such dark, saturnine good looks as he was?

He didn’t even seem to realize he was good-looking, let alone have an attitude about it.

But there was something different about him.

Something that drew her to him.

He didn’t act like the pampered son of a princess, and though he seemed more like the tough, hard-bitten, streetwise son of a tough, hard-bitten, streetwise pirate?

That wasn’t all there was to him.

Rey opened the door that led to his bedroom, silently, and the room flamed with red light.

She saw his face, with the thin pinkish white scar from his forehead across the side of his eye and over to his nose, in the red light of a lightsaber with a crossbar like an old-fashioned sword.

So, that was it.

What he was hiding.

When he saw it was her, Ben extinguished the lightsaber and put the bedside light on.

He had the sheet pulled across his lap, and his feet were on the floor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Rey! Never sneak up on me in the middle of the night, if I’m sleeping. You can knock on the door, or yell my name, but don’t creep around. OK? That’s a good way to lose your head. Or get sliced in half.”

“Where did you get a lightsaber?”

“I made it.”

“At the Jedi Temple?”

“Don’t bother, Rey. The Jedi take all the joy out of your natural Force abilities. And the Sith will use you as a weapon. Find your own balance, within yourself, between the Dark and the Light. Then? Follow your own path to Enlightenment.”

“How did you know that I am Force sensitive? I hardly know it.”

Ben shrugged.

“I can feel it. It’s one of the reasons I asked you to come work for me. I don’t want to see those Sith bastards or fucking Jedi hypocrites get you, and rip your soul apart. It’s not an easy thing to stick back together. And it leaves scars.”

“How do I find this path? Or this balance?”

“The balance you find within yourself. But you'll need a teacher or a guide to find your path. Or you can just keep using your abilities for the little things you do, and forget the whole thing. Just stay away from anyone who tells you about Dark Side, Light Side, all that shit. Okay?”

Rey just nodded.

“What did you want, Rey? I know I didn’t want to go through all this shit, the first day I met you.”

“I wanted to see what the bed was like. It’s huge. And bouncy!”

Rey bounced onto the bed.

“You do know I’m holding this sheet where it is because I am 100 percent bare ass naked, right?”

“Do you pay extra for bathwater? Can I take a bath?”

“Go ahead. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Don’t you want to take a bath?”

“Rey, I’m trying to be chivalrous. But I’m not the good guy. I’m a ruthless fucking pirate, and if you keep asking for it, you’re going to get it.”

“Ok, Mr. Ruthless Pirate. Mr. Tough Guy. Mr. Make Your Own Path. Mr. Rules Are For Other People. If I want you, and you want me, why should we be miserable for another week? Or two? Or a month. What’s the point, Ben?”

“You’ll leave. It never fails. I like you and I hired you to do a job. I don’t want you to leave. So I’m not fucking you.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Do you always fuck on the first date?”

“Yes. Don’t you.”

“Yeah. That’s my problem. I’m too easy.”

“It’s not that I’m easy. It’s just that flyboys? They’re here, and then they’re gone. I’ve only had three first dates. And other than once? There was never a second. Men leave me, too. I won’t leave you.”

“Women always leave me. Especially after I go to bed with them. I’m telling you, it starts out, oh Ben, you’re the greatest, and goes to oh Ben, you’re so moody, and then it’s oh Ben, if you’re in town, come over on a Wednesday. After 9. No, you can’t sleep in my bed, now that we’re finished, you should go.”

“Me too! Flyboys always leave me! I really loved the first one. I was 16, then. I’m 18, now, so you’re a couple years past Galactic Consent, don’t worry. He promised me the stars, and took me to them. It was nice, while it lasted. But then he left. He comes back, every once in awhile. Makes me more promises. Then he leaves. There were two others. But they just left and never came back. I wouldn’t leave you, Ben. I know how that feels. And I wouldn’t treat you like a dirty man-whore, either. I don’t know how that feels. But it must be awful.  People are awful to you, when you’re weird, aren’t they?”

“Always. People fucking suck.” Ben agreed.

“Ben, listen. I have no money. No home. No family. My parents left me when I was a little girl, with Unkar Plutt. You’re offering me a job. Money. A chance to travel the Galaxy and learn about the Force. And you’re a mean, moody, magnificent flyboy with dark, saturnine good looks. Why would I leave you? I’d have to be crazy.”

“Can I write that down? It sounds better than moody and bad-tempered and funny looking. I believe you. But go back to the couch. I’m ten years older than you, and I just saved you from slavery and poverty. I would feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

“Ben, the guy I was telling you about? He’s forty-nine, now. He used to be an Imperial Pilot. For Darth Vader, once, even. He can still squeeze into his old uniform.”

“Really? Darth Vader is my grandfather. I own his TIE Fighter. It’s convenient for short trips. And the passenger seat goes all the way back. And I am wearing Imperial jackboots. I always wear Imperial boots. They are made the best. You want me in an Imperial-type Uniform? I have one. Custom made.  Also? I’m a Republic Captain, so I even outrank this guy. Go back to the couch. But, by all means? Think about the future.”

“Ben, I don’t want you to think I sympathize with the Empire. I just…”

“Yeah, I know. The whole Imperial Flyboy deal. I get that all the time. And I never tell women about my Imperial connection.”

“Why did you tell me?”

“Because the Force has bonded us together. And because I wanted to outdo your boyfriend. Couch. Now. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Why do you have an Imperial Uniform?”

“To wear to First Order meetings.”

“Those crazies? The fake Imperials who yell on streetcorners? You’re one of them?”

“Nope, Rebel Girl. I’m a wrecker. I like to go to their meetings and be imposing, authoritative and disruptive.”

Rey laughed.

“You really are a weirdo, Ben Solo. But I like it. I like you. I’ve always been a weirdo, myself. It’s a big bed. Are you sure I can’t sleep in it too?”

“Not yet, Rebel Girl.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you. A lot. And that scares the fark out of me.”

“It kind of scares me, too. But I still don’t want to leave you. I will, however, go back to the couch. Because if we really like each other? We shouldn’t just do it. At least not tonight.”

“Exactly. We should wait, like a week? Do you think a week is good?”

A week sounded like a long time to Ben, who happily went along with just about any girl who crooked her finger at him.

A week sounded like forever to Rey, who was used to her little romances not lasting more that 12 hours.

Even Dack had never stayed with her for a whole week, after the first time he had taken her off-world.

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Rey chewed her lip.

Ben frowned.

She grinned at him, impishly, and started tugging, a little on the sheet.

“Stop that, you little monster! You just won’t let me be a nice guy and do the right thing, will you?”

“I really don’t like nice guys who do the right thing. And you’re not that guy. Why pretend you are?’

“Good point. Let’s go take that bath? And whatever happens? It was just meant to be.”

[sparkie96]

Chreon #6 👀💖

"Well, aren't you a crotchety old man?" The male Beta Nurse covered in beef stew asked as he wheeled Chris's food cart out, Chris's doctor standing before him with her clipboard. 

Dr. Sophie Kennedy gave another sigh as she scribbled down some notes, shaking her head at her patient's behavior. That was the third Nurse this month that Mr. Redfield had scared off or sent packing. It also seemed like the Alpha wasn't making very much progress with his recovery either, still not knowing what had happened overseas...or in the last couple of years.

Though it was hard to determine how far back he could remember considering Chris hadn't been very talkative or friendly, but that was due to his condition and his stubborn personality...and the fact that the Alpha couldn’t remember anything and didn’t want to make the effort either. 

She had been with the BSAA for a couple of years now and she had never dealt with a patient as difficult as Chris. He usually was never this bad. He was usually very friendly and easygoing, one of her favorite patients since the start. It probably helped that the man and his sister had been friends with her husband for years. 

Christ, she wished Lucas was here now, but the man was busy down in DC dealing with what...well, that was “Classified” but he promised to be home soon. 

Sophie looked through the list of nurses that had been assigned to the Alpha’s care since the beginning of his stay. Two Alphas and a Beta. She had changed out the Alphas because she had the impression that they triggered competitive behavior in him and made him more hostile...but it seemed that changing to a Beta nurse made him hostile as well...which meant that she was going to have to pull in an Omega...but most of them worked in the Children’s Ward. She would need to pull one that she could closely monitor...maybe one that was also familiar as well. 

She really didn’t want to...but she had just the Omega in mind for the job. 

_______________________________________________________

“Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! Jingle all the way...” Leon sang along with the little boy he was treating, letting the little guy squeeze his hand as the doctor drew blood for his blood tests, “...in a one horse open sleigh...hey! Look at that! All done!” 

Andy averted his eyes until the needle was out of his arm, the limb was still discolored and a bit mutated, but Andy was well into his treatments of the infection and was considered not contagious or hazardous anymore. Leon wiping his arm with an alcohol swab before showing him a variety of bandaids, “Now, I got a bunch of band-aids; Star Wars, Super Mario, Avengers, or Disney Christmas.” 

Andy sniffled, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his non-mutated arm, breaking into a fit of giggles as Leon used funny voices and had the character band-aids ask the little boy to not be sad, promising that they could have ice cream now that he was all done. Andy picked a Minnie and Mickey band-aid, Leon helping to put it on his boo-boo. 

“There, all better!” The Omega said, putting the rest away, but giving Andy a Donald and Daisy Duck band-aid, “And another for good luck...now, what kind of ice cream would you like with your lunch today, bud?” 

Andy reached up and accepted Leon’s hand as the Nurse walked him back to his room, Leon swinging their arms as Andy skipped. The Omega smiled as he listened, Andy listing off his favorite ice cream flavors and toppings. A couple of times, Andy or Leon would stop to greet fellow patients or nurses, Leon high-fiving the other children. Once they were back, Leon helped him into his bed, gently booping him on the nose, informing Andy that it was coming right up. 

“Get plenty of rest in the meantime, okay?” Leon asked, tucking Andy in.

“Okie dokie, Mr. Leon.” Andy said, giving a yawn as he nestled into bed, “Can I watch Wreck-It Ralph?” 

“Sure!” Leon replied, turning to the little television above the boy’s bed, looking through the on-demand options before finding the movie he was looking for, turning it on, “If you want to change the movie, just use these buttons or ask for help, okay?” 

Andy nodded before turning his attention toward the television. Leon smiled and gently ruffled his hair, exiting the room and gently closing the door behind himself. 

He loved his job and he loved working with kids. He had been fresh out of Medical School, not his first choice, but his Dad didn’t want him to join the Police Academy. He had just graduated and barely a month out of school when his Mom brought him into the fold. When he first started here, everything had been a bit overwhelming and admittedly kind of scary. He had expected medical emergencies and dealing with blood and stuff. What he hadn’t anticipated was having to work with children infected with biological viruses and children affected by biological warfare. 

Luckily, he had gotten into the swing of things fairly quickly, and learned to love his job. The kids needed people who wouldn’t look at them like they were monsters or were scary. Some kids who had been injured and separated from their parents needed guardians that would love and care for them during their stay. Someone to let them know that things would be okay in the end.. They all needed people who kind of had an understanding of them and treated them like kids. 

So, that’s what Leon did, he treated them like they were his own, giving them the love and care they needed, even just being a friend when they needed him. 

“There you are!” He heard a voice call to him, his mother approaching him, “I need you to come with me.” 

Leon canted his head, brows furrowed in confusion, “Is something wrong?” 

“Yes...and no.” Sophie admitted as she led him to a different wing, one that he usually never worked in, “I have a patient who is a bit older than ones you’re used to working with. He’s a tad difficult...but I think he needs just the right kind of nurse to help him out.” 

Leon raised a brow, “What do you mean? What happened? And why are we going to the Soldiers Area?” 

"You're going to have a new patient during your runs." Was her curt reply. 

Sophie explained everything on the way to Chris’s room, explaining that Captain Redfield had a mild case of Post Traumatic Amnesia that was causing him some issues. The Alpha had already gone through three nurses in the past month, and he wasn’t showing much signs of progress either with his usual treatments…so she was going to try a different route for this case.

"But...what about the kids I care for at night?" Leon questioned.

"I already have people on it. They'll take over your patients so you can care for this one." 

She handed Leon Chris’s file, before giving the door three sharp knocks and stepping aside to let Leon do his usual greeting. 

Leon gave a deep breath, never having worked with any of the soldiers before. So dealing with their Captain sounded a bit intimidating to him. He gave his friendliest smile before slowly opening the door. What greeted him was a very clearly annoyed Alpha, the man wearing a deep scowl as he watched the Omega. The younger man couldn't help but blush, breath momentarily caught in his throat as he studied the older man briefly. 

Oh, lovely, he was quite attractive and intimidating. This definitely wasn't going to be a walk in the park. 

"Good evening, Mr. Redfield!" Leon greeted in a chipper tone, "My name is Leon Kennedy, or Nurse Kennedy. How are you feeling today?" 

The Alpha raised a brow at him, grumbling a reply as he turned away from him. Chris crossed his arms and looked toward the window, the curtains still closed. 

"Oh, did you prefer to have the curtains drawn?" Leon asked, setting the folder down before going to the window, "It's not a "bright and sunny" kind of day, but I find the rain to be quite beautiful." 

Leon drew back the curtains, giving a momentary look of disapproval due to how dark it already was outside and wondering if someone just recently closed these. He apologized to Chris, saying that it was night time right now, so there wasn't much to see, but plenty to hear. When he didn't receive a reply, Leon cleared his throat, muttering to himself before going to close the curtains.

"Leave them." A stern voice commanded, Chris's eyes turned to Leon, now watching the Omega again.

"Oh...okay!" Leon replied, complying with the simple command, leaving the curtains be as he turned his full attention to his new patient, "So...I don't know if you've been informed yet, but I'm your new nurse for the duration of your stay here." 

Chris gave a sound that resembled that of a scoff, shaking his head at Leon. The nurse took a deep breath through his nose, maintaining his smile and friendly demeanor. He was not sure if he should acknowledge the sound or act as though he hadn't heard it. This man was definitely not like any of Leon's past patients, not even the most difficult of kids made Leon feel unsure of his abilities...or confidence. 

"Well...oh! Have you eaten lunch yet?" Leon asked enthusiastically. 

Chris looked the Omega up and down again before shaking his head, a stern look still on his features. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Omega, but decided that he preferred the younger man to the previous nurses he had had before. He seemed overly kind, but Chris guessed that that was due to the Omega having worked in the Children’s Ward previously. So, Chris could see that it wasn’t just an act...at least he was sure it wasn’t an act. He couldn’t tell how good he was at judging someone’s character. He had been pretty sure previously...not that he could remember...but he wasn’t completely sure of his own mind right now. Or his judgement skills. 

He would just have to wait and see what this “Nurse Kennedy” was all about. 

“So, hungry for anything in particular?” Leon asked, grabbing the room menu, “I know my Mo-Dr. Kennedy said your memory isn’t the best right now, but maybe if you look over our delicious and nutritious options...it might help you remember something?” 

“You can drop the baby voice.” Chris deadpanned, “I’m not a child.” 

Leon gave a look of momentary surprise, blinking a couple of times before giving a small “oh”, before apologizing to the Alpha. Chris narrowed his eyes but gave a sigh, telling him that he didn’t need to apologize. He just needed him to...not treat him like everyone else did.

Leon gave a nod in understanding, “Okay, I’m sorry for that...I’m so used to working with kids and you’re my first real adult patient. I know that’s no excuse…” 

Chris waved it off, “It’s fine...you’re just doing your job, I guess…” 

Leon gave a small smile and a nod, handing Chris the food menu. Leon gave some suggestions that he himself thought quite delicious, Chris not helping himself and listening as the Omega happily went on to describe his favorite dishes. Chris thought it necessary to make mental notes of them...just in case. 

Leon had spent part of Lunch with him and went through his mental exercises without a hitch. Chris had actually found him quite helpful and encouraging, unlike the nurses Chris had had before. 

By the end of the night, Chris really didn't want Leon to go home. 

___________

It wasn't long until Chris found himself looking forward to the young Nurse's visits, often waiting patiently for Leon to get done his morning runs in the Kids' Ward before coming to spend his nights with him. He helped quite a lot and was very patient during physical therapy. Chris hadn't had any issues with Leon, the Omega growing on Chris quite a lot…

...More than he thought. He felt something other than admiration. He hadn't felt like this before...not that he could remember a time where he had. Had he liked men? Was he even into them? He didn't know nor could he remember. Even if he hadn't been into them previously...he would make an exception in Leon's case. Chris was an Alpha who definitely could have a thing for Omegas in general. 

Especially adorable brunettes with cute smiles who brightened up his days. 

He hadn’t said much to Leon, but the Omega didn’t mind, doing most of the talking anyway. And Chris didn’t mind Leon doing the talking, starting to genuinely enjoy the sound of his voice. Especially since Leon wasn’t talking to him like one of his younger patients or like he was dumb or confused. He spoke to him like he was like anyone else. Bottom line, Leon was the only nurse who could handle Chris, and the only nurse Chris hadn’t sent packing. 

In his confusing blur of faces, Leon was the one constant. 

A smile crossed his lips as he heard the familiar pattern of knocks, not needing to guess who was on the other side. 

“Good Evening, Mr. Redfield!” Leon exclaimed in a chipper tone, this time pushing in a cart with two mugs, a teapot and a bag full of something, “I brought you a surprise! It’s snowing outside and the cafeteria had hot cocoa today and I thought you could use some warming up!” 

Chris raised a brow, watching curiously as Leon rolled the cart next to the bed. The little bag was a bag full of heart-shaped marshmallows, Leon informing him that he had heard from Captain Valentine that Chris was a fan of hot cocoa. And because Chris was Leon’s favorite patient, Leon brought a treat from his own personal stash of sweets. 

“That and the little guys and gals ate all the other marshmallows.” Leon admitted with a chuckle, pouring the packet of cocoa into the mugs before pouring the hot water from the kettle. 

Chris sat up on his own, despite his arm being in a cast, looking at the contents of the cart curiously. He couldn't help but quirk a brow at the bag of pink, heart shaped marshmallows sitting there, the packaging very, dare he say, cute. Much like the nurse who had brought them. 

Leon blushed as Chris chuckled, “They’re very cute...just like you.” 

Leon gave a bashful smile and a nod, “Uh, thanks...one of the guards here I’ve become good friends with. He brought them back for me from Tokyo.” 

Chris gave a curious look as he accepted the offered cup of cocoa, “Oh...so are you seeing them? Like, romantically?” 

The younger dropped a couple of hearts into Chris’s cup before stirring the cocoa, giving a deep blush as he turned back to his own cup, “Oh...uh, no. He’s just a friend…” 

An internal sigh of relief left Chris as he listened to the younger man explain that Finn had been a friend of his from college, him and Piers. He used to play video games with Finn...before Finn passed away in Edonia. He stopped himself, Chris furrowing his brows and repeating the name. Leon apologized, saying that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned him.

“Why not?” Chris had asked, feeling a slight ache in the base of his skull. 

Was it just him or were the fluorescent lights flickering ever so slightly?

Leon bit his lip, wondering what he should say, “...Do you remember a place called Edonia?” he asked, sitting down on the side of Chris’s bed with his own cup of cocoa, “It’s okay if you don’t. And if you start to feel distressed, we don't have to talk about it anymore.” 

The Alpha gave a slight nod, “Kind of...everyone who visits me keeps asking me about it...but Dr. Kennedy tells them to stop before I can understand why.” 

Leon nodded, “Right, because she doesn’t want you to have an episode or hurt yourself in the process. You’re suffering from a form of amnesia that occurs sometimes through an extreme injury or trauma.” 

Chris nodded in confirmation, “Which is why I can’t remember anything. That I know...but your friend, Finn...he was in Edonia with me? He died because of me?” 

Leon shook his head, “No...he died because of a terrorist attack. Not because of you, you led his team but...I don’t know the details, but I think Piers said it was an ambush.” 

“But I could have saved him…” Chris assumed.

“I don’t know…” Leon shrugged, “...but I’m sure you did all you could for him.” 

Chris was about to respond until the lights seemingly flickered some more, causing him slight alarm. He could only vaguely hear Leon as his world became muffled and blurry. He could see a figure…a person...reaching out toward him. Chris felt extremely overwhelmed, his heart pounding in his ears and his fingers numb, his limbs tingling. Air...he needed air…

“Mr. Redfield? Mr. Redfield!” Leon called with concern, taking the hot cocoa before the man accidentally spilled it and burned himself in the process, putting his own down, “Chris! Chris-HEY!” 

Chris could see a woman, she was holding a weapon at them and laughing. He needed to stop her.

The Omega was tipped backward, shoved hard against the bed with the panicked and slightly angry looking Alpha holding him down onto the bed, tightly gripping his biceps. Even the one in the cast still somehow maintained a death grip on him. Leon didn’t fight back, knowing that would not only be irresponsible, but probably a bad move in case Chris awoke from his panicked state. 

Or didn’t and hit him. Not that he wasn’t used to getting hit, but this wasn’t a small confused baby or toddler. This was a grown man with the strength of a bull who was trained in the most deadly of combat. 

“Chris! Hey...you’re not in Edonia…” Leon tried, speaking calmly and slowly as wide brown orbs held him down with an admittedly intimidating gaze, “We’re at the BSAA Headquarters...can you hear me?” 

Chris held him down, the flashing coming to a halt as the room became normal again. The woman melted away, in her place was Leon, looking up at him with confused blue orbs. Chris quickly released him, breathless and utterly confused as he got off of the younger, helping the nurse to his feet. He apologized profusely, but Leon merely waved him off.

“It’s alright, you were having an episode...it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything about...that stuff.” Leon apologized, “You’re distressed, so we’re dropping it. You didn’t hurt me.” 

Chris gave him another once over, brushing the nurse off, “Are you sure?” he asked softly, “I’m sorry…” 

Leon gently laid a hand on Chris’s shoulder, giving a nod and a smile, “Mr. Redfield, it’s alright...this isn’t my first rodeo.” 

Chris felt guilty but Leon kept insisting that everything was alright, that he had dealt with patients all the time. Some were a bit more difficult than others, considering that there were patients here that were mutated. Granted, his patients were a lot smaller and younger than Chris...but some of them could be pretty brutal and aggressive. Especially if they were suffering with mutations due to the viruses they had been exposed to. 

Chris raised a brow, “Really?” he asked as Leon helped him back into bed, “There are little kids dealing with this?” 

Leon nodded, tucking him in before adjusting his pillows, “Yup, they aren’t usually in the middle of it all, not like you guys. Sometimes, the virus is delayed and sometimes doesn’t activate until they are in the transport vehicle. Or until they get here.” 

The Omega gave a sigh of relief, noting that there wasn’t a mess. Then again, Chris hadn’t knocked his teeth in or broken his nose. He had read that Chris had “often left a mess” after most of his encounters with the nurses. And his mom informed him that she was thoroughly impressed that Leon had managed to “tame” the “Wild Alpha” that was Chris...but Leon had to admit that “taming” the man wasn’t his intention. He wanted to help him like he helped his other patients. 

He picked up the cocoa, handing Chris’s cup back to him. He sat back down with him, giving another reassuring smile before holding his cup out. Chris looked down at that, holding his cup out and meeting Leon’s, clinking their mugs together. They sipped at the mugs of hot cocoa, not saying much to each other as they enjoyed their chocolatey beverages. 

Chris made a curious sound as he slurped up the marshmallow, “Tastes like...strawberries.” 

Leon nodded enthusiastically, licking his lips, “Yup...wait, you’re not allergic, are you?” 

The Alpha shook his head, eagerly slurping up the other marshmallow, “Not at all...I love strawberries...at least I think I do…” 

Blue eyes widened and brightened with interest, “You do? Me too!” Leon exclaimed, “Well...you don’t know...but…” 

The Alpha smiled, “I like sweet things...that I know for a fact.” He said with a wink. The Omega blushed, happily sipping his cocoa as he sat with Chris, occasionally looking up to meet his eyes. Chris smiled back, stealing looks at the Omega until it was time for Leon to go. Leon’s heart fluttered as he bid Chris goodnight, the Alpha giving a small wave, his own heart fluttering as he watched Leon leave. He was always looking forward to tomorrow. 

(based on a prompt from @camellia-hale)

(Read more at Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322454)

[xxdearlybeloved]

A Study in Love

Modern College AU Ivar x Reader

Summary: An American befriends the Lothbrok boys at university in an unusual way. Basically, it’s a romcom in fic form, okay? Enjoy. 

A/N: This is for my wonderful friend @watery-lane who means the world to me. It is... 5400 words long, with warnings for smut. 

Chemistry

It seemed like you had just closed your eyes when your alarm was blaring around you. You debated hitting snooze before reasoning that you were already running late and you would have to power walk to reach your appointment on time.

You stood from your desk chair, knowing that napping in your bed was a recipe for disaster. Quickly, you stretched before grabbing your bag and moving out of the door. The walk usually took ten minutes, but if you put on your headphones you could do it in seven.

The music filled your ears and you were off, weaving through other students as you took the familiar path to your favorite library. You showed your ID to the security guard before walking to the usual area, slowing when you saw he wasn’t alone.

The brothers sat next to each other, Hvitserk with his chemistry book on the table and Ivar with his feet next to it, balancing the chair on the legs in a way that made your heart race. As you made your way over to them, you thought about how it was a scenario you never imagined – approaching the Lothbrok boys while they waited for you.

You didn’t realize you were out of breath until you got to the table, swinging your bag off your shoulder in a way that could have been more graceful. “Sorry I’m late,” you breathed, pulling out a chair and sliding into it before making eye contact with the boys.

They took in your unkempt hair, sweatpants and t-shirt. You were too busy going through your bag to notice. Hvitserk smiled moving closer to the table while Ivar put his feet down. “I don’t think we’ve met,” Ivar said, biting his lip before sticking out his hand. “Ivar.” You looked at Hvitserk before taking it. You introduced yourself, leaving out the part where you wanted to remind Ivar that you sat next to him in Art History last semester. It was a fifteen person class, but maybe he didn’t remember.

“You tutor my brother?” He asked, his blue eyes seemed calm and kind. Not at all what you expected.

“I do, we have chemistry together.” You didn’t realize what you said until Ivar started laughing and Hvitserk tried to shush his brother before the librarian did.

You stumbled over your words, trying to explain what you meant but Ivar was done with the conversation. He threw a “Nice to meet you” over his shoulder before he walked out of the library, still laughing at your remark.

Great.

You turned your attention back to Hvitserk. “Sorry about that, I-”

“No need to apologize, he knew what you meant.” You decided to leave it at that, asking Hvitserk about his day before diving into the subject matter. You actually looked forward to these hours with Hvitserk. It wasn’t just that he absurdly overpaid you or seemed more eager to engage than your other clients. These moments also allowed you peaks into his world that you never really felt quite comfortable stepping in.

When your session was over, both of you complained about having more work to do. You decided to stay in the library to avoid the temptation of your bed. “Wanna grab a coffee?” he asked, surprising you. You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded.

Honor

Ivar sat outside with his friends, trying to control his anger as they continued talking about his ex-girlfriend. They were the couple to be until she was caught kissing one of the graduate teaching assistants in office hours. She told him it was so she would get better marks, but he didn’t trust her anymore.

Now, here he was, reminding them that he could have any girl he wanted but most girls weren’t worth the effort.

“I bet you couldn’t get a random girl you don’t even know to date you,” his buddy Gregor said.

“I could have any girl at this school and you know it.”

“Then prove it. Get her to go on a date with you.” He turned to where Gregor was pointing. You were the girl he met yesterday in the library. He couldn’t quite remember your name, so that meant you should still be an option.

What Gregor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Watch and learn,” Ivar said as he slid off the railing and went to catch you.

“Hey,” he called, before reaching out to grab your arm.

You turned, startled but smiled slightly when you noticed it was him. Still your eyes told him you were confused. He had planned to ask you out immediately, done and done. But he hadn’t been prepared for the softness in your eyes.

“What… what are you doing later?”

“Uhm.. what?”

He repeated the question, ignoring the snickers he heard from his friends a few yards away.

”Going to class?”

“Do you want to meet up after?” This was strange. First Hvitserk, now him.

“Why? Do you need help with something?”

“I do actually. What time do you get out of class?” He made plans to meet you at 9:30 and then watched you walk away, trying to figure out what he could possibly ask for your help on.

The Lamppost

It was 9:35 and Ivar had endured a shit day.

He had completely forgotten about the bet and was on his was to his room or the bar when it hit him and he was on the opposite side of campus. Fucking perfect.

He swung around, wishing he had your number to cancel. The entire idea was idiotic and when he finally made it to the library at almost 10, he prepared himself for your frustration as well.

You were there, headphones in and laptop open, typing away as if you had just been hit with inspiration. He sat next to you, feeling like the weight of the world pushed him into the chair harder than he intended. The sound startled you and gasped, removing your headphones and peering over your laptop at him.

“Oh, Ivar – it’s you” you laughed at yourself for being so startled. “I thought…” then you noticed the look on his face and it scared you. This was the Ivar you had heard rumors about, and you didn’t know how to react. Now you were afraid that anything you said could summon his infamous temper.

He glared at you, not entirely sure why he had even bother to come. He was angry that he took Gregor up on a stupid bet. What was he trying to prove? He could be 2 drinks in by now.

“Are you okay, Ivar?” You knew the answer but you didn’t know what else to say.

“Obviously not. Look, I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

As he grabbed his bag to leave, you thought about all of your friends and how important it was for people to have someone they could talk to. You could tell Ivar was upset, and you wondered if anyone had tried to break through his terrifying glare. Maybe it was Hvitserk’s kindness, but you decided to try.

“Do you want to get a coffee?”

Ivar was so taken aback. He had been such a jerk to you and had been resolved to knocking back a few drinks and letting the day be over. He nodded and you started packing up, grabbing your bag and following him outside.

“Actually, I was going to get something a little stronger,” he confessed when you made it outside.

“You know it’s Wednesday?”

He laughed and you were glad to see the change in his face so quickly. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” He looked at you under the lamppost, the sincerity in your eyes as you looked at him. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he nodded, starting the walk back across campus to the bar.

You didn’t have to prompt much to get Ivar to talk to you. His entire day came spilling out as you slowly walked across campus. It was clear he felt a lot of pressure to figure out his major since he didn’t want to be in his brothers’ shadow at his dad’s company. You listened as he told you how he felt everyone doubted him and how he wanted to finish college and start his own business, just to prove everyone wrong.

“Or I could just drop out and start now. I have so many ideas, I just. I don’t know what’s right.” The look of frustration he gave you broke your heart. The pressure to figure everything out was so unfair, so you shared with him the revelation that helped relieve some of that for you.

“You don’t have to have all of the answers right now, Ivar. Think of all of the people who are doing amazing things – even your dad! He didn’t study the perfect thing at college and follow a path. You don’t have to either”

“Are you saying I should drop out?” You guys had made it to the bar now and his eyes were pleading for your answer.

“I’m saying you have time. But honestly, I don’t think one missed assignment should derail your plan.”

That wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but it felt like the perfect one. He didn’t have to figure it out all tonight. There was time. He opened the door to the bar, but noticed your hesitation.

“It’s so late,” you said.

He let go of the door and came over to you. “The least I could do to repay you for your profound wisdom is buy you a drink.” He took your hand, smiling at you, and suddenly you felt more awake than you had a second ago.

So you went inside.

The Party 

You tried to fight your crush with logic. All of the reasons it wouldn’t work. But soon, you were seeing Ivar every day. He would meet you in the library and work across from you until the building closed, walking you home and talking about any and everything.

He almost had a heart attack when you told him you had never seen a single Star Wars movie, so you spent the next few weekends at his apartment with him and Hvitserk. Once, his brothers came over and all of you went out for dinner and when you got over the cars and the money that seemed to just fall off of them, you had a great time.

That was also the first night that Ivar kissed you outside of your door and sent you in a wave of confusion over what this was becoming.

After that first night at the bar, you confessed that you had avoided college parties like the plague and Ivar begged to take you and you always said no. Then today, he texted you for the 80th time. You were feeling good, having crushed a presentation and gotten an internship offer, so you figured why not.

Your tiny room was overwhelmed by outfits you had tried on. You stood in the mirror, testing out different angles of this dress you bought with your friends at the beginning of the semester that you never had the occasion to wear. It was too revealing to be formal, but too dressy to be casual. Maybe this house party would be the perfect time to bring it out.

You heard a knock and took a deep breath. You walked over to the door, feeling your heart race as you pulled it open to find him. Ivar’s blue eyes took you in, the look making you feel exposed in a delicious way that you tried not to think about too much.

“Sorry for the mess, I -”

“You look amazing.” You didn’t know what to say.

He waited while you grabbed your small purse and turned off the light in your room. Days before you had felt like you could say anything to Ivar. Now, you didn’t know what to say that didn’t sound stupid. Would you ask him about the weather? That would be weird. But would it be more weird than not saying anything at all?

As you neared the party and heard the music and voices, your anxiety began to set in. You had already shared with Ivar how nervous crowds made you, and he felt you begin to slow down. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. At least you weren’t alone.

Ivar rested against the counter in the kitchen, taking his hand from his crutches to pour you both a drink. You were nervous again, but you took it, inhaling the sickly-sweet smell of the punch you had heard so much about. Ivar laughed at your expression, he thought you were adorable with your face scrunched up.

He held out his cup to yours. “A toast to your first university house party,” he said into your ear so you could hear him over the music. You smiled, taking his lead and bringing the drink to your lips. The first few sips burned but you kept going because he did. It was sweet enough that you could drink it quickly and you gasped as you finished, catching Ivar beaming at you as you scrunched up your face again.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” You smiled as he took your cup and poured you another drink. You carried both of the drinks back to the main room where you saw Hvitserk and some other Rugby players. The drink was settling in a little and you felt excited, walking over to him and giving him a hug.

“You look… wow,” he said, smiling at you. You did a little turn for him and he almost didn’t recognize you, holding two drinks and looking more carefree than he had ever seen you. Then he saw his brother approach and his heart sank a little. Hvitserk liked you, but he knew his brother and he didn’t think this would end well. He had watched you two fall for each other. He loved your company, but he wished he would have warned you.

Ivar made it to the group, slapping hands with some of the Rugby players before putting his arm around you. You gave him his drink and sipped yours while you listened to them talk about sports you didn’t know a lot about because you were American. But then they mentioned football, your football, and you HAD to interject.

Ivar watched your eyes light up as you talked about your favorite players and teams and the current season. When one of the guys asked you about a rugby player, you admitted you had never been to a game and they eagerly invited you to watch. One of the guys even said he would give you a private lesson and Ivar watched you blush, restraining himself from pulling you even tighter against him.

You finished your cup and looked to Ivar, asking him if he wanted more and he nodded. He watched you dance away with Hvitserk in tow, turning back to find some of the other guys watching you as well. “Man she is… wow” one of the guys said and the other nodded along. “She your girl?” They all looked at Ivar as he turned back to watch you playfully push Hvitserk away.

“Yeah, she is.”

The Warning

You stood in the kitchen with Hvitserk, watching him finish his drink as you waited in line for more. “So you and my brother, huh?”

You were well past tipsy and you couldn’t help but push him away. “Yeah, right” You turned and saw Ivar watching you so you gave him a small smile. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Just be careful,” he said. “I know my brother.” His words sobered you up a little bit, but you wanted to shake them off. He didn’t see the Ivar you saw. Maybe that was the issue. But it was your turn in the drink line so you filled up the cups before walking back over to Ivar, handing him his drink.

You don’t know how many drinks you had as you sat in Ivar’s lap, curled into him as the music filled your ears. The world was spinning, and you were trying to hold on to him to steady yourself. He got Hvitserk to help get you home and he was glad he asked. You kept stumbling and apologizing but also saying how happy you were to be with the Lothbrok brothers and how they were way nicer than everyone said.

They finally got you to your room and you fell on the bed. Ivar didn’t want to leave you like that so he stayed, climbing into your bed, and pushing your hair out of your face. You were already fast asleep.

The Hangover

Your head was pounding, your body was aching, and the sunlight was piercing your eyes. You were hot and it was only when you bolted out of bed and over Ivar that you realized he was there. You emptied your stomach into the trashcan, deciding that staying on the floor was better than trying to make it back to the bed.

Ivar sat up on his elbow, watching you to see if you were okay. He was still half asleep, but you looked so miserable he decided to join you on the floor. “Hey,” he said softly, “let’s get you some water.” He went to your mini fridge and pulled out your pitcher before pulling himself up to find a cup. He poured one and handed it to you before taking one for himself.

“How are you feeling?” You glared at him and he laughed. “Let’s get you some food.” He reached down to pull you up and you let him, thinking food sounded like an amazing idea. Once you were standing, you grabbed on to him to keep your balance. His strong hands held you and you found yourself looking into his eyes.

You dress was around your hips and you noticed Ivar wasn’t wearing pants. The events of last night were a blur, and you knew you were bolder than usual but you didn’t think you were that bold. “Did we…” you asked, looking at the bed before looking back at him.

He gave a half smile. “No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” His hand moved to your lower back and everything in you wanted to kiss him, but you did just throw up into a trashcan in front of him so you weren’t sure if the feeling was mutual.

You nodded before stepping back, gathering your stuff for a shower and moving slower than usual. Ivar made you take ibuprofen and you thanked him before pulling down your dress and going to the shower. You stood under the water for a little longer than usual, letting the it rush over you as you smiled to yourself. Despite the headache, you were happy.

You never thought Ivar Lothbrok would take care of you, least of all that you would be hungover, but everything happens for a reason.

You didn’t know if it was the medicine, the water, or the shower but you felt alive again. You wrapped yourself in a towel before heading back to your room and finding it empty. You checked your phone, but there wasn’t a message from Ivar. You heard a knock on your door and it opened, revealing Ivar with your now clean trash can.

You were speechless.

Smiling, you took it from him. You thanked him and he collapsed on your bed, shaking it off and checking his own phone. You showed him where your charger was then tried to get dressed without feeling self-conscious. Ivar tried not to stare, but he was kidding himself if he thought he wouldn’t take peeks at you. Until he saw a message on his phone that made his heart sink.

It was from Gregor, congratulating him on winning the bet.

The Talk

Ivar seemed distant as you sat across from him in the cafeteria. He was probably trying to think of the best way to leave without hurting your feelings and you wondered if you should beat him to the punch. “Look,” you began, “if you have other plans today, I understand.”

That seemed to pull him out of whatever fog he was under. “What? No, I… listen.” He ran his hands through his hair before letting out a sigh and looking back at you. “Wanna take a walk?”

Now your heart was really pounding. You nodded and finished your water before standing up to leave. For a while, neither of you said anything, and you had no idea what to expect. You passed a field that had a few people sitting outside, enjoying the unusually warm fall day. “Should we sit?” You asked and he nodded.

You lay down next to Ivar, facing him while he looked at the sky. Something was definitely on his mind. “What’s going on?” You asked softly, tearing off a piece of grass and tracing his arm with it. He looked at you and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Alright, then.”

“These past few weeks have been… amazing. I mean, I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone before.” He looked at you, watching you smile at him and he didn’t want to break your heart. “Last night made me realize… how happy I am that I got to know you… and -”

You cut him off with your lips, finally doing what you had been wanting to do all day. Ivar didn’t need much encouragement, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. He knew this would make it harder to tell you, but he didn’t care. Right now, being under the sun with his lips on yours was what he wanted.

Holiday

Ivar decided it was better if he didn’t tell you about the bet. Instead, he invited you on their annual family trip after Christmas. He wouldn’t tell you where it was, only the day and time to be at the airport.

When final exams were finally over, you went to celebrate with Hvitserk and Ivar at their apartment since you would fly home the next day for the holidays. You were so happy, the stress of finals gone, the holiday spirit in the air, and you were with your favorite person.

You all sat on their couch, drinking and watching nothing on tv. It wasn’t until Ivar woke you up that you realized you had fallen asleep. You followed him to his room, laying on his bed while you watched him shed his clothes. He laughed at you, still fully clothed before coming over to help you at least take off your shoes.

You watched as his strong hands unlaced and pulled off your boot. While he worked on the other one, you brought your foot to his crotch, gently running your toe over his boxers. His hands immediately froze but you did not.

Many passionate kisses had been shared between you, a handful of nights shared in each other’s bed. But you had never crossed that line and now seemed like the perfect time. He finished with your other boot, more quickly than the last one, and you pulled yourself up to meet him. You kissed him impatiently, only stopping so he could pull your dress over your head.

As soon as it was off, your lips connected immediately and he pushed you back on the bed, pulling himself on top of you. Your legs were spread on either side of him and you reached to pull him free, lining him up with your entrance as he bit into your lip.

A moan tore through your body as he pushed into you, your head tilted back and your arms clinging to him. His lips found yours again until his pants took over. His warm breath on your ear combined with your soft moans sent you into a trance as your hips continued to meet his.

You knew he was close, but you weren’t prepared for his release as he slammed into you, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your legs started to shake around him as he held himself inside you, kissing you through your orgasm as you held you eyes closed.

Both of you regained your breathing, his head on your chest and you stroking his hair. In that moment, you knew you loved him.

Curiosity

You both were eager to go again the next morning. As you lay in bed, tracing his arms as you lay on your stomach, you suggested one last breakfast before you went home. He told you his ex had to grab some clothes but after that he was free.

You ignored that sinking feeling that he still had her stuff at his place after all this time, and you wondered why she suddenly needed it today. As if on scheduled, the doorbell rang and Ivar kissed you on the cheek before pulling on sweatpants and going to answer the door.

You stretched, realizing you should take a shower and debating waiting for Ivar to join you. You smiled to yourself, putting your head on his pillow and inhaling his scent. Until you heard her voice.  

“I heard you won the bet.” Curiosity made you focus on her next words. “I mean, you must feel even more invincible convincing a nobody to fall for you.” You weren’t sure what was worse, her words or the venom that dripped from them. You heard Ivar tell her to leave, but you couldn’t stop yourself from creeping closer to the door.

“I heard you were still going out with her?” Your heart rose to your throat. “The bet’s over now, you can stop playing games.”

“Please leave,” Ivar whispered harshly. You knew he didn’t want you to hear.

“Babe, I miss you.” The silence seemed to last forever, and you knew Ivar was trying to control his anger. “I never meant to hurt you, I -”

“GET. OUT!” he yelled so furiously your heart started to race and all you wanted in that moment was to not be in his rom. You started getting dressed quickly, grabbing everything and stuffing it into your bag. You heard the door open and you couldn’t even face him, your eyes glued to the floor as you tried to push past him.

“Wait, let me explain,” you heard the emotion in his voice so you knew the words were true.

“Ivar, I can’t -” you took a deep breath. “Please, let me go.”

“No, I can explain, it was stupid, it didn’t mean -”

You put your hands to your ears. “I am done listening to your lies, Ivar. Get your fucking hands off me.”

He had never seen you so angry and he didn’t know what else to do, so he let you go. Hvitserk had come downstairs and you remembered his words as you passed him.

You should have been more careful.

Congratulations

When you were little, you vowed that if you got married you didn’t want the anniversary to be near your birthday or Christmas because you didn’t want either to be ruined. And here you sat, on the verge of tears, unable to watch your favorite holiday movie because it reminded you of him.

He was your first in so many ways and you didn’t know how to begin to get over it. You tried through Christmas, but today was the day you were supposed to leave with Ivar and you couldn’t fake it anymore. He had called and messaged you so much the first day that you just blocked him on every social media app you could find.

You almost blocked Hvitserk when he messaged you that Ivar was sorry and he wanted to explain. But what needed to be explained? You had to move on.

No matter how hard it would be.

It wasn’t until you heard his voice that you thought you were losing your mind. But then you heard it again, followed by your mom’s laughter and you sat up in disbelief. You went down the stairs, your hands shaking as you came into the kitchen. His back was to you, but you didn’t know whether to kiss him or punch him.

Your mom saw you first and then he turned to look at you.

“What… what’re you doing here?”

