#and that not touching thing comes from the idea that atoms are mostly empty space

[gaypiratebrainrot]

op i got a whole physics degree just to be able to say that you are 100% correct that the sensations of your experience are more real than atoms and "atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" is hot bullshit and any scientist spouting that has mistaken the map for the territory and has not grappled with the philosophy of their endeavor at all and their opinions about the nature of reality should not be trusted

"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level

[novelconcepts]

I'm up way too late but may I submit two brief proposals vis-á-vis the postcards(?) on Jamie and Dani's fridge: 1) Once they've settled into ife in Vermont, they go through a phase where they decide they're going to see as much of the USA as they can (while they still can) and the postcards are the result of that adventure. 2) For a while, Miles and Flora send them postcards somewhat regularly, and they always go straight on the fridge. Eventually, the cards stop coming, but the old ones stay up

For the first few months, Dani can’t sit still. It’s the strangest damn thing, because she’s never been that kind of person. Dani is patient. Dani is patient to a fault, even. She can sit for an hour or more, waiting for a child’s stubborn facade to crack away and let her in. She’s trained herself to draw up lesson plans at night over a glass of wine, moving through the subjects with comfortable ease. She’s lost hours staring into the fire, mulling over old mistakes and older fears. Dani is genuinely good at sitting still, thinking things out, making a decision only when the pot has boiled over at last.

But these days, after leaving Bly, it’s like that pot never runs dry. It’s just burbling there on an indefinite loop, and no matter how she tries to calm it, she always seems to turn around to find boiling water splashing around her feet. Sooner or later, she thinks, it’s going to burn her. 

It’s better, she finds quickly, if she’s in motion. If her brain isn’t so occupied with that inward gaze that has done her such harm over the years, if she won’t let herself just lay on her back and stare at a dark ceiling, searching for patterns that Jamie insists, insists are not there, it doesn’t feel so...so...

So much like being watched. 

She moves. She moves, and Jamie moves with her. Jamie has gotten so good so fast at reading her moods: at looking up over a morning cup of tea and seeing something behind Dani’s eyes that wasn’t there last night. She’s afraid to ask what that something might be, but Jamie only ever raises her eyebrows, raises her cup in a salute, and says, “Where to, then, Poppins?”

Jamie, as always, giving her permission. So, they move. From England to Vermont, for starters, and it’s so much more than Dani remembered America being. Bigger. Colder. She feels like she’s always looking over her shoulder, and maybe that isn’t so new. Maybe that’s why she came out to Bly in the first place. But now, now it’s different. Now she peeks into reflections with the hopeful terror of a child who almost wants to catch a glimpse of the monster beneath the bed, because at least seeing it would mean the damn thing is there. Waiting. Watching. Breathing down the back of her neck like the soft brush of otherworldly fingers, ready to clamp tight. 

They hit Vermont, and Jamie doesn’t seem to mind that Dani sometimes leaps out of bed at sunrise and spends the next eighteen hours doing laps around their life. The grocery store. The bank. The apartment. She pings from one to the next like an out-of-control meteor on its way to an extinction event, and Jamie just watches. Just raises her eyebrows. Lays a hand gently around her wrist. Says, “All right, there, Poppins?”

And, no. No, it isn’t all right. But it’s better. Better than sitting alone in a room in that big, sprawling house where the walls are lined with memories of Hannah’s smile and Owen’s terrible sense of humor and those perfect, glorious, sad children she loves so much, even now. 

They’re in Vermont for a month when the itch gets too big to sit on any longer. When she physically can’t calm herself with the now-familiar route of errand and takeout pizza and trying to figure out how adults put together a home they actually want to live in. One night, with rain playing havoc on the apartment windows, with gusts slamming the panes so hard, she thinks they might shatter, she turns her eyes to Jamie. 

“Texas?”

It’s a million miles away from their home, which is growing rapidly warm and cozy and green under their care, and she thinks Jamie’s going to say something. About how maybe they could just start small. Maybe they could just take it easy. But Jamie just takes her hand, raises it to her lips, presses a kiss to the smooth skin just below her palm. 

“Texas, then. Why not?”

Texas is huge and rambling and a kind of wicked dry-hot England has never so much as joked about, and they spend a week just...walking. Poking into dive bars, where Jamie proves herself unaccountably good at pool, and little cafes, where Dani makes weak jokes about strong coffee. Holding hands under the table in restaurants mostly laid bare by late evening. Jamie smiles at her, and Dani feels the thing inside curl up a little tighter. Sink a little lower in her chest. 

The states spiral out like a summer sky after that, one after another. In Louisiana, they fall into good food and better music, dancing beneath the stars until Jamie is spinning her so fast, their laughter rings breathless through the night air. In Georgia, they pick fresh fruit and explore bookstores that smell like childhood ought to, and Jamie presses her into a kiss so warm and inviting that Dani almost forgets time exists outside of their lips. In Illinois, they explore a big city; in New York, a bigger one. The world sprawls, rolls, lands with all the care of heaped-up leaves on an October morning, and Dani lets herself fall. Into Michigan’s northern beauty, into California’s almost too-hip chatter, into the history of Washington and the quiet of Montana. Everywhere they go, the world feels a little more solid beneath her feet. Everywhere they go, Jamie’s hand is so steady in her own. 