“We had plans.” He said it so matter of factly, you were convinced you were dreaming. This entire situation was too absurd.

He followed you outside as your mom called after you. It was cold and you wish you had a jacket but you didn’t care. It seemed to wake you up a little.

“I know this was all a bet. You’ve won already, congratulations.” You could tell your words hurt him, but you didn’t care.

He looked into your eyes. “I did win.” The tears that had been threatening to fall all day finally ran down your cheeks. “Listen to me. You are what I won, it just took a stupid bet to make me realize.”

“Well good for you, have fun with your family.” You turned to go back inside, but he reached for you and you heard the pleading in his voice as he called your name.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice so small it was barely a whisper.

“How could I?” You didn’t care if you saw his point, he shouldn’t have made the bet in the first place.

“You hurt me,” you said before the sobs started. You let him hold you in his arms, not knowing what to do. It had to mean something that he came all this way? You wanted to believe he wasn’t faking his feelings for you, but he was a liar. How could you trust him again?

He led you to the steps you had outside, and you sat, leaning into him from the cold. Or that’s what you told yourself. He gave you his jacket and you listened as he told you about the bet. About how he thought the whole thing was stupid and wasn’t going to do it until that night at the bar. How he fell for you, really fell for you, unlike any other girl he ever dated. How he would spend every day making it up to you, if you would give him a chance.

Your tears had dried. Standing from the bench, you looked at him with eyes less kind than he had seen before. “I need time,” was all you said before you went back inside. He debated following you, at least to get his jacket back, but decided against it as he went down the stairs to his car.

A Resolution

It was a new year and a new semester. A fresh start. The energy was optimistic and you made your way through the people telling holiday stories to your favorite library. It was relatively empty since classes had just started, but you always had work to do.

You pulled out your laptop, opening a fresh notebook while it turned on. You were almost done when you looked up, finding Ivar sitting across from you. His eyes caught yours and he gave you a half smile. You couldn’t help but smile back.

When you had finished working, you packed your bag, preparing to leave. You looked at Ivar expectantly and he beamed, throwing everything into his bag before joining you. Silently, you both left the building. He wasn’t sure what to say and everything he thought of didn’t seem right.

You stood under the same lamppost from so many nights ago, your eyes expressionless as you watched him. Ivar wondered how long it would take if you ever got back to the way things were.

“Can I walk you to your room?” You nodded, also unsure of the words to say to tell you how you felt. The walk seemed longer than usual, and when you made it to your door you still hadn’t made up your mind.

“Well, goodnight” Ivar said, but you grabbed his arm. You unlocked your door, before bringing your hand to his and pulling him inside.

[senatorgana]

so you gonna do that pokemon companion thing for the sw characters????

akjshfsldkjhsdkjgh sure!!! you must be the one person who follows me across all my blogs lmao

the question is which pokemon would be the star wars characters’ companion, like in detective pikachu. i’m just going to do the trios this time around, because we’d be here all day otherwise.

decisions under the cut, no i don’t take constructive criticism

-Luke: tragically the only pokemon with a bowlcut is smoochum and….uh…no. SO. My first thought was grass type because Luke is the new hope, and a second chance for the Jedi (until TFA but lets not think about that right now), but tbh I don’t think grass types would exactly flourish on Tattooine. I initially thought Growlithe, something sweet and loyal and brash that could evolve into something incredibly powerful (Arcanine). But I think Fennekin works best. First I like the idea of Luke having a starter pokemon and becoming the most incredible jedi even if it is “common.” And second, it evolves into an incredibly powerful psychic type, which I think works for our sage master luke. Think of luke with a different evolution of fennekin in each film of the original trilogy, with delphox in ROTJ, when he’s finally become the jedi he’s meant to be? *kisses hands like an italian chef*

-Leia: I initially thought Dragonair: it would make sense to me if a Princess had a rare pokemon, and the fact that there’s so much mysticism surrounding it lends itself to Leia’s force sensitivity. But I think Lucario is the best choice for her. A steel/fighting type? Leia to a T. She has nerves of steel, and the anger and drive to back it up. Plus Lucario can use psychic type moves so. CHECK.

-Han: Well first off I laughed myself silly at the thought of han walking around with a Meowth so that’s gotta be one of our two options. Just an equally sassy, pretends to be indifferent kind of pokemon. I also like the thought of Han having a normal type; he’s not the chosen one or a force sensitive princesss, just a guy, you know? In the end I think he should have a flying type, so I would go with either Pidove or Fletchling, based on which you prefer. They’re both normal/flying, and small and innocuous enough to be useful when smuggling shit you know what I mean? Maybe they evolve over the course of the films once Han gets his shit together.

-Padme: My immediate thought was Lapras, not just because Naboo is covered in lakes and marshes and whatnot but because there is something so unquestionably regal and beautiful about them. They’re also incredibly smart so that suits Padme. Also the fact that they’re the “transport pokemon” and all Padme wants to do is serve her people well? Idk that works for me. BUT Lapras is frankly not suited to interspace travel so I think she should have a Jirachi! Much like Leia, Padme has a steely exterior so the fact that it’s a steel fusion type works for her. The fact that it grants wishes? Again, all Padme wants is to serve and help her people. and lastly I think if anyone could wrangle a Legendary type it would be Queen/Senator Padme Amidala.

-Anakin: Cubone. Just. He has a Cubone. I will die on this hill. Perhaps evolves into Marowak once he’s Vader. Maybe an Alolan Marowak given how much more intimidating and Extra™ that variation is. 

-Obi-Wan: Okay so my first thought here was Nidoqueen? For some reason? I think it’s because he’s almost always in big brother/fatherly roles bUT he’s got some good lunar maternal energy as well you know? He’s a nurturer. I like him having a ground type, as well; I’d argue that other than Mace he’s the most grounded of the Jedis, most down to earth. But I think he should have a Dragonite. A kindly, rare pokemon, one who is incredibly powerful but you’d 1. never know looking at it and 2. doesn’t use that power for anything but good. I also think it’s easy looking at a dragonite to underestimate them, and that would play to Obi-Wan’s advantage.

-Finn:  So at first I thought of a pokemon like Mightyena? Something fierce and unquestionably loyal to its trainer that works in packs. Like imagine that every stormtrooper has a Mightyena or Poochyena or something like that (like Team Rocket/Magma/whatever grunts always have the same pokemon) and when Finn rebels his Mightyena, which is loyal only to him, goes with him and it’s a clear indicator that he’s a former stormtrooper and that he’s free from them. BUT If we’re going on Finn himself I think Salamance. Not only is it a dragon type which is just objectively the best type (and finn is the best boy) but it can also perform psychic moves, which…Jedi Finn Rise am I right? ANYWAY more importantly when you look at Salamance’s pokedex entry it says that it grew/evolved wings out of sheer willpower and determination? Like it wanted wings for so long that when it evolved it got them. That really resonates with Finn breaking his brainwashing, for me. He wanted to be free for so long and he DID IT I LOVE HIM

-Poe: My first thought was Charizard because Poe has to have a pokemon that can fly. Without question. Charizard fits his fiery personality, and more than that it maches Black One’s accents. important. It also “boasts speed and maneuverability greater than that of a jet fighter,” which, you know. Poe’s the best pilot in the rebellion so….check. But then I read Zekrom’s pokedex entry. I know it’s a legendary, which might be unrealistic and in that case Charizard is a great choice for Poe. But Zekrom is an electric type, which almost suits Poe better than a fire type to me, since he’s just lightning in a bottle you know? Also maybe an electric type could exchange friendly zaps with BB-8. Zekrom “assists those who want to build an ideal world” and who is that if not Poe? Beyond that maybe if he had a legendary pokemon Holdo thinking he was arrogant/self-important would make more sense (gotta get a TLJ dig in there).

-Rey: She has a Scraggy. She just. She does. Listen to its pokedex entry: “Anyone who makes eye contact gets smacked with a headbutt.” You cannot and will not get more Rey™ than that. Also please imagine Scraggy wearing little goggles to match Rey in the beginning of TFA and stuffing little items in its ‘pants’. Incredible. Scraggy can also do psychic moves so….Jedi Rey still checks out.

and that’s all for now! let me know if you’d like to see me do anyone else. 

[constanzemachiavelli]

The Mercenary Band

Tanef was sitting calmly at the base of the tower keep, sharpening her swords with a whetstone she had found in the weapon's storage in the keep. Her breathing was sharp with signs of pain, due to her chest being hit by a war hammer. Somehow she and her other 4 companions had survived the siege and the assault, now resting and recovering from wounds, aside from Shirra, who was sent as a messenger to get reinforcements and save them from the siege. She, with Loth, their cleric, helped Thurn and especially Horn to heal, as they had taken most of the beating in the fight. There were 3 fresh graves outside the fort, for those 3 unfortunate companions that had fallen in the assault.

“You should rest too, Tanef,” Shirra had come down to see the elf.

Tanef kept sharpening her blade “I want to go to the town and shake those councilmen by their collars. How dare they condemn us to death!” She threw the stone away in anger, but then almost collapsed due to her injured chest.

“You are in no shape to take the 3 day journey south. Rest!” Shirra insisted and patted Tanef on her shoulder.

“Someone needs to repair the gate or stay on watch” Tanef resisted.

“Me and Loth can take care of it, don't you worry!”

“Fine” Tanef gave in and walked upstairs and layed down to rest.

After a few hours Tanef rose up again and went out in the courtyard once more, seeing Thurn woken  up from his rest and standing around, balancing himself on a walking stick.Tanef walked over to him.

“Your leg is hurt?” she asked

“And you can't breathe normally” he answered

“What do you suggest as our next course of action?” Tanef asked.

“I personally do not want to deal with the so called council anymore, the already double corssed us already during the siege, I do not wish to be betrayed once more by those corrupted asses!” he proclaimed.

Tanef shifted around and thought for a second: “You are right, we should avoid dealing with them, as they have already proved to be untrustworthy, but we are under a contract for the next 3 months, we cannot break it or else we might be declared triaitors. I suggest we go back to the town and get our reward for the task. If we want to survive in this dimension we must live by its rules.”

Thurn growled “Sure, do the bare minimum, I'm fine with that.”

They both stood by in silence for a while, until Thurn whispered “This isn't my home anymore.”

Tanef hugged Thurn over his back and reassuringly said “It's fine, don't worry about it. We can make a new home, that is if you want to.”

He growled again and stabbed the ground with the stick strongly and went inside once more. Tanef stood for a while, thinking about how to help Thurn with accepting that his home dimension is all but gone. After that she walked off to inspect the walls and defences, unable to do so before due to the siege.

After a few hours of slwoly surveying the surrondings, Tanef went back to the fortress, to its tower keep, and saw everyone already gathered together. Tanef joined them and started to talk.

“How is the gate doing?” she asked to Shirra

“One side is useless, but the other is still standing, we'll need a new gate if we want to keep the fort for ourselves. I'm also concerned about the food stocks, we only have enough for a few days left, we'll have to travel to a village or the town soon to get the supplies we require.” Shirra said.

“We need more drink!” Horhrug said.

“Alright, we'll sort that out soon, but first we have to get to the town and get our reward for holding the fort. We can gather the supplies along the way.” Tanef told everyone.

“Who will stay behind and guard the fort, though?” Shirra asked. “Do you plan to recruit from the villages?”

“That is an option, yes, but it might take a bit too long to make sure its properly defended, so I propose that only I will go, while the rest of you stay behind and protect the fort.” Tanef answered.

“Wouldn't that make us vulnerable without you? We'll be 2 people less in case of another siege!” Loth said worryingly. “You are also hurt, don't you need some help with you?”

“We need to take our chances regardless, we will starve to death before we can leave the fort, and who know what those spineless bastards might do if we dont come in timely fashion, the lives sacrificed here would have been spent for nothing!” Tanef said

“Whatever you say, captain...”” Shirra said.

“So it's been decided, tomorrow morning I depart for Amelgalia.” tanef said, stood up and headed out.

“Where are you going?” asked Thurn

“I need some fresh air, that's all.” Tanef answered.

Next morning she went out before the sun was up.

She loved the night's sky the most, as it had the most going on. It had stars, moons and other objects she just couldn't find a name for. And sometimes something shot past or appeared for a few moments. The day sky she also adored, the fluffy forms of the clouds and the sun itself. She still hadn't seen a sun setting or rising, and she forgot to do so again this morning, too enchanted by the shifting tones of the sky as the morning came. Living almost all of her life underground had stolen her the joys of what a sky is.

But she also had to keep to her goal, getting to Amelgalia. She made sure to pack everything she needed, that is, food and a few essential things like flint and steel for firemaking and bandages, in case she got hurt. As well as her contract with the city, which she brought in case of needing a proof of her employment.

The trip to Amelgalia lasts one and a half days and she passed a village on her way there, before the night set. She decided to not push herself and find a place to camp for the night. The season seemed to be summer, as far as the subterranian upbringing told her, so she didn't see a reason to bring a tent or anything.

She decided to sleep on the trees, a pretty good hiding place in case of some bandits, and a perfect place to observe the stars from. Unfortunately she missed the sunset, again, so she made herself content with another night of star gazing, as she had done every evening so far. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

She woke up coughing, her chest hurting unbearably. She had overexhausted herself yesterday and now will have to go slower, maybe only reaching the city in the evening.

The sun was well up when she woke up, so she sighed in regret that she couldn't see the sunrise again, but onwards regardless, clutching her chest and resting on the road side to rest for a few moments.

Suddenly, she heard a noise that resembled a horse stamping the ground. She lookd to her left and safe a cart being pulled by a horse. She stood up and waved her arm towards th cart and waited for it to come closer. Soon, it came and stopped, its driver speaking down towards Tanef.

“Where do you want to go, stranger?” he asked.

“Amelgalia” Tanef responded.

“What business you got there?”

“I'm an adventurer and im heading to receive my reward from the council.”

The man scanned her body. “You do look like the sort. Are you by chance one of those mercenaries that occupy that fort up in the north?”

Tanef cackled. “I'm too young to throw my life away in such endavours.”

“How old are you then?” the man asked.

“Just 170 years old, not that much.”

The man looked with wide open eyes. “Alright then. Uh... do you require a ride to the city?”

“Of course” Tanef answered

She climbed in the cart and sat down, and the man cracked his whip and they rode onwards.

“So on what kind of adventure were you then? You don't really look like from here.” the man asked.

“Oh I come from far away lands, you could say not from this world, even. I was sent on far, far away quest by the council after an artefact, fought many monsters, got lost a few times and had to find my way back, you know, the usual adventuring stuff.” she told.

“From another world, eh? You are either a big liar, story teller or both.” the man replied.

“What if I am? I've told many lies to my comrades back when I still had any. I've told them stories that never took place, lied that I am some sort of... plane hopper, that I have seen the sky for hundreds of years, forced to hide my fascination with it in case I am found out to be a liar. Some nights I dream about... I mean dreamt about how much easier it would to slice their throats and find my way in the world by myself, without them stalling me.” Tanef said, coughing at the end.

The man dropped silent but then chuckled. “I didn't understand a single word from you, girl. You must have lived no more than 25 sumers, full of dreams and ambitions. Wait till you reach my age, then you will find a value in setting down, with friends... and maybe a partner. Did you run away from your home? No, you are dressed like some bandit, so maybe you are one! Maybe I should throw you out my cart, you filth. Better keep your mouth shut or you will get worse treatment than this!” The man spat out his words in anger.

“I'm sorry, I must have had something deep inside me that I needed to get out. I hope I didn't scare you too much” the man apologized after a small while.

Tanef remained silent and just looked at the surroundings while sitting in the empty cart.

After a few hours, the two reached a large fortified city, Amelgalia. Its walls were around 10 metres high and had several towers on them, protecting the insides of the city. There were some buildings outside the walls, though, mostly merchant booths and warehouses that wouldn't fit inside the city. The horse stopped and the old man spoke to Tanef.

“Well, this is it. We need to part now as I have business outside the walls. I wish you well on whatever you need to do here.” the man said.

“Thanks” Tanef muttered.

“Wait!” The man said as soon as Tanef started walking away. “What's your name?”

“Tanef.”

“Glad to meet you, Tanef. I am Kristoff!”

Tanef waved her arm as a goodbye and walked inside the city.

[knifeonmars]

Desert Island Comics, Part 1

I'm moving this month, for the fairly exciting reason of attending graduate school, and one of the stranger and more distressing things in the lead up to that is that I've had to put the vast majority of my unnecessarily sprawling library of comics into storage. I have been able to fit a small amount into my luggage to take with me, so I thought that I might write about what I've taken with me and why. The comics I chose to save also probably say something about my tastes and who I am as a person, so there's that. In paring things down I was primarily concerned with stuff that I could read over and over as well as lend to anyone who might be interested. Sexcastle - Kyle Starks I'm a huge fan of Kyle Starks, and while I had a few options to choose from, I went with Sexcastle for the reason that it was his first big book and as such is a great encapsulation of his whole approach. Silliness and violence masking deep introspection and a genuine unironic appreciation of action tropes. Through the Woods - Emily Carroll Emily Carroll is a complete rockstar and this book is gorgeous and creepy and endlessly engrossing. I love revisiting it and it's a great book to give to someone who doesn't have much interest in comics as most people know them. HP Lovecraft's The Hound and Other Stories - Adapted by Gou Tanabe I'll be honest, this one isn't here so much for any personal connection, more that I've only read it once and I think it could merits rereading. Also, as my Masters program is English, it's somewhat pertinent to my interests. Godzilla: The Half Century War - James Stokoe I just love James Stokoe's work so much. I had a few of his books to choose from, but I went with The Half-Century War because while it's a licensed work, it still feels passionate and personal, and unlike the awesome but sadly incomplete Orc Stain, it's a complete story. It's also a pretty easy sell to lend to someone, which while unlikely, is something I consider important. Superman: Secret Identity - Kurt Busiek, Stuart Immonen, Todd Klein Probably the second best Superman story ever in my opinion, even though Secret Identity, strictly speaking, isn't really about "Superman" at all. But it so beautifully gets to the heart of the character, the humanity and the responsibility of it, that it's very much a definitive take on the character for me. It's also a largely relaxing read, free from misery and angst, and despite what the rest of this list may suggest, I do actually like a nice comforting read once in a while. Batman: Year One - Frank Miller, David Mazzucchelli, Todd Klein, Richmond Lewis Of Frank Miller's much vaunted Batman work, Year One holds up best. It's gorgeous, human, and oh so memorable despite, or perhaps because of, how low key it is. There's no big name supervillains or anything, but this is the ur-example of a pseudo-realistic Batman and also the best execution of that premise. It's such a classic that it barely needs elaboration, so I couldn't leave it behind. Extremity - Daniel Warren Johnson, Mike Spicer, Rus Wooton Daniel Warren Johnson's recently concluded creator owned series might not be on everyone's radar, but it certainly should be. Described by critics as Mad Max meets Naussica in the Valley of the Wind, it's a bold, brutal, and lavishly drawn epic with an instantly compelling world and characters. It might not be for everyone, but it's also a book which I know I'm going to be revisiting and thinking over for quite a while, and given how it wears its influence on its sleeve, it's a great series to loan out. Batman: Superheavy, Batman: Bloom, Detective Comics: Blood of Heroes I wrote about this before in my 2017 roundup, but these Batman vols 8 and 9, and Detective Comics vol 8, are a great character reinvention which I warmed to somewhat slowly but now love. Jim Gordon as an in over his head version of Batman who's largely cut off from the somewhat unwieldy mythology of the Bat-Family was a great and totally unexpected concept. I often wish there had been more of this era, but as it is it's a fun if short read that I like to revisit because it reminds me of how fun superhero comics can be. Moon Knight - Warren Ellis, Declan Shalvey, Jordie Bellaire, Chris Eliopoulos This shot in the arm reinvention of Moon Knight is one of the 2010's greatest revamps, and I wanted to bring it along purely as an all time great popcorn read. That's the thing about the revamp, despite how drastically it revises things, the six issues of From the Dead are in substance compulsively readable action comics. It's the kind of book that I find gratifying to take down from the shelf and revisit once in a while for the pure joy of it rather than any emotional resonance. All-Star Superman - Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely, and Jamie Grant What can I say? All-Star Superman is potentially the greatest Superman story ever told, and it's a personal favorite, so I had to bring it along. I considered getting a smaller version since I only have the giant Absolute edition, but even I have limits when it comes to frivolous purchases. Anyway, Morrison, Quitely, and Grant's opus was a formative read for me, possibly one that I read earlier in my relationship to comics than is necessarily recommended given how much it riffs on continuity and deep cuts, but nonetheless one that I've always connected with and which is something of a gold standard for me. American Barbarian - Tom Scioli Tom Scioli's a beast, and American Barbarian is an incredibly fun and weird comic that I like revisiting. It's also pretty long as these things go, a veritable epic, and I love the various phases and sections of the story. Nowhere Men - Eric Stephenson, Nate Bellegarde, Jodie Bellaire, Fonografiks I'm continuously aggrieved that Nowhere Men has slid into permanent hiatus one issue sort of completing a second volume, but as it stands volume 1 is one of the best superhero adjacent comics out there. It reads something like a stylish update of the Fantastic Four concept with a group of doomed astronauts developing bizarre, at times horrifying powers, but it's so much more than that. It's a strange alternate universe when science is placed alongside popular culture, with rogue celebrity scientists and text pieces throughout expanding on the strange world. It's a ride, one I'm always eager to finally see more of, but even with just the single volume it tells a satisfying story which I like to revisit with some regularity. I also decided to pack a couple of monthly comics, just stuff that's currently ongoing and I want to be able to read as a whole. Mister Miracle I wrote elsewhere about having mixed feelings on this book, but I decided to bring it along because I do enjoy Tom King's writing and I have a hankering to read it in one shot once it's wrapped. I've actually just been sitting on the issues since around #4 for that very purpose. Batman: Creature of the Night Superman: Secret Identity is on this list, so I don't think it ought to be much of a surprise that its companion series made it as well. I've been loving Creature of the Night, though it's a very different beast from Secret Identity, and I can't wait to see where the conclusion takes us.

[epochxp]

A Review of Ehliem’s New 20mm Iranians for the Iran-Iraq War

IRN 01, Iranians with G3 Advancing | Ehliem Figures

The Iran-Iraq war is one of those wars that many wargamers (including myself) would like to game out on the table, but the ability to do so is a bit challenging. While there are plenty of means to do so in 6mm, larger scales are rarer. That is, until recently. With the advent of the 15mm Team Yankee: Oil War line giving players real Iranians to game with in 15mm (instead of just repainting 15mm West Germans), we finally have some options there. Sadly, since I wrote my last bit on the subject, QRF has gotten out of the moderns business in 15mm. 

As for 20mm, Rolf at RH Models/Liberation Miniatures has had a line of 20mm Iranians for some time, but that line is hard to get at times, since Rolf is a one-man band and can only do so much. Matt Hingley of Ehliem Figures, however, has taken up the slack with what I can only call some very beautifully sculpted Iranian miniatures. 

I am very happy with the figures I ordered from Matt. As always, ordering and delivery was no-fuss, no muss as Ehliem takes PayPal and most major credit cards. The figures are priced between 3 to 4 pounds for a pack from anywhere from two to four figures. So, a normal squad of eight to ten will set you back about $5.50, not including postage of course, which these days isn’t cheap. But I still recommend Matt’s customer service and plain awesomeness (I am a bit biased as a repeat customer). 

So, how do these guys stack up to the Liberation Models figures? Well, I’ve taken some photos to compare the two, as I believe photos are truly worth a thousand words (Yes, dangerous words coming from this wordsmith, right?).

Jason Weiser | RH Models and Ehliem Figures

You can see the better sculpting on the Ehliem Figures. I am not saying the RH Models figures are bad, but they’re a bit blockier and the detail isn’t as crisp. I mainly chalk that up to the fact the RH Models figures are of an older design and were sculpted at a time when we didn’t have the CAD technology or the 3D print masters we do now. I know for a fact Ehliem uses both, and here’s where it shows. 

Jason Weiser | RH Models and Ehliem Figures

The Ehliem poses are also more natural. My main wishes were that the initial Iranian release had been a bit more extensive. I wish we’d gotten a Dragon team out of it. It’s a minor pet peeve, but the range could use such a team. The Iranians used the Dragon ATGM extensively during the war if they had missiles for it. A team of two would be nice for that. Matt has said he’s making a wave 2 release and I expect it will be a part of that. I must note that the RPG team we do get is simply gorgeous. 

That said, I also would like to see some Iranians with Kalashnikovs. As the war ground on, more and more of the Revolutionary Guards were armed with the ubiquitous rifle, which, when you consider the Iranians had a factory to build the West German G3 rifle, doesn’t make as much sense as you might think. But these are the things we miniature wargamers think about. Also, a mullah figure would fill out the line nicely. 

I do like quite a bit about the Iranian line of miniatures, however. Again, the figures are crisply detailed, and they have the look of the Iranian army in the 1980s that we saw through grainy news footage in a war so far away. Both armies wore uniforms that were in similar shades of green, but not always. Take this photo of Iranian troops with a mix of uniforms and load bearing equipment (LBE). 

Last Stand on Zombie Island Blog

Also, the quality of the images can be an issue to getting an accurate read of the uniforms on either side. This photo below is very sharp, but the uniforms here are very dark. Is this accurate? Hard to say.

Wikimedia Commons

Trust me, you could paint your figures either uniform and get away with it. Another missed opportunity, though a macabre one, is the subject of child soldiers, which the Iranians used extensively. They were recruited a variety of ways, and the use of these kids is a sad fact of this war. And, as we can see in the photo below, they weren’t equipped too differently from the adults.

Iranian Basji (Child Soldier) | Reddit

The good news is Osprey is doing a book on uniforms of the Iran-Iraq war, but it won’t be out for a little while. I’ve pre-ordered a copy, but as you can see, Google can be your friend here.

All in all, I give the figures a 4.5 out of 5 stars, the half star being taken off for the aforementioned reasons. I was impressed with the sculpting quality, the figures are affordable, and Matts’ customer service is just some of the best in the industry. If you play 20mm, and have an interest in the conflict, you could do a lot worse then buy these figures. 

That’s all for now. Good Gaming, Everyone. 

--

At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

--

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

[beautyindisguise00]

WHAT’S THE BIGGEST SURPRISE YOU’VE EVER HAD?

Friday night October 16 2020 @5:50pm

1. WHERE ARE YOU FROM? Wisconsin

2. WHERE DO YOU LIVE AND FOR HOW LONG? i’ve been in wisconsin my whole life of 24 years. lived in my hometown all the way til i moved to college. after i finished college i decided to stay in the town i went to college in for work purposes

3. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT WHERE YOU LIVE? the different options around town of where to shop, eat, and other fun things to do

4. WHAT DID YOU LOVE THE MOST ABOUT THE TOWN YOU GREW UP IN? the lake. i love the fact that the lake was only a 5 minute drive and i was able to go there whenever i wanted. but also, the memories of the town.

5. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? not anymore

6. WHAT WAS YOUR 1ST PET’S NAME? thumperlina for my big fat brown bunny

7. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? fall

8. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? i watch a lot of movies so i dont really have a favorite

9. FAVORITE MOVIE IN THE PAST 5 YEARS? avengers infinity war. avengars endgame, crazy rich asians, knives out, and maleficent 1 and 2

10. WHAT’S A MOVIE THAT YOU LAUGHED THE HARDEST DURING? ouf, i dont remember

11. WHAT’S A MOVIE YOU CRIED THE HARDEST DURING? avengars, crazy rich, and also while you were sleeping but that’s a drama

12. WHAT’S THE BEST-ANIMATED MOVIE EVER CREATED? the good dinosaur

13. FAVORITE TV SHOW? my two all-time favorites are one tree hill and the office

14. FAVORITE TV SHOW THAT IS CURRENTLY ON? chicago pd and fire

15. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE RESTAURANT? olive garden?

16. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? chicken alfredo, really good sushi, fried rice, curry

17. LEAST FAVORITE FOOD? any seafood --> shrimp, oysters, clams

18. WHAT TOPPINGS DO YOU GET ON YOUR PIZZA? pineapple and ham. hahaha yes, im that kind of person

19. FAVORITE BEVERAGE? coffee, strawberry lemondae

20. FAVORITE DESSERT? cheesecake or red velvet cake

21. IS THERE A DESSERT YOU DON’T LIKE? pumpkin pie

22. CAKE OR PIE? cake!

23. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? mackinaw island fudge, mint chocolate chip, strawberry cheesecake

24. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE CONDIMENT? honey mustard

25. WHAT DO YOU GET FOR BRUNCH? crepes with nutella and strawberries

26. IT’S 4 AM ON A SATURDAY NIGHT, WHAT DO YOU EAT? fried noodles with two poached eggs

27. WHAT ONE THING DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR FRIDGE AT ANY GIVEN TIME? eggs

28. WEIRDEST THING YOU’VE EVER EATEN? duck and this one indian thing i dont remember

29. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE BAND? one direction and tenth avenue north

30. FAVORITE SOLO ARTIST? liam payne, harry styles, niall horan, louis tomlinson, zayn malik. hahaha and ed sheeran, halsey, 

31. FAVORITE NONLIVING MUSICIAN? --

32. FAVORITE LYRICS? “and if the whole world was watching, i’d still dance with you” “baby im falling. head over heels. looking for ways to let you know just how i feel”

33. FAVORITE SONG OF ALL TIME? theres no way i could choose

34. FAVORITE ALBUM? again ^^

35. WHAT’S THE LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO? currently singing like to the “while you were sleeping” ost  right now “it’s you” by henry

36. IF YOUR LIFE WERE A SONG WHAT WOULD THE TITLE BE? beauty in disguise 

37. WHAT SONG WOULD YOU PROBABLY BE CAUGHT DANCING ALONE TO? any of my current favorites right now

38. IF YOU COULD SING A DUET WITH SOMEBODY WHO WOULD IT BE? halsey. that would be so cool

39. IF YOU COULD MASTER ONE INSTRUMENT WHAT WOULD IT BE? guitar 

40. WHAT IS YOUR GO-TO KARAOKE SONG? ugh, i hate karaoke 

41. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING OR THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? probably back when i was rereading one of the “to all the boys i’ve loved” trilogy 

42. WHAT’S A BOOK THAT YOU PLAN ON READING? prayer by tim keller. i just ordered it online and it should be coming in on monday

43. WHAT’S A BOOK THAT YOU READ BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE WAS READING IT? twilight series. haha

44. WHAT’S A BOOK THAT YOU READ IN SCHOOL THAT POSITIVELY SHAPED YOU? mhmm...i dont remember. not that it posititive shaped me but the great gatsby was really interesting. also, when i was student teaching, i read number the stars with my kids and it was a great historical fiction book to read

45. WHAT’S A BOOK IN SCHOOL THAT YOU HATED? i didnt hate it, but there was this one book we read in ap lit and as a project, my friends made the movie version of it

46. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE BOOK? to all the boys trilogies 

47. WHAT’S A BOOK YOU WISH YOU HAD WRITTEN? ^^

48. DARK CHOCOLATE OR MILK CHOCOLATE? i like both but if i had to choose, then dark

49. UNDERWATER OR OUTER SPACE? underwater like in a submarine or something were i knew i was safe

50. DOGS OR CATS? dogs for sure

51. KITTENS OR PUPPIES? ohh, puppies of course 

52. DOLPHINS OR KOALAS? dolphins! i really wanted to swim with dolphins when i was in florida but it didnt work out in our schedule 

53. BIRD WATCHING OR WHALE WATCHING? whale watching

54. WHAT IS YOUR SPIRIT ANIMAL? i dont really know. probably a sea otter. haha theyre so chill and they stick around with their peeps 

55. TO BE OR NOT TO BE? aint that the question to be answered

56. IPHONE OR ANDROID? iphone

57. TWITTER OR INSTAGRAM? insta

58. VINE OR SNAPCHAT? snap. i never had a vine but i remember watching a few vines. well i guess tik tok is the new vine now

59. WHO SHOULD EVERYONE BE FOLLOWING RIGHT NOW? Jesus. haha kidding not kidding

60. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE APP? WEBSITE? probably youtube

61. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? psych 

62. WHAT WAS YOUR BEST SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? psych and math 

63. WHAT WAS YOUR WORST SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? ap lit 

64. WHAT SUBJECT WOULD YOU TEACH IN SCHOOL? psych or a lower level math class 

65. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU WISH YOU KNEW IN HIGH SCHOOL? enjoy what you love doing as much as you can

66. WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE YOURSELF AT 13? girl, be confident. you are beautiful. you are smart. and you are enough. dont worry about what others think and dont worry about the future because i got you. 

67. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5′0

68. WHO IS YOUR FASHION ICON? eh, no one really

69. WHAT’S YOU FAVORITE FASHION TREND? well since right now is fall, i really like long cardigan with cute booties 

70. WHAT ARE 3 THINGS YOU ALWAYS HAVE IN YOUR BAG (BESIDES PHONE AND WALLET)? phone charger, hand sanitizer, and a mask. haha oh covid days

71. WHAT IS A CURRENT TREND YOU HOPE DOESN’T EXIST IN 100 HUNDRED YEARS? masks

72. WHAT’S YOUR MUST HAVE FASHION ACCESSORY? eyebrows done? haha my clothing fashion is pretty simple so i dont really have accessories but maybe a watch i guess 

73. HEELS OR FLATS? depends. on a day to day then flats but for special occasions then heels

74. DIAMONDS OR PEARLS? eh, i guess i like both 

75. BLOW-DRY OR AIR-DRY? usually air dry unless i need to be ready asap

76. WHAT COLOR DRESS DID YOU WEAR TO PROM? i didnt really attend my high school dances. my first and last hs dance was homecoming and that was only because i was on the homecoming court. i wore a red strapless dress

77. FAVORITE COCKTAIL? sex on the beach, mimosas, strawberry daiquiris, margaritas 

78. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY ORDER AT STARBUCKS? white chocolate mocha. either hot or iced depending on the weather 

79. COFFEE OR TEA? coffee. i tried to drink more tea but i always resort back to coffee. haha

80. HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE? i usually make my coffee at home. i just put in a mocha or caramel kcup then add in creamer. some days i’ll add in half and half or some chocolate/caramel syrup

81. WHO IS A PERSON YOU WANT TO HAVE COFFEE WITH? megan markle. odd but why not 

82. WHAT HISTORICAL FIGURE DO YOU WANT TO HAVE COFFEE WITH? general vang pao

83. IF YOU COULD LIVE IN ANY HISTORICAL DECADE, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHERE? probably the 90s

84. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE COUNTRY TO VISIT? havent left mine yet. haha

85. WHAT’S THE LAST COUNTRY YOU VISITED? my own. haha

86. WHAT’S A COUNTRY YOU WISH TO VISIT? somewhere in the east. maybe like france or italy or korea or taiwan

87. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE STATE TO VISIT? florida

88. WHAT’S THE LAST STATE YOU VISITED? michigan

89. WHAT’S A STATE YOU WISH TO VISIT? colorado, new york, california 

90. WHAT’S THE BEST VACATION SPOT? bora bora! ouuu someday for me i hope!

91. WHERE DOES ONE GO ON A PERFECT ROAD TRIP? honestly, anywhere. just gather your friends, pack up, stock up, and drive

92. FAVORITE CITY? right now, probably orlando 

93. PILATES OR YOGA? i like both but if i had to choose then yoga

94. JOGGING OR SWIMMING? swimming!

95. FAVORITE WAY TO WORKOUT? ugh, at home

96. LEAST FAVORITE WAY TO WORKOUT? at the gym lifting weight. i always feel so awkward

97. BEST WAY TO DECOMPRESS? shower, then dinner and movie in bed with a glass of wine

98. WHAT’S THE BEST FIRST DATE IDEA? dinner and a drive to a fun spot

99. WHAT’S LOVE? genuine love towards someone regardless of their flaws, always

100. MAJOR TURN ON? neck kisses, vlines, touching

101. MAJOR TURN OFF? bad hygiene, rudeness, cockiness

102. WHAT’S THE WEIRDEST THING A GUY HAS DONE OR SAID TO TRY AND IMPRESS YOU? stalk my facebook and screen shot my old posts and send them to me OR ignoring my non-subtle hints that i have a boyfriend and do not want to hangout alone to “netflix and chill”

103. WHAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE WHEN YOU MEET THEM? their smile and personality and how they made me feel

104. DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? nah

105. BEST GIFT YOU EVER RECEIVED? im not really a big gift person but my mom gave me a micheal kors winter jacket

106. LAST GIFT YOU GAVE A FRIEND? i bought some baby shower gifts to my boyfriend’s brother and sister-in-law’s baby, baby Grace :)

107. BEST GIFT TO GET FOR SOMEONE? like a generic gift? probably wine or a watch depending on the occasion 

108. WHAT’S THE BIGGEST SURPRISE YOU’VE EVER HAD? my boyfriend coming to visit me last christmas because i was so stress out and i thought we were suppose to meet up around christmas but he had his own plans that i was not aware of which then made me even more stress when i found out his plans but overall it was a very nice surprise and definitely helped me destress afterwards

109. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR? white

110. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR? probably brown

111. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF FLOWER? i dont think i have one

112. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE COMEDIAN? dont have one either 

113. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE ACTION STAR? chris evans, tom holland

114. BEST SUPERHERO CREATED? captain america

115. IF YOU HAD ONE SUPERPOWER WHAT WOULD IT BE? to teleport 

116. WHAT’S YOUR KRYPTONITE? too much snow. haha

117. BIGGEST PHOBIA? deep waters and heights

118. FAVORITE DISNEY MOVIE? dont have one 

119. FAVORITE DISNEY CHARACTER? ^^

120. FAVORITE HOLIDAY? christmas

121. WHAT’S YOUR BEST HALLOWEEN COSTUME? a dead bride. haha

122. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE PLOT-TWIST? whenever my favorite characters in a tv show gets killed off

123. IF YOU COULD DO A FLASH-MOB WHERE WOULD IT BE? new york, like how cliche and iconic that would be

124. WHAT’S THE COOLEST THING IN YOUR BEDROOM? my pineapple lamp

125. IF YOU GOT A TATTOO WHERE WOULD IT BE? probably on my side or somewhere on my arm

126. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE CURSE WORD? shiiiiiiiiiit

127. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE BOARD GAME? exploding kittens not really a board game but close enough

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (an SWTOR story): Chapter 22- Risk/Reward

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire.)

Comments are always appreciated! Visit me at:

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction Dot Net

Chapter Twenty-Two: Risk/Reward

16 ATC. Yavin IV.

I could tell something was bothering you that night, although I thought you were just worried about the mission. Lana takes a sip of water. Even trying to sleep, you were restless-  

Were you trying to read off me?

Not deliberately. You know I wouldn’t. But you were only a few meters away. She shrugs, a silent apology. In a crowd it gets lost in the chaos, but in the middle of the night it was like trying to tune out a siren.

Nine crinkles her nose, lifting her hands to smooth a few strands of loose hair out of her eyes. She’s got no frame of reference for that kind of ability, but she’s had to sleep through plenty of sirens. Rather rude of me.

You had plenty of reasons. Several more than I realized at the time, certainly. I thought that was an odd thing for Marr to say, but- with a frown and a shake of her head, Lana looks away, staring at the strip of floor between the couch and the low table. Theron was right. That was a deep cut, and none of us said anything at all.

I don’t blame you. Back then it was rather like two people running from a rancor, wasn’t it- dealing with the Dark Council?

How so?

Sitting forward, she moves her fingers along the tabletop, two sets of little finger-puppet legs side by side. You don’t have to be faster than the rancor. You only have to be faster- her hands colliding, now, the right sending the left puppet-runner sprawling and then, clawlike, pinning it down- than the other person.

I-

I know.

***

It would figure that the temple has a literal killswitch.

Every time she thinks she’s got this place figured out it throws her for another loop. Secrets on top of secrets- a Sith device, of course; only the Sith would have crafted a tool to slaughter a planet wholesale and simply left it, intact, waiting to be found.

The first round of locks was hard enough. There were so many Massassi atop the temple ruins that it took her hours longer than it should have, waiting silently for lulls between patrol groups to dart in and activate each lock. How had the Revanites not figured out the devices by now? There’s nothing to them at all, a simple touch from an ungloved hand enough to set each one alight with a sickly purple glow.

Revan really must not know what they are.

By the end of the day she’s exhausted and it’s too dangerous to camp alone this far afield so she heads back into base; their meeting that night, at least, is mercifully short. She sleeps like shit that night, too, staring at the tent roof for hours punctuated by nightmares of Hunter whenever she manages to will herself unconscious.

The next morning she can barely keep her eyes open.

She’s got to finish this- it’s on her, for better or worse, and she doesn’t have a choice. If Revan gets there first, figures out the locks’ locations and mechanisms before they do, it won’t matter whether he can actually can raise the Emperor or not. None of them will live to see it.

Still, it seems ill-advised.

She gnaws on the corner of a ration bar, an adrenal stim already vibrating through her veins while she calibrates her stealth generator and gives the rest of her equipment a brief once-over. Rifle, vibroblade, darts, kolto autoinjectors, extraction beacon-

“Lot of kit for a one-person op.” Theron’s rounding the corner from the Republic infirmary, looking uncharacteristically cheerful. “You up for a field partner today?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” That grin can only mean one thing, and he’s got a rucksack over one shoulder to boot. “Did medical finally clear you?”

“As of five minutes ago, yup. And I thought you might want a second pair of eyes for all the tech- if that’s okay with you, I mean.” He pauses. “After the other day and all. Not to imply you couldn’t handle it by yourse-"

“Hush. You bring that up again, I’ll give you the long version of my recruitment speech.” She tosses the beacon at him; he snatches it out of the air, left-handed, without so much as a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. Good. “Of course you can come along. You can be the pack bantha.”

“Fair enough. I’ve got room enough for a little more in here.” Gesturing to the pack, he tucks the beacon in beneath the top flap. “D’you really think we’re going to need this, though?”

“I hope not. I tend to treat it rather like an umbrella: bring it and you won’t need it, forget it-” that ought to do it; she fastens up her pouches and stands- “and you end up in a metal bikini trying to choke a Hutt unconscious.”

Theron tilts his head to one side. “I won’t ask what that had to do with an umbrella. Maybe it’d make more sense if I could see it- there aren’t holos, by any chance?”

“Mixed metaphor. Also, I deleted all those recordings. Sorry.” With a wink, she pops the secondary unit out of its slot before she clips her generator back to her belt. “I know I gave you some shit for it back on Rakata Prime, but I assume you’re comfortable cloaking in. I’ve got no idea what’s in those caves, and given the option I’d rather be able to sneak up on it.”

“It’s been a little while, but I’ll be fine. Sync me when you’re ready.”

She nods and hands it to him, watching for a moment as he attaches it next to his right-hand holster before she hits the switch and the world around them flickers, out of focus for a moment and then nearly back, like a prism a few degrees out of alignment- except for him, clear beside her. After another thirty seconds she switches it off; he makes a face and blinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Like I said, it’s been a while, and I think your tech’s a little different from ours. I’ll adjust, I’m sure.”

“I’ll trust you not to try to reverse-engineer it.” Theron shoots her his best who, me? look in response- she called that one, clearly, not that she’d expect any less. (She’d have done the same, in his position. They’re far too much alike for their own good.) “We’ll only use it if we need to and I’ll go light on overrides. Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

***

They’re half an hour out from camp, making good time toward the cave complex despite the swampy ground beneath their speeders, when her comm rings.

“Cipher.” Lana sounds as though she’s got a headache. “Did you see Theron before you left this morning? He isn’t answering my messages.”

(I was certainly about to have a headache, Lana mutters. Force, you should have heard her when she figured out he’d gone. She didn’t say anything, of course, but she was thinking it very emphatically.

She doesn’t need to ask who she means, only winces in sympathy.)

“Of course I did-” she swerves, diverting around a particularly large tree- “but we’re still in transit, at the moment. Can we holo you once we arrive?”

“What do you mean, we?”

He had better not have-

She kills the throttle, spins the tail of her speeder around until she’s directly in Theron’s path and he has to pull up short to keep from running into her. “Did we miss a turn? We can’t be there yet,” he says over the idling engine. “Pretty sure I still remember how to read a map.”

“Theron, is your comm off?” She eyes him over the windscreen as Lana, in her ear, makes a noise like an angry nexu.

“Maybe.”

“And did you, by chance, forget to actually tell anyone you were planning on heading into the field with me today?”

“Forget? No.” His comm was off- he raises his hand to his temple, brushing over one of the implant controls just above his eyebrow. “Forget would kind of imply I planned on telling anyone in the first place.”

She sighs.

***

The caves go deep, hundreds of meters back and down into the rock.

At first she thinks the prickling on the back of her neck’s because of all the creatures prowling around them- despite their best efforts at avoiding detection they stumble a few times, over stoneray nests and piles of crumbling stone and, once, the skeleton of something massive, bony fists as tall as her torso, brittle with age. As they skirt around it, a cluster of small skittering creatures emerges from its rib cage; she signals to Theron and he flanks the pack before she drops their cloaking and they pick off the creatures one by one with blaster shots and knife slashes.

"You know,” he says as the last one falls, “that’s really disconcerting.”

“Hm?” She turns toward him as she resheaths the blade, prodding at one of the creatures with the toe of her boot. It’s twisted and pale, eyes milky and fangs thin as needles; whatever it is, she’d bet its kin haven’t seen sunlight in generations. “They are odd-looking, aren’t they?”  

“I meant you. You know you laugh when you break stealth, right?”

She snorts. “I do not. I always exhale on a backstab, yes, but that just helps focus the strike. Basic combat dynamics.”

He keeps moving forward as the cave walls open up around them. “Well, yeah, I know that. But seriously, you actually laugh. It’s kind of creepy.”

“I don’t-”

(Yes, you do. You definitely do. Lana grins. I’ve heard it myself.

I know that now- Theron took a holo of me training the next day and played it back for me. Vector told me later he’d always assumed I was doing it on purpose.)

She stops, the odd feeling intensifying. So far everything they’ve passed through has been natural, hollows and passages worn into the stone by years of slow erosion, but the chamber ahead of them’s massive, all square corners and round columns and a domed ceiling arching high above their heads. Someone built this place

Someone built this place a long, long time ago.  

Theron’s stopped, too, standing beside her and looking around, studying the carvings chiseled into the walls. “I think we found it.”

“I think you’re right.” She traces the letters with a fingertip. “This is Sith. Old Sith. It reminds me of the ruined temple on Dromund Kaas- the little I’ve seen of it, at least. Why didn’t Lana come with us? This sort of thing’d be right in her wheelhouse.”

“They’re all scared,” he says, “of this place. They won’t admit it to our faces, but they are.”

“So how do you know they're scared, then?”

Theron grins. “Despite her constant ‘my agent’-ing, my mother occasionally manages to forget what I do for a living. I eavesdropped on her and Marr.” She gives him a look; he rolls his eyes. “Don't give me that- you'd have done it too and you know it. The whole moon’s a nexus of dark side energy, apparently. That kind of power does bad things to people.”

“But not to us?”

He shakes his head. “Not in the same way. You still feel it though, don’t you? Like-” he reaches out, drags one knuckle from the base of her neck up to her hairline and she twitches- “that. Just-”

“I know what you mean.” Another shiver. He must feel it, too. “But those Imperial Guards were Force-blind, too, and they were all completely crazy.”

“Yeah. I raised the same objection yesterday when I found out they’d sent you out alone. If we work fast, though, we should be okay.”

“Forgive me if I’m not reassured.” Holding out her hand toward him, she gestures toward the pack. “Give me the field camera? I want to send this to base.”

Theron nods, rummages for a second and then turns her with a touch on her shoulder, hooks the camera over her ear. “I’ll call Lana.”

As she starts taking pictures she walks the length of the left-hand wall, keeping her eyes on the inscriptions. She knows a few of the letters, a double ‘r’ here and a ‘z’ there that she remembers from the plaque Darth Zhorrid had outside her chambers, but some of them are odd- that one looks more pictograph than letter, like some kind of long-legged bird. The words run to the back of the chamber; she can make out the outlines of structures there, a long, low platform topped by three more locks and a series of raised tiles along the floor surrounding a larger, central pyramid.

Hm. This wasn’t in the briefing.

“Damn it. I can’t get a comm signal.” He calls out across the room. “We might be too far underground.”

“I’ll keep documenting. At worst, they can look over it when we get back. Between Darth Marr, Lana and Dee-Four’s databases, someone ought to know how to read this.”

“With any luck,” he says, “it’s an instruction manual. ‘How to kill an Emperor.’”

She chuckles. “We can only hope.”

(That would assume, Valkorion murmurs, and for a moment she can see him on the opposite couch, arms crossed, regarding her with quiet amusement, that such a thing exists.

You protest too much, old man. She closes her eyes. When she opens them, he is gone.)

Gloves off and tucked into her belt, she rests her palms on the first lock.

Nothing happens.

Theron’s looking at her expectantly; she shrugs. “It worked yesterday. I- oh, no. There were three of the emperor’s guards left. What if we have to activate all three at the same time?”

“That’s going to be a problem, yeah. But-” he touches the carved stone pedestal- “look at the floor. Same symbol there, on that far tile.”

He’s right. Not quite so simple as yesterday, but if it was built by the Massassi, even under Sith guidance, the system couldn’t be too complicated. They’ve barely got language, for Force’s sake.

“Maybe if I stand on it?” As she steps cautiously onto the symbol it shifts under her feet, sinking downward, the same violet glow rising and winding around her legs, wrapping tight- no, no, that’s just her imagination. It’s only light.

“And then I just-?” Pulling one of his own gloves off, Theron touches the little pyramid.

She feels it a split second before it strikes, a static hum that sets her hair on end. But one can’t outrun lightning: it hits her square in the chest, mostly diffusing off her shielding but still she drops like a stone, the back of her head bouncing off the floor as electricity arcs from beneath Theron’s hand to the center point. Sprawled out, air knocked from her lungs, it’s hard to breathe- oh, that’s bright. Her vision wavers.

She can hear him swearing over the crackling lightning; after a few seconds she’s moving, dragged off the tile and out of the line of fire with his arms looped under hers. When her eyes remember how to focus he’s crouched next to her, fingers pressed to her throat as her pulse stutters and then steadies. “Hey- are you ok? Talk to me.”

“Ow.”

“It worked.”

“I noticed,” she mutters, then coughs. “You get to stand on the tile for the next one.”

When he helps her sit up her chest hurts less. “It’s staying active. I think we can sit for a minute.”

“No. I want to get out of here.” As she says it he brushes dust off her face, off her jacket; the back of her head’s stinging and when she rubs at the sore spot her fingertips come away sticky. That’d explain the headache, then. “Get me up and let’s keep going.”

“You’re bleeding.” Theron frowns. “Let me at least look at it.”

She tries to wave him away but he’s already pulling a medkit out of the pack, dabbing antiseptic on the wound that must be there- ow, ow, ow. “Only a little cut, I’m sure. I’m fine.” She swats at his hand again.

“And attracting everything in scent distance.”

He does have a point. “Hit it quick, then. Injectors hurt like hell on the scalp.”

“There’s skin glue if you’d prefer.” Theron holds up the little applicator. “Should hold.”

“Not in my hair. I’d have to shave off that whole area if you don’t place it right.” 

“That’d be quite a look, yeah. Fair.” Tucking it away again, he takes out and uncaps the kolto. “Ready?”

She bites back a yelp as the needle sinks in. That hurt more than the lightning, she thinks, though she probably deserves it for running around without her helmet- the pain’s getting off lucky compared to the lecture she’d have gotten from Lokin.

He dabs one more time at the area with the cleaning towel.  “Okay. All fixed.”

“No new scars, at least. Though you could offer to kiss it better.” For a moment she manages to keep a straight face. He's not quite so easy to fluster as she'd once thought: at their planning meetings he surprised her, sarcastic as ever but as professional as any of her old Intelligence colleagues, mask not slipping even when she know’s he’s bristling at Marr’s sly insults or his mother’s offhand comments. Even today, their first real field outing together- strange, given all the time they’ve spent working side by side- he’s acquitted himself well. But at her comment he flushes a little and she can’t help but grin. “Oh, I’m only teasing. You’re no fun at all.”

“You’ve got a weird idea of fun. I was just going to say this isn’t exactly the best place for that.”

“I’ve been on way worse dates.” That, at least, makes him smile. “That’s a relief. I was worried it might be me.”

He smirks, shifts position to nudge into her side with one hip, and as he helps her to her feet he presses a kiss behind her ear. “Nope. There- sorry for electrocuting you.”

“Much better.” She adjusts her armor, knocked out of place by the impact. “And I forgive you. Like I said, you get to stand on the tile this time.”

(As it turned out, she yawns- stars, what time is it?- the blasted tiles stayed lit after they were touched. No need for continuous pressure after all. Theron didn’t even have to dodge.

I do wish I’d gone with you. The images you took really were fascinating, Lana says, and even after over a millennium all the mechanisms still worked. One can only hope to leave a legacy like that.

Dusty ruins and wandering ghosts- I think we can do better. Don’t you?

Lana smiles.)

The final lock was in yet another cave, this one on the far side of the valley that cradled the temple complex, identical carvings along its sloped walls and shallow steps leading up to a last diamond-shaped prism twice the size of any other she’s seen. When they get close it’s already glowing, that same eldritch light pulsing with her heartbeat, slow and even and hypnotic.

“Last one.” Theron turns to her. “Should we do this together?”

She nods; they raise their hands, side by side, to chest height. “On three. Three, two, one-”

It ignites at their touch and she can almost hear it, a howl deep inside her head; the energy bursting from the lock knocks them both off their feet, sending them flying almost to the base of the steps. For the second time today she lands hard on her back, skidding along the stones until she collides with the wall and curls onto her side.

It’s so bright, so bright- oh, this was a mistake. What have they let free?

When the glow finally fades enough that she can see again Theron’s across the staircase, against the other wall with one hand pressed to his ribs- they’d better not be broken again, the Grand Master’s going to kill me- still looking up toward the lock. There’s something else there now, backlit and hard to make out, a humanoid figure making its way down the steps toward them. Its steps are silent, though, no echo of booted heels against the floor.

A man.

Not quite. The shape of a man cast in white light and soft shadow, the face of a man, scarred and draped in robes that she ought to recognize, she thinks, but-

Theron whines, barely audible but no less terror in the sound for its quietness, and presses himself harder back into the wall as the figure (a Force ghost, Lana murmurs, quiet. He must have drawn on the energy you released to be able to manifest.) draws within arm’s reach of her. “Well,” the figure says, and she knows his voice, knows why Theron’s afraid, “it’s about time. I’ve been waiting for you.”

It would almost be funny if her head didn’t hurt too much to laugh. “Hello, Revan. I knew I killed you.”

“Only in part,” he says, “as I'm sure you've gathered. But yes, I suppose you did.”

She gathers herself onto hands and knees, starts to move in a slow crawl across the length of the stair toward Theron. If he tries to capture him again, she can at least put herself between them- whatever good that would do against a spirit. “If you're here, who’s leading the cult, then? They certainly seem to think it’s you. We certainly thought it was you.”

“An abomination. A brooding monster, blinded by his obsession with revenge on the Emperor, clinging to a body that refuses to die.” As Revan continues to speak she keeps moving, ever so careful, centimeter by centimeter. “And you must not let him succeed.”

Wait. What?

“Are you seriously trying to tell me-” she’s nearly there now- “that the thing who’s hunted us halfway across the galaxy and tortured Theron nearly to death is your evil twin?”

“No. An explanation would require more time than we have, and-” Revan pauses. “Although when you say it like that, it does sound absurd, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little.”

He doesn’t respond, looking past her instead, face flickering for a moment from blank neutrality into something like grief. “Strategy only counts for so much, I’ve found. Some things can’t be predicted.”

“A very convenient excuse.” Finally close enough, she angles herself between the two of them as Theron shifts behind her, one hand on her shoulder. “You said you’ve been waiting. What do you want?”

“He thinks he can destroy the Emperor. He’s wrong.” Looking down at them, Revan sighs. “He- I was never meant to be the one to do that. I understand that now, but he refuses to see it.”

“Then tell us how to stop him before he can complete the ritual.”

He’s fading already, the light ebbing and his outline beginning to blur. “He won’t begin until he believes you’ve been defeated. Find him, and destiny will do the rest. But you won't be able to do it alone.”

“But how- ”

“May the Force be with you.” The words echo off the walls and then Revan is gone.

Theron exhales, breath ragged- he must have been holding his breath this entire time, the way he gasps- and sags against her. He’s shaking, his hand on her shoulder tapping staccato against the kinetic plating of her armor; he breathes again, inhaling for four heartbeats, a pause and a slow exhale, and then another.

(She knows that exercise all too well.

And in-two-three-four, the instructor says, singsong, to twenty faces in a darkened classroom. Her own feet are flat on the floor, hands resting on her thighs. Holding now- four, five, six, seven and exhale slowly to a count of eight and now again-two-three-four-

Some things are universal.)

“Sorry,” he says after another half-dozen breaths. “Sorry. I-”

She turns halfway around, not so far as to shift him off her but just enough to be able to see his face. “Shh. Don’t. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine. If he’d attacked us I’d have been useless. He-” His voice catches. Of course he wasn’t ready to go against Revan already, not this soon, not after the way she can guess Revan- the abomination or however they ought to call the thing hiding in the inner reaches of the temple that is and isn’t Revan all at the same time; the Force can go fuck itself- must have played havoc in his head. She should have known better. Physically he was ready, but mentally-

“Not sure either of us would have been much use,” she shrugs, forcing a note of levity into her voice. “Unless you know how to fight spirits, which I certainly don’t.”

He chuckles half-heartedly but he’s less shaky now, almost steady if still leaning hard against her side. “Not really. But still.”

“It hasn’t even been a month. I think it’s allowed. You should have seen me the first time someone tried to buy me a Cassandra Sunrise after-” She cuts herself off just in time. Regardless of circumstances, there are things he isn’t allowed to know. “Never mind. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” Sitting up straighter, he twists from side to side, bending experimentally. “No. I landed on the pack, but I’m okay.”

“Good. Let’s-”

Her portable holo starts chiming and she reaches into her belt pouch, setting it hovering in the air between them. When Darth Marr flickers into solidity she doesn’t even bother standing, just stays sitting beside Theron as the lens focuses on them.

“You had a visitor. A manifestation. The Jedi and I both felt it.”

“Yes. Revan, but not the one we’ve been dealing with. This one’s dead.” That… doesn’t seem to surprise Marr at all. Hm. “Dead-ish, at least.”

He nods. “We suspected that might be the case.”

“Is that so?” She sighs up at the holo. “If I might make a suggestion, my lord?”

The silence that follows might be assent or it might be a warning; she never quite knows. Theron moves his hand behind her back, out of sight of the camera, a shift in pressure relaying a caution she chooses to ignore.

“That would have been useful,” she says, and she does not care because her head aches and she’s got blood caked in her hair and dust in her eyes and Theron coming down from a panic attack beside her and it is not fair and she is not having a bit of it, not today- “to include in the damned briefing.”

(Lana buries her head in her hands. How are you still alive?

Luck, mostly. That and usefulness and a modicum of blackmail go a long way.)

***

You remember what happened after that, don’t you? We set up the forward camp that night.

Lana nods. I remember. We could only fit a third of the soldiers inside the boundaries of the temple. I just kept thinking- what if we failed? All of the rest of them were going to die.

Even that didn’t help some of them. She frowns. We were wrong about the Revanites’ numbers. They were all just hiding behind the walls… so many dead in the first day alone. Stars, but we were so stupid.

How could we have known?

We couldn’t have. She tucks her knees up against her chest again, trying to ignore the restless feeling stirring in the back of her head. And none of that mattered in the end, did it?

Another verse of the same song.

***

There’s nothing for them to do but wait.

It takes three days to breach the temple, three days of hard fighting with Republic and Empire side by side. She sees almost none of it. The casualty rates are still within acceptable limits but only barely- a hundred on that first day, fifty on the second and another twenty on the third before Torch and her Mandalorians arrive and finally shatter the Revanite line.

(That had been a surprise.

Maybe it really is the end of the world. If the Mandalorians are here, at the very least it ought to be quite a battle.)

They can’t risk wounds that might take them out of the fight, not this close to Revan. So they spend three long days waiting, reviewing reports and planning and sparring to keep their skills sharp.

“Stop letting me win.” Her forearm’s across Theron’s throat and her left knee on his chest as he blinks up at her, flat on his back, in the lantern light of the courtyard. “If this was a battle you’d be dead five times over by now.”

“I’m not letting you do anything. I just like to work at range.” Grabbing her arm with both hands, he rolls in the opposite direction, hauling her off-balance; she tries to dive over him but he actually holds on this time, catching her with a knee in the stomach that knocks the breath out of her.

That’s better.

She lands hard, gasping-

“All right, you lot.” Lana’s climbing down from the tall tower, feet steady on the rungs of the ladder despite the dark. “Bedtime for me. It’s your turn to take watch.”

“Just when my luck was starting to change,” Theron grumbles and rocks back onto his heels, holds out a hand to help her to her feet. “Is it both of us on middle watch again?”

She nods, breath not quite back yet, and points toward the ladder where Vector’s descending- she’d insisted on his return on their decampment and surprisingly Marr and Satele conceded without argument. Always two on watch. A formality, mostly: the line’s ahead of them and perimeter sensors behind and it’s been silent every night but orders are orders.

“We took the liberty of leaving the caf,” Vector murmurs in passing. “It’s still nearly full. We thought you might have need of it.”

“You know me,” she grins, a faint cough punctuating the words, “too well.”

They scale the ladder, her first and Theron behind her. Atop the watchtower there isn’t much: two chairs and a little brazier, the thermos of caf and four cups, one used (Lana’s, almost certainly. Vector never needed it- another side benefit of the Joining.). She stands at the inner wall, looking out toward the lights of the troop encampment.

“It’ll be tomorrow, won’t it?” The center of the complex glows like a permanent sunset, the ritual markers there primed for use but still untouched; Revan really does seem to be waiting for them. “Do you think we can do this?”

“We have to.” Pressing one of the cups into her hand, Theron leans against the wall beside her. “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

“I know, but-”

It’s colder here than at their base camp. It shouldn’t be. The breeze blowing toward them always seems to radiate outward from the temple’s core, though, no matter where one’s standing along the perimeter, carrying a damp chill with it that reminds her of home. She wraps her hands around the cup and shivers.

“Theron,” she says after a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yeah. A little.” He turns to look at her. “More than a little. I'll be ready for him this time, but… are you?”

She nods. “I fought him once before. He threw me twenty meters across a room into a duracrete pillar with his mind while dueling two full Sith Lords simultaneously and dodging a missile barrage, and he wasn’t anywhere near this crazy back then. So yes, I’m afraid.”

“D’you know, that actually makes me feel better?”

“Does it?” The caf doesn’t help settle her tonight, no more than the sparring did; she drains the cup at a draught and shifts restlessly on her feet. “That’s good, I suppose.”

“The rest of them all seem so certain. I thought I was the only one who isn’t.”

(I definitely wasn’t, Lana murmurs. I was probably just hiding it well. I’ve had rather a lot of practice.)

She shakes her head. “Being scared just means you’re paying attention, I think- it's more a question of redirecting it. Myself, I prefer anger. Much more productive.”

“Me, too. I was never very good at keeping calm.” Theron sets his cup down on the stone ledge. “One of the many reasons I’d have made a lousy Jedi.”

“Many?” She chuckles. “Besides the obvious, I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Well-” he slips one arm around her waist and she turns, glances down into the courtyard below but it’s still and silent, no one there to see, so she lets him pull her in close; she fits, just so, into the void spaces left by his body- “the whole attachment thing, for one.”

She smiles, tilts her chin up to catch him in a kiss.

(Not a debt settled, not in the open and not when they ought to have been paying attention to other things. They were not so reckless as that.

That was later, after- but there was solace enough in kisses, at least, to calm them both.)  

***

Revan couldn’t control her after all.

It was the one thing that went right.

Not that watching her allies spinning helpless in invisible cages as she runs frantic from lightning and flame and saber blows feels right- it feels awful, even as she breaks each one free to continue their relentless assault- but he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t get enough hold on her mind to trap her. It’s only fitting, she supposes. It was her destiny, Revan said.

Forget destiny. If she was born for this, the universe has a very peculiar sense of humor.

At the end of it they’re all bleeding, even Satele from a jagged slash along one cheekbone, even Marr, a dark stain welling beneath one sleeve. But they are all alive, all standing in a ring around two Revans-

And then it all went to the Void.

(Ah, Revan. His voice in her head again, honey laced with poison. Like you, in many ways- so stubborn, even to the end, and so very many interesting things inside his head. After three hundred years one gets to know a person rather well.)

***

Their soldiers lived. That must count for something.

They will not speak of the Emperor. That much was decided immediately, as soon as Revan, whole once more, had left them for the last time. Even in the face of his failure- their failure; they were all complicit in it at the end of the day, whether they admitted it to themselves or not- their troops deserved to celebrate a victory.

Revan was gone. That must count for something, too. And even freed, the Emperor was still incorporeal. How much harm could a spirit possibly cause?

(shut up shut up shut UP)

The worst of their injuries seen to, they wait for evac back to the base camp. She settles onto a fallen pillar, closing her eyes; her head’s swimming from stealth and it’ll settle in a moment as soon as the stim kicks in, but for now the world’s spinning in circles just as the rest of them were doing not ten minutes ago. Someone sits to her left, a brush of robes at her side like the air after a storm.

“H’lo, Lana,” she murmurs. “Wake me up when we’re leaving?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

They lean against each other, kept upright mostly by force of will, and after another little while she feels Theron settle on her other side. (She didn’t need to open her eyes to know it was him, though to go by size and build alone it could just as easily have been Vector. She could joke that it was his hair or his jacket, but it wasn’t-

It was just him. She could have been blind all along and she’d still have known.)

“We did it,” he says, and in the narrow space between them he rests his hand on top of hers; they sit like that, silent and exhausted, Lana half-asleep on her shoulder and her little finger twined around his, until the shuttle comes.  

***

They meet, one last time, at the War Table.

It’s over. It’s strange to think about, their odd little group still more like the punchline to a joke instead of the heroes the four of them somehow became. Six months of their lives gone, six months spent in planning and running and hiding and fighting, only to win the battle and maybe lose the war all at the same time- and in twenty-three hours none of it will matter at all.  

The truce’ll be over. Back to the Empire, back to the Republic, back to their lives.

Tonight, though, despite everything, they’ll celebrate.

“Stay a moment, Cipher.” Darth Marr holds up his hand as she starts to turn and go. “We have matters to discuss. Lord Beniko, you as well.”

She glances at Lana quickly, just a flicker out of the corner of her eye, hoping Marr won’t see; Lana, still in her usual place at Marr’s shoulder, looks just as confused as she feels. He waits, silent, unmoving, until the Republic delegation passes beyond the far archway, before he folds his arms and begins to speak again.

“Regardless of the threat the Emperor may pose, when our fleet departs tomorrow we return to war with the Republic. As such, we will require a full complement of resources, and while others on the Council have deemed it sufficient in past years to maintain our intelligence operations as a subsidiary of the military Spheres-” his tone is blistering, and she could almost swear the lenses over his eyes narrow for a moment; she can only imagine his facial expression behind his mask- “recent events have led me to reassess this approach. Your work on Manaan, on Rakata Prime and on Rishi was unsanctioned, in direct defiance of official orders from the Sphere of Military Offense, despite your knowledge of what the consequences of such actions might be.”

Silence seems the safest response to that. She swallows hard, nodding, and stands up straighter as he continues.

(You know now what he meant, obviously. I was fairly sure I was about to die.

Lana nods. I had no idea at the time. About any of it. I was fairly sure you were about to die, too.)

“And yet had you not done so, we would have fought the Republic over Rishi. The Revanites would have had their victory. Clearly,” Marr rumbles, “allowing Intelligence to work independently has benefit.”

“With all due respect, my lord,” she says as he pauses again, his head angled in anticipation of her reply, “we’ve been making that argument for years. You won’t hear me disagree.”

Lana shoots her a look at that but he only makes a noise; it might have been a laugh, if she believed he had anything approaching a sense of humor. “I would expect no less. You should be pleased, then, Cipher. Sith Intelligence will resume full operation immediately, under new leadership.”

The Minister was right after all. Does he mean-

She clasps her hands behind her back to hide the pressure of her thumb against the opposite palm, tracing tiny quick calming circles in one of the focusing techniques she learned in training, keeping her voice steady and her tone even. “Not Darth Zhorrid, then?”

“Zhorrid no longer has a place on the Council. While her lineage is respectable- “ behind him, Lana’s eyes flick toward the ceiling as she tries not to make a sound- “she has proven incapable of rising to the challenge of command. Until such time as a suitable candidate for the Sphere of Intelligence is located, I will continue to represent its interests. On an administrative level, however-”

He turns toward Lana, raises his hand in a gesture she doesn't recognize but Lana clearly does; she goes pale and still, her eyes wary.

“While Cipher Nine’s work in the field was invaluable, it was your guile and intellect that made the campaign possible at all. Lana Beniko, I hereby-” Marr gestures again- “appoint you as head of Sith Intelligence.”

You have got, she thinks, and catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth to keep herself from howling out objection, to be fucking kidding me.

For a moment, she thinks she’s going to say no. For a minute, she wants her to say no. But then Lana bows, solemn, gaze downcast.

“You do me honor, my lord. How could I possibly decline?

“Indeed.” That noise again, that almost-laugh. “A well-earned reward.”

Her head’s still lowered. “Yes. I will do my best to be worthy of it.”

Marr’s attention snaps back to her just as she manages to stop her lip from twitching- how dare he do this, reviving Intelligence and giving it over to a Sith, even a Sith like Lana but of course he’s a Dark Councilor, he can do as he pleases, could snap her neck here and now and no one would so much as blink when he stepped over her body- “You may negotiate terms of your continued employment with Lord Beniko as you choose, Cipher, although she will require your complete dossier for review.”

“Yes, my lord. As you say.” There was definitely emphasis on the complete, there. Of course there was. Shit, shit, shit.

“For now, there does appear to be a celebration beginning. You may avail yourselves of it as you see fit. Your new positions begin tomorrow, and we will reconvene in the morning to begin organizational planning.” With a dismissive wave he starts down toward the arch, toward camp and the dull clamor of music and soldiers’ voices already raised in half-drunk song. “I do not think I will join you, myself. I have a call to make.”

They both stand there, staring after Marr, and when he’s gone she turns toward Lana, starts to speak-

And Lana crouches down low, knees bent, head in her hands, muffling a sharp little scream against her cupped palms. After a minute, she looks up.

“Head of Sith Intelligence,” she says, nose wrinkling and mouth twisted around the words. “Well, fuck.”

(Is it wrong of me to say that I was a little glad you were upset?

Lana snorts. A little glad? You should have seen your face.)  

***

Up next: Goodbye (Reprise).  A party when no one feels like celebrating, a debt settled, and a truce concluded.

[spacednp]

When You Wish Upon a Star

WATTPAD AO3

TW: NONE I DONT THINK besides swearing but that's legit all my fan fiction lmao wait I think I mentioned condoms once but again legit all my fanfics at this point

SUMMARY: PARENT PHAN TAKES CHILDREN TO DISNEY WORLD IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS WTF

ADDITIONAL NOTES: p a r e n t p h a n i s m y k I N K

I DIDNT MAKE THE KIDS CALL PHIL DADDY BC THATS DANS JOB K? K

no but really Phil being daddy is too real

this legit is my favorite thing I've ever written asdfghjkl

WC: 3.7k

"Winne I swear to fucking Jesus if you don't stop moving for three seconds so I can put on your fucking socks I will fucking bash your head in you little shit," Dan hissed at the wiggling toddler in his lap. He loved his little girl, but she was also a brat, and that wasn't a good thing for the easily frustrated 30 something.

"Daniel! Watch your language in front of the children!" Phil chided his husband, covering their older child, Dillon's, ears.

"Papa, I'm seven and a half whole years old!" Dillon protested. "I already know all the naughty words!" Phil gasped at this and sent a glare at Dan that went unnoticed as Dan was preoccupied with the annoying little bundle of joy crying about not wanting the socks on.

"I'm no wanna!" Winnie cried, flailing her arms about. As Winnie was still learning how to speak, she had a few quirks and speech impediments. One of those was "I'm". The young child never used "I", it was always "I'm". When loud footsteps filled the house as Winnie ran about, she would scream, "I'm run!", which neither Dan nor Phil had the heart to correct her on. Winnie was their only baby. They adopted Dillon when he was 5, so they missed out on all the baby years, which they didn't want to miss again, so Winnie was born from a surrogate. Now Dan and Phil loved Winnie a hellova lot, but she was a fussy little brat.

"Goddamn it Winnie!" Dan spat as he grabbed onto the child's foot in a vain attempt to still it enough to get her foot in the sock. Dan let out a frustrated groan as he shoved Winnie's foot into the pale colored sock. "Philllll," Dan whined as Winnie kicked her sock off and caused it to fly across the room. Phil smiled slightly as he crossed the room to pick Winnie up off of Dan's lap, setting her on his hip and looking down lovingly as his very frustrated husband who was leaning back into the couch, almost melting into it. Dan smiled up at Phil and blew a curly hair out of his pink face.

"Thank you, babe," Dan said as he stood up and whipped off his sweaty palms on his dirty black jeans (they were clean, and then they found out that Winnie did NOT like peaches).

"You're welcome, Bear. Go help Dil get packed and ready," Phil said as he plopped down on the couch Dan had left unoccupied, laying Winnie down next to him. "Looks like its a sandal type of day, huh Winnie?" He asked his daughter, causing the two year old to giggle, sharp blue eyes full of happiness. God, he was going to die when she got old enough to date, he just might have to buy a gun.

Phil somehow managed to get the squirmy toddler into some white sandals with little pastel flowers decorating them that Dan said were "too fucking adorable". The family was rushing about trying to get ready as it was the day of their first trip as a family, and just like every other basic non-American family, they were going to Orlando.

"Philly!" Dan cried from Dillon's room, sounding frustrated. Phil laughed lightly, looking down at Winnie.

"Looks like Daddy is having some problems with Dil, huh Winnie?" Phil asked his little daughter as he picked her up and walked to Dillon's room, the toddler just giggled the whole walk, like she always did. As Phil entered the room covered in dinosaurs (because "they're the coolest things ever!"), he was greeted by a flustered Dan and a suitcase full of dinosaur toys, some stuffed and some plastic. Phil laughed at the mess and his upset (but still adorable) husband.

"Oh dearuh!" Winnie exclaimed in her sweet baby voice, causing even the very frustrated Dan to crack a smile. Phil rubbed Winnie's back as he looked around for Dillon, only to find him angrily crossing his arms in the corner.

"Yes, Winnie, very oh dear," Phil agreed as he met Dan's eyes. "What happened?" Phil asked his husband. Dan just shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

"Dil is being difficult," Dan said, gesturing to the suitcase full of dinosaurs and the fuming child. Phil smiled weakly and set Winnie on the ground before walking over to Dillon and crouching down to his level and looking him in his anger filled sea green eyes.

"What's up buddy?" Phil asked, aware of Dan fangirling in the background, as he always did when Phil acted all "Dad like". In the end Dan was just Phil trash #1, in any situation.

"Dad won't let me bring all my dinosaurs," Dillon grumbled, pouting slightly.

"Okay, but you need room for your clothes, how about we just bring two dinosaurs?" Phil offered, knowing Dillon would try to bump it up to three and that they could compromise like that.

"Three," Dillon countered just as Phil thought he would, to which Phil pretended to be iffy on for a minute.

"Okay then, three," Phil finally said, standing back up to full height and looking down at his now smiley son.

"Thanks, Papa!" Dillon yelped, throwing his arms around Phil's middle/waist area. Phil let out a small 'oof!' before patting his son's head and letting him hug him. Eventually Dillon pulled away and ran to pick his dinosaurs. Dan quickly replaced Dillon, wrapping his arms around Phil, causing the older man to giggle and wrap his arms around Dan's waist.

"Thank you," Dan muttered into the crook of Phil's neck. Phil loved the moments like that, when he was reminded of the years before, like in 2009 when he held Dan in the train station, like in 2012 when he told Dan they'd stay together, just times when their bodies were pressed together, two people oblivious to the world and content and happy in each other's arms, two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, as cheesy as it was.

"You're welcome," Phil replied, enjoying the warm cinnamon smell of Dan's body wash. Eventually the boys untangled themselves from each other's arms and went back to packing.

"Philly," Dan said from where he was squatting next to Winnie who had one of Dillion's dinosaurs sticking out of her mouth. Dan quickly pulled the toy out of her mouth and tossed it to the side before Dillion caught of glimpse of what his sister was doing. The two loved each other, very very deep down. Dan and Phil knew it, but they also knew that if one even looked at something that belonged to the other, it would result in all out war, and no one had time for that when they were about to be stuffed together in close proximity for hours as they flew to America.

"Yes?" Phil asked as he folded Dillion's clothes and neatly set them in the suitcase. Most of which were tee shirts with various graphic designs on them, mostly dinosaurs. The prehistoric reptiles just fascinated Dillion, which always made his father's break into grin. After all, how could someone not find that adorable? It was near impossible.

"You have kid duty, I have to finish our packing, okay?" Dan asked as he made his way out the door, not really giving Phil an option. Little did Dan know, he had a shadow. A small, wiggly, sticky, chubby cheeked, little shadow.

"Ha, looks like you also have Winnie duty," Phil called after Dan, setting down the green dinosaur jumper in his hands to watch Winnie speed crawl after Dan. She could walk... kind of. It was more of waddling, so she mostly crawled around as her main method of transportation. Dan turned around and looked down at the tinny bag of giggles and put his hands on his hips, a stupid grin on his face.

"Where are you going, Winne poo?" Dan asked in a voice a little higher pitched and softer than his usual voice. It was the voice he talked to babies with, everyone had that kind of a voice.

"Wit Dadda," Winnie replied, still on all fours like a dog. Her pastel pink and white sported dress was flipped over so it showed her entire stomach and diaper, which made Dan wonder if they should of put shorts on under it. Dan decided it would be fine, it was only a two year old's diaper anyway.

"No no, Winnie poo, you gotta stay with Papa," Dan argued softly, gesturing to Phil who had gone back to helping Dillion pack and wasn't paying any attention to his husband or daughter.

"No no, I'm go wit Dadda," Winnie said, pulling herself up with Dan's still sticky and gross jeans that he really needed to change. She grabbed Dan's hand and waddled away, like she was trying to get Dan to come with her. Dan followed, like the good Dadda he was.

When they reached the stair case Dan scooped Winnie into his arms, and she didn't protest. She knew better. Both kids did. No one was aloud up the stairs without permission, which helped with the kids being safe and Dan and Phil being safe to do whatever they please in the privacy of their room. Plus, it was funny to watch the kids try and find a loop hole around the whole "no upstairs" rule, like "what if I have to pee and both the downstairs bathrooms explode". That one had to be Dan's favorite.

"Let go uppie!" Winnie sung, waving her chubby arms around in glee. She loved uppie, well, she did when it was somewhere she wanted to go, if Dan or Phil picked her up to go to her bedroom for sleepy time, she threw a fit. Their daughter was as much of a night owl as her fathers. Dan remembered one occasion when he picked her up in the store because she threw a temper tantrum (Dadda didn't get her the candy), and it only made it worse. Dan was so angry that he yelled at his daughter, but regretted it the second her saw how sad it made her. He was so tempted to just buy her the damn candy because he loved her so much, but he held strong, until later that night when he cried in Phil's arms. He couldn't help it, he loved Winnie an awful lot, and seeking her unhappy physically hurt him. She was his baby.

"Yay, uppie!" Dan cheered, wondering how in God's name he was going to pack for both he and Phil and watch Winnie to make sure she didn't get into anything she shouldn't be in. He knew he'd forget something, he just hoped it wasn't watching his daughter, he had no idea how he'd be able to explain to Phil how Winnie managed to swallow a condom. That would traumatize everyone involved, including Dan.

"Are you sure we have everything?" Phil asked for the millionth time. Dan nodded, trying to fiddle with his keys to lock the door. It was hard when you had a wiggly child and about a thousand bags in your arms. Okay, it was two bags, and Phil and even Dillion were carrying more, but still, they weren't carrying a Winnie.

"Yes, love, we have everything," Dan assured his husband.

Turns out they didn't have everything, in the rush to get packed and ready quickly, they forgot toothpaste. Now, since they were spending a week in Florida, they needed toothpaste. So, after hours of kicking and screaming and embarrassment from the flight, Phil had to go to a nearby Walmart and buy some toothpaste. Dan was at the hotel with the kids while Phil went, mainly because there was no way in hell Phil was being left alone with them that moment. Phil loved his kids and was even more patient with them than Dan, but the man needed a break. Even if it was just for 15 minutes, he enjoyed it. It was rare that he was the one who got a break, usually it was Dan before he actually murdered one of their kids.

Phil rushed through the rows upon rows of shelves, many of which were filled with things that seemed less than useless. (Seriously America? Who comes up with a stuffed animal that turns into a demon faced beast when you press a button?) He kept his head low, hoping he wouldn't be noticed by anyone. Usually he loved the fans and didn't mind being recognized and taking a few pictures with them, but he wasn't looking very great at the moment and would rather there not be dozens of copies of a photo where he had greasy hair and stained jeans on covering every social media cite.

Phil finally made his way to the personal hygiene area and scanned the shelves for the toothpaste he and Dan typically used. He found it and grabbed it, making his way to check out. He almost got out of the store without being recognized, until Maria behind the counter wanted a picture. Dammit. The fact that he didn't manage to go the entire shopping trip without being noticed bothered Phil, nevertheless, he took the picture with the girl and gave her hugs. She asked how Dan and the kids were and Phil said they were great and then he left, head down in embarrassment. He probably should of showered and changed before leaving the hotel, but he didn't.

Soon enough he was back in the hotel room, happy to find both Winnie and Dillion happily asleep in their shared bed. They had gotten two twin sized beds in the hotel room and hoped Winnie and Dillion would be okay with sharing, and thank goddess they were or else Phil might just cry. He walked towards the bed of his sleeping children and kissed each of their foreheads lovingly.

"Good night," he whispered to the sleeping forms as he turned to the door. He jumped a little to see someone standing behind him, but soon saw the curly fringe that belonged to his husband and felt relief fill him. Dan had his arms crossed across his chest and a loving smile across his face.

"They were very tired from being little shits for so long," Dan said, gesturing to their children on the bed. Phil giggled a little bit, Dan wasn't the most poetic person. For a boy who knew more words than anyone else Phil knew, he sure seemed to have his favorite words, which were just profanities.

"I'm sure they were, must be hard to embarrass your parents for hours on end," Phil said with a yawn. It was only eight in Florida, but in London it would be one in the morning and it had been a very long day. Dan soon joined Phil in his act of yawning and cursed at Phil for making him tired, though Phil knew it was just Dan being difficult and his words had no vicious intent.

"Let's go to bed," Dan said, giving Phil no real choice and dragging him to their bed. Phil shook his head and pulled out of Dan's grasp.

"Pajamas first," Phil ordered in a hushed voice (suddenly remembering that his kids were sleeping and not wanting to wake them), gesturing to his tight jeans. Dan, on the other had was already in his pajamas and looking very comfortable. Dan rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed, quickly getting comfortable and tucking himself under the sheets.

Phil walked over to he and Dan's open suitcase (they decided to share because in all honestly neither knew which clothes were even his at that point, but hey, "what's mine is yours" and other shit that comes with marriage) and flipped through the mess of clothes until he found some pajamas. He didn't even bother going into the bathroom to change because his kids were fast asleep and it wasn't like it was anything Dan hadn't seen already. As he pulled off his shirt in one quick motion he heard Dan give a low two toned whistle from their bed and he just rolled his eyes. You'd think that after years of marriage Dan would give up on that cat calling, you'd be wrong. The boy was a massive flirt and since he was married Phil received all of Dan's flirting needs. Sometimes it was sexy but most times it was bloody annoying. Phil quickly shuffled out of his pants and pulled on his pajama shirt and pants before running over to check if the door and all the windows were locked. Once satisfied that they wouldn't be brutally murdered, raped, and/or kidnapped in their sleep, he crawled into bed next to Dan.

"Night night you sexy motherfucker," Dan muttered as he laid his head on Phil's chest, earning a snort of laughter from Phil.

"Night night," Phil replied, wrapping an arm around Dan's waist while using his other hand to pull the blanket over them both. Lots of sex, drugs, and death happened in hotels and Phil quite honestly had to force himself to not think about that to ever sleep in one. Having Dan next to him made it a little better, but bottom line hotels were disgusting and Phil hated them.

Slowly but surely Phil drifted off to sleep, happy that the next morning he and his beautiful family would enjoy the day at Disney World.

"Philly, I shouldn't have read all those Disney horror stories last week, you were right, I'm fucking terrified of this goddamn ride and holly shit I swear that robot just moved," Dan said in one breath, scooting as close as possible to Phil while squeezing his husband's hand so hard it hurt both parties. Phil meanwhile, was only half paying attention to Dan as he was terrified himself, but only because one of his kids, Dillion, was three rows away and he didn't want to lose his. Now, Phil wasn't all that over protective, okay, maybe a little, but any responsible parent would be afraid when their child(ren) could be in harms way, and his baby was so far away! God, Phil was going to have such a hard time sending either of his kids off to uni.

"Love, you'll be fine, they're supposed to move," Phil said, reacting over Winnie and patting Dan's knee with his free hand that wasn't caught in the death grip of a very terrified man. He stretched himself up a little to get a better look Dillion, who seemed to be having a blast. Winnie was laughing her head off in Phil's lap (it was the only way she'd be aloud on the ride and Phil knew the first chance Dan got he'd throw her like a grenade at the first thing that moved) and Dillion seemed to be screaming the lyrics to "It's A Small World". Phil was really happy his kids were having fun, but he still worried. He wished Dillion could of just sat closer to his fathers but nooo he was too cool for that. The little shit.

Eventually the ride was over and Dan was shaking too badly to hold Winnie, so Phil just set her down and told Dillion to hold her hand. Dillion was going to refuse but Phil gave him the "I swear to God if you don't do what I told you, you're grounded until you go off to uni" face and he obliged.

After a few rides where Phil and Dillion went on alone while Dan stayed on a bench nearby with Winnie, the color started to come back to Dan's face and they could go on a few more rides as a family. Then, Dillion and Winnie managed to get their fathers to get some ice cream eam (or 'i cweam', in Winnie's case), and they stopped by a nearby Dip-n-Dots cart.

"Winnie Pooh, you like your ice cream?" Dan asked, holding the now empty spoon Winnie had just taken a bite off of (Dan was feeding her because Winnie didn't really understand the concept of hot and cold yet, or spoons for that matter). Winnie nodded eagerly, a trail of melted pink ice cream falling down her cheek that Dan quickly whipped away.

"I cweam!" Winnie exclaimed, clapping her somehow-sticky hands to show her excitement. "Yum!"

Dan smiled affectionately at his daughter and felt a cold kiss on his cheek from Phil. "I swear to got Phil if you got fucking ice cream on my cheek I'm getting a divorce," Dan said, a smile on his face because there was no way he'd actually divorce Phil. He turned to his husband who had a huge grin on his face.

"Ops," Phil said, licking his thumb and rubbing it on Dan's cheek where he'd just kissed him. Dan scrunched his eyes in disgust.