They’re laying together in a hotel room in Boston when Jamie presses her to the bed and buries her face in her neck and Dani, for the first time in months, actually forgets. The world vibrates to a standstill around them, the music of other bodies through the walls fading to a distant tempo, and Jamie’s hands are confident, and Jamie’s kiss is searing, and Dani hasn’t felt this solid since--since--

She gasps, and for a minute, cold fear grips her from the inside: that Jamie’s going to raise her eyes and see that terrified girl again, the one who couldn’t be touched for longer than a second without doubling back on her own guilt. Maybe she’s still that girl, she thinks. Maybe she’s still back there, in some way, folding around her own secrets so tight, it’s astonishing she never shattered like one of her mother’s porcelain dolls. 

And then Jamie is raising her head, looking her in the eyes, and she’s smiling. The same smile from the night she first laid all the cards out on the table, inviting Dani to hold her, inviting Dani to know her for real. The world swims, and Dani wraps her arms around Jamie’s neck, and there is nothing watching this time. Nothing lurking. Nothing dark, or hungry, or wild. The desperation is the right kind, her own kind, the kind she and Jamie make together in these moments that never seem to last long enough. She exhales, and she feels like Dani Clayton in every atom. 

The postcards are Jamie’s idea. The steadiness so often is, Dani will note in later years, Jamie’s idea. Maybe because Jamie didn’t know what steadiness felt like until she was in her twenties. Maybe because Jamie is still waiting for it to skid out from under her boots. One day, in a little Midwestern town Dani’s already forgotten the name of, Jamie says, “We should send them a card.”

She doesn’t have to explain who. They both know how much they miss those kids. Both can feel it in the empty spaces at the table where there should be creaking chairs, shrieking sugar-laughter, the soft chuckle of adults learning how to laugh again at a child’s jokes. Jamie reaches out to a counter display, plucks a card plastered with a mountain so majestic, it might as well be made-up. She hands it and a pen to Dani, and nods. 

“They’ll like it.”

And they do. The postcard, and so many like it, go out--and, when they find their way back home at last, when Dani feels as though the adrenaline has cooled enough to let her breathe, to let the world rest like it did in that room back in Boston, the cards come back in. Fresh ones, painted with Disney characters and cherry blossoms and silly phrases about wishing they were there. Flora’s handwriting is getting better; Miles’, somehow, worse. They tack each one on the fridge as they come, leaning against the kitchen counter, remembering how it felt to breathe the air in Oregon, how the ocean licked around their ankles in Florida. 

The memories help. They’re grounding, somehow. To look at these tiny cards, the edges turning up from the handling of small fingers, and say, We did this. This was real. We were real there, and so are they. 

It makes her feel a little less like vibrating out of her skin with every card on that fridge. With every afternoon helping Jamie arrange flowers at the shop. With every evening bottle of wine, every stolen cigarette in bed, every shower Jamie pretends to be grumpy about her sliding into, the world resolves itself into a little more clarity. We’re doing this. This is real. We are here, even if they’re not. 

Slowly, slowly, as paper months burn and reveal bound-up yearbooks in their place, Dani finds she’s breathing through the panic. That the panic is, in fact, coming less and less frequently. That she’s sleeping through the night, turned toward Jamie always, the beam of light in the darkness she never has to question. The shop is flourishing. The apartment shows no sign of monsters in its corners. She’s thinking of Christmas again, but this time, the word she lands on isn’t if. 

The postcards are slowing. More and more of them turn up, when they turn up at all, in the neat, fidgety hand of Henry Wingrave. The words have far less heart, far more reality behind them. The kids are doing fine, just fine. They’re settling out quite nicely in California. You really should visit someday, you’d be quite welcome. 

She holds this invitation, elbows propped on the counter, and sighs. Jamie, who has been performing her nightly ritual of burning whatever she happens to put on the stove and inventing swear words so righteous, Dani can’t help but laugh, glances over her shoulder. 

“Something wrong?”

“They’re growing up,” Dani says, and there’s a tightness in her voice she doesn’t expect. A sharp needle behind her eyes. She raises a hand, drags her fingers across her face before the tears can fall and spoil the blue ink on the card. 

Arms slide around her waist, Jamie coming to rest against her body with all the familiarity of falling asleep. Her lips press to the thin cotton of Dani’s shirt, warm, understanding. 

“I hear that’s the idea. Of kids and all.”

She knows. Of course she knows. And what’s the alternative, but something built of horror and trauma? They’re growing up, and they’re growing up happy, and that’s...incredible, really. After all of it. 

“Hey.” Jamie tilts her body until Dani tilts with her, coming away from the counter enough for Jamie to close the distance. Her hands are soft on the back of Dani’s head. So steady. So present. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no,” Dani says, unable to help herself. Jamie’s brow wrinkles, her tongue poking out, and Dani kisses her before the joke has time to sting. 