"Ewie, 'pit!" Winnie cried, slapping her hands over her eyes in disgust.

"Exactly Winnie, 'ewie 'pit'," Dan replied, pushing Phil's hand away from his face and replacing his thumb with a napkin, like that would magically make the DNA on his face disappear.

"Stop with the PDA!" Dil said from across the table. "You guys are gross!"

Both Dan and Phil laughed at that, because somewhere down the line they'd become the gross couple that's always hugging and kissing in public with two adorable kids that were messy as hell. At that, was the dream. They were living the dream, a wish they wished many years before, before they even met, and as they say in the land of dreams, "when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true".

[thefinny-d]

In The Meantime

Tagging: Finn & Rachel Location: Hospital Notes: When Rachel surprises Finn at work, the two of them share lunch and he shows her around the hospital.

Rachel was so happy to be home and to not be on tour. She didn't realize how much she wanted time with Finn doing absolutely nothing until she actually had the opportunity. Plus, well, she enjoyed the time even more every single time she looked down at her ring finger and saw a beautiful diamond ring looking back at her. She was pretty sure she still couldn't believe that she was going to get married to Finn. It was so surreal to be the one getting married when it always felt like her friends were the ones that were in stable relationships and actually making their way through life. Rachel never thought she'd be that person, yet here she was, starting to plan a wedding. Rachel smiled as she walked into the hospital where Finn worked, her holding onto a small bag of food that she had packed for him along with a few snacks if he had time to eat, her fixing her bag on her shoulder. When she walked towards the wing where he usually was, Rachel smiled when she caught sight of him. "Finn!" She said with a smile on her face as she walked a little more quickly towards him, putting her hand on his arm and smiling at him. "I brought you lunch," Rachel said as she held the small bag up near him. "I missed you and I was bored at home so I thought I could come visit you. You were actually answering some of my texts today so I figured you might not be too overly busy where I can't actually see you." Rachel paused for a moment, a smile on her lips. "Do you have time for a little break? Even if it's just for a few minutes to eat something or grab a coffee? I want to spend some time with my fiance."

Finn was pretty sure he had never been so happy before in his life. Being engaged to Rachel had been absolutely amazing so far and just starting the whole process of planning their wedding was so exciting. Especially getting to see how excited Rachel was. God, he loved her so much. Finn was having a fairly slow day at the hospital and while he loved being busy at work, he also loved getting to spend some extra time with patients who had been stuck in the hospital for a long time and weren't going to be leaving any time soon. Seeing kids so sick was heartbreaking but Finn wanted to do everything in his power to cure them and he knew the little steps towards remission were exactly why he had wanted to do this in the first place. When he felt a hand on his arm as he walked down the hall and turned to see Rachel, a smile immediately spread across his face. "Hi baby," he said happily, his heart swelling with love when she told him that she had made him lunch. "I love you, you know that?" he said with a laugh. "I actually do have time for a little break. I just finished up with a patient and I have about a half hour until I promised Noah I'd check in on him. He wants to show me some new game he got on his phone," he said with a laugh. "Let's go down to the cafeteria and sit down to eat. And I can get you coffee if you want too." Finn slipped his hand into Rachel's before he started walking with her down the hall, smiling at some of his co-workers that he passed on the way. "I'm so happy you came to visit. I've been thinking about you all morning. You looked so pretty this morning and I didn't want to wake you up." Finn smiled softly as he looked down at his fiance, knowing that he fell in love with her more and more every second they spent together.

Rachel smiled as Finn said that he had time for a break. "Good. Because you work way too hard and you deserve a little break. Even if it's just for some coffee, like I said. Even when you're home, sometimes you don't let your brain rest." Finn really did work incredibly hard, but she also knew that he wouldn't be Finn if he didn't work that hard. As they started to walk down the hall, Rachel smiled as she held onto his hand. "I'm happy that you're happy that I came by. I was worried that you'd be too busy or something to talk to me or sit with me. I was getting bored at home and everyone is busy, so I mean... I just figured I'd stop by." She said with a soft smile, continuing to walk down the hall with him. "And I appreciate you letting me sleep, but I wish I could have at least gotten a kiss goodbye," She said teasingly, squeezing his hand. Rachel continued to walk for a moment before walking to the elevator. "You know, you also look really hot when you're in full doctor mode. I love seeing you at work. You're completely different than you are at home even if you don't realize it. But not in a bad way. You're so confident walking around the halls here," She said as she looked up at him. As she kept quiet for a moment, Rachel just looked ahead of them, just feeling content to be around him. "How long are you going to be here today? Should I grab dinner by myself or are you going to be home to eat? Because I have stuff to cook but I don't want to cook and then have to put it away before you can even eat it."

Finn nodded as Rachel spoke. "I know, I know. I have a hard time not working all the time," he said with a soft laugh. "Of course I'm happy that you came by, baby. No matter how busy I am, I'll always make sure that I have time for you." He looked at her with a smile on his face as they walked together and when she told him that she wished she could have gotten a kiss goodbye in the morning, he smiled. "I mean, will a kiss hello be okay?" he asked her teasingly before he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips once they stepped into the elevator. When she told him that he looked hot when he was in doctor mode, Finn smiled softly and looked down for a moment, his face heating up slightly. Even though he had been with Rachel for so long, she still flustered him when she complimented him. It still shocked him when she said that he was hot or sexy because it was hard for him to see himself that way. "I am confident here," he said softly. "I just - I don't know, I know what I'm doing and I love my job. I earned my respect here and that was really hard since I'm a lot younger but I actually did it." Finn squeezed Rachel's hand gently in his, running his thumb over her knuckles before a small smile formed on his face. "I should be home for dinner, babe. I had an early day today and it's kind of slow so I think I'll make it home to eat with you." When the elevator arrived at the floor with the cafeteria, Finn let Rachel towards it and looked down at her happily. "Would you want to meet Noah?" he asked her. "He's been in and our of here since I started working here. He's such an awesome kid and I just try and visit him as much as I can, you know? Especially on days like today. This is his third straight week here and I know it's making him restless," he said softly as he headed over towards an empty table.

Rachel found it amazing that Finn felt so confident here. She had seen him walk around in high school down the hallways and she had seen him do it here, and it was honestly like seeing two different people. He was amazing now that he was here, and well, she loved seeing him so happy. Rachel wanted him to do something that made him incredibly happy and now that he finally was at a place where he felt that way, she hoped that he never lost this chance. Rachel would honestly do anything to make sure that he got to stay in this position. Once they were walking towards the cafeteria and finding an empty table, she nodded and smiled at his words. "Yeah, I'd like to meet him. I couldn't imagine what these kids go through. I mean, I barely spent any time in the hospital when I was younger because I never really got hurt, but these kids? They're miserable and you guys do so much to make sure they're happy and it's amazing to me," She said softly, sitting down at the empty table and placing her bag down onto it. "I'd love to meet him, though. Anyone you want me to meet. It's scary, you know? Imagining being a parent and having to watch your kids be in pain and struggle like this. I can't imagine just... hearing that my child had cancer or something. That's just so... so fucking crazy." She said softly, sighing as she sat back in her chair a little more. "I can't imagine it but of course you'd have to deal with whatever happened. There really isn't another option." She said with a soft sigh. "How old is this kid? Noah? Can we bring him some kind of snack or something or is he on some special diet? Because I know kids love food and I know kids love little stuffed animals and toys and stuff."

Finn looked at Rachel happily when she said that she wanted to meet Noah. He knew that his patient would love meeting her, especially since he was familiar with the song she had done with Ed Sheeran. "It's really hard to see them struggling but they have such good attitudes, you know? They're so young but they're so wise all at the same time because they've already been through so much." As Rachel spoke, Finn nodded in agreement. "I can't imagine it either. If that ever happened to our kid... god, it would totally break my heart," he breathed out. "It's hard talking to the parents, especially when it isn't good news. God, it's really heartbreaking. But when it's good news and you change someone's life? That's what I'm here for." Finn opened up the bag that Rachel had brought along with her with their lunch and he licked his lips at the sight of it. He loved her so much for bringing him food and he was so happy that he'd get to spend more time with the love of his life. "He's six. And we can bring him a snack. I always sneak him Reeses because he's in love with them. And he loves Star Wars so I bought him all the DVDs so he can watch them while he's here." Finn smiled softly at his fiance and he felt his heart swell with love just being around her. She had always been so supportive of him and his job and he knew that he loved her for it so much. "I'm so happy you're here, babe. I love my job and everything but I miss you when I know that you're at home and I can't spend time with you. Or, you know, wedding plan with you," he said with a laugh. "Have you been dress shopping yet?" he asked her between bites of his food, a playful smile on his face as his gaze met hers.

Rachel looked at Finn with a small smile as he talked about Noah, happy that he was so involved with all of his patients. She knew that Finn would be an amazing father when the time came in the future. He was so caring and he really put everyone before himself and Rachel knew that if they ever had a child, it would be the most loved child in the world. "I can understand that. I couldn't imagine giving bad news to parents. It must be so hard." Rachel said with a soft sigh, looking down for a moment. "And good, because I would feel pretty shitty if I couldn't bring him something to make his day a little better. I'll bring him something sweet." Rachel wanted to at least try and make the boy's day better, especially when he probably wasn't feeling the greatest. As they continued to speak, she smiled gently at his words. "O-oh... Uhm, no I haven't been dress shopping yet." She said softly, looking at him with a soft blush. "There's so much to plan. I'm ready to hire someone to keep track of it all," Rachel said with a soft laugh, playing with her ring on her finger as a small smile rose on her lips at the sight of it. "I'm not even really sure what I want, you know? What style. I have to plan a day to go with Mia. But... I'm excited, regardless. It's still weird to think that I need to plan stuff, you know? I love it." Rachel looked over at him and bit down on her bottom lip. "You suck, you're just as bad as Taylor and Jeremy and you try and get me flustered." Laughing gently, she leaned on her hand as she leaned on the table and looked at Finn. "You have it easy. All you need to do is go and buy a nice suit. I need to go find some perfect dress. I want it to be bridal. More traditional. But I want it to be sexy. I think you know more than anyone that I'm not going to show up in some dress that covers every inch of me."

Finn smiled as a soft blush rose on Rachel's cheeks when he asked if she had been dress shopping yet. He found it so cute that talk about the wedding could make her so flustered. Finn knew Rachel better than anyone and he knew that she truly hadn't been expecting him to propose. He knew that this was all slightly shocking and new to her and he loved that he was the one that she wanted all of this with. "There's definitely a lot to plan but we don't have to hire anyone, babe. I want to help with everything that I can, you know? And you know me, I'm way too organized," he said with a laugh. As she played with the ring on her finger, he followed her gaze and he couldn't help but smile. "I love it too. I love that we're getting married. God, I can't wait." When she told him that he was trying to get her flustered, a playful smirk rose on his lips. "I mean, I'm not trying to get you flustered but it is kind of cute, baby. It's just - you don't ever get flustered, you know? I just love that this makes you like that because I just - I see how excited you are and it makes me so happy because I'm so excited too. I can't wait to see you in a wedding dress and be able to call you my wife. How crazy is that?" He laughed softly at her words and nodded. "Oh, I know. I don't expect anything super modest at our wedding and I wouldn't want that anyway. I want you to feel beautiful and sexy at our wedding, you know? And I know you'll find the perfect dress and when I see you I'll probably not be able to talk or say my vows." Finn laughed before he finished off the rest of his food and he sighed contently, leaning on the table as he looked into Rachel's eyes. "And just so you know, I think you have it easy because any dress will looking stunning on you, babe. Me finding something that actually fits me right and looks good? I'll be looking at suits forever," he said with a laugh. "I'm always too tall, I'm sure I'll have to get whatever suit I buy tailored to actually cover my ankles."

Rachel couldn't believe she was getting married half of the time. She never thought it would ever happen to her, and now that it was, she felt like she didn't know where to start. She didn't know what to do first or what to plan or what to feel with half of what she was doing. "Nothing super modest? You got it. And believe me, what I'm wearing -- or not wearing -- the night of our wedding won't be modest, either." A laugh left her lips and she rolled her eyes playfully. "I mean, I want it to feel bridal, but you know me. I just want something that screams me when I walk down the aisle towards you, you know?" She said, shrugging gently. "Either way, no matter what I'm wearing or what you're wearing, we're still going to be husband and wife which is really fucking crazy." Honestly, she wouldn't believe it until it really happened. As Finn finished off his food, she couldn't help but smile. "I feel a lot better knowing that you ate something that's not hospital food. I mean, I'm sure the cafeteria food isn't horrible but I don't mind bringing you food that you can actually digest and not feel horrible about eating. Plus, it gives me an excuse to see you and that's better than anything." Looking at him for a moment, she sighed contently. "Do you want to sit around for a while? Or do you want to go see that kid? We still have to buy him some candy and get him jumping off of the walls a little bit," Rachel smiled gently, her tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Finn bit down on his lip and smirked as he looked at Rachel. "I'm really, really looking forward to the night of our wedding," he said with a laugh. As she said that them being husband and wife was really fucking crazy, he nodded in agreement. If someone had told him just years before that he would be marrying Rachel Berry, he would have thought they were crazy. It made him so happy that after all they had been through that they had found their way back to each other because he knew they needed each other desperately. They balanced each other out in the best possible way and he knew that he would always be grateful for his fiance. "I mean, I definitely won't complain about getting to eat something not from this cafeteria. Usually I just have a salad or something. You always know how to take care of me, babe," he said with a smile. "And any excuse for us to see each other is a perfect excuse. Bring me food whenever you want." Finn met Rachel's gaze and smiled softly at her, reaching across the table to gently take her hand in his. God, he loved her so much and he knew that spending any amount of time with her meant the world to him and more. "We can sit around a little longer if you want, babe. I don't know if you want coffee or not but we can grab some and buy some candy for Noah." Finn glanced down at his watch before he brought his gaze back to his girlfriend. "We still have some time before I told him I'd be there anyway. I kind of ate like - way too fast. I guess that shows that I was way hungrier than I thought." It felt good for him to get his mind off of work for a little bit and he knew that having Rachel around again now that she was back from her tour meant the world to him. She was his everything and getting to see her each day truly made his whole world brighter in the best possible way.

Rachel smiled gently and nodded as Finn spoke. "I'll grab some coffee. I mean, we'll just grab it and walk really slowly to get some candy and then to go to see him," She said as she sat up a little bit more in her chair, offering him a small smile before it turned into a smirk. "I mean, if you have plenty of time, I think that we should take advantage of it. Because I have to say, you look pretty hot in your uniform and I'd be more than happy to sneak away into some room to take advantage of fifteen or twenty minutes," Rachel couldn't help but laugh before she sat back in her chair again, crossing her legs. "But I mean, we could actually have some kind of stimulating conversation if you're too tired. And I don't mean that in a dirty way, either. I actually have had a lot of shit happen in the past few days and I feel like it's just been insane. But it's nice to be with you because it feels like all of that shit doesn't really matter." Rachel always liked coming to see him at work, and while she did respect that this was his place of work, she was pretty sure that she'd never change. "But I miss you and while I love that you're working, I really wish that I'd get to have you with me a little more often." Rachel always missed him but she loved that he was doing something he wanted to do. Something he had planned for his future since high school. "I just really love that I get to visit you. I think I'd really go crazy if I was never allowed to see you. I mean, your breaks aren't that long if you ever actually get one, but I try to take advantage of what I can."

Finn saw Rachel's smile quickly turn into a smirk and he couldn't help but laugh softly. God, he loved her so much and he knew that he never wanted her to change. While she had definitely grown up and become much more mature and in control of herself, he loved that she would always have that part of her that was wild, that was so Rachel in every way. It was one of the many reasons that he had fallen in love with her in the first place. "Does me wearing a white coat really get you going that much?" he asked her teasingly. "I swear, you're the only person that could even get me to consider sneaking off like that while I'm at work." He smiled softly and bit down on his lip before he shifted his gaze down to the table for a moment. As she spoke once more, he looked back up to his fiance with a smile. "I'll talk to you about anything any time, you know that, baby. Dirty or not," he said with a playful smile on his face. "And I miss you too. I wish that I had better hours but it's just - it's just going to be kind of a mess for a little while with when I work and when I don't." Finn loved that Rachel could visit him and he was so happy that even if they didn't get to spend day in and day out with each other the way that they wanted that they still made their relationship work so well. Ever since they had gotten back together after their break up they had been so strong and Finn knew that this was it. He knew that their days of meaningless fights were over. Sure, he knew fighting would always happen and relationships always had rough patches but he knew that the immature things they had fought over once before were long gone. "Come on, let's go grab our coffee and candy and you can tell me all about the stuff that's been happening the past few days." Finn got up from the table and took Rachel's hand in his and once he had bought coffee for the both of them, he led her towards the gift shop where the candy was. "What's been going on the past few days, babe?" he asked her as they walked together, his fingers intertwining with hers. "I know I've been stuck here a lot lately but I promise that after today I have a couple of days off and I plan on spending them both focused on nothing but my beautiful fiance."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. "I mean, you in a white coat is pretty hot. But if you'd ever actually consider sneaking off, I'd be very surprised. But pleasantly surprised." Rachel was glad that they really hadn't changed. While they had matured a lot, they still had a lot of the same mannerisms as they did when they were a lot younger. As they started to get up and walk to get coffee, she couldn't help but smile, looking over at him. She knew that she couldn't get that long of a break with him, but she'd take whatever she could get. As soon as she had her coffee in her hand, Rachel immediately felt more comforted with the hot cup in her hand. "Well, a lot has happened. A lot but at the same time, not all that much. I mean..." She said, still walking with him as they walked towards the gift shop. "I was on the phone for a long time yesterday." Once they were in the gift shop, she looked at the candy and walked around the store a bit, letting go of Finn's hand for a moment as she picked something up off of a shelf to look at it, a tiny stuffed animal. "My dads called me." She said as she looked at him, smiling sadly. "I mean, more than once. The first time I told them to fuck off and the second time I actually gave them a few minutes of my time, but..." She sighed, still holding onto the stuffed animal before putting it back onto the shelf and taking a sip of her coffee. "They were talking to me about how one of them was losing their job and they wanted me to give them money. And of course I said no. I was on the phone with them for over an hour and they were telling me everything that was going on. It pissed me off. I mean, they haven't done anything for me my entire life, I shouldn't have to help them now," Rachel said as she looked over at Finn. "I can't wait for them to leave me alone. They tried calling me on the way here, but I didn't answer. They talked about wanting to see me and I really don't think I want to do that. I know you're going to say that I'm their daughter and whatever, but... I don't even really care. That might be shitty, but it's true."

Finn smiled softly at Rachel. "Babe, you could probably get me to do anything," he said with a laugh. As they headed towards the gift shop together, he raised his eyebrows when she told him that she had been on the phone for a long time the day before. "Was it your manager or something?" he asked her worriedly, not wanting anything to be wrong with the job that she had worked so hard for. However, when she told him that she had spoke to her dads, Finn looked at her in shock. "Your dads?" he breathed out. Finn knew that she hadn't seen them since high school and they had never bothered to be a part of her life even back then. What the hell did they want from her? "They're calling you to get money?" he asked her softly. Finn knew his fiance and he knew that her dads were a bigger issue for her than she liked to admit. "I'm glad you said no, they don't deserve money from you, not after the way they've treated you your whole life." When she told him that they had called once more while she had been on her way to the hospital, Finn sighed softly. "I don't know, babe. If you don't want to see them then you shouldn't see them but - I mean, maybe seeing them could help get them off your back, you know? I don't think that you should give them money or anything though." Finn bit down on his lip and sighed for a moment before he met Rachel's gaze. "I guess this situation isn't really one where you should take advice from me though, is it? My dad hates me and probably wishes that I'd disappear off the face of the earth and my mom refuses to believe that my dad is horrible to me and her." Finn wished that him and Rachel had one parent who was stable. He wished that their future children could have grandparents, he wished they could just have a normal family but he figured that just wasn't true. "However you want to deal with your dads is up to you, baby," he said softly as he bought a stuffed animal and some candy for Noah, knowing that the young child would help cheer her up. At least, he hoped so. "If you want me to talk to them, I could try too. I don't like that they're coming to you after all these years because of money, especially when the last time I saw them they seemed to be doing just fine."

Rachel sighed, knowing that Finn was right. "Yeah, for money. It's stupid, right? I don't know. They said that one of them had lost their job, and I mean, that might be true, but it's not like they're suddenly going to be broke. Unless they ever proved to me that they were having to sell their house just to stay afloat, I wouldn't give anything to them. We may have money, Finn, but... I'm not going to throw it at people that fucked me over my entire life." She said, shrugging gently. "I mean, I'll take anyone's advice at this point. But... I don't know. I just wanted to hear what you thought, I guess. I was going to talk to you about it yesterday but you came home and you were so tired and it wasn't that bad. But now that I had time to think about it all, I just made it sound worse in my head, I guess." Sighing, she watched as he bought a few things, her looking at him with a small smile. "I don't think you need to talk to them for me, but I appreciate that. I might see what they want to talk about. I just don't want it to all blow up in my face and fuck me over," She said as she started to walk out of the small gift shop, looking over at him. "I'm not going to throw money at them to get them off of my back. I'll talk to them, but that's it. I'll see what happens. If they fuck me over then I swear, I'm never speaking to them ever again. I really can't keep doing this. I know I haven't talked to them in years but I know it's going to be just as shitty as it was before. I know that they're going to be just as shitty as they were when I was living with them. I mean, they wouldn't even let me come back home after I dropped out of college. Which I get, but I can't exactly pretend that I want to run back into their arms. I can't name one single thing that they ever did for me that was nice. Or something that I appreciated. It's just a shitty situation, I guess. I hate that this is all happening again. It's so stupid."

Finn nodded as Rachel spoke. "I know you don't want to give them money when they've been horrible to you your whole life, I understand," he said softly. "I wouldn't give my dad a penny either, believe me." Finn understood why Rachel was struggling with this and he didn't like that her fathers were harrassing her about money when they truly didn't deserve anything from her whatsoever. They didn't even deserve her answering their calls. "Baby, you could have talked to me yesterday. Even if I'm tired, please don't hold stuff back if you feel like you need to talk, okay? You're more important to me than anything else." As they began to head out of the gift shop together, Finn slipped his free arm around her waist, tugging her into his side as they walked. "If you want to talk to them then I think that's a good idea. See what they want and why they want it and if it seems like all they're going after is the money then just walk away from them." Finn sighed softly, wishing that he knew what to say, wishing that he had better advice for this situation. "Baby, do you want me to come with you when you talk to them? Because I can. And I - I know that me being there won't change the outcome of the situation but I just want to be there for you, you know? I don't want them to attack you. I remember how they were and I - god, I always hated how they treated you." Finn understood Rachel wanting to cut ties with her fathers if their intentions were wrong and he knew that he would support whatever decision that she made. "The two of us have some serious daddy issues, don't we?" he said in an effort to lighten the mood of the conversation, even if it was only for a brief moment. "I know that we both don't expect much out of our parents... and I - I'm just really glad that we'll never be that way when we have kids one day, you know?" Finn knew that him and Rachel could have gone down very different roads, very dark roads if they had let their parents influences overwhelm them and he was just happy that they were at a good point in their lives instead. When they arrived at Noah's room, Finn smiled softly at Rachel before he knocked on the door and walked inside. "Doctor Finn!" Noah said excitedly, causing Finn to smile. "Hey buddy. I hope you don't mind that I brought my fiance Rachel. We did bring you some presents though so I hope that helps," he said with a laugh as the little boy looked at the both of them excitedly just at the mention of presents.

Rachel didn't know what to do, but she knew that this was something she really did need to try and handle on her own. "I mean, I'll go by myself, it's fine. I can handle them, you know? I can handle talking to them. I have no problem yelling at them or whatever to get them off of my back. I don't really care. I just want them to be out of my life if they're going to start bothering me for money now that I actually have some and now that I'm not sleeping on random people's couches. Like, it's so fucking stupid that they're doing this." Rachel shrugged, looking over at him with a sad smile. "Uhm... yeah. I know that things will be different when we have a family and everything because we're not shitty people, you know? We get that we don't want to be like the people that raised us. We both practically raised ourselves. I mean, my dads were great when I was really young. They wanted a kid so badly. But when I started fucking up when I was finishing up middle school, they were already over it. And I get it, but they really just gave up. I won't do that to our kids. Kids just want love, that's all they want. And we really didn't get enough, I guess." She said softly, continuing to walk with Finn. When they arrived at the little boy's room, Rachel offered the child a smile. "Hi, I'm Rachel. It's really nice to meet you. Finn told me so much about you." Rachel walked over to him with a smile, standing near Finn. "Can you keep a secret?" She asked softly, looking at him as a teasing smile rose on her lips. "You might be Finn's favorite patient in here. But don't let anyone know that you know," She whispered, moving away from him for a moment before looking over to Finn. "He was telling me all about how you're the most awesome kid so I just had to come see for myself."

Finn knew that him and Rachel both had rough childhoods and while they both still struggled because of them, they were also stronger people now. It worried him that Rachel's fathers were trying to worm themselves back into her life but he knew Rachel and he knew that she could handle herself. He just hoped that things went well because the last thing he wanted was for her to be disappointed again. When they arrived at Noah's room, Finn smiled softly. "I know who you are - you're famous!" Noah said excitedly. "Doctor Finn always plays everyone your songs."Finn laughed softly at that, knowing that he definitely made sure that everyone around him knew who Rachel was and that she was his fiance. He was just so proud of her and he wanted everyone to know how talented she was. When she told Noah that he was his favorite patient, Finn smiled softly at the beaming smile that formed on the little boys face. "Really?" he questioned. "Really. You are pretty awesome, Noah," Finn said with a smile. "How are you feeling today? Up for some candy? I know you had chemo yesterday but I know you can't turn down Reeses." When Noah immediately nodded and reached out for the candy, Finn smiled softly and handed it over. It broke his heart to know that Noah was so sick and even though he had a positive attitude about it all, he knew the little boy was hurting and going through a lot of pain physically. "You mind if I check up on everything quick?" Finn asked Noah, who shook his head as he ate his candy. Finn grabbed the chart that the nurse had left for him and he bit down on his lip when he saw that all of his test results didn't seem to be showing any regression of the cancer cells. This was the boys third round of chemo and the fact that it still didn't seem to be that effective worried Finn more than he wanted to admit to the little boy. "Am I gonna have to have more chemo?" Noah asked him, causing Finn to sigh softly. "I think once this round is over we're going to try something else. Hopefully something that doesn't suck as much as chemo." When Noah nodded and smiled at him, Finn smiled softly before he looked to Rachel. He moved closer to Noah to check up on his vitals all the while the boy continued to snack on his candy. "You have a pretty voice when you sing. My mommy sings me to sleep sometimes. Your baby will get to have a famous singer sing them to sleep," Noah said, causing Finn to laugh softly. "That's pretty cool, I never even thought about that." Finn looked over to Rachel and sent her a smile, knowing that just thinking about them having a family one day really did make him so happy even if he knew it was far in their future.

Rachel honestly found it amazing that the little boy was so positive even though she could see right through him and see how much pain he was most likely in. Rachel wasn't stupid -- she knew that he was incredibly sick. She didn't need Finn to even tell her. If she walked in here, she would be able to see that he was really sick. As Finn talked to Noah and checked over everything, Rachel just stood slightly off to the side and watched him eat the candy, a soft smile on her face. She loved that Finn was involved in the work that he was because she loved seeing him so involved with kids and so worried about them. She loved that he was a doctor. Rachel just looked over at Finn, a soft smile on her lips. She couldn't wait for the day that she got to have a family with him. She couldn't wait to worry about their own child and their own family. She could just imagine Finn holding a child of their own in his arms and she knew how happy it would make him. Finn wanted kids, she knew that he wanted them from the moment that he had the pregnancy scare with her. She warmed up to the idea, but it wasn't exactly easy to warm up to the idea when one of her best friends had died. Rachel shook the thoughts out of her head, a soft blush rising on her lips before she realized that Noah was talking to her. "Oh, thank you. I never really thought of that, either." The idea of having to be a mother honestly scared her to death, but she knew that the little moments of singing to her baby or cuddling with them at the end of a long day with Finn was something that she really did want. It wasn't something that she wanted to rush, but she knew that she wanted to give Finn the family that she knew that he wanted. "I think I should have bought some candy for myself," Rachel said with a soft laugh as she leaned against the wall. "My favorite candy is just a pain Hershey bar. I do love Starburst, though. Or sour skittles. But it depends on what kind of candy that I'm in the mood for. I used to eat a lot of candy, but I'm not a huge candy person anymore." Rachel really was trying to get along with him and at least be friendly even if she didn't know what to say half of the time. And she really hoped that with her own child, she'd know what to say and she would know what to do because it was her own. But a part of her really doubted that it was that simple. "Maybe if I have time, I'll sneak you more snacks behind Finn's back," Rachel teased, a smile on her lips as she looked over at Finn. "But I have to listen to Finn because he's taking care of you and I don't want to make him upset."

Finn knew that one day when him and Rachel had a child that it would be amazing. He knew she would be such a wonderful mom even if she didn't have that much faith in herself. They both wanted their future kids to have a different upbringing than what they had experienced. They wanted their kids to be kids and not have to grow up so fast, they wanted them to feel loved in every way. Finn knew that as long as they focused on that they would be okay. They would be good parents one day. "I like that candy too. Doctor Finn should have bought you candy if you're his girlfriend. You're supposed to buy things for your girlfriend, right?" Noah's words caused Finn to laugh softly. "I should have bought her candy, you're probably right, Noah. I promise that I'll buy her candy later, okay?" Noah's eyes lit up at the prospect of Rachel sneaking him snacks behind Finn's back and Finn couldn't help but smile. "I mean, I can't really say no to you sneaking him some snacks every now and then," he said teasingly. As he finished looking over Noah's vitals, he smiled softly at the small child. "Where are we at on the pain scale today?" he asked him. Noah bit down on his lip and shrugged before he looked down at his lap. "Um, four? It was a seven this morning. Nurse Erin gave me medicine for it," he explained, Finn nodding as he wrote it down on his chart quickly. "Alright. Well four is way better than seven, right? Let's hope we can get that down to a two tomorrow. Then our goal is zero, right?" Finn smiled when Noah nodded. He knew that the pain was scary to a little kid and it broke his heart to know that these kids experienced any pain at all but he hoped desperately that he would be able to help. Hell, that was exactly why he had wanted this job in the first place. He wanted to help people, to heal people and he knew Noah was one of those patients that he was so determined to help get better. "I can't wait to be at zero," Noah said excitely. "I know you can't and I promise I'll get you there, okay?" Finn sighed before he set down Noah's chart and he smiled at the young boy. "Alright, buddy. I want you to try and get a nap, okay? Have your candy and watch some TV but try and rest up. Tomorrow is your last day of chemo and then you'll be able to eat all the awesome food you love again." Noah nodded and after saying goodbye, Finn took Rachel's hand in his and led her out of the room. "It's his third round of chemo and he's not getting any better," he said softly to Rachel. "I'll find something else though, a different treatment." Finn nodded to himself before he focused back on his girlfriend, love in his gaze as he met hers. "I love you, you know that right? This job just - it reminds me to always say it because you never know what life has in store for you."

Rachel wished that Finn could somehow magically make the little boy feel better. She couldn't imagine being the parent of a child that was so sick like this. She couldn't imagine their child having the possibility of not making it. Not when they still had so much spirit and positivity. Rachel just kept off to the side as Finn started asking Noah questions, biting down on her bottom lip. She wanted to take all of his pain away if she could. But unfortunately, she really knew that she couldn't. "I know you'll be at a zero one day. Especially if Finn is taking care of you," She said after Finn spoke, offering Noah a small smile. "Finn can do anything. Believe me, I know." If anyone could help someone, it was Finn. He always tried to help everyone and he almost always succeeded. "Bye, Noah. It was really nice to meet you. I'll try and see you again soon, okay?" She said, waving slightly before walking out and looking up at Finn. "I know you'll find something to help him. You always find a way to help people. That's one thing I love about you. You won't ever give up. That little boy is in such good hands with you, you know? And I know, babe. I love you, too." She said softly as she looked up at him. Rachel looked into his eyes for a moment and looked down for a moment, smiling gently. "I can't wait to have kids with you." Rachel paused when she realized exactly what she had said, her struggling to cover up what she had said. "I-I mean, I can't wait to see other kids with you." She chuckled nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind her hair. "He has good spirit. I know that doesn't count for a lot when it comes to medicine, but he has a fighting spirit. And that's all that matters, you know? He's really trying and he... he wants to try. He's looking forward to feeling better and he... he knows that you're doing everything you can. I hope for the both of you and for his family that all of that is enough, you know? Cancer isn't very forgiving."

Finn looked at Rachel with love in his eyes when she told him that he would find something to help Noah, that he always found a way to help people. "I hope so. I just - I understand that I can't save everyone. Sadly that's a part of my job but I'll never give up, you know? I'll try every possible treatment until we get results. There's so much research every single day and I know that we're getting closer and closer to better treatment options and cures." When him and Rachel were both quiet for a brief moment, he looked at her lovingly. I can't wait to have kids with you. The second those words left Rachel's lips, Finn's eyes widened in surprise as he looked at his fiance. Almost immediately she began to try and cover up what she had said and he tried and failed to hide the small smile that pulled up at the corner of his mouth. It was always strange for her to be the nervous one, for her to be flustered when ninety percent of the time it was him. However, he loved that she was that way and he knew it was because it scared her to want the things she wanted with him. It scared her to want a family and to be married when she had been at a point where she believed those things would never happen. God, he was so happy that they would happen for them. "He does have a fighting spirit and it definitely helps. The brain can do more healing for the body than any medicine," he said softly. "I hope it'll be enough too. That's all we can ever hope for." Finn paused for a moment as he looked at Rachel, unable to stop another smile from forming on his face as their gazes met. "And, you know, I can't wait to have kids with you too," he told her. He took her hand gently in his and tugged her closer to him before he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. Rachel was everything to him and the idea of having a family truly did make him so happy and while he knew it was a while away, it was still something he wanted so badly.

Rachel looked over at Finn as he spoke, nodding gently. "Yeah. The brain does do a lot of healing. I mean, I- I know that my situation wasn't the same as any of these kids but I couldn't really do anything about my addiction until I had a good mindset about it and I actually knew that I could do something about it. But... kids are just so young and they're so adorable and they deserve a chance to have their entire life ahead of them. If they don't? That's just so scary to me. But... it's good that he wants to fight. He seems like the kid that would make it because he believes he can, you know? That's what matters." Rachel looked at him before feeling a blush rise on her lips as he spoke again. She bit down on her bottom lip before she leaned up slightly to meet him for a kiss. "I love you." She said softly, still holding onto his hand as she looked into his eyes. "I love you." Pausing for a moment, she took in a deep breath. "And I- I really uhm... want this with you. I do. It scares the shit out of me but I know that you want... a real family. I know that people can argue that me and you are a family and I mean, we will be when we're a family but I know that you want a real family with me and you want kids and I want to give you that. I do. I want to make you happy and give you kids and I want that, too. I don't want to make you wait forever but we're going to be normal and wait until we're married, right? I mean, I want to have a normal timeline of events even if we're not exactly all that normal." Looking up at him, she leaned up to kiss him again, her hand in his hair slightly before she dropped it. "Sometimes it's still weird to think of us being parents when I feel like I honestly just fully grew up in the past year. Plus, I don't even really know if I'm gonna be a good mom. You're obviously going to be a good dad -- you already were super excited to be one before." Rachel sighed before looking away for a moment, trying to start to walk again. "This isn't really the place to have this conversation anyway. We can talk about it another day at home."

Finn smiled softly when he saw Rachel's cheeks flush as he told her that he couldn't wait to have kids with her. "I love you too," he breathed out as his gaze met hers, knowing that he loved her more than words could really describe. She was everything to him and it made him so happy to know that they really were serious about making their relationship last a lifetime. "I know you want this, baby. I want it too. And I - I know that it scares you but it makes me really happy to know that you want this just as much as I do. And yeah, no kids until we're married. I want to be at a better place career-wise too, you know? There's no rush to have kids, okay? It'll happen when we're both ready." Finn smiled at Rachel before they shared another kiss and when she pulled away, he bit down on his lip. "Hey - you're going to be an amazing mom. I know you, Rach and I know the second we have a kid you're going to fall in love with that little boy or girl. You're going to surprise yourself, I know it." Finn knew that talking about this at his job probably wasn't the best place but he never wanted her to doubt herself. He never wanted her to feel as though she wasn't going to be a good mother when he knew that she would be absolutely amazing. "Yeah, we can talk about it at home whenever you want," he said softly as he walked beside her. "I hope um... I hope that you don't feel pressured or anything, you know? I don't want you to ever feel like I need us to have kids soon. I don't mind waiting... I just want it to be when we both feel ready." Finn leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek as they walked together before a sigh escaped his lips. "I wish you could come to work with me all the time," he told her, him slipping his arm around her waist as he tugged her into his side.

Rachel knew that she wanted all of this with Finn. She wanted the married life, she wanted the house that they picked together, and she wanted the family. She wanted it all with him and she knew that it would all happen eventually. It would just take time for her to fully be ready for it all. She wanted kids, and she knew that when she had thought she was pregnant all of that time ago, she was really happy that it was with him. But she also knew that she had been relieved when she had found out she wasn't pregnant because she knew she wasn't exactly ready for it. "I know I'll surprise myself, it's just scary. It's a whole person that we're responsible for, you know?" Rachel knew that Finn was ready for a family and she really wanted to be ready too, but she knew that it would take a little bit more time. But he was right -- they'd just get married and take their time. They had their entire lives. "I don't feel pressured, Finn. But I know you and I know that you're the guy that settles down and everything, and I know you don't want me to change for you, but I want to give that to you." She said, looking down for a moment after she felt Finn press a kiss to her lips. "I wish I could come to work with you more often too, but you're busy and I don't want to get you in trouble." She said softly, looking up at him as he pulled her into his side. "I love you." Rachel paused for a moment before she leaned up to kiss him softly. "Do I have to go soon? I mean, I'm happy that you want to spend time with me, but like I said, I don't want to get you in trouble." If she could, she'd lounge around here all day with him, but she also didn't want to do anything to hurt his job. "What time do you think you'll be home tonight? I know you still have a long day ahead of you but I already can't wait to have you home even if I'm right here with you."

Finn looked down at Rachel with a small smile on his face as she spoke. "I love you too," he breathed out before he leaned down to meet her for a kiss. She was everything to him and he knew that they had so much to look forward to in their relationship, in their lives together. "You won't get me in trouble, baby. But... you should probably head home soon. I don't want you to go but I do have to get back on my schedule and make some rounds. Plus, I have an observation with one of the senior doctors." When she asked him when he would be home, Finn looked down at her with a small smile. "I promise I'm gonna be home before dinner tonight, okay? I want to spend as much time with you as possible. And, I mean, we also didn't really get to take advantage of sneaking off together here so maybe you can show me what you had planned at home." A playful smirk formed on his face as he looked down at his fiance, knowing that he loved her more than anything and he was so happy that he had her to come home to every day.

[pumpkins-s]

King and Reaper

Read on AO3 Here

Allura had told them once that Voltron was their destiny.

If anything, Keith thinks, Lance had proven that while finding the lions might have been on the dime of some greater plan, compliance to their supposed fate was not strictly required in any remote sense of the word.

In fact, by Lance's standard of doing things it was all rather bullshit.

(Or: The story of the destruction of Earth and its aftermath, feat. questionable science in regards to weapons of mass destruction, gratuitous Star Wars references, theoretical chess games with the emperor of most of the known universe, explosions, the greatest bromance of all time, the worst romance of all time, far too many guns, concussions, extreme misuse of the French language, awkward flirting, and Lance in an overly-dramatic trench coat.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: Keith/Lance, platonic Lance & Hunk and Keith & Hunk

Characters: Keith, Lance, Hunk, Allura, Shiro, Pidge, Coran, Nyma, Rolo

Written for @klangst-week‘s Day 7 Prompt: Destiny/Choice. A couple days late, but in my defense, this was a nightmare to power through.

Full thing + content warnings are under the cut.

((Author Notes:

Conveniently, Klangst week coincided with my spring break this year, so instead of doing a couple short fics like a normal person, this happened.

For the record, I wrote this entire thing in 6 days solely because I wanted to put Lance in a trench coat and make Star Wars references. So if you're wondering why it's Bad, this is why.

Enormous thanks to markedpatches on tumblr for beta reading the beginning sections of this, and to inkedstarsandcoldstairs for patiently proofreading pretty much this entire thing! Y'all are the best and I am So Sorry.

A few quick warnings in here for depictions of violence, descriptions of blood and wounds, references to eye and face trauma, and. like. blowing up a whole planet?

Look. It's for klangst week.

(This one's got a playlist fam.) ))

Keith knows it’s not going to be a good day the minute he walks into the castle’s dining hall for the daily morning briefing they lazily disguise as breakfast to find his team sitting tensely in their chairs, individual expressions of discomfort or outright worry on their faces, while Allura sits primly at the head of the table, jaw set and glaring down at her tea with a kind of regal poise that makes the offending object look like it deserves to be thrown out the airlock for whatever it did.

 “Oh God.” He says, not even bothering to sit down as he crosses his arms and takes in the room. “What?”

 Perhaps when they had first been launched into space, Keith might not have held the people skills to recognize the subtle expressions of his teammates, minus Shiro, but if Voltron has given him nothing else, it’s provided him with intimate knowledge of the workings of his teammates, and he can recognize a shit storm about to come down.

 “Keith, buddy!” Hunk says quickly, voice cracking on the second word with poorly disguised panic. His hands are fluttering against the tabletop where they rest, fingers twisting and tangling with one another over and over in a pattern that Keith has over time come to recognize as one of his nervous habits, a sign Hunk is about five minutes from quite literally vibrating out of his seat and fleeing to the kitchen to stress bake in order to stave off an impending panic attack. “How are you?”

 “You tell me.” Keith sighs. “What’s wrong?”

 “Keith.” Allura says with a tone that belies no contradictions or arguments. “Please take a seat, we must discuss plans in relation to our next move against the Empire.”

 He raises an eyebrow, but complies, dropping into his chair and, on second thought, kicking his feet up onto the table, ignoring the horrified look Shiro gives him for it. He’ll take what kind of petty disobedience he can get away with right now, in the face of what he knows will be an order from Allura he won’t like. “What next move? The castle was pretty dinged up in the last attack, isn’t that why we’ve been hiding out here for the last week and a half?”

 Allura purses her lips. “Quite.” After a moment of what would Keith would call hesitation on anyone else, but comes off as a kind of dramatic pause for tension with Allura, she sighs. “Our repairs of the castle have turned up a larger problem than we originally anticipated. The Alrexan stones that provide power to the central neural command, which I use to control and fly the castle, have cracked under the strain of the last few skirmishes we’ve been in. We can fly, for now, but they will not hold up under another battle.”

 “I thought the Balmeran crystal powers the ship?” Keith asks, barely able to keep the disgruntlement out of his voice at the thought of yet another mission to retrieve obscure objects to repair the castle.

 Across the table, Pidge nods. “It does, but from what I can understand of the castle’s schematics, these stones are a power conduit for the controls that sync with Altean quintessence, which is what allows the ship to be flown by only one person from Allura’s command center on the main deck.” They grin sheepishly. “The stones on Allura’s pedestals are smaller versions of the bigger stones down in the castle’s main system. It’s an inherently different problem from when the crystal gave out. Lose the crystal, we lose all power, all the way down to door controls and life support. Lose the stones, and we’ll still have a working castle in terms of power, but the remote command abilities will cease to exist, which means we’d need a few hundred of us to run the castle manually.”

 “…Great.” Keith says, already feeling like he’s fighting off a headache. “So what giant sentient creature are we going to fly into this time?”