“Serious, Poppins. This is serious.”

“Right. Sorry.” She arranges her own face in a parody of solemn contemplation. Jamie rolls her eyes. “No, go ahead. I’m listening.”

She slides her hands under the flannel of Jamie’s shirt, letting her fingers splay across Jamie’s ribs. She’s always liked this, right here, the sense that Jamie is more real than anything in the world. More real than night terrors. More real than the heartbeat she sometimes hears in the back of her head when she’s been standing still too long. 

“You’re distracting, is what you are,” Jamie says, sounding the least upset about it she possibly could. Dani hums. 

“Stalling.”

“I was thinking,” Jamie repeats, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in a show of great restraint when Dani presses her hips forward. “We’ve seen an awful lot of this barbaric country you call home.”

“We call home,” Dani points out, grinning. Jamie nods. 

“But. S’been a minute, hasn’t it? Since we’ve seen what they’re up to across the pond. I was thinking, maybe--if you’re up for it, mind--we could...ring up Owen? See if he’s willing to bear a couple of grungy wanderers on his doorstep for a couple of days...”

It’s a distraction, Dani knows. Just something to get her mind off of the kids, of the truly palpable sense that something huge and important is beginning to drift too far out to catch. And yet...

The months roll into years. The years are quiet. They’ve been quiet so much longer than she thought she’d have. But somewhere deep down, somewhere beneath miles and miles of long kisses and meandering car rides and Jamie burning every other dinner they scrounge together...there’s something still down there, she knows. Waiting. Watching. 

“Lot more postcards out there,” Jamie says, with the light and airy tone of someone who knows Dani is looking over the edge of something too dark and too deep to climb back out of. “Could send an awful lot more, is all I’m saying.”

Sure. Sure, they could. There’s so much world out there, so much to see. She’d like to see it all, if only she had the time. She’d like to see every last inch. 

And maybe...maybe it’ll be enough. To keep moving. To keep their world spinning too long, too fast, for the beast to catch up with. She can’t know for sure. Jamie says it often enough, and she’s not wrong: Dani will never be able to say how much longer the running can last. 

But for now? While the beast holds still, and those kids still hold her name, and Jamie holds her like nothing else in the world matters?

“I think I’d like that,” she says, and feels steadier than she has in years. 

[illfoandillfie]

Curtains - Part 2

It’s @laedymoon - Elio, my Tumblr Daughter’s - birthday today!!! So to celebrate I thought I’d post a little something dedicated to her! Curtains was originally written because of El so I decided to write a second part!

El, I hope you’ve had a fantastic birthday and that you enjoy this fun little thing ily 😘😘😘

READ PART 1 HERE

Pairing: Roger x Reader

Summery: You still haven’t fixed those curtains.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, dom!Rog

Words: 2202

A/N: This is not the sequel fic ya’ll were hoping for but it’s the one ya’ll are getting for the moment.

Taglist:  @somekindof-cheese @dtfrogertaylor   @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac@labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @bowiequeen​ 

It had been a full two weeks since your encounter with Roger and your curtains still weren’t up. If anyone had asked, you’d have said something about not having the right tools, or not being able to do it on your own, or that really you hadn’t noticed because you’d been so busy with school work you’d spent most nights this past week sleeping in a corner of the library. None of that was true. The reality was that you were just hoping Roger would come back and make good on his promises. You’d considered going to his place, but every time you came close, you’d chicken out. The idea of knocking on his door and seeing his smug face when he realised how badly you wanted him again, was almost too much to bear. And god, what if his roommate answered? It’d be mortifying, knowing he knew you were there to try and score another shag. You had no idea how likely it was that Roger had told anyone about you or what had occurred but the possibility that his roommate knew anything kept you away from their front door.  

You’d considered striking up a flirty conversation at the pub and more than once you’d gone there intending to do just that. The memory of the first time he’d talked to you, there at the bar, kept intruding, playing on a loop in your mind as you ordered a drink, hoping alcohol would dull your sense of self-preservation enough that you could muster up the courage to talk to him. It never quite worked. Usually he was already wrapped up in a conversation, a half empty beer in his hand, when you got there. Mostly it was with friends, the same ones you saw walking up his driveway every other day. Sometimes it was other girls. Either way you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt. Not when all you could think about how he’d made you cum in public and you were worried that thought would be the first thing out of your mouth. Instead you’d buy a few drinks and try not to stare at him too much as you finished them. Then you’d go home and imagine what you would have said if those other people hadn’t been there, imagine how things could have gone if you weren’t quite so shy, and pray he’d notice you next time.  