 “Actually.” Allura cuts in calmly. “The Alrexan stones are found solely on a small, perfectly normal planet with only docile, unintelligent life forms living on it.”

 “So what’s the problem, then?”

 “Keith…” Shiro says quietly, staring down at the table and refusing to make eye contact with him with dedicated avoidance. “According to our maps… Alrexa is the current base camp planet for the Blue Lion Resistance.”

 Two seats down, Hunk jumps up violently, seemingly unable to hear the words for, assumedly, a second time, given everyone had seemed to have already discussed this before Keith arrived, and darts out of the room, likely headed to the kitchen or his lion’s hangar to have a breakdown in peace. Keith holds his tongue until Hunk is gone, and then turns on Shiro, glaring over at the other with undisguised fury.  “No.”

 At the head of the table, Allura bristles. “This isn’t a debate—“

 “I said no!” He snarls, bringing a fist down onto the table as he stands and ignoring the way Pidge flinches at the action across from him. “We’ll just have to find another way!”

 Allura rises, ignoring Shiro’s quiet plea of her name, with flames in her eyes, and Keith tries not to think about how the anger there looks so much like his own reflected back at him. “We do not have a choice, we need this repair! I know you do not wish to confront him, but we cannot pick and choose who we help and where we go based on mixed feelings!”

 “Don’t be an idiot.” Keith hisses, irritation and borderline rage simmering low in his gut and crawling up into his chest. Mixed feelings, his ass. How dare she simplify things like this, as if he wasn’t a gaping wound they felt constantly, as if it was so easy to forget what they had done, what had been irrevocably destroyed. “He’d be more likely to shoot us all on sight, starting with you! And with fucking good reason, I might add!”

 “Keith!” Shiro barks as Allura recoils back, looking like she’s been slapped, and Keith sneers, turning and stalking out of the room with the fury of the Red lion humming in his bones, demanding that he stay and fight, remind Shiro and Allura of the unfixable damage they had all allowed to happen to their team, to the pack.

 He shoves it down, turning on his heel and heading for the training room with the intent to go beat his anger out into one of the training bots until he can’t think anymore.

 It’s the only way he ever even temporarily escapes the ghost of what was, these days.

    It’s Hunk who hunts him out, hours later, cornering Keith on the holodeck where he sits watching the projected star systems above him, because of course it’s Hunk, who else would be willing to track him down and put up with him in his anger but the ever-patient yellow paladin?

  “Y’know,” He start conversationally, startling Keith out of his reverie as he sits down beside him with a quiet grace that belies his size, “I don’t think I ever once saw you here, before.”

 He doesn’t need to specify what before means.

 Keith shrugs. “There was never a need.” He pauses. “…This was his space, anyways. He liked it here.”

 Hunk sighs. “Yeah, he did. He liked looking at Earth, I think.”

 They both pointedly ignore the gaping hole in the star map.

 After a moment, Keith huffs, averting his eyes from Hunk and glaring down at the floor beneath him. “You can’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

 “No,” Hunk says calmly, “I really, really don’t, and if it was up to me I’d probably choose going Weblum-diving again over this if it was an option, but I also understand what’s going on with the castle a lot better then you do, no offense, and trust me, Allura’s right. If we don’t replace those stones before they shatter, we’ll be dead in the water.”

 “Then lets hit up the space malls and all that other bullshit until we find some!” Keith snaps, throwing his arms up in an exaggerated gesture he knows he picked up from a certain paladin, and looking to Hunk. “We find obscure shit all the time in the weirdest places, fuck, Pidge and— Pidge found a cow once, there’s no way these stones are only on this planet!”

 Hunk deflates. “That’s what I said, at first, but turns out these stones only work with Alteans. There’d be no reason for any swap moons to carry them, according to Allura.”

 Keith snorts. “And you believe her?”

 “Yes, I do.” Keith sneers at the words, and Hunk looks over at him tiredly. “I need to be able to believe that everyone on this team, including Allura, is honest, alright? I need that trust, because without it, I’d have no idea what I’m doing here anymore.”

 “It’s naivety.”

 “Maybe.” Hunk says. “But I’m tired, Keith. I’m so tired. I never signed up for this war, and it ended up taking everything from me. If I don’t at least have faith in the people in this castle, I have nothing. I can’t just run on anger and adrenaline all the time like you do.”

 He scowls, but doesn’t argue, because, in a way, he knows what Hunk says is the truth, about all of it.

 If anyone had told Keith, back when they first formed Voltron, that he and Hunk would end up this close, he never would have believed them. Hell, before everything went to shit he’d barely thought much of Hunk at all— Not in a bad way, but just that he literally did not put much time into cultivating a friendship with the other, beyond the casual camaraderie he’d shared with everyone on the team, but… things change, people change, and as it stands now he probably spends more time with Hunk than he does with even Shiro.

 Hunk, he thinks, at least feels something. Sometimes he looks at Shiro, in his calm collectiveness in the face of what they’ve done, and he feels like throttling him.

 “I don’t like it.” He says quietly, turning back to the original topic of their conversation, and next to him Hunk sighs out slowly.

 “Neither do I.”

 “What if we’re not even allowed onto the planet?”

 Hunk chews his lip nervously, shrugging. “Allura and Shiro are hoping that… old fondness might allow us to gain entry.”

 “You mean Allura’s going to land whether she has permission or not by threat of the castle’s firepower and then stick you or Coran in front as a human shield when we get off the ship because he’s less likely to shoot you two.” Hunk winces in response, and Keith snorts. “It’s not about these stones, really, is it? That’s just giving her an excuse. She wants to try and negotiate with him.”

 Hunk is silent for far too long, staring up at the star map above them with haunted eyes. “We’re not winning anymore, Keith. Maybe we managed to make it work for a while, but… Things are bad. We need Voltron. In a way, we’re lucky the Resistance takes up more of the Empire’s attention. If we were its sole focus, we’d probably all be dead by now.”

 “…Maybe it’s a good thing we’ve stopped winning. Maybe we don’t deserve to play heroes anymore.”

 “Do you really think that?” Hunk asks, sadness and disappointment mixing with curiosity, and Keith groans.

 “No, of course not. We’ve protected hundreds of planets, saved millions of lives. It’s just— We’ve made mistakes too, but instead of learning from them we just ignore them, write them off as inevitable! They’ve spent two years pretending it didn’t happen, and now they want to acknowledge it? Fuck that. Just… fuck it. It’s not right.”

 “You think I don’t know that?” Hunk mumbles, quiet anger creeping into his words. “I lost my home, Keith, and I lost my best friend, someone who’d been practically family since we were children, and then I had to watch everyone trip over themselves to find someone else to blame. Of course it isn’t right.”

 Keith winces, ducking his head, and Hunk pales. “Sorry, I—“

 “No, you’re right.” Keith says lowly. “You lost a lot more than I did, I’m just being self-centered.”

 “It’s not a contest. We all lost something, we just… had different ways of handling it.”

 Keith barks a laugh. “Shitty ways of handling it, you mean.” He sighs, running a hand over his face and fighting the urge to just grab his bangs and pull, use the sharp edge of pain to remind himself of his own existence and dull all the swarming thoughts in his mind. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what we think, does it? They’re not going to listen anyways.”

 Hunk shrugs. “That’s always been the problem, hasn’t it?”

 Keith stills, fighting to keep himself from looking to the star map at the words, to the gaping hole where a beacon of life once rested, shoves down the bile in his throat and the burn of pain just at the memory of the image and locks it away. Dissociate, compartmentalize, repeat.

 “…Yeah, it has.”

    It began, and it ended, with the destruction of Earth.

 Or… No, that wasn’t quite right.

 The death of the Earth was both a beginning and an end, yes, to so much, but the whole mess that led up to it? That began when Lance found the schematics for the death ray.

 Well… That’s what he’d called it, at least. Keith had never bothered to find out what actual name the Galra had given it, if any at all. It didn’t matter. It did its job, and in the end it was destroyed in turn. That’s all that counted, at the end of the day.

 …Or perhaps, really, it started long before all that.

 Things changed after that final fight with Zarkon.

 Keith doesn’t know what they expected, really. It had been naïve to assume that taking out Zarkon would instantly solve all their problems. Of course he would have a heir, of course there would be a backup plan. Ten thousand years of domination and cruelty couldn’t survive on just one corrupted soul— There was no doubt some, if not most, Galra must have swung to Zarkon’s side during the war, given Allura’s reactions to the species as a whole, and after so long under Zarkon’s rule, many of the Galran elite would of course come to see their place in the Universe as natural.

 Hell, they hadn’t even killed Zarkon, just… knocked him out of commission.

 And that had opened the door for Lotor.

 In a way, Keith wonders sometimes if they might have been better off just continuing to deal with Zarkon. Yes, the dictator was a terrifying monster that even he himself had learned wielded immense, terrifying power that was almost impossible to match, but at least with Zarkon they knew what they were dealing with. With Lotor, there was no interest in merely “capturing” Voltron, or a predictable obsession with the Black lion to bet on. Instead, they now just had a new Galran emperor to deal with who considered them an annoying nuisance that needed to be squashed out at the soonest convenience. Oh, sure, he doesn’t doubt that Lotor would happily claim Voltron as a weapon for himself if given the opportunity, but he doesn’t hold the same obsession with preserving the autonomy of the lions his father did, and if its easier to destroy Voltron than conquer it, that seems to be good enough for Lotor.

 Lotor was a new-age strategist walking onto a field of old players, and for the princess, who had been partaking in a ten thousand year old chess game of war with Zarkon, his way of playing destroyed both the rules and the expectations.

 It hadn’t helped, of course, that amongst the midst of all this, they hadn’t even had Shiro with them to be their guide.

 After he had disappeared following the battle with Zarkon, Shiro had remained missing for two of the longest months of Keith’s life.

 They hadn’t had the slightest idea what to do— They’d retreated back to a star system where there weren’t any life forms or, more importantly, Galrans, for galaxies, and there they’d remained.

 Keith had known that Shiro wanted him to lead, to take charge if something ever happened to the other, but at the time all he’d felt was… numb, those first couple weeks caught up in a haze of helpless rage and apathy, spiraling between the two extremes without pause or pattern.

 He’d been… lost.

 They all had.

 In retrospect, Lance had handled it the best out of all of them, excepting perhaps Coran, who already had far too much experience with losing people and knew how to push it aside in favor of more immediate matters. While the rest of them shut down, Lance was there searching for a way out of the mess they’d gotten themselves into. He became a fixture in front of the monitors on the flight deck where Allura normally stood, working through the nights in order not to get caught by the others on the screens Keith hadn’t even noticed him learn to use with such proficiency.

 Keith had seen him there more than once, on the nights where he couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried, grief and terror and anxiety clawing at his throat, and eventually would get up to just pace the halls of the castle until morning.

 Lance never noticed him hovering outside the entrance to the flight deck, and Keith had never bothered to alert the other to his presence.

 Perhaps he didn’t want Lance to turn the mothering hand to him that he had been using on the others to coax them into eating and sleeping, or perhaps he just didn’t know what to say.

 He’s… not sure if he regrets that decision or not.

 It hadn’t really clicked for him as to just how much the aftermath of Shiro’s disappearance had changed Lance until he caught the other in the training room one night, doing the same stupid thing Keith himself had snuck down there to do.

 He had been used to catching Shiro working his way through a steady stream of training bots, or Shiro in turn catching him doing the same thing, but he hadn’t been prepared to find Lance perched in one of the holes in the walls of the training room that served as their versions of sniper’s nests, bags under his eyes and hair unkempt yet gaze perfectly steady as he took down training bot after training bot with his bayard, eventually switching to just a handheld blaster that served as the Altean equivalent of handguns, as far as Keith could tell, without even a pause.

 It had been unnerving, to say the least. He’d never seen Lance so calm in the face of a fight before, the other usually taking even their training as an excuse to fuck around to the best of his considerable ability. Lance… just wasn’t a serious fighter, it was an inevitable part of his personality that lent him to background noise and assisting others, not… the kind of calm certainty Keith was used to seeing from Shiro or Allura in the face of an impending storm.

 The whole thing had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he’d opted to try and forget about it, writing it off as a fever dream from the stress of the whole period of time.

 These days, Keith can’t help but wonder sometimes if that is the Lance people see now, when they meet him. If the calm killer he’d seen hiding under the surface for only a moment is the face of an entire movement.

 Do they even know the real Lance? The idiotic child who had flirted innocently with the princess and challenged Keith to pointless races down the castle’s corridors? The paladin who had hated hurting others and had just wanted to go home?

 Or… Had the Lance he’d seen methodically work his way through star charts on Allura’s command deck and shoot down training bots without even a flinch or pause been the real Lance after all? Had the Lance they had known been the lie?

 …Keith has never figured out which train of thought scares him more, though he does know those are the musings that drive him to the training room, beating his feelings into a bot until he can’t feel anything but his own heartbeat.

 Only once had Keith seen someone else with Lance on those nights where the other flitted around the flight deck, commanding the screens with calm focus as he searched for… something.

 It had been Hunk, of course, because really, Keith thinks, only Hunk knew perhaps even a piece of this side of Lance.

 “You can’t keep doing this.” Hunk had said, voice low and entirely unaware of Keith’s presence in the background. “You’re about one second away from collapsing, Lance. You need to rest.”

 “I can’t.” Lance had answered, with frustrating indifference. “I’m sorry Hunk, but I can’t. We don’t know what’s coming next, and the others are too preoccupied with finding Shiro to pay attention to the movements of the Empire.”

 Hunk had made a frustrated noise, gesturing to the screens. “This isn’t even about the Empire. I may not be a language nut like you who picks up Altean writing this easily, but even I know enough to tell.”

 “…We need to find Shiro, even if it’s just his body.” Lance sighed, turning away from Hunk. “And Allura and Keith and Pidge, they’re not in the right mindset to do that right now, let alone deal with considering the option that Shiro might be dead. So if finding proof of what happened to Shiro speeds up the healing process, or at least gets them to a place where they can focus on other things, so be it.” Lance had paused, running a hand through his hair and looking to Hunk tiredly. “I’m serious though, something is coming, I can just feel it. We’ve got a month, maybe two at best, while the Galrans regroup, if we’re lucky. Kolivan says—“

 “You’ve been talking to Kolivan?”

  “Yes Hunk, I’ve been talking to Kolivan, because the dude is stuck on this ship with us and no one has been bothering to ask his opinion or even check he’s alright given he just lost two of his men! He’s the closest thing we have to an informed source on how the Empire might move now, so I’m damn well going to listen to him.”

 “…Right.” Hunk had coughed awkwardly.

 “Look. I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but I can handle myself. Take care of yourself first, and if you want to help, then keep an eye on Pidge so I can focus on making sure Keith or Allura don’t kill anyone during an argument.”

 “But—“

 “I’m fine. I’ve got Coran and Slav helping me figure out Shiro, and Kolivan helping me with tracking the Empire. I can handle this.”

 Hunk had just sighed, and Keith had opted to slip away before either of the occupants of the room caught onto his presence.

 He hadn’t slept that night, Lance’s words running through his head in an echoing mantra.

 The frustrating thing, though, was that Lance had been right. They weren’t coping with Shiro’s disappearance, and the idea of focusing on anything else, let alone considering the possibility Shiro might need replacing, was unacceptable. Even after overhearing that conversation, Keith still couldn’t bring himself to suggest to Allura or the others that they might need to think about other options— He had felt like if he let himself say it, then it became a reality, and that… that was too much.

 So he raged and wasted time in the training room taking his feelings out on the training bots and helped Allura scour their scanners for any sign of Shiro, and he willed himself to forget what he had seen of the calm, analytical Lance he’d caught glimpses of in the dead of night.

 It took three weeks before Coran quietly interjected and suggested they might need to think about ways to continue to form Voltron in Shiro’s absence.

 It took four for them to accept it.

 Keith had told the others of Shiro’s decision that he should lead Voltron if something should happen to the other, doing his best to ignore Lance’s unimpressed stare from the corner of the room, and didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened when Allura agreed without hesitation.

 No one had objected once Allura gave her approval, even if Keith could feel the weight of Lance’s disapproval, Hunk’s uncertainty, Kolivan’s lack of impressment, clinging to him.

 Lance had finally broke when Allura suggested that the easiest pilot replacement might be for her to take the Blue lion and for Lance to move to Red.

 “Uh, no. Not going to happen.”

 Keith had seen Allura look at Lance with irritation before, but the sheer depth of it on that occasion had him wincing. “And why not?”

 “I can’t fly Red, and you certainly can’t fly Blue.”

 It had been Pidge who spoke next, looking to Lance with annoyance as the lack of sleep she’d been getting got the better of her temper. “No one’s happy about this, Lance. Now’s not the time for your stupid inferiority complex.”

 “It’s not that!” Lance had snapped, throwing his hands up. “Even I’m not that selfish, jeez! I just mean it won’t work. We’ve all felt the lions’ presences when forming Voltron. Red’s completely the opposite of Blue. I know I come off as impulsive sometimes but believe me it’s not going to be enough to meet Red in the middle. We’re just too different. Never mind the fact that Blue isn’t going to let Allura pilot her, they’re not even remotely compatible.”

 “Excuse me?” Allura looked the angriest Keith had ever seen her, frustration boiling under her calm, regal visage.

 “Princess, with all due respect, you don’t have the temperament for Blue. I know you’ve told us she’s the easiest lion to bond with,” Here Lance winced at his own words, and Keith did his best to ignore it, “but Blue is all about fluidity, trust and loyalty and all that bull. You’re too commanding for her. If anything, you’d be better off in Red.”

 Allura snorted. “We will see about that. It is the lions’ decision, not yours.”

 In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Lance had been right.

 Red had reacted violently to the very idea of switching paladins, raising her particle barrier the minute they had entered the hangar, and Blue, despite her claimed easy-going nature, would not open for Allura, just as Lance had said.

 Keith hadn’t even approached Black, taking one look at them and knowing just from the weight in his chest that the chances of them opening were remote, especially when it would, in this current state, leave Red without a paladin.

 “I told you.” Lance muttered, and Allura had turned on him eyes blazing.

 “What would you suggest then, Lance? We need Voltron.”

 “We could put Kolivan—“

 Allura snorted, and Lance sighed. “Okay, fine. We rotate Coran in for Blue, I think they’d match well enough for the time being, and…” He shifted. “I could try Black?”

 Keith had blinked in surprise, staring at Lance in astonishment and wondering when the serious Lance of the night had crept into the day.

 “Absolutely not.” Allura didn’t even hesitate in her answer. “There is no way Black would answer to you.”

 He had expected Lance to wince, to shrink away, but instead he straightened up, glaring. “I know I’m not the best choice, I know I offer nothing special to the team, but—“ He huffed. “Coran told me that the old blue paladin was close to Zarkon, that they were able to communicate with the Black lion. Maybe that’ll be enough. We’ve got to try something, and this…” He gestured to the shut-off lions around them, “This isn’t working.”

 Allura had paled, eyes narrowing. “You are not the former blue paladin, and things are not the same as they were. Do not confuse the past with the present. If the lions will not accept this arrangement, we will just have to work until they do.”

 “The past seems to be enough for Blue to refuse you.” Lance had grumbled as Allura swept by, and Keith pretended not to notice her hands tighten into fists at his words.

 There were some things about Voltron’s checkered past that he just… didn’t want to know.

 (The next night, he caught Lance in the lion hangar, sitting in front of Black with an achingly solemn expression, speaking to the lion in quiet languages Keith didn’t recognize— At first, he had thought it was just Spanish, but eventually he noted the subtle shifts in the word sounds as he filtered through languages and they ran together, eventually settling on what Keith easily recognized as Japanese, perhaps trying to find a language the lion would prefer to listen to. Even now, he’s not sure if Lance was just talking to the Black lion, or with it. Of all the things from the past he tries not to think on, that memory is the one most pushed down, hidden in the depths of his guilt and his considerations on the what ifs.)

 The thing was, and Keith had accumulated a lot of time to think back on that day, among others, Allura’s… their dismissal of Lance wasn’t routed in hatred or dislike. They just… hadn’t respected him enough, too used to the Lance of the day to allow themselves to see the Lance of the night when he offered himself to them. The stress, the overwhelming fear of their situation making Lance an easy scapegoat to take their frustrations out on, to ignore and push aside in favor of their own opinions.

 That didn’t excuse their treatment of Lance, or make it right, but it was… context. Really, none of them had treated each other well during that time. Hunk and Coran were just as ignored as Lance, Kolivan and Slav treated as outsiders at best, Pidge picked fights with everyone who so much as looked at her, absorbed by insomnia and her desperation for clues to Shiro’s whereabouts, Allura coped by taking charge of the daily search with steely determination, and Keith… he shut himself away.

 Ultimately, they never had time to decide on a new way of approaching reforming Voltron. Three days after Blue’s refusal to accept Allura, and Red’s blatant aggression to even considering anyone but Keith, a flurry of distress signals went off all across the board.

 That was the first indication— Lotor may not have held the sheer power or respect of his generals that his father did, but he was infinitely more intelligent, and had no obsession with the Black lion to blind him.

 He baited them out of hiding far too easily.

 That became the month of running and taking cover, of playing guerilla warfare.

 (Perhaps that was where Lance had learned how to do so, or perhaps he was the one who already knew, who nudged them quietly towards that mode of fighting for survival without their conscious notice.)

 They responded to distress signals, of course, but without Voltron they simply didn’t have the firepower to go up a Galran fleet that suddenly seemed smarter and faster than ever before. This was a new enemy, and they were so busy trying to figure out how to successfully combat it that they never had the chance to sit down and actually discuss a feasible lion-swapping plan, let alone the extra time it would take to learn to reform Voltron.

 And so the Black lion went empty.

 Until just over two months after he’d vanished, Shiro appeared back in the cockpit, like he’d never left at all, shaken to the core and staring at them all like ghosts once they’d gotten the alert from the lion hangar and rushed down to find him.

 Shiro… He wouldn’t talk about what happened. Not to any of them.

 And, God, Keith tried, he tried so hard to get Shiro to talk to him, or to Allura, or to anyone. Pleaded with, begged, coddled the man who had been a part of his life for so long he was practically a brother into opening up to him, but he never got anywhere.

 Maybe Shiro wanted to protect them, maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.

 Maybe it was both.

 And so they wallowed in that silence, Slav filling up the quiet spaces on the flight deck with long ramblings about alternate realities that only Lance and Coran seemed to pay any attention to while Shiro stared at the star map projections with haunted eyes.

 It didn’t occur to Keith until much, much later on that perhaps Slav had been trying to tell them all something with his inane chatter. That there was a reason no scanner could find Shiro, why he just seemed to disappear and then reappear right where he had been.

 Regardless, whatever had happened to Shiro, wherever he had gone… He wouldn’t tell. He locked it away and asked them in his silence to pretend to forget those two months, taking charge of Voltron again without hesitation, as if nothing had happened.

 They all have their individual coping mechanisms, Keith thinks, and for Shiro, it’s blocking out his trauma with a soldier’s focus on an immediate goal, a visible and logical obstacle to overcome, locking down his past and refusing to let it air unless he has no other option.

 …Then again, Keith himself is much the same.

 And just like that, they moved back into doing what they had always done since becoming paladins, just with a slightly different enemy to face.

 And the Lance of the night, of quick analysis and sharp movements and steady hands, disappeared in the face of their old equilibrium returning.

 (Or, at least, Keith stopped looking for him.)

 There were only glimpses of that Lance again, after that, in the rare moments like that first time Lance questioned Shiro’s orders in the face of approaching the Blade of Marmora even before all this started, emerging on the few occasions where Lance steadfastly voiced his disagreement with a plan Shiro or Allura suggested, arguing against then with the same calm logic he had used when refusing the lion changes, and with the same amount of success in getting people to listen to him.

 Keith wonders, sometimes, if perhaps this could have all been prevented even then, if he had gotten his head out of his ass and stopped taking Shiro’s word as law, had been willing to acknowledge Lance might have more going on under the surface than they initially thought. Perhaps, subconsciously, he’d enjoyed Shiro’s favor, basking in the approval of the one person who had been with him for much of his life, and had been reluctant to potentially lose that.

 Over time, Lance seemed to give up, and his objections faded, and Keith lost sight of the Lance of the night.

 Until the breaking point, until Earth.

    It had started with an intel-gathering mission.

 They had broken into a decent-sized transport depot, intent on gathering information on what was being moved where with the hopes that it would clue them into what Lotor’s plans were, both against them and the universe in general. Pidge had set herself up in the main control room of the shipping deck, Shiro standing guard, and himself, Hunk, and Lance had been sent out to find what Pidge aptly described as ‘important-looking computers’ within the greater complex of the depot itself, the three of them under strict warnings to stay on the comms and ‘not do anything stupid’.

 (Perhaps, Keith thinks often, if they hadn’t opted to split up, things might have turned out different.)

 They’d split levels of the depot between them, himself and Lance scrapping over who got stuck with the lower level and who got the top one, for some inane reason Keith can no longer remember.

 Lance won and got the top floor, and it was… It was fine. Had been fine. A normal mission with a bit of lighthearted arguing and competition over the comms as to who could find the computers they were looking for first.

 Until they were all in the rooms with the tech in question, portable chips that allowed Pidge’s program remote control of the systems, and then Lance’s voice rang out over the comms.

 “There’s another monitor in here.”

 “An additional screen setup?” Pidge’s voice had answered, only half paying attention.

 “No, no. Like… A whole second system, completely removed from the one I plugged you into. Smaller. Galra laptop version.”

 Keith and Pidge had groaned in time at Lance’s seemingly less-than-helpful terms of description, Keith already half tuning the other out as he focused on getting the chip Pidge had given him plugged into his own computer, Lance’s insistent chatter about ‘Galra laptops’ drowning to white noise.

 “Lance.” Pidge had finally said, loud enough to cut through Keith’s distinct focus on the not-Lance things going on around him. “If it’s a smaller system, and doesn’t have an input plug like the main computer does, then it’s both useless to me right now and probably contains absolutely zero information. Please for crying out loud go back to the main computer and follow my instructions.”

 “One sec—“ Over the comms, Lance cursed quietly. “This is a lot harder without Kolivan on call to translate the shit I don’t understand. Galran is hard to read. Why’d we have to drop him back with the Blade?”

 “Lance.” Shiro snapped, breaking his silence.

 “One second, Shiro!” After a moment, Lance’s triumphant whoop signaling that he’d most definitely ignored Pidge’s orders and somehow gotten his way into the smaller computer rung out over the comms, and Keith had rolled his eyes, turning back to his own work monitoring the tiny Pidge-sprite on the monitor on his computer as it went to work.

 It had taken about three seconds before Pidge swore loudly, earning a scandalized gasp of her name from Shiro. “Abort mission, get out of there and back to the Green lion. It appears Lance in all his genius has triggered a system-wide alert by fucking around with that computer.”

 Keith gave his confirmation, listening as Hunk did the same, and had unplugged Pidge’s chip and booked it for the control room, barely noticing at the time that Lance hadn’t done the same until Shiro called his name impatiently over the comms.

 “H-Hold on.” Lance had answered. “If they had a security trigger on this, it must mean it’s important! Shit, I can’t read this.”

 “Lance.” Keith had growled, losing his patience. “Fucking leave the computer.”

 There was silence on Lance’s end aside from frantic typing and a couple unsteady, heavy breaths, until a crash followed by a yelp from Lance and the robotic voices of sentries rang through and Keith had turned on his heel, grumbling as he ran back to rescue his teammate.

 After the mission, Keith hadn’t thought any more on it, just another occasion where Lance got distracted with some inane thing and ended up needing saving. It was hardly like it was a new occurrence, really. That was just what happened with missions sometimes, especially when involving Lance, who for every moment of luck seemed to have an equal number of times where he tripped right into danger.

 Until the next morning, when debriefing on their mission and what Pidge had found, Lance brought up the computer he had been messing around with again, earning himself a bored look from Pidge as he rambled on nervously.

 As much as Pidge and Lance had gotten along as easy friends, as far as Keith could tell, she’d never seemed to put much stock in his opinions when it came to anything involving technology— And while, admittedly, Lance had nearly blown up some Altean tech messing with it, and Pidge really didn’t value any of their opinions when it came to what she considered her field, perhaps that, too, had been a mistake.

 “Lance.” She’d said firmly, pinching the bridge of her nose and dislodging her glasses with the movement. “With all due respect, if you’d just monitored my program properly and not tripped any alarms before I finished downloading the files, I’d have probably found whatever has you so worried.”

 “But this computer had a security system! That proves there was something important on it!”

 “All the computers have security systems!” Pidge snapped, throwing her hands up. “That’s why we use my program designed to get around them!”

 “Shiro.” Lance had turned, eyes begging. “I’m telling you, there was something big on that computer— I think they were schematics, something. A weapon.”

 “A weapon?” That had caught Allura’s attention if nothing else, leaning forward and staring at Lance curiously.

 “Yeah, like a— Like a death ray?”

 “…A death ray.” And just as easily, Allura’s interest had been lost.

 “I’m not lying! It was like… a huge ion cannon. It looked the freaking death star!”

 “What is a death star?” Allura asked, and Shiro groaned pointedly.

 “Lance this isn’t Star Wars and giant death rays aren’t real. I know Kolivan was teaching you a little Galran, but you said so yourself that you couldn’t really understand what you were looking at, and I’m more likely to side with Pidge and agree that it’s quite possible you never actually got into the system itself and just saw the security alerts.”

 “But—“

 “I promise we’ll keep an eye out in the future for something matching what you described.” Shiro said more patiently. “But I don’t think diverting all our focus on a weapon that may or may not even exist as a schematic is a good use of our time when there’s people that need our help now.”

 Lance had sighed, nodding, and that, Keith had assumed at the time, had been the end of it.

 At least, he’d thought as much until three nights later, when in a fit of pacing around the halls of the castle, the insomnia-driven habit never quite shaken even after Shiro had returned to them, he’d wandered across the strange version of Lance he’d thought died off after Shiro’s reappearance, standing in front of the monitors on the flight deck with deadly focus.

 After that, Keith couldn’t help but wander back each night he felt too restless to sleep, far too fascinated with this enigma of Lance that only seemed to exist away from the team’s eyes not to.

 (Maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened even then, had offered to help Lance, had approached Shiro, something might have changed.)

 Just like before, he only caught Hunk there with Lance once.

 “Don’t do this again.”

 “I have to be sure I was wrong.” Lance told Hunk quietly.

On their next mission two weeks later to help a planet that sent out a distress signal, Lance gave Pidge a file for her system scanners if they ran into any Galra tech.

 “I recreated the schematics based of what I remember. Just… see if you can find them.”

 Pidge had complied, albeit hesitantly, and when her scans of the Galra ship they’d taken down turned up nothing even remotely close to Lance’s model, they moved on.

 Keith had thought perhaps that would put a rest to it, for Lance, but four days later they got a new transmission from the Blade of Marmora with information from their spies suggesting the transport depot they had crashed had been moving some unidentified supplies on Lotor’s direct orders, and the next night Keith found Lance holed up in the training deck, shooting down bots with steel in his eyes.

 He had looked beautiful, and he had looked terrifyingly unlike the Lance of the day, and, ultimately, Keith had fled.

 A month after that initial mission, Allura caught Lance passed out against the base of her podium in the early morning, monitors still flickering idly, and it devolved into a screaming match that ended up dragging everyone into the argument, crossed arms and bared teeth looming over opposite sides of the flight deck.

 “Lance, please, you quite clearly have not been getting enough sleep, and you should not be playing with the monitors in this state.”

 “I’m fine!” Lance snapped, pushing Allura’s steadying hands away and glaring. “I don’t need babysitting, I just need you to believe me. I’m onto something here!” He gestured at the screens, and Allura squinted at the mess of words and diagrams across them.

 “…I cannot read this. Is the program Pidge built not supposed to translate your language?”

 “It does.” Pidge piped up. “Just not like… French.”

 Keith had squinted at Lance in confusion. “Since when do you speak French?”

 “I speak a lot of things! And it’s not—“ Lance looked to the monitor. “…It’s in French… And Spanish. That bottom part is in Spanish.”

 “If you’re so tired you’re losing track of what language you’re writing in, it’s probably time to quit.” Keith mumbled, ignoring the dirty look Lance shot him.

 “Lance I understand you are… upset, but this is not advisable.” Allura said smoothly. “Pidge has already checked your claims and we found no evidence of them. To keep pursuing it like this is foolish.”

 “Lay off, Allura.” Lance growled, turning back to the screens. “I can do what I want.” Allura bristled at Lance’s dismissive tone, and Keith winced, sensing the impending storm.

 “I will not have you messing around with the castle’s delicate systems without supervision just to feed your paranoia! Exhausting yourself on such a fruitless task, especially around potentially hazardous equipment, is ridiculous and risks placing you and your fellow paladins in danger!”

 “I’m telling you there’s something here we’re missing!” Lance had shouted back, waving his arms pointedly at the monitor even as he swayed uncertainly on his feet in his obvious fatigue. “It’s not just me! The Blade had evidence Lotor was moving shit around on the down-low! He’s planning something.”

 “The Blade has been well-proven in their ability to be wrong before.” Allura said coolly, and that had even Keith twitching, because, yes, he’d never really jumped onto the whole ‘galra heritage’ thing with much enthusiasm, but the Blade of Marmora was the only solid potential source of information on his mother that he had, and the fact that they were the good Galra was something he had always clung to.

 …Still clings to, if he’s being honest.

 “Don’t dump Lance’s Star Wars mania on the Blade.” He had snarled unthinkingly, ignoring Lance’s hurt expression at his words.

 “I’m not crazy and I’m not making this up!” Lance screeched with a frustration that had surprised them all. “How is what I’m suggesting even that far-fetched?! We know the Galra used something to destroy Altea, and we’ve seen them build pretty fucking big lasers and shit before, it’s not like there’s no evidence that they have the capabilities to build something able to target worlds! Do you really think Altea was so fucking important that Zarkon just one-and-done’d it and gave up on world-destroying power?! It’s not like it was the bloody center of all existence just because you lived there!”

 The sound of Allura slapping Lance had been startlingly loud against the sudden silence, her expression taught and pained, close to tears, even as Lance had stared at her in open shock.

 “Don’t you dare suggest I have forgotten what was done to my planet. I dismissed your theories because my father’s AI, which had his memories of the end of Altea, indicated that what Zarkon used was both unsustainable technology and relied on the magic of a race that died out thousands of years ago. It cannot be recreated, so do not speak of things you do not know.”

 Allura had strode out of the room hurriedly, Shiro chasing after her only a moment later, and Coran, with a concerned glance at Lance, right behind him.

 “That was harsh, dude.” Pidge’s voice had rung out softly.

 Lance steadied himself, turning back to the monitors with barely a flinch. “It needed to be said. Allura… Allura was the one who told me once that I shouldn’t confuse the past with the present. Just because whatever exact method Zarkon used then couldn’t be recreated to Alfor’s knowledge doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Technology advances and changes, it’s about the willingness to do it, not the formula.”

 “Lance…” Pidge sighed. “Look. I looked into your schematics notes and stuff, but I really can’t find anything. I’m not saying what you saw wasn’t there, but maybe you just got… confused. A large ion cannon doesn’t necessarily mean a… death ray.”

 “What are you even so worried about?” Keith said after a pause. “If an alternative power for destroying worlds was available, don’t you think Zarkon would have used it before now?”

 “…Lotor isn’t Zarkon.” Lance offered quietly. “He’s smarter, more goal-oriented. We’ve seen it in the way he attacks. I have read Alfor’s old notes on the destruction of Altea— I’m not a complete idiot, ya know. I don’t think there is a sustainable way to continuously use the power you’d need to take down a whole world, at least, not the kind of thing you could use more than once or twice without serious problems. For Zarkon, if regular Galra forces were enough to take down most planets, why bother?”

 “So?” Hunk prompted gently.

 “So it’s the kind of thing you’d reserve as an ultimatum, a final ace up your sleeve against your main opponent. A way to completely destroy them and everything they care about.”

 “…Like Altea.”

 “Yes, Pidge, like Altea.” Lance turned to them somberly, the Lance of the night, odd and thoughtful, hovering on the edges of his face. “Alfor was Voltron’s handler. He was Zarkon’s greatest enemy during their war. He destroyed Altea and its neighboring planets. If he was willing to do that, what would stop Lotor from doing the same now?”

 “Earth.” Keith said as Lance’s fears, his nightly musings in front of the monitors, his unfocused yet deadly and silent practices against the bots suddenly clicked into place.

 “It’s… That’s just not possible.” Pidge was quiet, but firm. “Shiro and my family were picked up on Kerberos, with no indication of where they’d originally come from. The Galra cruiser we saw outside Earth was only there because Shiro was, and all they know is that Shiro landed, found Blue, and left. How would they know Earth is our home planet or that there’s even any intelligent life there, especially if they haven’t approached Earth before now? It just… wouldn’t make sense.”

 Lance hesitated. “You think?”

 “I know. Now…” Pidge paused, fidgeting. “We should really go check on Allura.”

 As Hunk and Pidge had filed out the door and down the hall, Lance had hesitated just before the doorway, and Keith turned, stuck in those eyes that looked like the specter of the other Lance who haunted him— And yet, with this, this anger and fear and seriousness Lance had just expressed, perhaps the two were not as separate as Keith had pretended.

 “Nothing’s going to happen to Earth.” He had found himself saying. “I promise.”

 Lance’s expression shattered, and he fell against Keith, forehead pressed to his shoulder and breath hot against his collarbone.

 “Thank you.”

 And then he was gone, and Keith had been left only with the heat in his cheeks.

 Weeks and months and years later, he had dwelled on that moment endlessly, on the warmth of Lance, of the unbridled trust he’d placed in him despite their arguments and Lance’s previously proclaimed rivalry, of the faith he held in Keith’s word regardless of all the previous times he’d fought against it.

 And on how he’d failed that simple promise.

 It happened a month and some weeks after.

    “Left!” Shiro screamed, directing their course as Voltron as they dodged to avoid the blast from Haggar’s apparent latest robo-creation. The whole of Voltron shuddered as one as the beam nicked the edge of the Yellow lion, and a chorus of shouts rung out over the comms as they all jolted in their seats from the movement.

 “C’mon, we have to take this thing down before it gets near the Earth!” Shiro chastised, his worry and faint panic echoing over the mental bond that held Voltron together. “Focus!”

 “Shiro—“

 “Pidge, shield!”

 Another blast slammed into them against the shield, and they rocketed back, no grounding to stabilize themselves against in the open void of space just above Earth’s atmosphere.

 At the time, Keith had experienced a moment of hysteria-driven humor at the thought of what the assholes down at the Garrison with their scanning technology and satellite feeds must make of all of this.

 …There hadn’t been much to laugh at about the moment, after.

 It had started as a signal on Pidge’s galra-tracking equipment, a clear beacon signifying movement of Lotor’s flagship and its entourage.

 That had been the first clue that something was up— It had always been a back-and-forth game of the Galra forces finding new ways to evade the castle’s tracking technology, and Pidge in turn finding better ways to locate their ships, but tracking Lotor’s flagship was almost impossible, nor should the signal of their trackers have reached that far regardless.

 The little purple dot of Lotor’s ship, blinking clearly on the portion of their maps depicting Earth’s solar system, and the steady movement of it towards their home planet, was the first clue that this was an obvious ploy.

 Lotor was not his father, far more aligned to Haggar’s calculated way of thinking and acting, and he was not found by them unless he wanted to be.

 He was drawing them out, just as he had before.

 And yet they went. How could they not? It was Earth; it was their home. To not take Lotor’s bait was to risk the lives of everyone still on Earth, millions upon millions of people who had never even known of this war that held them in such danger, let alone asked for it.

 They went, nerves jittery and hearts in their throats.

 “I don’t like this.” Lance had whispered into the silence of the flight deck as Allura opened the wormhole bound for just outside Earth.

 “None of us like this, Lance.” Keith had mumbled back, too tired and frustrated and goddamn scared for this.

 “No, I mean I really don’t like this. Something bad is coming.” He was shaky and clammy, fiddling reflexively with his bayard even as he stood tall in his uniform, awaiting orders.

 Keith ignored him. They all ignored him.

  They’d arrived to find Lotor’s ships there, hanging in the balance just between the beginnings of Earth’s atmosphere and the cold reach of the stars, not moving, not attacking. Just… waiting.

 Waiting for them.

 The minute the castle had come through the wormhole, a creature had appeared from the cargo bay of Lotor’s ship with an unholy screech, the distinct feeling of wrongness surrounding its quintessence signaling it as a creation of Haggar, and without pause for thought they’d rushed to the lions, focus set on taking it down before it attacked the castle or, worse, headed for Earth.

 The moment they’d engaged the robo-beast, Lotor’s ships had decided that was a fine time to open fire on the castle, and all hell broke loose, Earth’s presence below them more an afterthought, something to protect but not an immediate problem, than anything else.

 Except… There had been plucks of anxiousness, of paranoia, along the fragile strings of the bond even as they focused on the fight. At the time, Keith had only barely registered them as Lance’s, their presence barely noticeable at first but growing stronger the longer they spent combating the robo-beast. A particularly loud blast from one of Lotor’s ships shooting past them had Lance’s anxiety yanking hurriedly at the bonds, and unthinkingly Keith had snarled back loudly.

 “Fucking focus, Lance!”

 “Something’s wrong!” Lance wailed back, even as he moved Voltron in time with the rest of them.

 “You wanted to protect Earth from Lotor, didn’t you?” Pidge snapped over the comms. “Then let’s take this thing down!”

 “That’s not it! Isn’t this too easy? Why was Lotor just… waiting?!”

 “It’s Lotor.” Keith grumbled. “Why does he do anything?”

 “We don’t have time to ponder Lotor’s intentions right now!” Shiro yelled, the utter stress of the situation coating his words. “Taking this thing down is our priority before it moves on to a different target, namely Earth! We’ll worry about Lotor later!”

 “Guys…” Hunk’s hesitant voice echoed over the comms. “Guys, maybe—“

 “On your right, Keith!” Pidge screeched, and Keith gritted his teeth and moved Red accordingly, Voltron’s arm cutting through the blast in front of them with its sword. All this background noise while trying to fight was distracting, giving him a headache. They needed to protect Earth, and to do that they needed to focus on the problem in front of them, not Lance’s—

 “But the location!” Lance’s voice was frantic. “Lotor baited us here! To Earth!”

 …Lance’s panicking.

 “Not now, Lance!”

 “But Shiro—“

 “I said not now, Lance!”

 “Paladins.” Allura’s words were strained over the comms. “We cannot hold up against all this firepower indefinitely, as it is we are on the defensive. Please take that thing out at your earliest convenience so that we may then focus on driving Lotor away from your planet.”

 “Allura, listen—“

 “Please Lance, I am a little…” He had more felt than heard the shudder of the castle behind them as it took another hit to the particle barrier. “Busy.”

 “Shield!” Hunk had screamed, and they fell back into the fight.

 It had felt like an eternity of dodging and counterstrikes, the robo-beast in question not the most difficult they had faced but deliberately quick, keeping them one step behind and flying blind without a clue as to what it was trying to do. It hadn’t been trying to get to Earth, Keith had realized much, much later. Its purpose had never been about Earth, it had been about distracting them, keeping them preoccupied until Lotor was ready to put on his show.

 And put on a show he had. Keith had felt it, the change of power in the air, giving him goosebumps along his arms even that far away in his lion, the shift in the energy around them as it was drawn in, a humming noise slowly filling the air and growing louder as… something was brought in to Lotor’s ship.

 And then the ship had shifted. He’d barely caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye at first, too focused on the robo-beast that had conveniently shot itself into Voltron at that same moment, but he’d heard Lance’s screech over the comms, felt the tug of unbridled, overwhelming terror through the bond, and had slammed his head up to watch as Lotor’s flagship literally seemed to fold in on itself, parting down the middle and reshaping around what had looked like an enormous, misshapen ion cannon, lighting up with the Galra Empire’s signature color as the ship tilted and aimed the cannon directly at the Earth below them.