You’d almost given up hope he’d come around again when you heard a tapping at your back door, pulling your focus from the assignment you were trying to write. His stare through the glass reminded you of the first time he’d been here, watching you, and you hurried to open the door.  “You expecting someone?” he asked indicating your bare legs under the long shirt you had on, “Or just hoping?”  “Hoping,” you said quietly, heart racing at the cocky smile he gave you in return. You’d known he’d be smug about it but somehow it only made you want him more.  “You gonna let me in, love?”  “Sorry, yeah,” you stood back to let him in, holding the door open as he crossed the threshold, and closing it softly behind him.  “Still haven’t put those curtains up,” he turned and pointed at the doorway as if there were multiple unhung curtains he could be talking about, “Not really a surprise though.”  “Like I said, hoping.”  Roger chuckled as he stalked towards you. You took a step backwards and found yourself with your back pressed against the door.  “I’ve seen you at the pub you know. Trying to decide if you should come talk to me or if that’d give away how desperately you want me to fuck you again. Still shy, aren’t you?”  You nodded as he moved into your personal space, using his knee to part your legs. You lowered your eyes but he tilted your chin up, giving you no choice but to look him in the eye.  “That’s okay. I like knowing I can make a shy little girl like you moan like a whore.”  You whimpered as he brushed his fingers over your clit, teasing you through your underwear. He moved as close as he could get, leaning down to nip at your shoulder as he brushed your clit softly again and again until you attempted to press your hips into his hand, desperate for a firmer touch.  “So desperate for me, aren’t you?” he asked as he slid his hand into the top of your underwear, dragging his fingers through your wet folds.  You whined as he focused on your clit.  “You remember what I said last time?”    “W-which part,”  “When I told you how I wanted to fuck you,”  “Yes,” you gasped as he removed his hand from you entirely, but it was just so he could tug your underwear to the side and change the position of his hand. He placed two fingers at your entrance but stopped, teasing you with them.  “And what did I say?”   “Up against the door,”  “And the other way?”  “With the door op-open,” you were rewarded with his fingers pressing into you as his thumb came to rest on your clit. Your breath caught in your throat as he began to pump his fingers into you rapidly.  “Bet you’ve been thinking about that a lot, haven’t you?”  “Yes,” it slipped out in a moan.  “Waiting for me to come back, use you the way you want to be used.”  “Yes. Pl-ease Roger, ‘m close,”  “Which way do you want more?”  You couldn’t think clearly with his fingers were pumping into you, his thumb pressed against your clit, his voice in your ear.  “Gotta give me an answer, love, otherwise you’ll get neither.”  You whined as you tried to understand what he meant.  “Fine,” Roger stopped, his fingers still inside you, and brought his other hand up to your throat, pinning you against the door entirely, “Answer me. Or I’ll use your mouth and leave without letting you cum.”  “Open door,” you gasped out, not sure if that’s the one you wanted more or it was just the last one you thought about and the closest for your brain to reach.   “Good girl.” He tightened his grip on your throat as he began stroking your g-spot as his thumb resumed its movements on your clit.   In a matter of seconds you were coming undone, a hand wrapped around his wrist near your throat, for support.  

You could almost have cried as his fingers left you, grabbing you by the arm instead to pull you away from the door as he opened it. You hastened to pull your shirt of as he pushed your underwear down your legs. As soon as they hit the floor he grabbed you again, turning you round and placing your hands against the glass door as he pulled your hips back. If someone had taken that moment to sneak into your backyard and look through the open door, they would have had a clear view of Roger running his cock along your pussy, teasing you before ramming into you, making you mewl.  “Gotta be louder than that if you want to cum,” he growled as he thrust into you rapidly, forcing stuttered moans from you with every snap of his hips. Roger had one hand on your hip and one on your back to keep you steady. The slapping sound of skin on skin mixed with the constant rattle of the door, every shift making it bang against the skirting board, and your constant moans, unabashedly loud. He dropped his hand from your back to your clit, building the pressure in the pit of your stomach. And then you heard it, amongst all the noise, something different and out of place.  “W-wait R-r-r-oger,”  He stopped and pulled out as you felt behind you, tapping his side.  “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”   “No, nothing like that. Heard a noise.”  “Heard a noise?” He scoffed but you shushed him, listening for the noise again.   Suddenly you heard a bang.  “Oh, Jesus Y/N. That was just a car door.” Roger peaked out the doorway, craning his neck to see and you did the same, “Pretty sure it came from my place. Can’t believe I pulled out of your tight little cunt because Bri’s fucking come over again.” He pushed you back down against the door, “whole point of fucking you like this is so the street can hear what a slut you are.”  You moaned loudly as he entered you again, returning to his fast pace, only now he also added a few slaps to your arse to make you squeal. You were sure you heard the footsteps heading up next door’s driveway stop, their owner listening to your pornographic noises. The thought only made you more desperate to cum. You dropped one arm from the rattling door, intending to rub your clit and push yourself over the edge, but Roger caught your wrist and slammed your hand back over the handprint you’d left on the glass.  “No,”  “Please,”  “Not yet,”  “Please,”  “Ask again and I’ll stop,” he growled, breathing heavily between words.  You whined as he continued to pound you, but refrained from begging, even though your whole body was screaming at you to cum. Next door was quiet again, no more car doors and no more footsteps. Though the voice in the back of your head that wondered if anyone was still there, listening to you, was much louder than before. Every rustle in a tree made you think someone was sneaking into your yard for a better look. Without warning Roger dropped his hand to rub your clit again.  “Gonna cum for me? Let everyone hear you?”  You didn’t need any more encouragement. Spots appeared in front of your tighly shut eyes as you screamed Roger’s name, your climax hitting you with the force of a moving train. He wasn’t far behind, groaning in your ear as he filled you with his cum. Even in your post-coital, orgasm induced daze you were sure you heard a bark of laughter and a door closing next door.  