 “What the fuck is that?” Pidge had screamed.

 No one answered her. They all knew.

 “No!” Lance’s shout had echoed through the comms as his pain rippled across the bonds, snapping the threads of Voltron loose as they broke apart, the Blue lion dodging past the still advancing robo-beast and the shots from the other ships meant to keep the castle in place. “No!”

 “Lance—“ Keith had gone to follow, and the robo-beast had slapped Red like a pesky fly and sent him spinning off his trajectory.

 “Lance, stop!” It was Shiro who got to him first, shooting past the robo-beast while it was busy pushing back Keith, Pidge, and Hunk, chasing after the Blue lion with desperate focus. “You’ll get caught in the blast!”

 The Black lion had slammed into Blue and knocked her away from Lotor’s ship and the subsequent blat radius just as the cannon went off, lighting up the void of space around them a sickly purple as a beam shot down to Earth and consumed it in perfect harmony with Lance’s echoing screams.

    The aftermath was drenched in shocked horror and barely-formed grief, steeping in silence and almost potent disbelief.

 Keith remembers having felt numb, motionless in his lion as his eyes lay trained on the Earth as it was consumed from its core outward, burning and crumbling with purple fire. He hadn’t needed a closer look to know, Red informing him of what her scanners showed with uncharacteristic quiet— The rapid destabilization of Earth’s surface, the winking lights of human life going out one by one in rapid formation in only a few minutes.

 It had been done before it started, the moment the beam touched the Earth. They had not had in their power any way to stop its path, even if that would have done anything.

 (Lance hadn’t been far off, he thinks. The consumption of the planet by the Galran light had looked far too much like the scenes of the movies he had watched once as a small child with his father a lifetime ago, unimpressed with the cheesy effects as the model planets crumpled in on themselves.)

 Lotor’s ship had called a wormhole and vanished immediately after along with his fleet, his job there done, and the castle had delivered the final couple blasts to kill the robo-beast while the five of them laid frozen in their lions.

 It hadn’t been about destroying Earth, Keith had realized as he watched Lotor flee, it had been about making them watch Earth die, to pay witness to the end of their kind as penance for their sins.

 Those, Keith thinks, had been the longest moments of his life, watching as the Earth slowly, gracefully, was consumed, not in a rush but with an artful collapse, and knowing nothing he could do would stop that trajectory, even as his people actively lost their lives below him where he played observer, safe in his lion.

 Lance did not stop screaming that whole time, still fighting to get to Earth despite the inevitable even as the Black lion literally grabbed Blue in their jaws to halt her tracks, dragging Lance and his lion forcefully back to the castle while the rest of them had followed shakily behind.

 The moment they had gotten through the hangars, the castle opened a wormhole, pulling them far, far away from the remnants of Earth as it still continued to burn.

 Perhaps Allura had wanted to spare them the sight of any more of the destruction of their home; perhaps she had just not wanted to watch it herself.

 They had stumbled out of their lions after they exited the wormhole into somewhere in the vast dark, far away from any planets, burning or otherwise, stuttering on their feet as they walked shell-shocked across the hangar. Hunk had made it four steps out of Yellow before he fell to the ground retching, Pidge five before she collapsed in a puddle to the floor, wailing.

 Shiro made it a full eight steady steps towards his teammates before he had fallen to his knees, curling in on himself and letting loose a scream like Keith had never heard from him before even once in the years they had known each other.

 He had stayed standing, swaying on his feet and feeling so, so empty inside, about a minute away from dry heaving like Hunk, and eventually his eyes had fallen to Lance, who stood at the mouth of his lion, fists clenched and staring down at unseeing eyes.

 (Keith wishes, sometimes, that he had gone to him in that moment, had grabbed onto Lance and just… held him, until the life came back to his eyes.)

 It had felt like an eternity before the door from the hangar to the castle hallway had opened, Allura stumbling in with red-rimmed eyes and Coran a step behind her. She had looked at them hopelessly, shoulders shaking with grief and rage and sympathy, choking on air as she looked for words, and Keith had known she was just as lost as they were.

 “…Paladins.” She had said at last, turning to each of them in turn with sorrow. “I… I am so, so sorry.”

 Keith had ducked his head, knowing she meant well, but not wanting to face her pity, and for a moment there was silence, before Lance’s voice had rung out in a vicious, yet deadly calm growl.

 “You’re sorry?”

 “I—“

 “You’re sorry?!”

 “Lance…” Shiro’s voice warned quietly, weary and exhausted and broken.

 “Our planet is dead! Everyone we know, have ever known, is gone! What the fuck good does an apology do?!” Lance crumpled in on himself, body shaking, and beyond the numbness, Keith’s heart had ached. “Gone… my friends, my cousins, my mother, my sisters. They’re all… gone.”

 Allura had taken an unsteady step forward, her eyes trained on Lance, expression open and helpless. “I cannot fathom— I am so… I did not foresee—“

 “I warned you!” Lance screamed, flying up with a kind of fire in his eyes Keith had never known him before to contain, even in his most serious moments in the dead of night. In that moment, he had seen in Lance what he imagined Allura had seen when she asked him to fly Red. “I warned all of you, and you didn’t listen!”

 “Lance.” Shiro had called again, stumbling to his feet in a disjointed way that had brought Keith rushing to his side, catching his arm. “Lance, there was no proof…”

 “Shut up, Shiro!” Lance’s voice was a screaming sob. “I had my word; I had the schematics! That should have been proof enough!” Lance’s lip had curled then, a snarl across his face. “It was never about quiznacking proof! It was because I said it! If Keith or Pidge had come back with the same lack of proof, you would have at least looked harder! Fuck, if you had found it, it never would have even been a discussion!”

 “Lance…” Pidge had mumbled shakily. “This… This isn’t the time.”

 “Lance, please…” Allura stumbled hesitantly towards Lance, reaching out. “I know the grief you feel right now—“

 She had cut off with a startled yelp as Lance had surged, arm swinging up at her, and her gaze fell trained on the gun that came to rest between her eyes. Lance’s bayard, Keith had realized, had changed, the normally bubbly, round, almost playful sniper rifle replaced with a sleek, smooth handgun-type blaster.

 “My whole life is gone.” Lance had said, his voice raw and eyes empty even as the tears finally spilled over, chest heaving for breath as he stared imploringly at Allura. “Because of this—“ A hand waved at the hangar around them. “Because of you. So give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you right now.”

 Keith had tensed, going to lunge forward between Lance and Allura, and Shiro had grabbed his arm, shaking his head as his eyes darted desperately between Lance and Allura.

 “Lance.” It was Coran who went to him, in the end, stepping calmly through the fray and between Lance and Allura, placing a gentle hand on his wrist. “Lance, put the bayard down, my boy. Put the bayard down. I know you are hurting, but this will not… This will not bring them back, lad.” Lance’s eyes had darted to Coran, and the Altean had smiled tiredly at him, a matching grief in his face. “I am sorry, but it won’t.”

 And Lance, tears falling over his cheeks, had collapsed, the gun falling from his hand and de-transforming as it hit the floor, slumping into Coran’s chest as Allura stumbled back and away, eyes trained wide on the scene in front of her, Lance’s screaming sobs echoing in the air around them.

    The days after Earth’s destruction had hung heavy in grieving silence, a shroud falling over the castle as they tried to come to terms with what, all too suddenly, had happened.

 Keith had found the numbness turned to solely to anger, the hollow grief he’d felt in their last hopeless situation, when Shiro had vanished, disappearing in the face of rage, the Red lion’s despair at having not been able to protect her paladin’s planet crawling under his skin as he demolished training bots with only his hands.

 Pidge had grieved— Crying and crying and crying until she was short of breath and choking on her own tears, avoiding sleep for as long as possible with shaky hands and bloodshot eyes until she passed out on random chairs and sofas and woke up from nightmares screaming for her mother.

 Shiro had spent his time with Allura, curled up on the couches of the large room Lance had once, a long time ago, cheerfully dubbed the ‘rec room’, speaking with her in quiet voices with haunted eyes and unkempt hair, at a loss on how to properly grieve for a planet that was both his home and a stranger to him, so far removed from him after his time with the Galra.

 Hunk had wandered, a constant exhaustion dragging at his frame, and more than once Keith had found him in the kitchen in the middle of the night, sitting quietly in a chair at the table with a mug of the Altean equivalent of tea clutched between his hands.

 “I can’t sleep.” He’d told Keith quietly the first time he found him there. “Whenever I close my eyes, I hear my family’s screams.” Hunk had shuddered, eyes closing somberly. “Sometimes… I think I can smell my home burning, heh…” He’d choked, his desperate, tiny laugh turning to a sob, and Keith had leaned against his side, offering his silent support in the warmth of one human body resting next to another.

 After that, whenever Keith had found Hunk sitting alone in the kitchens at night, he’d found room to push aside his grieving anger, Red’s rage, to sit with Hunk in quiet companionship, reveling in the reminder that this other human was still here, at least.

 Lance… Lance became a specter, appearing only to take food during meals and then leave, and the single reassurance he was in his room and alive when not visually present being the furious screaming and crashes of thrown furniture echoing from under the door.

 Looking back, perhaps Keith should have seen that as a clue to what was really happening, but after Lance’s explosion at Allura, at them, in the immediate aftermath of losing Earth, they thought in his obvious grief he deserved his space, if that was what he desired.

 …God, how Keith wishes they hadn’t. Maybe they could have saved what there was left of their Lance.

 Two weeks after the Earth died, Keith woke up in the early morning with a wrench of pain low in his gut, the feeling of something missing echoing throughout his core.

 It had taken a few moments of half-asleep mental scrambling before he found it, the echoing ache throughout his soul, catching on the severed threads of the lion bond between himself and Red and the others and their own lions where something had been cut loose with a jagged edge, sloppy and fast and raw.

 Something important.

 He had jumped shakily out of bed, tripping into the hallway and meeting Pidge and Hunk’s eyes as they stumbled out of their rooms, the same phantom pain written across their expressions. Down the hall, loud footsteps came, Shiro sprinting around the corner with Allura and Coran trailing half-asleep behind him, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them.

 “Thank god. I don’t know why, but I thought—“

 “Shiro, something’s wrong.” Pidge had interjected quietly, clutching at her stomach.

 Shiro frowned, eyes flickering to her and then to Keith and Hunk, before widening.

 “…Where’s Lance?”

 They had found Lance’s room empty, after flocking around his door while Coran carefully overrode the automatic lock, crowding into the barren space devoid of both Lance and any sign of his existence there, down to the missing face creams on the bathroom counter. The whole place was dim, scrupulously clean as if no one had ever lived there, despite Keith knowing Lance had been in the room just the night before.

 “He’s… gone?” Pidge had asked in shaky confusion, while Allura had taken a steadying breath and strode out the room to the flight deck, the rest of them trailing behind her nervously as she pulled up her monitors and tapped a few symbols.

 “…So is the Blue lion. It is not in its hangar.”

 “Maybe he just went out for a bit?” Hunk’s voice had been pleadingly nervous.

 “Hunk his room is empty.” Shiro had looked to Coran, wide-eyed. “He can’t survive out there just on his own, right? He’d have to come back.”

 Coran had frowned, considering, turning to the monitors and fiddling with them checking inventory scans of the castle. “…Perhaps he can.”

 “What does that mean?” Keith had growled out, desperate and aching and still frantically clinging to the fragile broken pieces of the lion bond, searching for what was missing, praying that they were all wrong.

 “It appears a small but not inconsequential portion of the castle’s nourishment supply has been removed to a portable container, enough to last one person a few weeks, at the very least, and the scanners show some basic repair tools missing from the maintenance hangars.” Coran’s eyes had widened, ears twitching downwards. “Oh quiznak.”

 “What?”

 “Lance had been asking me a little while ago about how to modify Altean weapons, before… Er, before Lotor’s attack on your planet, so I hadn’t thought anything of it, but he did have a couple more questions about them the other day…”

 “Weapons?” Shiro’s face shuttered, arms crossing. “The bayards don’t need modifications, they’re custom-shaped to us.”

 “The bayards would, yes, but…” Allura sighed out, turning. “Come with me.”

 She had led them to the floor above their regular accommodations, the air there stale and dry, the whole thing smelling faintly dusty, and, hesitantly, she had gone to a door, hand hovering over the scanner as if she expected to be burned by it.

 “Allura, what is this?” Hunk had asked, nervously fiddling with his hands.

 “…The former paladins’ living hall. I fear if Lance had gone looking for weaponry, the Blue lion might have indicated to him where to seek it.”

 She pressed a hand to the door, and they had all filed in carefully behind her, eyes wide as they took in the cheerful room painted blue with soft, plushy furniture dotted around. Allura ignored it all, heading straight to a wall panel and sliding it open, an alcove behind it barren aside from a few empty wall mounts. Unlike the dusty hall, there were clear signs of life here, fingerprints along the door to the alcove and around the wall mounts. Allura turned back to them, face grim.

 “The former Blue paladin was… a very practical warrior who did not like to rely only on her bayard. She kept an assortment of weapons, mainly Altean and Galran standard blasters, here in her room.”

 “…Great.” Pidge’s voice was flat. “So Lance’s room is empty, his lion is gone, and he apparently raided his predecessor’s backup gun supply. I just want to know where the hell he is.”

 “Not coming back.” Hunk intoned monotonously, gesturing to the bed in the room with an achingly tired expression. Following his hand, Keith’s gaze landed on the blue paladin armor resting in a neat pile on the bed, and he had felt his heart curl in on itself.

 “…He knew we’d come here?” He’d murmured unthinkingly, lost and still reeling from the realization of just what those broken strings of the bond meant.

 “Lance is smarter than he comes off as.” Hunk sighed lowly. “He works around contingencies, plans based on what he observes about others. He knew Allura would put two and two together.”

 Shiro had taken a hesitant step forward, snagging a thin piece of paper resting on top of the chest piece and staring down at it for a moment before handing it shakily to Hunk.

 “It’s addressed to you.”

 Hunk had opened it with trembling hands, staring down at the sparse words as his expression slowly shattered, dropping the note and backing away. “I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t…” He’d fled out the room, and Keith had watched him go with wide eyes.

 It was only much later that Keith had realized Hunk had already known what had happened, from the moment he woke up to the shattered bond and Lance’s empty room, not needing any time to piece it together like the rest of them, the only one privileged enough to the glances of the angry, haunting, serious Lance of the night to know he was capable of this.

 Keith had picked up the fluttering note as it touched the ground, unable to stop himself from opening it and reading the words scrawled across it in Lance’s small, disjointed handwriting.

 Hunk,

 Please forgive me for leaving you alone, buddy.

 …I just… I can’t just sit idly by and watch another planet die because of Voltron.

 I’m afraid of what I might do if I stay here too long.

 Blue’s agreed to come with me, she doesn’t want to lose another paladin to this war.

 I’m not sorry.

 …Take care of yourself, alright?

 Keith had closed his eyes, fighting down the sick feeling in his stomach at Lance’s words, and carefully handed the note to Shiro, swaying in place and listening idly to the shuffling as Lance’s parting words to his best friend were passed around like an open diary.

 “…How can he be so selfish?” Allura had whispered out into the stale air of the former blue paladin’s space.

 For the first time since finding Lance’s empty room Keith’s anger had surged, and he’d finally found a place to direct it, turning to Allura with bared teeth.

 “He is not selfish, we drove him to this!”

 “Keith—“

 “Shut it, Shiro!” He’d snapped. “This whole mess was preventable— Lance, Earth, all of it. We let it happen.”

 Striding from the room, he’d made it to the end of the hall before Red’s anger overtook him and he punched the wall in an impromptu fit of fury, her pain at losing her sister easily overriding the aching in his hand from the impact.

 Lance and Blue hadn’t just left, they had severed their bond with Voltron, the place where Lance’s joy, his anxiety, his hopes normally sat coiled in the threads of the lion bond cut loose in a jagged hole that left something aching and empty in Keith’s chest.

 They had made sure they could not be found, no matter how much the rest of them may have desired to.

 …Three months later, they heard their first whispers on wayward planets they stopped at of the Godlike warrior accompanied by a living ship much like their own that slaughtered all Galra in his path, silently championing a rebellion against the Galra rule from the ground up.

    The day after Allura announces their plans to wormhole over to Alrexa in search of these elusive stones, Keith finds himself sitting in his designated spot on the flight deck, slumped in his chair and glaring a hole into the back of Allura’s head as she goes about opening a wormhole to the planet in question.

 “This is still a bad idea!” He calls, just to be an asshole, and savors Allura’s frustrated twitch in front of him.

 He knows he’s being petty, but he’s too goddamn tired to care. He doesn’t want to do this, at all. Lance had left, and though it had hurt Keith more than he would ever admit to, that was still Lance’s choice— He hadn’t wanted to be found by them, he’d made that very clear.

 Plus… Well. He’s not sure if he can face Lance, can stand the idea of seeing someone who was once his friend, who he once, albeit grudgingly, cared deeply about… still cares about, look at him with hate in his eyes.

 When he’d come to the flight deck in the morning to find Allura and Shiro preparing for departure, Coran watching wearily with clear hesitance about their decision in his eyes, Keith had raged, yelling and waving his arms as they ignored him, until he’d given up and eventually plodded over to his seat, followed not long after by Pidge and Hunk.

 He glances over at Hunk once it becomes clear Allura is not going to dignify his newesy commentary with a response either, and raises an eyebrow, earning a shrug from the other. After a moment, chewing his lip in contemplation, he gets up and walks over to Hunk’s station, leaning over the back of his chair and resting his chin on the top of the other’s head wearily, closing his eyes.

 “Are you alright?” He asks quietly, cracking open his good eye just slightly to meet Shiro’s gaze as he stares at them impassively.

 “I don’t know.” Hunk murmurs back. “It’s… I want to see him, but…”

 “It’s been two years.” Keith finishes, ignoring the aching in his chest where the hole in the lion bond still sparks painfully. Two whole years without Lance, only clues and second-hand information to go off of to even know if he’s alive. Two years without Voltron, without a complete lion bond or Lance’s laughter reverberating in the halls or his warmth when he graced them with his presence.

 Losing Earth had been hard, Keith thinks, but for him, losing Lance had been harder. He’d had nothing to love, back on Earth, beyond its existence as a concept. No family to return to, no real home waiting for him. This, Voltron, had been the best part of his entire life, and Lance had been a significant piece of that.

 For a long time right after, it hadn’t seemed real, all of them hanging in the balance of waiting, as if expecting Lance to return.

 Keith doesn’t know what they thought Lance would do, maybe kick a few Galran asses to get his vengeance quest out of his system and then come back. Maybe.

 But… Definitely not… this.

 None of them could have predicted what Lance would become.

 Now, it was hard not to go too long without hearing news of the Blue Lion Resistance, Lance’s fame easily rivaling that of Shiro’s title as the Champion, but for a long time they’d had little to go off of, barely a clue of what he was up to.

 They’d gotten most of their information on Lance from the Blade, which apparently had held no qualms about trading information and holding a conciliatory alliance with him, despite their long-term secretive approach to fighting the Empire before their interactions with Voltron.

 It was likely because of the position Lance held, Allura had told them only once, voice quiet and eyes distant. The original blue paladin had been Galran, the Blade of Marmora formed in her honor, as her legacy for fighting against Zarkon, and that alone would have been enough for them to respect Lance, the successor to the first Galran who had sought to end Zarkon’s reign of terror.

 While Kolivan had been willing to confirm Lance’s survival to them, he had never offered them his location, and over time, when they came to worlds and found the residents there look at them with disdain upon recognition of the castle, heard the whispers of Princess Allura of Altea, world killer and Takashi Shirogane, Champion of destruction, they had finally come to grips with just how little Lance wanted to be found by them.

 “Two years, seven months, and six days.” Hunk replies shortly, startling Keith out of his musings. He frowns, poking the side of Hunk’s head, and the other shrugs, the moment jolting Keith where he lies slumped over the top of him. “I didn’t mean to count, at first. It just… happened.” Hunk shifts awkwardly. “…His birthday was last month.”

 Keith sighs out, a long, low breath, trying to picture a twenty-two year old Lance against his memories of Lance at nineteen and a few months, coming up blank. He wants to believe he’ll look the same, but… Well… He opens his eyes properly, taking in the room and its inhabitants. They’ve all changed. Two and a half years when fighting the Galra was a fucking long time, especially when they’d already been doing it for nearly another two years before Lance had left— They weren’t the same people they were, and they weren’t the ones who’d possibly semi-accidentally started the largest mass resistance against the Galra regime in modern intergalactic history.

 “Paladins.” Allura calls to them, reference neutral but clearly directed at him. “Please take your seats and prepare for the wormhole jump, we will be emerging above Alrexa shortly.”

 Groaning, Keith takes a deep breath and pushes himself off his resting place, sharing one last half concerned, half bitter look with Hunk before trudging back to his station, throwing himself lazily on his chair and waiting for the inevitable.

 Idly, he wonders if Lance will just shoot them out of the air the minute he sees the castle.

 …He wonders if they would deserve that.

      Barely moments after exiting the wormhole, Keith only just managing to scrape a quick glance on their monitors of the rocky, desolate looking planet below them, the transmissions feed lights up on Allura’s screens, signaling a feed coming from the planet below them. He watches as Allura and Shiro exchange hesitant glances, before Allura presses a couple symbols and a feminine, military-like voice rings out through the flight deck.

 “This is Alrexan ground control hailing the unidentified non-Empire craft in Alrexan airspace. Please state your identity and means of business or depart.”

 Allura frowns, looking to Shiro, who stands up and lifts a finger to his lips, breathing in and then speaking in the overly-calm tone he uses when trying to establish control of a situation. “This is the Castle of Lions, requesting permission to land.”

 There is a pause. “Please hold.” The voice says hesitantly, before the line goes dead.

 “…Oh God.” Hunk groans out, slumping over in his chair and covering his face, barely hiding the edges of his relieved grin that peak out. “He taught them human sales call lingo.”

 “What is—“ Allura goes to ask, before the line reconnects and the voice speaks again.

 “Castle of Lions, you are not cleared for landing. Please depart immediately or face enhanced removal techniques.”

 Hunk gulps audibly, face pale, and Allura’s face closes off, eyes narrowing. “I am sorry, but we are in need of Alrexan power stones. We must land.” She shuts off the communication feed without hesitation, raising the particle barrier and beginning the descent of the castle, and Hunk lets out a piercing whine.

 “We’re gonna die. I’m going to be blown up by alien missiles stockpiled by my former childhood best friend and we’re going to die.”

 “Lance won’t actually blow us up, Hunk.” Pidge murmurs from their seat, their words at odds with the way they cling to the armrests with a white-knuckled grasp. “Stop panicking.”

 Panicking, though, is inevitable, Keith thinks, stilling as the castle lowers itself through the atmosphere and pierces the Alrexan sky, the ground below becoming more and more visible as they creep closer. What if Lance didn’t just blow them out of the air? What if he let them land and then shot them all on sight?

 Through the anxiety, a single shot of excitement shoots through him.

 Lance. They’re going to see Lance.

 Red rumbles in the back of his mind, hesitant about the situation but delighted at the thought of seeing her sister again, Blue’s connection with the other lions forcibly cut off all this time, leaving her as much in the dark on Blue’s condition as they had been on Lance’s.

 After several tense moments, there’s the jolting shudder of the ship signaling they’ve landed, and Allura relaxes from where she stood rigidly at her podium, sighing out in relief and turning to the rest of them. “Well then. Shall we?”

 They follow her out to the main ‘ground level’ entrance of the castle, hesitant steps trailing her own steady, seemingly-confident movements as anxiety prickles in the air, present in the military set of Shiro’s shoulders, Hunk’s nervously twisting hands, Pidge’s shuddery steps, the coils of fearhopesorrow dancing along the lion bond.

 Keith finds himself checking his own weapons once, twice, materializing and dematerializing his bayard in a repetitive pattern before reaching behind him and checking his dagger is still strapped to the back of his belt. He’d modified the suit to hold the dagger after Shiro had gone missing, all that time ago, finding it a comfort to have on his person even during battles, one he hadn’t grown out of even after Shiro had come back to them.

 He wonders if they shouldn’t have worn the armor, if wearing their regular clothes would have made them seem like less of a threat.

 …Then again, on the off-chance Lance might just try to shoot them he’ll take his chances with the armor.

 The castle doors part, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of them, the rocky Alrexan landscape marred by the presence of a ring of what can best be described as alien forms of trucks, looking like something out of those Mad Max movies his father had liked, surrounding the castle entrance, a hoard of various aliens gathered around or on them with blasters pointed straight at them.

 He takes one look at the setup, shares a glance with Hunk and Pidge, and raises his hands in the air, ignoring the dirty look Allura gives him even as Shiro, hesitantly, does the same.

 “We are not here to fight.” Allura calls out firmly, standing her ground, and from the ring of rebels a wave of murmuring stirs, before settling as a lithe figure hops out of the bed of the largest truck, the aliens parting for them as they walk to the forefront, meeting Allura’s gaze head-on with fierce, arresting blue eyes.

 “You landed your ship on a planet you did not have permission to enter, against express warnings not to. Try again.”

 Keith’s heart lurches, the broken tangles of the bond aching, and his breath catches in his throat, stolen by the presence of the painfully familiar, yet oh-so-foreign person in front of him.

 “Lance.”

 Lance blinks, eyes flickering to Keith at his call, and then looks away, face impassive.

 He’s so… Keith drinks in the sight of him, lost and confused and desperately searching for the pieces of the person he once reluctantly called friend in this stranger.

 He’s taller, Keith thinks, by at least a couple inches, yet just as long-limbed and willowy as he had always been, all sharp angles and lean lines. A form-fitting black bodysuit fitted with thin, almost unnoticeable pieces of black armor hugs his body, reminding Keith most of the combat suit he had worn when he faced the trials of Marmora, minus the purple lights and symbols, this one more streamlined and indistinguishable in its plain black coloring, lacking markings or accessories, and overtop he wears a black-grey trench coat, unbuttoned and hanging loose around his silhouette, the wide collar framing his long neck and slanted face.

 The funny haircut with its short bangs and long sides around the ears that Keith remembers is gone, Lance’s hair falling in a long brown wave around his shoulders, curling over the collar and flying loose in the thin wind of the Alrexan air, the ever so slight natural curl of it tangling the strands in thin twists. It hangs in an elegant curve over the left side of his face, obscuring it entirely from view and hugging the edge of his nose, a few stray strands drifting across it onto his right cheek.

 Lance has scars, he realizes with a painful lurch in his gut at the thought of how he must have gotten them— A thin one curving up his right cheek to just under his eye and a second, larger one, running up the left side of his face in a larger, more distinct mark, before disappearing under the fall of hair.

 The single eye he can see is the same though, the familiar dark blue that speaks of oceans and rivers and currents, deep and fathomless and fascinating… and looking to Keith and the others as if they are a particularly disgusting piece of gum under his shoe.

 Lance is scowling at them, looking to Allura for answers, and as she stumbles over herself, tripping on her words, his annoyed expression only widens, until he sighs and grabs a gun off the holster on his hip, lazily pointing it at Allura in a strangely fitting mirror of when the Earth first died. “I’ll ask again. Why are you really here? And speak carefully, my people are a little trigger-happy.”

 “Wait!” Hunk yelps from next to Keith, darting in front of Allura and holding out his hands. “Just wait. Please.”

 Lance tenses, withdrawing his gun the moment Hunk steps into aim, and barks an order to the aliens around them, their guns lowering automatically, eyes trained on him.

 “…Thank you.” Hunk sighs out, looking about two seconds from collapsing even as he turns imploringly to Lance. “We— Look, we know we aren’t welcome here, but the stones that control the ship’s command system cracked, and we can only replace them with others from this planet. We didn’t have a choice.”

 Lance frowns, tilting his head, and Keith watches, mouth dry, as the wave of hair in front of his face shifts with him, catching his eyes and demanding their attention for inexplicable reasons. He thinks maybe the long hair is just too weird compared to his memories of Lance’s visage to really compute.

 “…Is this true?” Lance asks after a moment, looking to Coran and studiously ignoring the rest of them, apparently willing to take the older Altean’s word as truth over the rest of theirs.

 “Yes.” Coran says cautiously, nodding to Lance. “It is.”

 Lance’s face scrunches, clearly considering, and Keith watches him thumb the trigger on his pistol where it hangs loosely in his hand by his side. After a long moment, he turns, waving a dismissive hand and heading back towards the circle of rebels, his voice ringing out in a commanding tone that is entirely new to Keith.

 “I want a constant armed perimeter around the castle! If any weapon systems come online or any crafts attempt to leave it, you are instructed to fire on it immediately! The paladins of Voltron and their handlers are to be treated as prisoners of war, I want guns on them at all times, and any weaponry on them removed!”

 “Sir!” A chorus of voices rings out, and in an instant a number of the rebels surge forward, crowding them and pointing blasters at their heads while others step forward calmly and begin patting them down, seeking out any hidden weapons. Keith hisses, jumping back as one reaches for his bayard, and looks to Lance’s retreating figure helplessly.

 “Wait—“ Allura yelps, dodging the alien attempting to check her for weapons and reaching for Lance. “Wait, Lance!”

 He pauses, looking over his shoulder to Allura with disdain. “Lance McClain died with the Earth. You speak here to the General of the Blue Lion Resistance, nothing more.”

     The ride back to the Resistance base camp is a jolting, unpleasant affair, the six of them all crowded into the back of one truck together with cuffs strapped tightly onto their wrists, the composition of the cuffs seemingly even built to contain Alteans as Allura wiggles her hands and glares down at them. The guard on them is Galran, a fact that clearly leaves Allura antsy, with the brand on his face marking him as a former slave of the gladiator ring, punishment for a traitor to the Empire.

 “What’s your name?” Keith finds himself asking, unable to help himself, and winces at the unimpressed look the guard gives him.

 “What’s it to you?”

 “I’m half-Galra.” Keith mumbles, shrugging helplessly. “Meeting other Galra who fight against Lotor is kind of a pleasant rarity.”

 Honestly, while he’d been intellectually aware of their existence, this is the first Galran rebel he’s seen who is not a part of the Blade of Marmora, and that enough is fascinating to him.

 The rebel raises an eyebrow, and then looks away, staring out at the Alrexan landscape as it flies by. “My name is Zenex. The General rescued me and my fellow prisoners from a transport ship eighteen of your Earthen months ago, and since then I have served as a sergeant in the Blue Lion Resistance.”

 “What is La— Your general like?” Pidge asks quietly.

 Zenex blinks, glancing down at Pidge in surprise. “The General… The General believes he can save everyone, and he might just be crazy enough to do it. He is hope for many who believed the universe had abandoned them.” The truck lurches to a stop, and Keith peers curiously over the side, catching glimpses of an array of tents and ships scattered around them. Shouldering his gun, Zenex hops off the back of the truck onto the rock below and gestures out, a grim smile on his face. “Welcome to the Alrexan base camp, home of the Resistance.”

 They are paraded through the camp like trophies, rebels stopping in their tracks to stare openly, whispers echoing through the space around them. It leaves Keith with an anxious feeling low in his stomach, watching all the faces surrounding them. There are easily hundreds of aliens here, in a disparity of species, and this is just the immediate base camp, not accounting for those on a mission or elsewhere— He knew Lance’s operation was no small feat, but goddamn, there’s more races here than in the Voltron alliance.

 More Galra too, he notes with interest, eyes falling over familiar spots of purple fur and catlike ears in the crowd. Given Allura’s hesitations, they’d never really sought out Galran rebels beyond the Blade of Marmora, and Keith is honestly surprised to see so many here in Lance’s Resistance. Surely, after Earth, he would have held the same hatred for the Galra as a whole as Allura had?

 …Then again, they had known that Lance had been working on-and-off with the Blade after leaving Voltron.

 “Holy shit, they weren’t kidding.” He hears a familiar voice mutter, and wheels around to see a recognizable pair of aliens sitting on the rim of a small ship, staring down at them.

 “…Rolo?” Keith says, unbelieving. “Nyma?!”

 “Heya.” Rolo answers cheerfully.

 “…What are you doing here?” Hunk asks from beside Keith, gaping up at the two aliens.

 “Oh, well, y’know.” Rolo shrugs. “Had nothing better to do.”

 “Never thought I’d be taking orders from the kid I strapped to a tree.” Nyma adds on, looking amused. “But stranger things have happened.”

 “The last time we saw you, you tried to sell Lance’s lion to the Galra.” Shiro bites out, breaking his silence to glare at them fiercely.

 “And now we sell shit for the Resistance.” Rolo shrugs. “Guess we saw the light.”

 “I— But—“ Keith falls over his own words, too startled by the presences of two people so familiar to him to think. It had been so easy to think of the Resistance as just a faceless mass of random people, and yet here they were, two actual aliens who had interacted with Voltron, and chosen to side with Lance’s rebels instead.

 “That’s enough, come on.” Zenex interrupts, nudging them forward. “The General has instructed me to take you to central command.”

 Zenex ushers them forward, and they follow, still staring at the forms of Rolo and Nyma as they all too casually wave them goodbye.

 “This is too weird…” Pidge murmurs, and Keith finds himself silently agreeing.

 He doesn’t know what he expected, but not… this. It’s like something out of a movie, a gathered force of rebels against an oppressive Empire with no great champions or magical princesses to lead them, fighting with what they have only and being willing to give up their own lives to do it.

 …Well, that’s not quite right. They have Blue; they have Lance. Somehow.

 Somehow Lance commands all this, without question or hesitation.

 While objectively he had known it was possible, the Lance of the nights of analysis and planning in front of the monitors and the Lance that had spoken mournfully to the Black lion years ago clinging to his mind whenever he thought of the Blue Lion Resistance, it’s still a shock.

 It’s easy to acknowledge the Resistance as a powerful weapon against Lotor that has been keeping his attention off of them, off of Voltron. It’s harder to reconcile that with the fact that Lance, the boy who had demanded Keith call him rival and had flirted with every pretty face he saw, is leading it.

 The central command turns out to be a large, military-looking tent, and when they are led inside it is to dusty tables full of maps and wide boards with coordinates scrawled across them, Lance’s own handwriting predominant among them.

 Lance is standing in the middle of it, speaking lowly with a young alien girl with light orange skin and pointe ears who looks at him imploringly, clearly requesting something. Her eyes catch on them when they enter, and her nose scrunches, grimacing. “You were serious.” She turns back to Lance, hands curling into fists. “You cannot negotiate with them! They are monsters!”

 “I don’t negotiate with anyone, Ruya, you know me better than that.” Lance admonishes. “But we do not turn our backs on anyone, even those who are not our allies.”

 “And you also say our enemies shall meet no mercy but our guns!” The girl… Ruya, says, lifting her chin defiantly, and Lance sighs.

 “I need to speak with our… guests.” He pauses. “Alone.” The girl huffs, turning and storming out of the tent, and Lance watches her go with unreadable eyes. After a moment, he looks to them, gesturing to the chairs spread out in front of his own. “Sit. You can stay, Zenex. I appreciate your judgment in these matters.”

 “Sir.” Zenex says, saluting and crossing the room to stand behind Lance’s shoulder, watching Keith and the others carefully as they take their seats awkwardly, the pull of the cuffs tugging on their wrists in a way that is not painful, but certainly annoying.

 “Apologies for Ruya.” Lance offers, settling in the chair across from them. “She’s… idealistic. Her parents were killed in a Galra attack last year.”

 Allura’s face falls, and she nods, looking down.

 “…It’s good to see you.” Shiro offers hesitantly, and Keith can’t help but stare, because really? That was the best opening Shiro could come up with?

 Lance’s lip curls. “I’m not here to play happy families. Explain to me the problems with the castle or get the quiznak off my base camp.”

 It’s an odd statement to suddenly fill Keith with subtle joy, but he can’t help it. Until now, this grown-up version of Lance has seemed so foreign, formal and untouchable. Hearing him use casual language and swear grumpily when he doesn’t get his way is like a glimpse into the Lance he remembers, a reassurance that he’s not completely gone. He finds himself staring at Lance, trying to memorize this new image, as Pidge hurriedly breaks into chatter, rambling at length about the problems with the castle. It’s technical jargon Keith doesn’t care to put too much effort into understanding, but Lance seems to follow along well enough, eyes set on Pidge as she waves her hands and describes what they’re looking for.

 “Why should I help you?” He finally says at length, once Pidge has fallen silent. “You are not our allies, the Resistance has never stood with Voltron. Our only tie is that we have a common enemy.”

 “Are you serious?!” Pidge explodes. “You selfish son of a bitch! You turned your back on us and even when we come crawling to you, you’re willing to turn us away?! You weren’t the only one who lost something, you fucking asshole!” She’s crying, Keith realizes, great, shuddery breaths echoing from her small frame as she glares at Lance, bitterness and betrayal rolling off her tongue.

 He had wondered how long it would take before Pidge imploded like this, and he’s honestly surprised she lasted this long. Losing Lance had been hard on her, especially right after losing her mother, the one family member she’d still known was safe and alive, and she’d seen his leaving as his abandoning them, feeling as if the person she had come to consider something like a sibling had betrayed her.

 Lance merely raises an eyebrow, looking down at Pidge impassively, though Keith doesn’t miss the ever-so-slight twitch of his hand, a sign he’s not quite as composed and emotionless as he may portray. “I—“

 “Lance.” Hunk cuts in, looking to the man who was once his best friend imploringly. “You owe me, Lance, for leaving me alone. You owe me.”

 There’s a pause, and then Lance closes his eyes, sighing out. “Alright, for you, Hunk. But—“ Lance’s eyes are blazing when he turns to Allura, fiery anger boiling within. “Do not take this as an alliance or a peace treaty. I may be willing to help you with this on Hunk’s request, and we may not be enemies, but that does not make us friends.”

 Allura purses her lips, clearly unhappy, but nods.

 Lance smiles bitterly in response, clicks his tongue, and accepts a small tablet Zenex offers him, tapping a couple commands on it. With a hiss, their cuffs disconnect, breaking into two thick metal bracelets still secured around their wrists, but allowing them independent movement of their arms, and Keith gratefully takes the opportunity to rub some life back into his hands.

 “Your cuffs are remotely controlled, and have tracking monitors installed within them. They were built off plans we nicked from Lotor, and were designed with Altean magic in mind, so no you won’t be able to break out of them or shape shift them off. Any attempts to mess with or remove them will be considered termination of our agreement, understand?”

 “Yes, sir.” Keith mutters sarcastically.

 Lance stands up and walks over to a table nearby, sorting through and picking up a map, bringing it back to them and, after a moment of hesitation, offering it to Coran. “Alrexan stones of the size you’re looking for are practically nonexistent now. We only have ever found shards when we first set up camp here, and we sold them off in exchange for information pretty quickly. To get your hands on what you want, it’s going to take days of digging. Luckily for you, the mines are pretty close to where you decided to up and park the castle.”

 Coran accepts the map slowly, and next to him Shiro sighs out in relief. “…Thank you.”

 “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing this for you.” Lance says bluntly, resuming his place in front of them. “I won’t stop you from doing what you need to search out the stones, but the lions must remain in the castle. No flying, no defenses tests, no anything. This is supposed to be a safe place for refugees. We’ve kept Alrexa off the Galra Empire’s maps so far, and I’m not putting them in danger with your bullshit.”

 “Seriously—“ Pidge starts, and Shiro slaps a hand over her mouth, smiling with fake enthusiasm up at Lance and nudging Allura’s side until she does the same.

  “Of course. We’re very grateful for your hospitality.”

 Lance wrinkles his nose, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Don’t suck up to me, it’s weird.” He looks to Zenex, who nods. “Zenex will arrange your transportation back to the castle. If you want to return to base camp, you’ll be required to have a guard with you. I’ll be in constant communication with those on the castle’s perimeter,” He taps an earring Keith hadn’t noticed until now, bright blue and the design reminiscent of Allura’s own communicator earrings, “So try to behave.”

 They take that as a dismissal, turning to leave, and as the others exit out the tent, Zenex a step behind them, Keith hesitates. Turning back, he meets Lance’s gaze as he walks up to him, staring at Keith questioningly. They’re the same height, Keith realizes with a lurch in his chest, Lance’s extra inches combated by the sudden growth spurt Keith had experienced when more of his recessive Galra traits had seemed to ‘come online’ with greater exposure to quintessence over the years.

 “What is it Keith?” Lance asks, eyes studying him.

 “How are you so… calm about this?” He finds himself asking, curiosity and fascination at this unfamiliar version of Lance overriding his caution. “I thought you’d be furious with us.”

 Lance’s mouth curls into a sharp grin, and he lifts a hand into view, Keith’s gaze catching on the trembling fingers. “See that? That’s anger, the kind that makes it tempting to punch someone in the face or kick the crap out of ‘em. Don’t mistake my calm for acceptance, Kogane.”

 “So…”

 “I’m not you, Keith.” Lance says lightly, tucking his hand back away into the pocket of his coat. “Anger is a drive for you, a power to push you forward. It’s why you make a good pilot for Red, but there’s a reason I am Blue’s.” He closes his eyes, breathing out slowly. “Allowing myself to be controlled by my anger helps no one in this situation. What I said is true— We’re not allies, but we’re not enemies either. I wouldn’t choose to deliberately physically hurt any of you, no matter what you may think of me. Don’t get me wrong, I wish to hell you hadn’t come here, but I won’t send you back out there to die now that you’re already here.”

 Keith blinks. “So what was all that, a test?”

 “Let’s call it a one-sided negotiation.” Lance says, opening his eyes, dark blue staring at Keith. “I’ve gotten good at getting my way. Shiro and Allura don’t control me anymore. They don’t get demands; they get my permission. Now…” He opens the tent flap, gesturing out. “Go get on the damn truck so I can get back to work.”

    Dinner at the castle that evening is a tense, silent affair, all of them pointedly avoiding eye contact as they stare down at their food awkwardly, the same subject on everyone’s minds, yet no one being willing to be the one to address it.

 Pidge breaks first, face scrunching up as she glares down fiercely at the table, hand clenched in a fist around her spoon. “I hate this.”

 “It’s not ideal, but—“ Shiro begins, and Keith grits his teeth, tamping down on his anger. Once upon a time, Shiro’s calm in the face of panic was something he aspired to and relied on. Now, when it comes to matters of Lance, it just leaves a bad taste in his mouth— Façade or not, seeing Shiro so easily turn off his emotions involving this is frustrating beyond belief. At least with Lance, he acknowledged his calm as a shield over his true thoughts, a ploy in his favor. Keith know that, even if he cornered Shiro alone and asked him what he was really thinking, he wouldn’t get a straight response.

 It’s more about Shiro protecting himself, he thinks, than about protecting Keith.

 “He’s not Lance!” Pidge yells, throwing her hands up, a spare blob of food goo tumbling off the end of her spoon with the motion. “That is not Lance. He’s too… different.”

 Hunk frowns where he sits next to Keith, pushing his food goo around on his plate. “Losing Earth changed all of us.”

 “Not like that! He’s… He’s not even the same person!”

 “I admit the change was… startling.” Allura mumbles from her seat at the head of the table. “However, this is not a social visit, we will just have to make do the best we can.”

 Keith snorts, and Allura raises a disapproving eyebrow at him. “Do you have something you wish to say, Keith?”

 “Yeah, don’t lie? We could have figured out another option, you chose this despite knowing half of us didn’t agree to it. What’d you expect was going to happen? That we’d show up and he’d come running back into our arms and it’d all be fine? It’s been nearly three years. Lance has long since proved he doesn’t need us. We’re damn lucky he’s giving us this much leeway, if I had been in his position I sure as hell wouldn’t have.”

 “He’s still Lance.” Hunk says tiredly, glancing over wearily at Keith and then to the others. “The fact that he liked to lighten the atmosphere doesn’t negate his ability to be serious. Lance is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, even if it’s not mechanical or technology centered intelligence. He’s social, analytical, and people-smart. Heck, the Garrison had him on scholarship to go into their data analysis and diplomacy programs, he was the one that decided to try and be a pilot on top of that. Given all of that, him running something like this isn’t that impossible to believe.”

 Shiro blinks. “Lance was on scholarship?”

 “Yes?” Hunk gapes. “Shiro, dude, he and I were both on scholarship. No way we could have afforded it otherwise.”

 “I never knew.” Shiro mumbles, looking abashed.

 “Of course you didn’t!” Hunk cries, looking about two seconds from leaning across the table and shaking Shiro, frustration evident in his posture. “Because you never asked! You can’t judge Lance based on who he is now when you never even took the time to get to know him before!”

 “He doesn’t even want us to use his name, Hunk.” Pidge says, suddenly looking far too small and young in her chair, like the practical child she had been when they first left Earth. “How can he hate us that much?”

 Hunk’s face falls, and Keith cuts in firmly. “He doesn’t hate us. He doesn’t like us, but if he hated us that badly we wouldn’t be here.”

 “I…” Hunk’s voice is low, pitched in sorrow. “I don’t think he’s abandoned his name because he hates us. I think…” He glances over, looking helplessly at Keith, who knows with creeping certainty just from the other’s expression as to where he’s going with this. “I think he hates himself.”

    They end up splitting up who does what surrounding the castle’s repairs. Since the only ones who really understand what they’re doing in regarding to find the stones are Hunk, Pidge, and Coran, they readily agree to the task, and Shiro and Allura opt to stay on board the castle to work on other minor repairs and discuss their next move against the Galra.

 Technically, Keith is also on repairs and strategy duty, but even after all these years he still doesn’t understand much of how the castle works, that being much more Pidge and Hunk’s area, and the idea of sitting on the flight deck for hours on end with only Allura and Shiro for company sounds like a painfully grueling experience. He’d never really taken to the ‘leader’ thing after Shiro had disappeared, and his relationship with Allura, while infinitely better than it was when his heritage first came to light, has always been a little strained, especially after Lance left. Strategy as a whole is just… not his thing. He’s much more prone to the ‘go with your gut’ way of fighting, and while it’s worked out for him for the most part, he’s grown up enough now to admit he should not be the one calling the shots, just the one to take them.

 He lasts one day just restricting himself to training, working alternately with his bayard and his Marmora sword through different levels of training bots, before boredom and the itching need to go outside wins out. The idea of spending what could be a whole week and then some cooped up in the castle without even being able to fly is daunting, and with his severe lack of interest in helping with the Alrexan stone hunting, knowing how generally unhelpful with the task he’d be, combined with the fact he knows Lance is just outside the castle, within touching distance for the first time in two and a half years, it’s a quickly losing battle in trying to convince himself to stay inside and ‘behave’ like a good little paladin.

 The morning of day three of being on Alrexa, Keith slips past Allura and Shiro and storms out the main doors of the castle to the perimeter Lance had ordered his people maintain around the castle, demanding someone drive him to the fucking base camp. A quick radio call later, and Keith is stuck on the back of a truck with an androgynous-looking alien that studiously ignores his questions. Zenex had been downright sociable on the ride yesterday in comparison.

 Ironically, it’s Zenex of all people who meets him at the edge of the base camp, as Keith is apparently for all intents and purposes an item to be passed between guards, and he stares unimpressed at the Galran as he shares a few polite words with the guard, who suddenly seems much less averse to talking.

 “Is this gonna be like a recurring thing if I keep coming back here?” He asks idly, noting that there seem to be less rebels around today as he is led through the camp. “Did Lance make you our in-house babysitter or something?”

 “Actually I volunteered to come get you.” Zenex answers, sounding vaguely amused as he glances down at Keith, who blinks up at him in surprise.

 “Wait, really?”

 Zenex tilts his head in acknowledgement, ears twitching lazily. “You are not the only one who takes curiosity with your own species. I have never met a half-Galra before. You are very different from what I would expect.”

 Keith wrinkles his nose, considering. Admittedly, he doesn’t hold a plethora of Galran traits, but he’s certainly less human looking than when he left Earth, for a multitude of reasons. “I’m… surprised Lance, er… the General has so many Galra as a part of his force, given it was the Empire who destroyed our planet. Princess Allura took a long time to even come to terms with my heritage and potentially working with Galra after what happened to Altea.”

 Zenex nods, tilting his head back and observing the Alrexan sky above them as they walk through the base camp. “I thought that myself for a long time before being rescued by the Resistance. Even when they first brought me here, I thought perhaps I would be executed for my crime of being Galra, but instead the General offered me a purpose.” He looks to Keith, the first genuine smile any of the rebels have offered him stretching across his face. “It was… surprising. The General told me his mother’s family came from a country of Earth that knew oppression in its history, that he has heard of what it means to grow up in fear.” Zenex’s face turns sober. “It is not easy to turn against those that have ruled you your whole life, especially when they are your own kind. The General holds nothing but respect for those of us who have chosen to do so, and nothing but hope for those that cannot fight back. The Galra as a whole are ruled by fear and ignorance as much as many parts of the universe, and while the General would see the Empire toppled, citizens and foot soldiers just doing their day’s work will meet open arms, should they be willing to accept an equal place in society amongst their fellow beings of the universe.”

 “…Huh.” Keith says, trying his best to absorb all that. It’s such a… simple, forgiving approach to taking down the Empire. He could never imagine Allura saying the same things, even in paraphrase from someone else. To her, the compliance of the Galra race as a whole was as much a crime as the actions of Zarkon’s high commanders.

 “We are here.” Zenex says gently, coming to a stop, and Keith blinks, stumbling to a halt and looking to him.

 “Here where?”

 “I assumed you would want to see the General.” Zenex offers, raising a brow. “He is sparring with some new recruits to the Resistance.” He gestures in front of them, and Keith turns, finally spotting the clearly set-apart area of level ground where a few tables of weapons and empty benches litter the edges. Lance is in the middle, a small group of aliens circling around him, and Keith finds his throat runs dry at the sight.

 Lance has shed the trench coat he was wearing yesterday, the thing tossed haphazardly on a bench nearby, and without its presence the black bodysuit from yesterday obscures nothing of the lines of his body, fabric and thin armor hugging lean hips and long legs and thin wrists. He hasn’t pulled his hair up, because he’s clearly an idiot who hasn’t realized that’s a hazard while fighting, and it falls in a wave in front of him, still swooping over his face, as he dodges around the strikes of the other fighters.

 He moves like a monster, fighting with a speed and grace Keith has never seen from him before. Hand-to-hand had never been Lance’s strong suit, his skills much more suited to holing up somewhere on high ground and taking enemies out one by one with his bayard, but clearly in the last few years, that has changed. One of the fighters swings a blunted wooden training sword at him, and Lance ducks under it without hesitation, grabbing onto the rebel’s arm and using his momentum from the swing to throw him over his shoulder, then turning and grabbing a pistol on his belt to fire two round directly at the chests of the two remaining fighters. Keith tenses at the sound, and Zenex chuckles from next to him as the two fighters simply stop and hunch over to catch their breath as soon as the bullets bounce off their armor harmlessly.

 “High-density foam bullets. The General based them off something he called Nerf guns. They’re heavy enough to shoot correctly, but harmless. Worst they’ll do is leave a bruise if you’re not wearing armor.” Zenex grins as Lance helps the third fighter to his feet, speaking quietly to him in a low voice Keith can’t discern the words to. “They’re lucky he goes easy on them during practice.”

 Keith gapes. “That was going easy?”

 Zenex snorts. “You should see him fight in a real battle.”

 I have. Keith wants to say, but bites his tongue. This Lance who fights artfully and up close and personal is a Lance he has not learned yet. What shape does his bayard take now, he wonders— They’d never found it on the ship or with Lance’s abandoned armor, so they know he took that with him at least.

 Lance sends the fighters off with easy smiles and pats on the back that are so familiar it hurts to watch, and when Zenex calls he looks up cheerfully until his eyes fall on Keith and his expression centers out, the smile dropping to something more neutral, unreadable.

 He’s missed Lance’s smiles, he realizes. There’s nothing quite like them in their blinding honesty and joy when Lance is truly happy, and even if he cannot have them directed at him, at least seeing them again is better than nothing.

 “Zenex.” Lance says as he joins them, thumbs hooked into the holsters at his hips. “…Keith.”

 “…Hi.”

 “What are you doing here?” Lance asks, tone businesslike and blunt. “Do you need something?”

 “No, um…” He flushes, suddenly feeling entirely too embarrassed under Lance’s indiscernible gaze. “I was just… bored.”

 “…Bored.”

 “I— yeah.”

 Lance raises an eyebrow, and Keith scowls, cursing the other for his apparent new skill for keeping a straight face. “Can I train with you?” He finally blurts out in a rush, wincing as Lance frowns, a small line forming in the crease of his brow.

 “This is practice for my people only.”

 “What’s wrong?” He goads unthinkingly, falling back into the old habit of push and pull with Lance that is as old as it is instinctual. “Afraid to get your ass kicked?”

 Lance’s eyes gleam at the clear challenge, and out of the corner of his eye Keith catches Zenex pinching his brow, clearly having already sensed the inevitable outcome of this interaction.

 But hey, if this is the only way Keith will get to experience this version of Lance’s fighting, then its good enough for him.

 “…Get in the fucking ring, mullet.”

 “I don’t even have a mullet anymore.” He points out, deliberately reaching a hand up to brush along the short hairs at the back of his neck.

 “Just get in the ring!”

 Lance tosses him a practice sword as soon as he’s in the fighting circle, catching it with one hand easily and watching as Lance scoops up a staff from the ground, swinging it around in his hands before pointing it at Keith. “I’ll go easy on you.” Keith scoffs, going to remind Lance that he was the one who always had to go easy on Lance when it came to hand-to-hand in the past, and then promptly shuts his mouth and dives as Lance’s staff makes an arc right where his head had previously been.

 Well then.

 “So…” He starts up casually, dodging Lance’s swings and parrying accordingly. It’s not overly difficult to keep up without requiring his full attention, and Keith isn’t sure if that speaks to how much Lance may or may not be ‘going easy’ on him, but he can’t find it in himself to complain… yet. “Are you sure you’re not overly furious with all of us?”

 “Seriously?” Lance pants out, aiming a jab to Keith’s chest that is easily dulled by his paladin armor, but does send him stumbling back a couple feet. “Now you want to talk about it?”

 “Hey, I’m just saying!” He continues, swiping down Lance’s next swing with his sword. “If I was you and we’d shown up on your doorstep after two and a half years completely uninvited, I’d be pretty tempted to punch someone too!”

 “Shut up, Keith.” Lance grumbles, dropping low and aiming his staff at Keith’s shins with a wide swipe, forcing him to focus on jumping over it.

 “Like… Hell sometimes I want to punch Shiro these days and I’m not even the one who left Voltron.” He goes on the offensive, getting in Lance’s space and pressing his advantage as he pushes Lance’s staff back closer to his body with the practice sword. “And it’s not like you don’t have it in you. I was there when you threatened to shoot Allura, after Earth. You looked like you were about two seconds from doing it, too.”

 “I said shut up, Keith!” Lance screeches, swinging his staff in a much more vicious swipe than before, slamming it into Keith’s shoulder, and he silently congratulates himself for all of about point two seconds before Lance’s foot comes out of nowhere and connects firmly with his face, hearing something crunch and the warm feel of blood on his skin before he hits the ground.

 He regains consciousness to find Lance peering down worriedly at him, and his first thought is that Lance looks really nice like this, all concerned and caring instead of glaring at him like he’s the scum of the earth or a particularly annoying nuisance. “Found it.” He croaks unthinkingly, brain still set on the tangent it was before he took a boot to the face, and Lance’s fussing expression turns into a glare.

 “You idiot, were you trying to get me to hurt you?”

 “Call it curiosity.” He says, shrugging as best he can with his back flat against the semi-smooth rock beneath them. “I wanted to see what you fight like when you’re mad.”

 Lance sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead and smoothing the hair back gently, leaving Keith’s scalp tingling from the cool touch of his fingers, before Lance pulls his hand back quickly as if Keith might burn him. “You’re so stupid.”

 “Mmm…” He hums in agreement, drinking in Lance’s face, eyes tracing over the unfamiliar scars, cataloguing the minor scratches that he hadn’t been able to notice the other day from further away. “…’M dizzy.”

 “You probably have a concussion.” Lance murmurs, squinting as he peers into Keith’s eyes, no doubt checking for dilated pupils. “Your nose is definitely broken, at least. You’re going to need a couple hours in the healing pods.” He looks up, and Keith mourns the loss of Lance’s sole attention. “Zenex, can you take him back to the Castle? Explain to Coran, the older Altean, what happened.”

 Keith hears Zenex offer an affirmative, and then suddenly there are arms sweeping him up off the ground, lifting him bridal style until his head is level with Lance’s. Fuck, Zenex is tall, why the hell didn’t he get more of that Galran height?

 “Can I come back tomorrow?” He murmurs unthinkingly, eyes still glued to Lance’s face, tracing the edges of the scar hidden by his hair with fascination.

 Lance’s mouth quirks upward, and his expression softens ever so slightly. “I’m on a mission tomorrow.”

 “Oh.”

 “But—“ Lance takes a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself against… something. “But I should be back by tomorrow evening, if you want to come by then.”

 Keith grins, and suddenly the aching of his nose and the ringing in his ears is absolutely, unequivocally worth it. “Deal.”

    The next morning, Keith peers out the castle entrance as he watches a small gathering of ships vanish into the Alrexan sky, the Blue lion noticeably missing from the group. It’s not entirely surprising— What little intel they’d managed to pick up on the Resistance over the years had indicated that Lance didn’t fly Blue exclusively, preferring only to take her out on larger missions in order to minimize chances of being spotted, given the distinctiveness of a giant mechanical space cat, or of her being captured by Galran forces if a mission ever went wrong.

 Would Blue come back to them if, God forbid, something were to happen to Lance? Or would she find a successor in the Resistance?

 He knows what Allura would prefer, at least. She’d been furious at him when he’d first emerged from the cryopods after a brief stint to patch up his nose and heal the concussion, but she’d quickly changed her tune when he’d admitted to Lance inviting him back tomorrow.

 Keith had known she wanted Blue back, wanted a chance to secure the reformation of Voltron, but it still hadn’t been pleasant to have her pull him aside and lecture him on the importance of trying to convince Lance to relinquish Blue back to them, if he would not return to fly with Voltron himself, as if Lance’s willingness to apparently withstand Keith’s company for a few hours was just another bargaining chip.

 While he knows Allura is only doing what she is because she believes that it is right, that Voltron is needed as a whole, singular form to fight the Empire, no matter what individual sacrifices that may entail, the idea of turning that on Lance after the other has allowed him this much makes him feel sick. It may only be permission to come back and see him again, but to Keith it feels like the beginnings of a second chance with Lance, to repair the bond they’d once had, and he doesn’t know if he himself is selfless enough to give that up in the name of trying to reform Voltron.

 He wants when it comes to Lance, wants in a way he can’t explain or quantify, but just knows it’s there. That want had been there long before, back on the first strains of camaraderie and, later, the intriguing glimpses of the side of Lance that haunted the nights after Shiro’s disappearance, and after all this time not even knowing for absolute certain if Lance was alive and well, that want has only grown stronger.

 It’s terrifying, to want something like this, when Keith is used to being the kind of person who is so used to what little he has that he wants for nothing more, but yet he is drawn to Lance, like a moth to the flame, just as the first time he saw Lance in front of the monitors while the castle slept and could not stop himself from wandering back.

 And the fact this Lance is so new and different, yet achingly the same, only adds fuel to the fire that relentlessly commands his attention.

 When evening falls, and Keith spots the faint lights of the returning ships, he races out of the castle, ignoring Shiro’s reprimanding gaze on his back, hopping into the idling truck on the perimeter and smirking at the same silent guard from yesterday.

 “Am I growing on you?”

 They roll their eyes, but knock on the wall, signaling the driver, and Keith cannot fight the grin from his face as they drive along the winding road of smoothed-down rock back to the base camp.

 He’s faintly surprised when they arrive and there’s no Zenex waiting to collect him, or any guard for that matter, but it quickly becomes clear as to why not as he notices the camp busy securing the ships that have landed and helping off a few injured aliens, and he feels his stomach plummet. Injuries aren’t good, no matter how minor; injuries mean something went wrong.

 “Lance.” He whispers, pushing through the crowd even as the guard yelps and yells his name as he pulls away from them, too intent on looking for the increasingly recognizable jumble of long hair. “Lance!”

 It’s Zenex who he spots first, the Galran’s eyes widening as he shoves his way over to him. “Keith.”

 “Zenex.” He pants, half tripping over a rock and catching himself on the other’s offered arm gratefully. “Where’s Lance?”

 Zenex frowns, going to answer, and is cut off as a final ship touches down and the entry runway slams down, Nyma staggering out with a limp figure, their arm slung over her shoulders to keep them propped up and a mess of brown hair hanging in front of their face. There’s blood on Nyma, Keith realizes, and it’s not her own. “Need some medical attention over here!” She yells, and Keith’s breath stutters as things click into place.

 Lance. Lance is hurt.

 It’s Zenex who moves first, swooping in and picking Lance up gently from Nyma’s shaky support, turning and pushing his way through the crowd, which parts quickly as the rebels recognize who is being carried, with Nyma an anxious step behind him. Keith blinks once, gaze caught on the splatter of blood on the ship’s runway, and then turns and runs after them, heart beating rapidly.

 The medical tent is a mass of noise and movement, rebels dressed in various alien approximates of doctor’s scrubs bustling to and fro with bandages and other supplies in their arms. There’s only a single healing pod, he notes, even in his panic, set up in the corner with someone else already inside. He stumbles, desperately searching for Lance, and feels a swoop of relief s Nyma calls his name from a bedside.

 Lance is awake, Keith notes as he tries to semi-calmly make his way over as not to slam into any moving doctors, but he seems out of it, eyes half-lidded and woozy as Nyma and Zenex wrestle the top of his bodysuit down, exposing a long, thin gash up Lance’s side that is slowly oozing blood. It’s less the cut, though, that leaves Keith’s heart hurting, the edges of the lion bond alight with hollow pain along the gap where Lance once was, but the litany of healed scars that line Lance’s body, a testament to dozens of other injuries he experienced that Keith wasn’t there to protect him from.

 He barely notices when Nyma takes pity on him and guides him into a seat, still stuck on Lance’s markings, his blood.

 “You’re an idiot.” Nyma says, taking the seat next to Keith and glaring at Lance. “You could have been killed.”

 Lance grins lazily. “Ah, don’t weep for me, gorgeous. I’m not dead yet.”

 “Gross.” Nyma murmurs, smirking at Lance’s yelp of pain as the doctor who has appeared by the bedside wipes down the gash on his side with what looks like disinfectant, and Keith winces in sympathy.

 “Going to need stitches.” Zenex murmurs, peering carefully at the wound.

 “Oh, fuck no.” Lance says, the pain of the disinfectant seemingly having woken him up from his dazed state. “You lot always fuss around then and keep me from working, always yelling about me tearing my stitches.”

 “Because the last two times you have torn them, oh great General of ours.” Nyma says, looking far too amused.

 Lance groans, and hesitantly Keith speaks, looking to Zenex because he knows Lance won’t be on board with this. “We have cryopods in the castle…”

 Zenex looks considering, but it’s Lance who speaks first, sitting up and hissing in pain to glare at Keith. “Nope! Not happening!”

 “But—“

 “I’m not setting foot in the castle and I’m definitely not accepting any favors from Allura, end of story. It’s a minor scratch, a few stitches and some bandages and I’ll be fine.”

 There’s a scuffle and then the young girl from the other day, Ruya, bursts into view from between the other doctors and rebels, eyes flickering around until they land on Lance and widen with undisguised horror.

 “Ruya!” Lance leans forward and groans when Nyma slaps his arm, forcing him to hold still as the doctor prepares the stitches. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

 “I heard you were hurt…” She whispers, still staring at Lance’s gash as the light orange of her skin rapidly pales.

 “Get her out of here.” Lance whispers, flinching as the needle touches his skin, eyes landing on Keith, imploring. “Please, get her out of here.”

 Keith nods shakily, pushing himself to his feet and wrapping his arms around Ruya when she fights his guiding touch on her shoulder, bodily lifting her up as she kicks and yells and lugging her out of the tent, catching Lance’s relieved expression as the entrance flap slips closed. He sets down Ruya gently, and coughs, doubling over, when she promptly punches him in the stomach. She’s not big, probably only the size of a ten or eleven year old human, but she’s a lot stronger than that.

 “Let me back in.” She growls, and Keith shakes his head. “I said let me in!”

 “Lance said no.” He says firmly, crossing his arms and glaring down at her.

 “I have to know he’s alright!”

 He softens, sighing. “He’s going to be fine. Us humans are harder to kill than we might seem.”

 She scowls, but when Keith stands his ground, she huffs, turning and stalking off, small hands curled into fists as she disappears into one of the smaller tents in the camp.

 Once he’s sure she’s gone, he falls back against the pole holding up the edge of the tent flap, closing his eyes and releasing a shuddery breath. He’s seen a lot of blood and injury in his time with Voltron, and not just on his enemies. He’s helped his teammates into pods countless times, he knows what seeing his friends hurt looks like, but seeing Lance like that is still… unpleasant, especially when he knows there’s perfectly viable healing pods sitting empty in the castle that could be helping Lance right now.

 It’s not that he doesn’t understand Lance’s reasoning— If he were Lance, he wouldn’t want to set foot in the castle after all this time either, and given Lance probably knows what Allura’s up to, keeping her in his debt and out of hers is the smartest option, but goddamn if he still doesn’t want to go back in there and fucking insist Lance get his ass in a pod.

 He doesn’t realize how long he’s been out there until he hears a startled cough behind him, and turns to see Lance, bandages around his side and bodysuit top tied loosely around his waist, peering at him from the pushed-back edge of the entrance flap. “Keith. You’re still here.”

 He shifts nervously, flushing. “I was… worried.”

 Lance grins, and Keith feels his heart stutter for an entirely different reason than before. “Well in that case, you can walk me back.” He turns, yelling into the tent. “Zenex! Nyma! Keith’s gonna go with me to Blue, so your paranoid asses don’t have to worry about me collapsing on the middle of the road or something!”

 A grumbling affirmative is called back, and Lance smirks, looking pleased at having escaped his caretakers as he stretches out with a sigh, arms reaching above his head in a way that shows off smooth brown skin and leaves Keith breathless.

 “C’mon then, I wanna see my favorite girl.”

    Blue’s resting place is on the edge of the base camp closest to the central command tent, her large frame curled up in a smooth patch around a few outcroppings of rock, head turned towards the camp as if to keep an eye on the Resistance members at all times. Her eyes light up when Lance and Keith appear around the edges of the last tents on the path towards her, and she lifts her head just slightly, peering down at Lance with what Keith can only interpret as delight, despite her mechanical build precluding her from facial expressions.

 Even just taking one glance at Blue’s joy at seeing her paladin, at Lance’s large, honest grin as he calls out to her and hops the last few steps towards the edges of her massive paws, Keith has no idea how Allura hopes to break this apart. No matter what the princess may say on the lion’s nature, Blue clearly loves her paladin more than anything else in existence, and the idea of her suddenly abandoning Lance to accept another in her cockpit seems laughable.

 She growls lightly when Keith comes to stop at her feet next to Lance, and the other smacks her gently on the edge of her nose, tone admonishing as he speaks to her. “Don’t be grumpy! I invited him here.”

 Blue settles instantly, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and Lance snorts, turning to Keith hesitantly. He wonders if Lance is about to send him away, demand that he return to the castle now that he’s done his job, but instead Lance smiles, the edge of his mouth quirking up unsurely. “Do you want to stay? I need to get changed real quickly but if you want to hang out on top of Blue I’ll see if I can find something to drink or… something.”

 “Alright.” Keith says quickly, not even stopping to consider another answer, and Lance’s smile slips into something slightly more real.

 Blue purrs quietly when Keith scrambles up the side of her head to the top of it, apparently content with his presence now that Lance has given his okay, and Keith can’t stop himself from giving her ear a few idle pats, leaning against it lazily. There’s the faint presence of her quintessence humming under her metal shell that Keith has come to recognize in all the lions, somewhat muted in this case by the cut-off pieces of the lion bond where she once resided, but he finds he’s still able to distinguish it well enough. Red stirs in the back of his mind, delighted at the faint echoes of her sister she can feel through Keith, though frustrated that she cannot connect to the other directly, Blue’s consciousness as cut off from Red as Lance’s is to his, the place where they tore themselves loose from the bond still a barely-healed wound.

 “I never knew it was possible for lions to choose their pilots over Voltron.” He says quietly, and feels Blue stir beneath him, the tendrils of her mind hesitantly reaching out, grasping through the tentative connection that once alerted him to her presence on Earth, offering him images of Lance as he was when they first became paladins, and of a Galran girl in matching armor, feelings of doubt and grief and discontent lingering beneath them, an undercurrent of resolve tied up between them all.

 “I know.” He offers, closing his eyes. “I know you couldn’t lose another one.”

 Red has never offered him much information on her former paladin, her original paladin, but he does know that she misses him terribly. He’s seen how powerful the bond between a lion and its paladin is, how even Black fell to it under Zarkon’s presence for a long while before they created a stronger bond with Shiro. He imagines for a lion like Blue, whose entire being thrives on love and loyalty, the idea of seeing a second paladin die for Voltron pains her immensely.

 He doubts any of the former paladins had pleasant deaths, but he’s always gotten the sense that whatever happened to Lance’s predecessor, it was particularly bad.

 There’s a rustling behind him, and Keith turns to watch Lance clamber out of Blue behind him. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

 Lance grins. “There’s a hatch on the back of Blue’s neck, pretty sure all the lions have them.” Keith shrugs, and Lance snorts, clambering over the top of Blue’s head to join Keith sitting between her ears, plopping down with a sigh.

 He’s still shirtless, Keith notices, and promptly forces himself not to think anymore on that topic. Then again, it’s not hard with the very noticeable presence of the bandages wrapped up along Lance’s side— Probably why he’d forgone a shirt, honestly, in order not to have extra layers pulling at the wrappings. The bodysuit with its numerous weapon holsters has been discarded in favor of a pair of sweatpants that hang low on Lance’s hips, and Keith is suddenly very grateful of the bottled drink Lance offers him, taking a long gulp before promptly choking and coughing at the burning in his throat.

 There’s snickering coming from Lance’s direction, and Keith blindly shoves at him while still doubled over coughing, finally straightening back up once his lungs stop trying to kill him. “What the fuck was that?”

 Lance grins, taking a sip of his own drink with seemingly no problems. “Unilu namka. Basically their equivalent of whiskey.”

 Keith gapes. “You keep alcohol on Blue.”

 “Dude I live on Blue, I keep much worse things here.” Lance raises an eyebrow. “And I’m twenty-two and you’re twenty-three, so I don’t see what’s so scandalous about it.”

 He scowls, glaring down at the bottle of namka and forcing himself to take another sip. “Shiro isn’t big on having alcohol on the ship. Says if we’re inebriated we risk not being prepared for surprise Galra attacks.”

 “Stupid.” Lance says bluntly, and Keith snorts.

 “Aren’t you supposed to be a high and mighty commander too?”

 Lance frowns, putting down his bottle and pointing at Keith accusingly. “I’m not Shiro, and I’m not Allura. I’m not going to ask these people to risk their lives to fight in this war and then tell them what they can or cannot do on their own time. Fighting the Galra shouldn’t preclude them from having lives. We drink, we celebrate, and we have friends and families, like we should.”

 “…And what about you?”

 “Me?” Lance makes a face, turning away to stare out at the base camp. “I lead.”

 Keith sighs. “You literally just said this shouldn’t stop people from having lives, Lance.”

 Lance scowls, taking a swig of his bottle. “My life died on Earth, Keith. I’ve made my choices. Better alone here and doing what I can than with Voltron and living in silence as people die from our mistakes.”

 He winces, ducking his head. “…Right.” After a pause, he looks back to Lance, considering. “…You’re not alone though, not really.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “Well… like.” Keith gestures out to the camp vaguely. “These people, they look up to you, they care about you. You’re more than just a figurehead to them— Zenex and Nyma they… they both really seem to worry over you.”

 Lance smiles lightly, closing his eyes and humming in agreement. “They’re good people. Zenex is as reliable a soldier as you could ask for, and Nyma has been… a friend.” His smile fades slightly, and he opens his eyes, looking back to Keith. “She said once that she couldn’t believe I was the same person as the kid who tried to climb a tree to impress her and got swindled out of his lion.”

 Keith grimaces. “You’re still you, Lance.”

 “Am I?” Lance says quietly. “I don’t know if I want to be.” He pauses, taking another gulp of his drink and raising an eyebrow at Keith. “And what about you? Are you still the same, Keith?”

 “We all changed after Earth, Lance.” He offers hesitantly, shrugging. “It was inevitable.”

 “Mm… I suppose.”

 “And what about the kid, Ruya?” He says, a slight twinge echoing along his stomach where the girl had punched him earlier. “What’s her story?”

 Lance snorts. “Let me guess, she punched you?” At Keith’s answering wince, he snickers. “Ruya… Ruya is… impulsive, prone to anger. Her parents were refugees who came to the Resistance last year, and died a few months ago in a raid. She wants revenge for her family, to fight, but really she’s just a child, only mentally about thirteen or fourteen by our standards, so I keep an eye on her.” He grins suddenly. “She reminds me of you, actually.”

 “Me?”

 “Yeah, well, y’know. A hothead.”

 “Oh my God you’re still on about that?” He gapes, and Lance laughs loudly, prompting Keith to shove him lightly. “It’s been four years, asshole!”

 Lance falls still, smile softening. “Yeah…. it has, hasn’t it?” He sighs, suddenly looking immensely tired, and Keith’s heart sinks. Idly, his eyes fall to the scars on Lance’s torso, chasing up and down his chest and along his arms— They’re messy, jagged. The cryopods in the castle minimize marks, any leftover scarring thin and neat, and the few distinct scars Keith has on his body come from occasions when he couldn’t get to a healing pod. Looking at Lance, it’s quite obvious he’s not been spending much time in healing pods when injured at all in the last few years. Lance turns slightly, leaning his shoulder against Blue’s ear, and Keith’s eyes catch on slight markings along Lance’s back, eyes widening.

 “Are those tattoos?”

 “Oh…” Lance stills, glancing at him, and then turning and pushing his hair up to expose the ink traced along his back in thin lines. “Yeah, turns out we’re not the only species that’s into it— Though Markordian inking is a lot less painful based off what I’d heard about Earth tattoos, lemme tell you.”

 “Are these…?” He half-asks hesitantly, unable to stop himself from reaching out and running a thumb under a neatly inked line of small letters, the skin cool under his hand against what he has over time come to know is his unusually high body temperature thanks to his Galran blood.

 Lance shivers at his touch, nodding. “The names of the people I lost.” He reaches around with his free hand, blindly yet expertly tapping to different lines of dark blue ink. “My friends, my aunts and uncle, my grandparents, my cousins, my niece and nephew, my mother, my sisters.”

 Keith’s gaze runs down to the final line, just above the curve of Lance’s hips, and blinks. “Lance, your name is on here.”

 Lance shifts quickly, ducking out from Keith’s touch and turning to face Keith, back hidden from view as his arms come to wrap around himself defensively. “Yeah, I know.”

 “…Why?”

 “Because,” Lance scowls, “I died that day too, Keith, along with my family. That was my hope; that was what I looked to return to— To my mother, my sisters. I meant what I told Allura, Lance McClain doesn’t exist anymore, only this.” He gestures out to the base camp in front of them, the lights around the tents low as night settles. “Only the Resistance, only the General.”

 “Then…” He pauses, looking to Lance, who meets his eyes defensively, exhaustion and anger and so much grief coiled up in dark blue. “Then how come I still see Lance McClain, the same idiotic, brilliant Lance McClain who demanded he be the one to save Shiro back then, when I look at you?”

 “Really?” Lance snorts, gesturing at himself. “You look at this wreck and you see that Lance?”

 He shrugs. “You’re the same, and you’re not. The past and the present aren’t mutually exclusive.”

 “I mean technically they are.”

 “Shut up, you know what I mean.” He mumbles, flushing. “None of us are the same as we were, idiot— Not physically, not mentally. You’re not suddenly a monster for having a few scars.”

 “Mm…” Lance hums, eyeing his drink and downing the last of it before looking to the empty bottle regretfully. Raising an eyebrow, he turns to Keith, the alcohol seemingly having emboldened him as he reaches out and runs his fingertips over the side of Keith’s face, catching on the edges of the marks he knows lie there and trailing up to just underneath his bad eye. “And you? How’d that happen?”

 “Fight with Haggar about nine months ago.” He says softly, bringing his hand up to brush Lance’s own as he idly rubs over the ever-so-slightly differently textured skin. “Got splashed with a face full of concentrated liquid quintessence, burned like a motherfucker at first. It’s kind of like getting acid on your skin, but luckily those good ol’ Galra genes kicked in and kept me from losing my eye, and half my damn face for that matter.”

 Keith doubts it’s a pretty sight, he’s seen it in the mirror enough times— A mess of splotches of purple skin along the left side of his face, covering his eyelid and forehead and descending down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. There’s no fur, thank God, but it’s definitely Galra skin, down to the purple color and texture. The most noticeable part, he thinks, is probably his eye, the once human appearance taken over by the blank yellow of all Galran eyes.

 He doesn’t regret the changes to his face his Galra genetics have wreaked, knows they probably damn well saved his life and his sight that time, but he doubts it’s much to look at for many people, especially those who have an aversion to Galra in general. The princess hadn’t been able to look at him for weeks, afterward. Even accepting his heritage, he imagines seeing a half-Galran face on one of her paladins couldn’t have been easy.

 …Ha, half-Galran.

 He expects Lance to pull away, or maybe make some comment about his bad luck, but instead he just hums, squinting at Keith’s face. “Can you still see?”

 Keith blinks, surprised. “More or less? Galrans don’t see color exactly the same way or have the same depth perception, so it’s a little wonky, but the night vision’s a plus if nothing else.” Lance hums, nodding and sitting back, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and Keith mourns the loss of the feel of cool fingers on his face.

  “Y’know, I always hoped if you suddenly sprouted Galra traits it’d be the ears, I had so many catboy jokes saved up for that day.”

 Keith gapes, and Lance giggles, breaking down into laughter as Keith gives him a pointed shove. “What the fuck?!”

 “What?! It would have been funny as hell!”

 He snorts, shaking his head, and falls silent as the last of Lance’s snickers peter out. “It doesn’t… bother you?”

 “Nah.” Lance says easily. “Of course not. I suppose it means we match, if anything.”

 Keith frowns, furrowing his brow in confusion and turning to Lance as the other smiles, a nervous half-formed thing at the corner of his mouth, and pushes the hair back off the front of his face, tucking it behind his ear.

 “…Jesus Christ, Lance.”

 Lance snorts, reaching a hand up to trace the smaller scar on his right cheek. “This one was from Haggar, and this—“ His hand moves to the one on his left, thumb running up from the edge of his jaw along his cheek to where the scar curves over his eyelid and reaches his forehead, the eye framed by it light and discolored, unseeing. “This was from Lotor. He said he couldn’t fight such a pretty face, so he had to do a little damage first.” Lance’s words are calm, but his voice is watery, and Keith finds himself reaching out to trace along the scar, catching the first droplets of tears as they spill unheeded from the blinded eye.

 “It’s not bad, really.” Lance continues, shaky. “He didn’t get the one I use for sniping, and I got used to it fast enough, so in the end it wasn’t a huge loss. It was a nuisance to clean up though, was before the Resistance really formed, so it was just me in Blue’s cockpit trying to patch myself up. For a little while I was afraid I might have to remove the eye myself if it got infected.” He smirks bitterly. “It worked, though. Lotor didn’t seem to have many problems fighting me after that, creepy fascinations aside, so I guess he got me ugly enough. It’s appropriate, I suppose— Most monsters don’t stay pretty.”

 “You’re gorgeous.” Keith blurts unthinkingly, and Lance’s eyes widen, red scrawling across his face. Realizing what he’s said, Keith pulls his hand back, pointedly avoiding Lance’s gaze as he stares down at Blue’s surface and prays for the mortified flush in his cheeks to fade.

 “So…” He coughs awkwardly, desperately looking for a distraction. “…Why the hair? You always wore it short before. Was it just to hide the scarring? Because that’s bull, Lance. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

 Lance raises his hands defensively. “No, jeez, calm down. I just fancied it. I kept it longer when I was little and…” He shrugs, looking back out to the camp. “With Earth gone, there weren’t any human gender binary expectations to return to, y’know? It didn’t really matter anymore.”

 Silence crawls between them, overwhelming and deafening, and Keith watches Lance’s somber face carefully, the last lights of the camp catching on his skin and illuminating tan skin and dark hair.

 “…You know it’s not your fault, right? What happened to Earth.”

 Lance scowls, leaning forward and wrapping his hands around his knees, glaring out into the night. “Sure.”

 “It wasn’t!” He turns hurriedly, staring at Lance with wide eyes. “We should have listened to you!”

 “And I should have found another way.” Lance murmurs, closing his eyes. “I knew Allura and Shiro wouldn’t believe me, and the rest of you would accept their word, I could have found another way to prevent it myself.”

 “You can’t fight the world alone, Lance.”

 “Says you.” Lance mutters tiredly. “I seem to recall you fighting your way through half the Blade of Marmora on what basically amounted to a dare from Kolivan.”

 “Okay, yeah, but I’m not like that now.” Keith says, waving his arms. “I learned to rely on other people! Trust in your teammates and all that crap Shiro used to spout!”

 “Oh, really? Who?”

 “Well…” He shrugs, slumping forward and dropping his chin into his hands, eyes falling to Lance’s sullen form next to him. “Hunk, for one?”

 The corner of Lance’s mouth twitches up, and he opens his good eye to peer curiously at Keith. “Seriously?” He nods, and Lance’s smile grows a little wider. “Good. He’s… a good friend.”

 “Yeah.” Keith sighs. “He is.” He hesitates, exhaustion quietly clawing at him, and slowly slumps into Lance’s side, shivering when Lance’s answering hum echoes against him. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head, resting it on Lance’s shoulder, and breathes out a shaky sigh of relief when he feels Lance’s head nudge back against his. “I don’t blame you, for leaving. But… I did miss you. I still miss you.”

 Lance stiffens, ever so slightly, and Keith prepares himself to be pushed away, but instead cool fingers find his own, intertwining and palms pressed flat together.

 “…I missed you too. Always did.”

    Keith wakes up to Shiro’s voice calling his name at an hour that feels far too early to be getting up, and barely cracking one eye open assures him that, yes, he’s just a little bit hungover.

 Groaning, he sticks a hand out and up, flipping Shiros’s currently rather annoying voice off, and hears a sighs of relief coming from somewhere below him. “Yeah, he’s there.”

 Scrunching his nose up, Keith ponders why Shiro would even be looking for him, before the events of the night before come back to him, and he snaps his eyes open, staring down in vague horror at Lance’s slumped form curled up against his chest, a mess of brown hair tucked under his chin as Lance’s shoulders rise and fall softly with his breath.

 Jesus Christ almighty he spent the night sleeping on top of Blue and cuddling with Lance.

 Idly, he wills the heat in his cheeks to fade, and wonders if there’s a way he can extract himself from this situation without waking Lance, before Allura’s voice shouts up with none of the patience or mellowness of Shiro’s.

 “Keith!”

 Lance startles, sitting bolt upright and looking around wildly, hand reaching automatically to his hip as if to grab a gun or his bayard and then pauses when he meets air, blinking and actually taking in his surroundings for the first time. He looks to Keith and makes a surprised, vaguely distressed sound, scrambling off until he falls against Blue’s other ear, wincing as his shoulder connects with it.

 Sighing, Keith peers over the edge, glaring down at Shiro and Allura where they stand at the base of Blue’s paws, a disgruntled-looking Zenex standing a few feet behind them, arms crossed and glowering at the back of Allura’s head. “What’s up?”

  Allura scowls, going to reply, and Shiro beats her to it. “You just didn’t come back to the castle last night, we were worried.”

 He raises an eyebrow. “I’m fine.”

 “Is the General there?” Zenex asks impatiently, and across from Keith, Lance lifts his arm over the edge of Blue’s head and offers a vague thumbs-up.

 “I’m here, Zenex.”

 “Apologies, sir.” Zenex shifts nervously. “They demanded entry to the camp and you weren’t answering your comms…”

 “It’s fine…” Lance calls out, yawning. “Gimme a sec to get dressed, yeah?” He turns, sliding down the back of Blue’s head and into a hatch that opens at the very base of her head, right where her neck connects, and Keith blinks in surprise.

 Ok, so the neck hatch thing was real.

 He gives it all of about two seconds to consider how he himself is going to get down, before Blue tips her nose forward and he slides off with a yelp, landing in Shiro’s patiently waiting arms.

 “Good morning.” Shiro smirks down at him, and he scowls, pushing the other man away as he clambers free and finally manages to get himself standing on his own on the ground, sending both Allura and Shiro severely unimpressed looks.

 “You know, forcing your way into the camp is not going to do you any favors with Lance.”

 Allura snorts, crossing her arms. “I do not care for his favor. If you are free to come and go as you please, so are we. Besides, you were missing.”

 “I’m twenty-three, Allura. I can look after myself.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing out slowly. “Lance got hurt last night, I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

 Shiro frowns. “Lance was hurt?”

 “It was only a minor scratch and it is none of your business, regardless.” Lance’s voice rings out from behind him, and Keith turns to watch as he strides out of Blue, patting the side of her snout as she shuts her mouth and goes back to resting her head on her paws. He’s back in the bodysuit, Keith notes, or at least a carbon copy of it, as well as the trench coat, hair brushed back over his eye and weapon holsters in place. Idly, his gaze falls to the blue bayard, strapped to Lance’s thigh. So that’s where it was, he’d been wondering.

 Like this, Lance looks the perfect picture of a regal and powerful commanding officer leading a full-fledged rebellion. It’s an odd contrast compared to the open, vulnerable, scarred Lance of last night, and the idea that he was willing to expose that to Keith but not to Shiro and Allura is…

 Well. Keith doesn’t know exactly what he feels about it, but whatever it is, it leaves a strange warmth in his chest, spreading along the old fractures of the lion bond.

 Lance strides past Allura and Shiro without a second look, turning his attention to Zenex and leaving Keith and the others to race after them as they walk back to the camp.

 “Any news?” He hears Lance ask, and Zenex shakes his head.

 “The radios have been silent all night. Elos has been working on the plans you picked up during the mission, but they haven’t yet figured out what they are for. Lotor has by now realized regular Galran will not be enough to keep secrets, so he has been religiously switching up codes in his messages to his commanders.”

 “Of course he has.” Lance mumbles. “I’ll stop by and take a look at them later, see if I can help.”

 “Lance.” Allura calls, and Keith winces when Lance pointedly ignores her. “Lance! I need to talk to—“

 “I know what you’re going to say Allura, and the answer is no.” Lance says, turning and looking back at them with a sigh. “I am not coming back to Voltron, and you are not having Blue.”

 Allura bristles. “You would be so selfish as to insist on continuing to keep her?”

 Lance’s eyes widen, and he gives a disbelieving laughs. “You just don’t get it, do you? I don’t own Blue, and neither do you. The bond between a lion and a paladin isn’t about control, or about force. Shiro couldn’t make Black relinquish their bond with Zarkon, they had to choose to, and I didn’t make Blue come with me. I told her what my intentions were, and she asked that I take her with me over a different ship. If you can’t understand that, then it’s not really surprising Blue rejected you.”