You remained leaning against the glass, breathing heavily until Roger could summon the energy to let go of you and walk the three steps to your bed. He collapsed there on his back, arms spread out, and you followed, curling up next to him, still trying to catch your breath. This time Roger stayed longer than the five minutes it would have taken to get dressed, pulling you deeper into his side.   “You aren’t leaving?”  “I can if you want me to,” he sounded tired but he made to sit up anyway.  “No, stay, I like it better this way.” You spoke softly, wrapping an arm around Roger as he settled back down, “That was really good by the way.”  “Yeah it was,”  “You ever want to do it again let me know,”  “Or you could let me know,”  “I spose,”  “Y/N, I think if you can moan my name and let me call you a slut, you can talk to me at the pub. I promise I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to anyway.”  “You’re always with your mates though, I couldn’t.”  “You could. They see me every day, would probably thank you for taking me off their hands.”  “But...then they’d know,”  “You mean about how you can’t get enough of my cock?” He laughed.  If you had the energy to move you would have punched him in the arm.  “Think they already know, love. Pretty sure they would’ve heard you just now.”  You groaned, “God I’m never going to be able to look them in the eye,”  “Can’t beg me to fuck you in front of an open door and then get embarrassed when people hear you.”  “I didn’t beg,”  “Close enough. Maybe next time I’ll make you.”  “You sure there’s going to be a next time?”  Roger laughed again, “Definitely not the last time we do something like that. You enjoy it too much to stop and I’ve got more I want to do to you.”  You pushed yourself up onto your elbow to look at Roger properly, “You got something in mind? For next time?”  “Might do,” Roger still sounded tired but there was an excitement in his tone underneath it, “you should come to my show.”  “Your show?”  “I’m in a band, Queen, we’re playing down the pub in two days' time, you should come.”  “You any good?”  “Well I think so but, y’know, might be a bit biased. Besides, was more thinking we could find a cleanish bathroom afterwards and make sure the whole place can hear you. Or there’s the backstage room. The boys might be hanging around but I bet you’d find that hot. Could fuck them too if you were so inclined.”  “I don’t think I am inclined,”  “Good, I don’t really want to share you,”  You squeezed your thighs together as a wave of arousal rolled through you, “I’ll be there,”  “Dirty girl,”  “Just for the music,”  “If you get there early you can take me before the show as well as after.”  “What time’s early?”

[avidbeader]

Season 8 Fix-it (Twitter Fic)

This is the story I’ve been posting on Twitter in more-or-less real time as I finished scenes. It takes the S8 epilogue and tosses it out on its ear where it belongs. I decided to make a fresh post because the reblogged one was getting messier and messier as I added stuff.

I also don’t think I’ll do a Twitter fic like that again unless it’s under 1000 words. It was a royal pain dividing paragraphs & dialogue into 280-character chunks and I didn’t like my method of keeping things organized. But I have handed the whole thing over to @latart so she can work her beta magic and then this will get posted to AO3.

**********************

It’s not until he’s hurtling toward the jagged portal, the pod’s right turbine still refusing to come back online after passing through a wave of unknown radiation, that Keith thinks this might have been a bad idea.

The wolf is pressed tight against him, whining softly, but Keith can’t spare a hand to soothe him. It’s taking everything he has to try and pull the craft up and away from the viridian-rimmed tear in space while also not letting them be pulled into the atom-smashing currents of the quantum abyss.

Then the left turbine fails as well and they’re spinning. At this point there’s no choice - Keith goes for the devil he doesn’t know and yanks the steering column with all his strength to direct them away from the abyss’ gravitational wells...and into the portal.

He spares one last thought for his friends. For Shiro, praying that he truly enjoys the happily-ever-after he bought into.

**********************

Going through the portal produces an intense wave of energy that runs through Keith like electricity, jolting and painful. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and realizes that the engines are still offline.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if they hadn’t materialized inside a planet’s atmosphere, rushing toward the ground at terminal velocity.

The wolf growls, shoving his head under Keith’s arm, and he gets it as clearly as if the wolf had said, “Come on!” He gets out of the chair, grabs the emergency pack and his one bag out of the storage bin, and brings up his mask before throwing his arms around the wolf.

They wink out of existence and reappear several hundred meters away as the pod crashes into the planet’s surface.

Keith is kneeling next to the wolf, holding still as he lets his Blade armor feed him the necessary information. The atmosphere is compatible for both of them and he lets his mask drop to look around. It’s a meadow, grassy and green and pretty, with a forest not far off to his right and some hills in the distance to his left. It’s empty and quiet other than the ticking sounds of cooling metal. Smoke drifts up from the twisted wreck into the slightly orange sky. He doesn’t need to get any closer to see that scavenging for the extra rations and supplies is a lost cause.

Keith shoulders the bag carrying his personal effects and takes the emergency kit by the handle. Assuming that, like the deserts of his childhood, trees mean water, he leads the wolf toward the forest.

They’re about halfway to the treeline when the wolf stops and looks up. A moment later Keith can hear it as well: the whine of an engine. There’s no cover to speak of other than the tall grass and Keith drops to a crouch as the noise gets louder. The wolf huddles next to him as a flyer passes over them and lands near the wreckage. A pair of tallish thin figures get out and start poking around. Keith lifts his head just enough to get a better look at them and gasps in recognition.

Olkari.

Keith stands and waves. “Hey, over here! We’re okay!”

The Olkari look at one another and approach him slowly. Keith moves forward, smiling, and they stop and stare. Finally one starts speaking.

“Survivor? Part of ship? More that are part of ship?”

Keith frowns, wondering what’s happened to the translation circuit in his uniform. “Yes, I was on the ship. No one else was aboard. We got flung through a portal of some sort that took us here to New Olkarion. Sorry about the crash.”

The two look at one another, and the second one repeats, “New Olkarion?”

“Yes, isn’t this where you resettled after the Galra destroyed your homeworld?”

They shake their heads and the first one speaks in that strange garbled language. “In X-9-Y Sector as refugees. Now only choosing planet of relocation.”

Keith frowns. That’s not right. The Olkari quickly found a new planet to occupy, thanks to the scouting efforts of the Blade and the rebels. And what is wrong with his translator?

“Identity? You?” The second Olkari points to him.

“I’m Keith. Red Paladin of Voltron? Piloted the Black Lion?”

That sets them to babbling so fast in a communicator that he can’t keep up.

**********************

They take him and the wolf in the flyer, back to a large camp near the first signs of a permanent settlement being built. It’s mostly Olkari, doing their genius engineering thing, but there’s a smattering of other races as well. The pilot explains that they are establishing the first base of what will eventually be the new home for the Olkari, but Keith is only half listening, grateful that whatever was wrong with his translator seems to be working itself out. The pilot’s syntax is getting clearer with every sentence.

The wolf leaps out first and Keith follows him, only to hear his name being shouted. He turns to see someone sprinting across the tarmac to him, honey-colored ponytail flapping behind him.

He lets out a grunt as the other barrels into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I can’t believe it! Keith! Oh, my god, man!”

He pulls back and yes, this is Matt. But something’s wrong. It takes him a second to realize...it’s the hair. Matt had cut his hair back to military length once he rejoined the Garrison.

“Hey, Matt. Did I go through a time jump or something? Have I been missing? I’m sorry I worried everyone, but it was either get smashed to bits in the quantum abyss or go through that rip in space.”

Matt frowns, then his eyes widen. “Oh? OH. I think I know what happened, but come on. You need to hear it from Pidge.”

“Pidge is here? Why? She was at the Garrison, working on some kind of fleet to replace the lions after they left…” Keith trails off as they round a corner of one of the taller buildings and stops to stare.

Green is there, lying in a sphinx pose. A low growl of greeting rumbles through the ground and in his chest. And there’s a tiny touch to his mind, as if from a great distance, that he hasn’t felt in years...

Matt tugs gently at his elbow. “Come on. Pidge will try to explain.”

**********************

Explanations are delayed momentarily, because the instant Pidge sees Keith, she plows into him and hangs on like he’s a lifeline. She’s crying into his chest while Matt pats her back, her sobs too strong to let words out.

As she finally starts to breathe more and gasp less, Keith tries to apologize. “Hey, I’m sorry I made you all worry so much. How long was the time skip this time?”

Pidge snaps her head up to glare at him. “Keith, you died. The minute whatever Allura and Honerva did started taking effect, it caused a quintessence backlash. You were screaming in agony as it ripped you apart. We all saw it.” She pauses, making the effort to moderate her tone, and leans in to hug him again. “Allura explained it after she got back.”

“Wait…” Keith tries to work through what Pidge just said. “What do you mean, I died? Allura’s the one that died! She never came back from joining with Honerva to save the last reality.”

Matt takes up the thread, rubbing Pidge’s shoulder. “We think the minute that one reality was preserved, nature took over and different actions began causing different outcomes again. Something as small as intending to step right but stepping left instead...two outcomes and two realities. In your reality Allura died, but in ours… you did.”

The wolf rubs against them and Pidge automatically reaches to pet him. Keith tries again. “So we’re in a different reality? Can I get back to mine?”

Pidge’s grip on him tightens, and Keith mentally kicks himself. The instinct to try and return home is the automatic first reaction. But then he realizes he can see Allura again and the sudden longing to speak to her, to know that there’s an Allura that’s still with them, surges through him and he starts trembling.

Matt comes around Pidge and holds him up. “We got you, buddy. Come on. Let’s get inside, get you checked over, contact the others. Allura or Shiro can arrange wormholes for everyone.”