 “Lance.” Shiro says from next to Keith, voice disapproving, and Lance scowls, twisting back around and pointedly putting his back to them.

 “You’re not my commanding officer, Shiro. Do not try to moderate my words.”

 Shiro winces, and Keith can’t help but shrug. “He’s right.”

 “How is your search for the Alrexan stones going?” Lance asks, still not facing them, and hesitantly Shiro glances at Allura, who still looks like she’s like to smack the back of Lance’s head, and answers carefully.

 “…Good. Coran, Pidge, and Hunk have located stones that should be of an acceptable size for the castle’s needed level of power and are working on removing them. We should be set to leave in a day or two.”

 Keith feels his heart sink at the words, and does his best to ignore it. This is good. The sooner the castle is fixed, the sooner they can get back out there to helping people, and the sooner Lance can get them all out of his hair. This is the way things should be— The Blue Lion Resistance and Voltron, two separate, completely untied forces operating against the Galran Empire.  

 …So then, why does the thought hurt so much?

     When they get back to the castle, Keith is one part cranky and tired and one part still slightly hungover, and that alone is enough to coax him into a nap. He’s not usually a napping person, but occasionally even he can be tempted, and the exhaustion he feels from the lack of sleep he got last night after staying up so late talking with Lance coupled with the general emotional tiredness he feels at the thought of knowing they’ll be leaving Alrexa in a couple days is enough to coax him into just falling asleep for a few hours as a way to turn his brain off for a few hours.

 It feels like a great idea at the time, but when a fucking explosion of all things jars him awake just as the evening sets in, he’s sorely regretting his most recent life choices.

 He stumbles out into the hall only half-awake and collides with Hunk’s chest, who apparently must have returned to the castle from the mines while he was asleep, steadying himself before pushing up and meeting the other’s frantic eyes. “What’s going on?”

 “I don’t know!” Hunk says, panicky. “I was in my room when suddenly everything started shaking!”

 There’s a whistling sound from above, and all of a sudden another shake rocks the ship, clearly not a hit to the castle itself but on the ground close enough to feel the impact tremors. He has all of about five seconds to frantically question why the fuck something is apparently chucking projectiles from above them at the area just west of the castle before it clicks, and his eyes widen.

 “Fuck, Hunk, the base camp!”

 Hunk pales, and then they’re running, sprinting past Pidge’s door as it opens and she calls out to them, hesitating for a few seconds before chasing after as well. They nearly collide with Allura, Shiro, and Coran as they reach the castle entrance, screeching to a halt just before Hunk and Keith would have slammed into Shiro. Allura’s eyes are wild and confused, and Coran’s mustache is literally sparking, as if the impact tremors sent him face-first into something electrical. Then again, if the others had just come back to the ship and Coran had been starting on repairs, he supposes that’s a possibility.

 “Paladins,” Allura says, gaze darting between them, “What is—“

 “It’s the Galra.” Keith growls. “They’re shooting at the base camp— They’re shooting at the base camp and chances are we damn well led them here!”

 “We don’t know that.” Shiro says quietly, and Keith snarls.

 “They’ve been here nearly a year without incident, and within four days of us showing up the Galra suddenly know where to look?! Yeah, right!”

 “We have to help them, regardless.” Allura says pointedly, cutting through the argument. “Get to your lions.”

 Red’s anger, her willingness to fight, coils in Keith’s stomach, and he shoves it down. “Are you crazy?! Lance will kill us!”

 “He will not be able to do much if he is dead.” Allura counters primly. “He needs our assistance.”

 “Allura, Lance gave orders to fire on the castle if the lions ever left their hangars.” Hunk points out, nervously fiddling with his hands and shooting glances at the distant form of the base camp, smoke rising from where the explosives have hit. “Chances are he hasn’t had time to belay that order, and if the rebels see a bunch of lions that have been labeled as potentially dangerous to them suddenly flying overhead, it may panic people and just make things worse.”

 A scowl writes itself across Allura face, and Keith feels himself rapidly losing patience. “Fuck this! They need help now. Open the quiznacking hangar doors and if Lance gives the alright then we’ll call the lions to us, but I’m not having a fucking debate over it while people are in danger!” He takes off through the doors, heading for the last of the trucks that were holding the perimeter around the castle, the majority already gone and headed to the base camp, he assumes, and hears footsteps behind his that he recognizes as Hunk. Moments later, there’s a bunch of calls, and then several following sets of footsteps as everyone else gives chase.

 He skids to a stop next to the truck he took into the base camp yesterday, Hunk a step behind him, and meets the eyes of the guard from yesterday, sitting in the drivers seat. Whoever was driving the truck yesterday while they watched Keith is clearly gone, likely on one of the other trucks back to the camp.

 “Please.” He chokes out, doing his best to pull air into his lungs after so much stop and start sprinting. “Please, I need to help him.”

 The guard hesitates, and then nods, gesturing to the back of the truck and speaking their first words to him.

 “Get in.”

 Keith scrambles into the back, the others climbing in a few seconds after as the truck roars to life, and then they’re shooting down the path, any of the speed regulation from the last couple trips gone in the favor of getting there as quickly as possible. He only allows himself one quick look at his teammates, taking in Hunk’s nervous face, Pidge’s wide and fearful eyes, Shiro’s guilty expression, and then turns back to watching the smoking outline of the base camp as it draws near, praying to entities he long since gave up on that Lance is alright.

 They emerge into chaos, stumbling out of the truck into a sea of rebels rushing around them and Keith’s eyes catch on Lance barking orders in the center of the swarm, Zenex hovering over his shoulder.

 “Lance!” He screams, shoving his way over, and Lance turns at the call, eyes widening.

 “Keith? What are you doing here?” He notices the others behind Keith, and his expression closes off, eyes going dark. “What are they doing here?”

 “We are here to help.” Allura says, and Lance scowls.

 “No.” He turns, calling out more orders as the people around them don flight gear and board ships, and Keith reaches out, grabbing his hand desperately.

 “Please, let us help you! We have the lions, we can fight!”

 Lance turns, wrenching his hand out of Keith’s, and his eyes are fire. “For all we know, your presence is what brought them here! This is not your fight, so just— Just stay out of it!”

 “If we brought them here then we have to help!” Keith screeches, and along the threads of the lion bond Red stirs, her anger at the Galra and fear for the people of the base camp, fear for Lance, mixing with his own. “Please, I can’t just sit here while you go and fight without even knowing what will happen to you!”

 “Lance, please.” Hunk murmurs from behind Keith, and something in Lance’s expression softens, his eyes darting once to the people of his base camp as they run to fight or to cover.

 “The Empire’s ships have fired only on the base camp, not the castle. They may not know you are here. If this attack was not timed to your arrival, seeing more lions may tempt the commander to fight harder rather than retreat. There is significantly more glory in having captured Voltron than in having done some damage to a bunch of scraggly rebels hiding out on a no-name planet.”

 “Or seeing the full force of Voltron may scare them off!” Keith presses.

 Lance hesitates, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Strategy before impulsivity. I have doubted myself once before in the face of Voltron’s opinion, and it cost too much.” When he opens his eyes, it is the General of the Blue Lion Resistance who looks back at Keith.

 “If you really want to help, then assist in getting those who are non-combatants or injured underground. Leave my soldiers to me.”

 The others hesitate, and then disperse, and Keith turns to go as well, before Lance’s hand reaches out and grabs his own, spinning him around before a second hand grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down slightly, Lance leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Keith’s, dark eyes staring into his own.

 “If I need you, I will call for you.” Lance breathes, and then releases Keith, turning and sprinting his way to the Blue lion, catching a pitch black helmet with a reflective blue visor that Nyma throws him as she boards her ship and slipping it over his head as Blue stretches up and roars from the edge of the base camp, awaiting her pilot.

    Waiting on the inside of what is essentially a bomb shelter with only a listen-in radio connected to the Resistance fighter’s comms to give any indication of what’s going on outside, while Keith knows Lance is out there potentially risking his life, is hell.

 He can tell Red agrees, her presence pacing anxiously in the forefront of his mind, and he knows she is likely moving restlessly around her hangar, fighting the urge to just take off and fly only because Keith has begged her to hold steady, and after this long together their trust is at a level where his words may occasionally override her own protective instincts.

 It’s just as jarring for her as it is for him, he knows, if not more so. At least he can hear Lance’s voice over the radio as he yells out commands to his fighters, calling out attacks and occasionally swearing, usually in Spanish or another language. Red can’t feel anything, the destroyed place in the bond where Blue once resided keeping her from seeking out her sister’s quintessence, and the best Keith can do is offer her confirmations that Lance, and assumedly his lion as well, are still breathing.

 …He just hopes, prays, that Lance’s shouted curses are out of anger and frustration with the Galra fleet they’re dealing with and not because of near misses on shots to Blue.

 Keith startles when Hunk sits down next to him where he’s crouched against the edge of the underground shelter, the other’s presence startling him out of his musings, and when Hunk raises a curious eyebrow at him, he simply groans, giving in and slumping against the larger paladin.

 “…I can’t stand just… waiting here.” He mutters, and Hunk hums his agreement.

 “I just—“ He continues, frustration tugging at his being. “We have the lions! We should be out there watching his back, protecting him!”

 “I don’t really think Lance needs much protection anymore.” Hunk offers mildly, and Keith snorts.

 “I know, but… God, there’s extra help just sitting there and he’s too stubborn to accept it!”

 “Do you think that’s what it is?”

 “Huh?” He blinks, turning his head slightly from where it’s slumped against Hunk’s arm to peer up at the other.

 “Stubbornness. Do you think that’s why Lance refused our help?”

 “I… Guess?” He answers hesitantly, and Hunk sighs.

 “Do you remember what I told you when Lance first left Voltron?”

 “Uh…”

 “I told you that Lance plans around contingencies. He’s a strategist as much as he is a people pleaser or inevitably plain old insecure— It’s just a part of who he is, he’s been like that since he was a child. His backup plans have backup plans, and nine out of ten times he’s not going to need them because he considered all the options before even making his initial decision.” Hunk grins lopsidedly at Keith, shrugging lightly. “Lance is brilliant, he always has been, it’s just not in an area people pay much attention to. If Lance truly believed the best option was to have us flying with him, no matter how much he may dislike working with Voltron, he wouldn’t have hesitated, not at the risk of the lives of people under his command.”

 “…So?” Keith asks hesitantly.

 “So have a little faith in his thinking process. He wasn’t bullshitting just to get us to sit down and behave. There’s a good chance that this attack was random, or based off something else than the Empire tracking our presence. In a way, that’d make less sense for Lotor’s style. Hit two birds with one stone, yeah, but it’d take immense firepower to take out both of us. We’d be seeing a lot more damage than we are right now, not to mention attacks on the castle. If they’re shooting from high enough up that they can’t see the castle, then it’s a pre-coordinated attack going off the specific coordinates of the camp.” Hunk chuckles. “If he’s betting on his forces being enough to send ‘em scattering without alerting the Empire to our presence, then that’s good enough for me to do the same… What about you?”

 “I—“ Keith hesitates, closing his eyes and shivering when he hears an explosion echo over the radio. “…Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 In the recesses of his mind, Red’s presence slows her frantic pacing, considering, and then purrs back, a reassurance she will also take Hunk’s words as truth and place her trust in her sister and said sister’s pilot to know what they are doing.

 “…Thank you.” He murmurs, and Hunk smiles.

 “Of course.” Overhead another explosion hits, and Hunk winces. “…Now we just have to wait it out.”

 “Yeah… Now we wait.”

 It feels like an eternity buried in the shelter, listening to the echoes of the guns and the shouts reverberating over the radio, but eventually the explosions from above that shake the ground around and above them peter to a stop, the sounds of the battle on the comms fade, and, finally, Lance’s voice rings out through the shelter.

 “Sound the all clear. Bastards are turning tail, we got ‘em.”

 There’s a sigh of relief from the young alien wearing the headset plugged into the comms on the radio, and a faint cheer whoops in the back, quickly being picked up the others in the bunker, and Hunk grins, looking delighted and nudging Keith lightly in the side, who can’t help but smile back.

 Thank God.

 He watches with relief as Allura climbs up and opens the hatch leading to above ground, and steps aside to let the stream of aliens clamber out. Lance’s camp really is about more than fighting, he thinks— There are at least sixty or seventy noncombatants here, if not more once you include those who are injured. Children and elderly and young parents who are true refugees, welcomed to the Resistance with open arms for what they offer just by continuing to survive in the face of the overwhelming reach of the Empire.

 It’s so different from the long, empty halls of the Castle of Lions, where there are whole floors that lie untouched even after nearing five years in space, and the only permanent residents are the six of them… himself, Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro, and Coran and the princess. Any prisoners they rescued were always promptly healed and given healing pods to be sent home, but perhaps, he thinks, looking out over the sea of different species as they make their way out of the shelter, remembering the brand on Zenex’s face marking him a traitor to his kind and of Rolo and Nyma’s seemingly endless planet hopping, it’s not that simple. He’d always assumed that was the way things worked, before. You rescue people, and they get to go back to their lives as they once were, but…

 They have no home to return to, anymore, just a crumble of rock where Earth once flourished. And, perhaps, these people do not have one either.

 Keith savors the first breath of fresh air he takes in once he’s out of the bunker, second to last behind Shiro, who hovers over his and Hunk’s shoulders until he’s sure everyone is out. Closing his eyes, he breathes in, and then out, a grin creeping onto his face as he hears the nearing jets of Blue, and then he’s running, hopping over the spots of debris from the projectiles that hit the camp and heading for the place where Blue is circling to land.

 Lance descends from the runway in Blue’s mouth just as Keith makes it to the clearing, and his heart leaps as he watches Lance yank his helmet off his head, tucking it under an arm and half-heartedly running a hand through his hair to work out the worst of the knots from having it bunched up under his helmet while flying. Without thinking, he grabs Lance the minute he’s in reaching distance, pulling him into a tight hug up and off his feet and spinning him around in a wobbly circle, ignoring the clattering of Lance’s helmet as it hits the ground and savoring the faint reassurance of Lance’s beating heart from underneath his suit against his own.

 “Uh… Keith?” Lance says questioningly after a moment, and Keith instantly releases him, coughing nervously, and studiously looking anywhere but Lance’s face.

 “Sorry.”

 The corner of Lance’s mouth quirks up in a small smile, and Keith finds his eyes stuck on it despite his seconds ago conviction not to look at Lance, savoring the slant of his lips, the genuine, if somewhat confused, happiness on his face at seeing Keith.

 “I’m… glad you’re alright.” He offers hesitantly, and Lance’s smile widens just a little.

 “I told you I would be.” Lance says, the slightest tinges of amusement creeping in at the edges of his voice, and then he turns, whistling as he looks out over the camp. “Damn, they really did a number on this place.”

 Keith winces, taking his own proper glimpse of the damage for the first time. “Will you be able to fix it?”

 Lance shakes his head slightly. “It doesn’t matter. What can come with us will be packed away, and everything else will be burned. We can’t stay here now that the Empire knows our location.”

 “…Oh.” Keith swallows past the lump in his throat at Lance’s words. He’s right, it would be stupid to continue to keep base in a location the enemy knows you’re in. “Of course.”

 Lance frowns slightly, a hesitant question on his lips as he turns to look at Keith, and then a shout rings out from an approaching voice.

 “General!”

 It’s Nyma, skidding across the last of the way to the Blue lion and then hunching over, wheezing for breath. “G-General…”

 “What is it, Nyma?”

 “You have to… come quick.” She gasps, straightening up and staring at Lance with a terrified expression as she points back to the camp. “It’s Ruya.”

 Lance’s eyes widen, and he breaks into a sprint, stumbling into the center of the still half-deserted camp as Keith and Nyma work to catch up and looking around wildly until someone signals him.

 “She’s— Fuck. Boss, over here!” It’s Rolo who calls them over from a spot near the edge of the tents where they run into an area of mostly fighter ships, waving desperately from a spot where he’s hunched over… something with Zenex and a couple other aliens, and Keith feels his stomach lurch unpleasantly at the mere thought of what they might find there.

 Please don’t let her be dead, he prays, for Lance’s sake, if nothing else.

 When they reach the others, Keith bites his lip, taking in the scene. She’s definitely alive, the shallow rise and fall of her chest a testament to that, but there’s… there’s a lot of blood. Green blood, because, as Keith has discovered, alien blood runs in a variety of colors, but… blood. It’s all over her chest and side, making it impossible to distinguish where the wound is.

 “Ruya…” Lance whispers, dropping to his knees beside the girl.

 “I don’t think there’s spinal injuries.” Zenex says quickly, looking to Lance. “But I wasn’t sure…”

 “If we don’t move her, she’s going to die regardless.” Lance murmurs, looking over Ruya’s unconscious form with obvious panic.

 “The… The healing pod?” Nyma offers, and Zenex shakes his head.

 “The first blast targeted the medical tent, the pod was smashed.”

 “Fuck.” Lance breathes out, ducking his head before reaching out to run a careful hand along Ruya’s cheek. “C’mon, baby girl stay with me. You’re going to be alright.”

 There’s a kind of visceral horror in it, Keith realizes. Ruya, a child, a child Lance cares about, is dying, and there’s nothing they can do about it, without a cryopod.

 …Fuck, a pod.

 “The castle!” He yelps, and Lance looks to him, eyes wide. “Lance, the castle!”

 Understanding shivers across Lance’s face, and Keith watches as hope crawls back in.

 Lance turns to Rolo, barking an order. “Go get a truck started, we’re going to the Castle of Lions.” Gently, he places an arm under Ruya’s neck and under her thighs, scooping her up, and glances at Keith, nodding. “Go get Allura and Coran, and tell them to get their asses back to the castle pronto.”

    Ruya’s already small form looks incredibly tiny floating in the space beneath the glass of the healing pod. Then again, Keith supposes, looking over her frame, that’s not hard. Pretty much anyone but Shiro or Hunk looked small in the healing pods honestly, and given Ruya was really only the size of a human child, that only emphasized that fact.

 Lance is somber as he stands in front of the pod, watching the readings on the monitor next to her with careful eyes, taking in the data of heart rate, blood replenishment, skin repair, all of it, as if he hopes to heal her faster just by observing the numbers at work.

 The whole sight makes Keith ache, and he can feel Red’s anxiety crawling along the bond, discontent over the injury of someone who her sister’s pilot cares for.

 For a long time, Keith had believed Red thought for no one but her pilot, but in time he’d come to realize she cared intensely about the wellbeing of those who mattered to those she cared about, in a long chain of protective feelings. Red cared about Blue, and about Keith, both of whom cared about Lance, who cared about Ruya, and that, it seems, was enough for her to be disgruntled over Ruya’s condition, if only because it put Lance, and therefore Keith, in distress.

 “She should be alright.” He hears Coran say from where he’s positioned at another monitor near Lance’s, hitting a few symbols as he sets the timer for the pod. “One night in there, and she’ll be right as rain. Lucky girl though, I don’t know if she would have made it without the pod.”

 Lance’s frame shudders ever so slightly, hands curling into fists for a moment before his shoulders slump, and he nods.

 “I don’t understand…” Allura says softly from where she stands in the corner with Shiro, observing the scene with tired eyes. “I was sure we got everyone underground.”

 There’s a quiet sigh, and then Lance turns around, casting a quick glance to Keith, and to Zenex where he stands a few feet from him, and then looks to the princess. “Ruya has… a lot of anger in her heart. She’s been begging me to allow her to fight since she lost her parents in order to avenge their deaths.” His eyes slip to Keith’s again, the edge of his mouth quirking, and Keith remembers what Lance had said to him the night before, murmured into the silent spaces of the night in-between sips of fiery alcohol.

 She reminds me of you.

 “We have a strict rule in the Resistance that you must be of at least sixteen years, or of your species mental equivalent to that of a human sixteen year old to fight, but Ruya has been trying to sneak aboard ships bound for missions in spite of that for months. She likely took the confusion during the attack to try and get into a fighter ship, and got hit in the process.” He slumps forward, turning back to Ruya again with a tired expression. “I knew she needed extra supervision until she learned to command her hate for the Empire instead of letting it control her, I should have kept a better eye on her.”

 Lance breathes out slowly, leaning forward and resting his head against the cryopod, eyes falling shut, and then he spins around, walking towards the princess and bowing ever so slightly to her. “Ruya would not have survived if it weren’t for the castle, and therefore you, and that is a debt I cannot repay. However…” Lance’s hands clench at his sides, and Keith realizes what he is going to do seconds before he says it, making frantic eye contact with Hunk across the room, who is clearly figuring out the same thing, panic in his expression.

 Lance, Keith thinks as it finally clicks into place, doesn’t like owing anyone anything, let alone owing Allura. That is a part of who he is too— And somehow, that desire to be equal, to be fair, overrides his pride, hell, his sense of self preservation, without question.

 …Because Lance McClain, no matter how old or analytical or respected or downright bitter he may get, is still an idiot who tries so hard to be good even when he imagines himself a monster, and at the end of the day that might just be what destroys him.

 “However, I can offer you what you most desire from me.” Lance keeps his head bowed, and Keith knows he is likely fighting himself every step along the way with these words. “I will ask the Blue lion to relinquish our bond and return to your care.” He hesitates, studiously avoiding Allura’s gaze as he turns and nods respectfully to Coran. “I will leave Ruya in your care for now. Come, Zenex, we’re leaving.”

 Keith watches Lance leave, dark hair and stupid coat rustling with measured steps, and fights the urge to just throw himself at Lance and beg him to be selfish for once in his life.

 The minute Lance is gone, he turns to Allura, words on the tip of his tongue, but it is Hunk who beats him to it.

 “Don’ you do it, Allura.” Hunk’s expression is thunderous, a kind of anger Keith has seen on the other on very few times in the years they’ve been teammates, and later friends. “Don’t you dare take Lance’s stupid, self-sacrificing quid-pro-quo streak and use it to get what you want.”

 Allura hesitates. “Hunk, I—“

 “Save it.” He snaps, turning and storming out of the room, and when Allura looks to Keith with nervous eyes, he crosses his arms and looks away, avoiding her gaze. There’s nothing he can’t offer that Hunk hasn’t already said.

 ...It’s not like she ever listens to them, anyways.

    The next day, a tearful and apologetic Ruya is collected from the castle by Nyma and Rolo, and Coran and Pidge announce that, with a few hours of work, the new stones should be fully in place and the castle set to depart by the evening. Hunk and Allura had both disappeared in the early morning off to the camp, the former in all likelihood to talk to Lance and the latter to, assumedly, collect the Blue lion.

 When Coran asks for someone to go down to the camp and tell them the news, Keith doesn’t know why he volunteers, but for some reason it falls out of his mouth without his prior consideration. He blames Red, despite knowing she can’t control his words or actions that much, simply because of the annoying, pleased purring resonating through his chest.

 Which is how he finds himself perched on a rock on the edge of the clearing where Blue rests, knees to his chest and his arms around them, watching Allura’s form as she sits peacefully in front of the Blue lion’s paws, unmoving.

 “You’re not seriously going to do it, are you?” He asks, and she startles, whipping around and staring at him before relaxing minutely.

 “Oh, Keith. I…” She hesitates, shrugging. “I do not know. I am not sure if Blue would consent to coming with us, regardless, even if Lance asks her too.”

 He sighs and, on a whim, unwinds himself and hops off his perch, walking over and sitting down on the ground next to her, crossing his legs and peering up at Blue curiously, poking out with the tentative grasp he has, has always had, on her presence, and feeling her brush back, conveying a storm of thousands of years old emotions he cannot begin to comprehend, let alone sort out and understand.

 More than anything, though, what he gets, is exhaustion, pure and simple.

 The lions are old, he realizes, not for the first time, but gaining a new appreciation for what that means each time he considers it. However they came about into the forms they are now, they existed before that, and unlike Coran and Allura, they did not sleep those ten thousand years between paladins. They had near an eternity to reflect on their choices, their mistakes.

 The paladin bond is something stronger than a lucky choice out of limited options— It’s a destiny, of sorts, an inevitable connection that spans the odds of chance or luck. Blue had come to Earth for a reason, had reached for Keith, who had found Shiro, who in turn had been found by Lance, who had found Hunk and Pidge, and in the end that brought all the lions what they needed. Keith doesn’t know what that whole mess of fate versus the odds of rational logic says in terms of what their relation may be to the former paladins, but he guesses the connection is more complicated than just that of ‘convenient replacements’.

 Blue had ten thousand years to mourn what she lost, and she had found that again, in Lance, and she would give up anything for that, even Voltron, especially if she believed this lent the universe better chances of survival.

 “I have always felt I had quite a complicated relationship with the Blue lion.” Allura says quietly, drawing Keith out of his reverie. “The former Blue paladin was… someone very important to me, and for a long time I felt quite resentful over her bond with her lion, and with the other paladins, as it was something I could never match or even relate to.” She closes her eyes, sighing. “Perhaps it is selfish, but for a while, when we lost Shiro, the idea to experience that, to understand what she had known, was… intoxicating. In hindsight, it may have led me to pretend my motivations were more selfless than they were, but… Well, it can be very hard to relinquish pieces of your home when they are offered to you.”

 Keith hums, and then, looking at Blue, he cannot stop himself from asking. “What happened?”

 Allura bows her head. “Lance’s predecessor was Galran, and when the war began I lost… perspective. Zarkon had been like an uncle to me as a child, and to see him betray my family like that, it led me to have doubts about the Galra as a whole. After all, if he could turn his back on people he claimed to love so easily, surely they all would?” She chuckles bitterly. “I let myself doubt her, even when she renounced Zarkon to fight for Altea against him, even in the face of her kindness and compassion. I convinced myself her impressive loyalty would surely swing back to her own kind eventually, and in the end my hate and my ignorance caused her death. And… Well, the Blue lion has never forgiven me for it, not that I really blame her for that.” She trails off, tilting her head and turning to Keith, eyes solemn. “I am sure there are many of us who see an angry child that lets their need for revenge get the better of them and think of someone we know, but for me, seeing that girl in the pod… I saw myself.”

 “Funny…” Keith says quietly, pulling his gaze away from Blue and meeting Allura’s eyes, quirking the edge of his mouth up into a half-hearted smile. “I saw myself, too.”

 Allura sighs, looking down. “I… I do not know if it is right, to demand the Blue lion back as if she is an object to be bartered, but I do genuinely fear for what the future may hold if we continue on like this. The universe will need Voltron again.”

 “Allura…” Keith says, stretching out and hesitantly gesturing to Blue. “Voltron… Isn’t a giant mecha-human super weapon, and it isn’t a status symbol to prove our lawful high ground. Voltron is… Hope, and whether that comes from a unified giant robot that kicks ass or from five separate lions or…” He turns ever so slightly, nodding his head to the base camp, “Or just one lion serving as a flagship to a ragtag Resistance made up of rebels and refugees turns soldiers, that hope is still the same. Voltron stands for a better tomorrow, no matter how it goes about getting there, and sometimes someone has to be willing to get down in the dirty and do the messy work.” He pauses. “Your Voltron is regal power and this… straight and narrow moral compass, and that’s not bad, because one day, when this is all over, we’re going to need that, but the Galra… One thing I’ve learned about them more than anything is that they’re pretty human, at the end of the day, and to beat a human you have to fight like a human. Lance is… We made mistakes when we tried to be a perfect Voltron, and they ended up destroying things we will never be able to bring back. So maybe, what the universe needs right now is a hope they can know, a hope willing to give up certain parts of their perfection in order to do what is needed.”

 “…And you think that’s Lance?”

 “Yes.” He says firmly. “I do. And if you take Blue away from him, if you limit the amount of good he can do as himself in the name of a perfect Voltron, we’ll just end up making the same mistakes we did the first time. The Earth is gone, and we can’t bring that back, but to learn from it we have to accept what it means, and right now it means that Lance’s place, Blue’s place, is here. I’m not saying your Voltron won’t ever fly again, it’s just… not yet.”

 “Hm…” Allura smiles, eyes distant. “When did you get so profound, huh?”

 Keith snorts. “I wouldn’t call myself profound, just… older, maybe a little more well-rounded. Five years running around sharing a mystical bond with a space lion and a bunch of other people will do that to you.”

 Allura hums, nodding, and for a moment there is silence, before the stir of approaching voices reaches them, and they both turn to see Hunk and Lance coming up the path, heads tucked together as they talk quietly, the gentle sounds of Spanish filtering through. He looks at them, in their easy peace and brushing shoulders, and he knows, without even needing to understand their words, that the two of them have worked it out, as they always have.

 Lance glances up and jolts, surprised, as they near Blue. “Keith!” His eyes fall slightly to the left, and he gulps. “…Allura. You’re here for Blue, I assume?”

 “Actually,” Allura says breezily, standing up and dusting herself off, “I rather think I’ll be leaving her. I find her to be severely temperamental and moody and generally not at all suited to me. If you fancy dealing with her so much, you can keep her, I think.” She sighs airily, drifting past a gaping Hunk and Lance without a second look, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be seeing you, General.”

 And just like that, Allura’s gone, disappearing between the tents, and Keith fights the urge to laugh at Lance and Hunk’s dumbfounded expressions.

 “…Dude.” Hunk says, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes disbelievingly. “Did Allura just… give up on taking Blue?”

 “…I think she just did.” Lance murmurs, turning to look at Keith with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell did you say to her to pull that off?”

 Keith shrugs, standing up and stretching idly. “Not much, really, I just…” He glances up at Blue, and he swears to God the feeling she sends him is best described as a wink, “…listened.”

 “No way…” Hunk says, and then yelps, turning and chasing after Allura. “Hey! Allura, wait up! I wanna know what you guys talked about!”

 Keith grins, watching him go, and then stumbles as arms are thrown around his neck, brown hair flying in his face as Lance buries his head in his shoulder. He flushes, and, carefully, wraps his arms around Lance’s waist in return, pressing his face to the side of Lance’s head, long hair tickling his nose, and breaths in the scent of blaster residue and smoke. On anything else, it wouldn’t be a particularly appealing smell, but… He likes it, on Lance. It seems right.

 “…Thank you.” Lance whispers.

 “Of course.” He sighs, closing his eyes.

 After a long moment, Lance hesitantly disentangles himself, straightening up and coughing awkwardly, and Keith snickers, throwing an arm over his shoulders as they meander lazily back towards the camp.

 “Yknow,” He says casually, “I never asked. I know you kind of mentioned not using Lance anymore once you started the Resistance, but how’d you end up being called General of all things?

 “Oh my God…” Lance groans. “Okay so, I’ll tell you but you can’t laugh.” Keith nods, and Lance sighs, closing his eyes with a pained expression on his face. “I have learned many things in my time in space, Keith, but this lesson stays prevalent.” His eyes snap open, looking to Keith with deadly seriousness. “Never show a bunch of aliens the episodes of Fullmetal Alchemist you have saved on your phone, they will pick up way too much new language, among other things.”

 …In his defense, Keith does try really hard not to laugh, but when Lance punches his shoulder after he doubles over wheezing and then breaks into a bunch of snorting little giggles of his own, the slight tinge in his shoulder is absolutely worth the sounds of Lance’s laughter.

    The gathering to see them off is surprisingly formal, while also being the most relaxed Keith has seen the Resistance members around them yet. Half the camp seems to turn up, crowded around the ship not in the careful military perimeter of before but more of a cluster of regular people. There’s dozens of faces Keith doesn’t recognize or know in the slightest in the crowd, but he can pick out Rolo and Nyma’s lounging forms, Ruya tucked between them and scowling half-heartedly down at the ground, and Zenex near the center of the half-circle closest to the castle’s entrance, the Galra offering him a small smile and a nod when Keith catches his eye.

 Lance stands at the forefront, a few feet from them where they hover at the entryway of the castle, his posture stiff and arms behind his back. The trench coat’s back once again over the bodysuit and its multiple holstered weapons, and Keith still isn’t sure if it annoys him or if he likes it, but he can’t deny it adds… something to Lance’s already lean and cutting figure.

 “For the record,” Lance tells them all softly, dipping his head just slightly, “I owe you an apology for my comment yesterday. It turns out my second assessment of the situation was right— The Empire found us based on information a spy who had been passing as a refugee for the last couple months leaked to them, not because of any tracking of your presence, they didn’t even know you were here. Believe me, they’ll pay for the danger they put my people in.” The edge of his mouth quirks, and Lance looks up, smirking lightly. “However, don’t take that as an offer of alliance. If you show up on my doorstep again without at least prior warning, I will sorely consider finally shooting one of you, or at least punching someone firmly in the face.” He makes eye contact with Keith, and winks. “No promises on who that’ll be, though.”

 “…Are you sure you won’t come back, Lance?” Pidge asks quietly.

 Lance hesitates. “…My place is here, Pidge. I’m not sorry for the choices I’ve made. I never was, and I never will be. This is where I need to be. My voice is heard amongst these people, I can help them. I can protect them.”

 Pidge sniffles, but nods, and Lance smiles softly, hesitantly taking a couple steps back so that he is clear of the castle’s doors, lifting a hand tentatively. “Bye?” He offers unsurely, and next to Keith, Shiro sighs.

 “Goodbye, Lance.”

 Keith hears the others shuffle around, heading back into the castle, and he turns too, casting one last lingering look at Lance as he goes, making it about five steps, before there’s a shout.

 “Keith!”

 He groans, twisting in place to ask Lance what it is he wants to say now, but instead hands grab his jacket and yank him forward, and suddenly a pair of soft lips is pressed to his own.

 Lance is kissing him, he realizes, and his brain promptly short-circuits after that.

 He does note one thing, though. While the rest of Lance seems to naturally run cold, his lips are warm, like the soft fire of Red’s consciousness wrapped up along his own.

 There’s barely fleeting pressure for a few seconds, then the slightest of movements, before Lance nips quickly at his lower lip and then shoves him back, sending him stumbling over the boundary of the castle’s edge and back inside just as the doors begin to slip closed.

 “Stay alive out there!” Lance calls, the wind turning his hair into a messy halo as he grins brightly at Keith. “I’ll be damn upset if you die on me, Kogane!”

 “Just don’t go and get yourself in trouble first then, you reckless idiot.” He croaks, and Lance laughs, the sound bright and delighted, before turning back to the Resistance, his ridiculous trench coat catching on the breeze as he strides back towards them.

 “Alright, you gossipy fucks! You’ve had your oogling time, now back to work! We’ve got a camp to break down!” Lance barks loudly, Zenex slipping to his side, ever the faithful soldier, as the castle doors slip closed, the engines lighting up as they prepare for takeoff.

 Somewhere in the recesses of Keith’s chest, there’s a spark, a small fluttering of joyhopeanxiety that feels like cool ice and running water and warm lips in a place where the hole in the lion bond rests, and Keith smiles giddily, Red purring happily in the back of his mind.

 That promise to stay alive until he at least next sees Lance is one he’ll have to keep this time, he thinks.

 Though, if he’s being honest, that doesn’t sound too bad at all.

[dontshootmespence]

Becoming Real: It’s In The Past

In this installment of Becoming Real, Sophie spends Christmas break with Diana, Spencer and Luke following her mother’s ordeal. @coveofmemories @the-slytherin-ice-queen @cosmicjennifer @mxolh

                                                             ----

Before Diana, Sophie, Luke and Spencer left the hospital that day, Spencer and Luke spent a little time with Mrs. Fausta; they wanted to see if she had anything for Sophie for Christmas.

“I have a couple things that I wrapped in the garage,” she said weakly, her ribs still hurting from where her husband had punched her. “Can you take them and give them to her? I don’t want her to have nothing to open.”

“Of course,” Spencer said. “I figured we’d take her over to pack whatever she thinks she’ll need for a couple of weeks. We’ll grab whatever gifts are there for her.”

As they got up to leave, Mrs. Fausta called them back once more. “Thank you,” she said softly, the tears stinging the wounds on her face. “Thank you for helping me. Thank you for helping Sophie. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

“It’s okay,” Luke replied. “Just get some rest.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and the two men left her to get some sleep. “Are you okay to go back to your house and grab some things you might need?” Spencer asked Sophie. Going back to the scene of the crime could be damaging for anybody, but especially because it was her own home. 

“Will you come in with me?” she asked shakily. Of course they would. Nearly 15 minutes later, the four of them were back in Sophie’s home helping her pack clothes and anything else she would need. 

Diana chuckled slightly as Sophie proceeded to pack nearly every item of clothing she owned. “You know we have a washer and dryer, right? You won’t run out of clothes?”

“I...Yea, I guess,” she said. After packing almost two enormous duffel bags of clothes, toiletries and electronics, they headed out. Diana and Sophie hadn’t gotten along in almost five years. She was pretty sure Sophie had changed, at least somewhat, but she couldn’t deny she was a little nervous about sharing her home with Sophie for an extended period of time.

                                                            ----

The first couple of days, while they were still in school, Sophie was pretty isolated. She barely said anything to the three of them, just giving small smiles whenever they’d make eye contact. Originally, Diana asked if that was normal, or if maybe she still harbored some secret hatred for her, but both Spencer and Luke claimed that after what she had been through, it would have been out of the ordinary for her to be amazingly talkative. “Just let her come to you, okay?” Luke said. “She’ll start talking when she’s ready.”

It was only three days before Christmas that Sophie finally allowed someone in. In the middle of the night, Diana got up to grab a glass of water and found Sophie tossing, turning and screaming in her sleep. “Sophie,” Diana whispered, jolting her back and forth to try and wake her. “Sophie, wake up,” she said again. “It’s okay.”

“What?” she cried, bolting upright and hanging her head in her hands. 

Diana wrapped her arms around her neck and brought her close. “You’re safe. Your mom is safe. It’s okay.” She was shaking. Her clothes were damp with sweat, but she was cold to the touch. “You’ve been having these nightmares for a long time, haven’t you?”

Sophie just nodded, saying nothing for a few minutes. “It’s been years. My dad was always emotionally abusive toward her and me, but the physical didn’t start until a few years ago. My mom was just so afraid - she couldn’t find a way to leave.”

“That’s the power of an abuser,” Diana said. Years upon years of asking her dads what their jobs entailed, brought her a knowledge of the criminal kind that a normal girl her age wouldn’t have had. “But he’s going to jail. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Of course Sophie knew that. She couldn’t believe her father was finally out of her life, but it still weighed on her mind. Nearly 30 minutes went by and she was still shaking. “Do you want me to stay here?” Diana asked. “Or you can come in my room? My bed is really comfortable.” She gave her a little smile and motioned back toward her room with her thumb. 

Without saying anything, Sophie stood up from her place on the couch bed they’d provided for her and walked with Diana toward her room. In minutes, she was under the covers and fast asleep. Hopefully, having someone nearby would keep the nightmare at bay.

                                                           ----

The following morning, without school as a reason to get up early, the girls slept in until about 10 o’clock. “Morning,” Diana said sleepily as she combed out her hair. “Did you sleep any better?”

“Yea,” she smiled. “Thank you, Diana.” For a few moments, what seemed like tension hung in the air. Sophie wanted to say something, but didn’t seem to be able to. “Diana?”

“Yea?” The panicky feeling was coming to her again, and she readied her hand at the Xanax bottle, wondering if she’d need it.

Sophie stood up and grabbed her own brush, combing out her pin straight hair that tended to get really knotty when she slept. “I know I said it the other day, but it was kind of in the heat of the moment. I wanted to...actually tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you. It’s not an excuse, but I did what I saw my dad doing because that’s what I knew. It wasn’t right, and I’m really, really sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Diana smirked, pulling on her bathrobe and handing Sophie an extra one. “Yea, I think I can. On one condition.”

“Of course,” she said.

Her bullying was one thing, but the thing that had always bothered Diana most was the insults Sophie had hurled at her fathers. “If you also apologize to my dads for what you called them, I can forgive you.”

Sophie got a little nervous, as if apologizing to an adult were harder than a peer, which in some ways it was. But she knew that what Diana was asking wasn’t out of the question at all, especially because they’d opened their home to her. “I can do that. Again, it’s not an excuse, but it’s a word my dad used. I don’t actually have a problem with gay people.”

“They’re bi, remember?” Diana laughed. “But I get it. I don’t excuse it, but I do understand. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and then I’m pretty sure my Daddy’s got a Star Wars waffle maker around here somewhere. You want waffles and bacon this morning?”

“Sounds delicious.” While Diana went to go get cleaned up, Sophie walked outside into the living room to see Luke and Spencer already watching TV and making breakfast of their own. Luke was also wrapping up a couple of last-minute gifts. “Mr. Alvez? Dr. Reid?”

The two men greeted her good morning with wide smiles that made Sophie feel even more guilty for what she’d put them and their daughter through. “What’s up, honey?” Luke asked. “Get an okay night’s sleep?”

“Yea,” she said. “I was having pretty horrible nightmares, which is how I ended up in Diana’s room, but I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for the things I used to say about you, and what I did to Diana. It wasn’t right and I’m sorry...” she was fidgeting with the thumbs, unable to really look them in the eye, but she did mean it. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here and helping my mom.”

Spencer walked over to Sophie and enveloped her in a hug. “Apology accepted. It’s over now.”

“I accept your apology too,” Luke said, giving her a hug of his own. “Want waffles?”

A sigh escaped her, an immediate weight lifted off her shoulders now that she had apologized to everyone. “Diana said they’re Star Wars ones?”

“Of course,” Spencer smiled. “I need my Death Star Waffles.”

“Dork,” Luke sneeze talked. 

Spencer turned around, playfully smacking Luke in the chest just as Diana came out of the bathroom. “And you love me for it.”

Sophie wished her mom was able to be there, but this was almost as good. It took a little while to get used to how much Luke and Spencer loved each other though, because for so long, she’d been accustomed to seeing her parents together. 

                                                          ----

“Get up, get up, get up, get up,” Luke slammed on his daughter’s door. At her age, Diana was even crankier in the morning than her fathers were, but it was Christmas morning, so she decided to get up.

Sophie turned and practically fell off the bed as Diana laughed. “Do they do that every morning?” she asked.

“No.” Diana yawned, stretching so hard she nearly fell out of the bed herself. “But they’ve done it every Christmas since I was 11. We’re coming!” Luke and Spencer had been laughing and pounding on their daughter’s door the entire time. 

In their nearly comatose state, both girls made their way outside to pancakes and Christmas gifts. At first, Sophie didn’t really expect anything because of what happened, but Spencer and Luke had picked up someone of Mrs. Fausta’s gifts she’d had hidden in the garage. “Your mom had these hidden in the garage,” Luke smiled, revealing a little pile of presents for her. 

Diana got a camera adapter for her iPhone, some new books, a bunch of new graphic t-shirts, because the ones she had she’d worn so much they had holes in them, and a new pair of converse. Sophie opened up the few gifts from her mother and then was taken off guard when Diana handed her a package. “I figured it helped me a lot,” she smiled.

As Sophie unwrapped the gift, she took in a journal with a feather on the front and started to cry. “Thanks, Diana,” she said softly. She was taken of guard again, when Spencer and Luke handed her a little package of their own. 

“Diana told us you like this,” Spencer said. “I know nothing about any of this, so you can thank her for this too, we just bought it.” Luke laughed. When they’d asked Diana what they could get Sophie, she gave them a couple of options, and they pretty much stared at her in confusion. 

She started to open the package and laughed. No wonder they had to ask Diana about it. It was a small bottle of the Prada perfume she loved from Sephora. Diana must’ve seen during the week that she was running out, so she had been using it sparingly. “Thank you so much...all of you.” 

Sophie started to tear up again and Diana pulled her in. “Let’s start over, okay? Hi, I’m Diana. I’m hungry and I want more pancakes.” Spencer snorted. Like him, she was always eating. She had a crazy, fast metabolism.

“Hi, I’m Sophie,” she said, extending her hand to Diana. “I am longer an asshole and I’m also really hungry.”

At first, Diana was a little freaked out about having to share her home with Sophie, but they were putting the past behind them. It was over now.