“Shiro?” Now Keith’s grateful for the shakes, because his suddenly hammering heart goes unnoticed. He hopes.

Pidge nods. “Yeah, that crystal in his arm is enough for him to operate teludavs. Hell, the minute he hears he’ll probably just bring the whole Atlas in. Dad and Iverson will fuss, but it’s just for show. They’ll be glad to see you again, too.”

“Shiro’s still captain of the Atlas?”

Matt and Pidge both pause at that, looking at one another and considering the implications. Matt replies as Pidge darts forward to start opening doors.

“Of course he is. He’s connected to it, just like you all are connected to the lions. After...what happened, Shiro tried to wake Black up but it just wasn’t happening. That caused a lot of worry, even though everything’s been peaceful other than a few spread-out pockets of Galra holdouts and some squabbles breaking out, but we’ve managed so far.”

Keith loses the thread of conversation, suddenly overwhelmed by two thoughts.

If Shiro’s still in command of the Atlas, does that mean he isn’t married?

Could I fly Black again?

That distant spark flares in his head once more.

**********************

Pidge insists on running him through a pod, just to make sure there are no surprises left from going through an inter-reality gateway. When Keith emerges, Matt is there to catch him and shoo him into a side room to change back into his Blade uniform. He leads Keith to sit on an infirmary bed. throwing a blanket around his shoulders, and the wolf winks into existence behind him. Pidge comes forward, looking over a datapad in her hand.

“Good news! While the pod shows that your base cellular structures are definitely just the slightest bit different from the rest of us, everything is stable and you shouldn’t be adversely affected by being here.”

“Um, yeah, that’s good.”

“And more good news! We were able to get messages through fast and everyone is on their way! Allura’s going to get your mom, Lance and Hunk are flying their lions in, and Shiro should be here any minute! He was calling for a wormhole jump before we ended the call!”

Again, Keith can’t control the start that Shiro’s name causes. His mind won’t absorb the fact that this Shiro is apparently eager to see him.

One of the Olkari gets Pidge’s attention and she turns away to answer his question. Matt leans in and murmurs into his ear, “Okay, what is it about Shiro?”

Keith pulls the blanket tighter around himself, exaggerating the shivers from the cryo-pod. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Keith. What happened to Shiro in your reality? Did he get killed? Did his disease advance enough to ground him?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He just...decided to retire and get married.”

Matt gives him a flat stare. “Shiro. Retired.”

Keith nods.

“And got married.”

Keith nods again.

“But not to you.”

Keith can feel his expression crumpling, on the verge of tears. Matt’s arms are already around him, pulling him close, when they hear a commotion in the hallway outside.

The doors slide open and Shiro bursts through, the neck of his uniform jacket flapping open. He stops and stares at Keith, almost panting from running. Pidge is beaming as she gently encourages the Olkari to leave.

Shiro approaches, his eyes full of reverence. He gets close enough and reaches out to lay his flesh hand on Keith’s shoulder. Matt moves to the side, giving Shiro a pat on the shoulder port for his Altean arm.

“Keith,” Shiro breathes his name like a prayer. His hand slides up to Keith’s neck, his thumb tracing Keith’s scar. Every touch is tentative, delicate, as if Shiro is expecting Keith to dissolve like a mirage. His expression is almost stunned, and Keith remembers what it was like, when Allura was able to pull Shiro’s soul out of the Black Lion and restore him to a body. That disbelief, that fear that it would all be a dream and he would wake with Shiro still gone.

He reaches up and lays a hand on Shiro’s cheek, trying to reassure. He feels the tremors as Shiro holds himself back, the wetness on his fingertips as Shiro’s own tears spill over.

Keith can’t take it any more and pulls him in. And for the first time in far too long, he’s enfolded in Shiro’s arms, his ears drinking in the sound of Shiro whispering his name over and over.

And it’s perfect.

*************

Of course, perfection doesn’t last very long. Shiro pulls back, his hands still cradling Keith’s face, and turns to Pidge. “Are there any signs of ill effects? Any chance that being here is going to hurt him?”

Pidge reassures Shiro, showing him the results of the cryo-pod scan, and Keith just looks, admiring the sight of Shiro’s natural leadership asserting itself, the tone of command in his voice, after far too long of the occasional glimpses of him at a desk, dealing with stacks of paperwork. There’s a new scar, a thin line running just under his jaw and up toward his ear. It wouldn’t be that visible if Keith didn’t have a full view of Shiro’s profile. He wonders briefly what happened - Matt had been firm in his assertion that things are relatively peaceful here.

And it reminds him of the entire mixed-up situation. This isn’t his Shiro, or his Pidge. These are people who lost their Keith, watched him die in a brutal and painful way. He’s a simulacrum, a vagary. He can offer them the illusion of talking with their friend and maybe give them a sense of closure that was denied them, but he isn’t the one they mourn.

And in a demonstration of that point, Shiro lifts his hand and traces the scar that’s mostly hidden in Keith’s right eyebrow. “What happened here?”

Keith ducks his head slightly. “I made the mistake of agreeing to help Griffin learn how to use a sword.”

Shiro and Pidge crack smiles and Matt throws his head back in a loud laugh. “Oh, I would have paid to see that.”

Without thinking, Keith replies, “I’m pretty sure Kinkade recorded it—” He breaks off when the other three freeze. “Oh, what happened?”

Shiro’s thumbs caress his cheeks, making Keith hyper-aware that Shiro has not let him go yet.

“Our closest call was about a month ago. The Atlas ran into one of the former generals turned petty warlord, who still had a small fleet of battlecruisers. Kinkade got caught in a crossfire. He survived, but suffered a severe spinal injury. The pods repaired the damage, but he’ll need another few months of therapy before he’s active again.”

At that point, that spark in his psyche flares again, reminding Keith to ask. “Where’s Black?”

“Stationed on Altea,” Shiro replies. “After he chose not to respond to me, it seemed the best place. Why?”

“I… I’d like the chance to fly him again, just once more.”

Pidge frowns at that. “What do you mean? What happened in your reality?”

“The lions took off, a year after Allura died. It felt like they were going to bring her back, but it’s been almost two years since then and there’s been no sign.”

“Damn,” Pidge breathes out. “So how are they keeping the peace there without Voltron? The Atlas?”

Keith shakes his head. “The Coalition, mostly repurposing and upgrading the rebel fleet. But it’s been really quiet for us. The Blades are shifting their focus to aid and assistance.”

Shiro frowns. “Shouldn’t that be the prime purpose of the Atlas?”

Matt grips Keith’s shoulder, clearly worried about how this Shiro would take the news of his counterpart quitting to get married to some random person. But before Keith can decide how to respond, the doors open again to allow Allura and Krolia to enter.

Krolia’s approach is much like Shiro’s was, slow and tentative, disbelief in her expression. Keith has a moment to absorb the differences in this woman, one who has lost both husband and son. This Krolia seems older, worn down, with gray threads in her hair and a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. A notch mars the line of one ear.

Keith reaches out instinctively to trace it and Krolia freezes. She looks him over again, seeing the new scar, the longer hair, the Blade suit identifying his rank as a leader.

The words Mom and Krolia are battling it out, keeping his throat locked up. He holds out a hand to her, offering, and finally she takes it. She closes her eyes and draws him into an embrace, burying her nose in his hair. Keith puts his arms around her and holds still, letting her take what she needs from him.

When she pulls back, her eyes are wet like Shiro’s. Unlike Shiro, her expression is one of resignation and regret. Unlike Shiro, she sees the simulacrum first and her son second.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

She nods and takes one more hug as she murmurs back, “Your scent. It’s close, but just different enough.” She straightens and asks in a normal voice, “Is your mother still alive?” Keith nods and now she looks comforted. “That’s good.”

Pidge interrupts, bouncing in anticipation. “Lance and Hunk? How far out are they?”

Allura smiles. “They should be here in a varga or two. Or I can get them with the teludav if we can’t wait.” She steps forward for her turn, her smile almost sparkling with happiness as she tosses her thick braid of hair over her shoulder. “Keith, it’s so good to see you.”

Keith’s spirits rise in response to her uncomplicated joy and he welcomes her without hesitation.

The second they touch, a searing pain rips through Keith. Dimly he can hear Allura’s scream and the cries of alarm from the others as they collapse to the floor, writhing in agony. He can feel Shiro and Matt trying to pull them apart, but Allura’s voice echoes in his head, pleading with him to hold on, and he clings harder.

When Pidge lets out a shriek that sounds like panic, Keith forces his eyes open.

A patch of light has blossomed on Allura’s chest, a hand reaching out of it. A hand covered in a black glove and a pink-and-white vambrace.

Keith instinctively grabs the hand.

Yes! Hold on, Keith! Don’t let me go! Please don’t let go!

The pain is ebbing for him, though it feels like his skin is the only thing holding in a building explosion. He tries to channel that feeling into his arms and hands, to pull.

Allura wails in anguish, the sound echoing through the room, and Keith redoubles his efforts. He hauls on the arm, grabbing the elbow with his other hand as it emerges. He squeezes his eyes shut in concentration. Just as he thinks he’s reached his limit, that he can’t control the force anymore, he feels the wolf circling around him. Teeth close gently on the joined hands and there’s the familiar jolt of teleportation. But it lasts longer, milliseconds stretching out. Just before Keith can panic, he tumbles back into existence, a body landing on top of him.

The pressure is gone and there is stunned silence all around the room. The person lying on him stirs, inhaling deeply, and pushes up.

“Keith. You did it.”

Keith opens his eyes to see Allura’s sweat-covered face hovering over him, her hair coming down from its bun and her Altean markings glowing white.

*************

Allura is alive. His Allura is alive.

Keith can feel the difference immediately. Touching the others from this reality isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but when he takes Allura’s hand as they get to their feet, he can tell. Her presence meshes with his in a perfect harmony that isn’t there with the others.

Both Alluras are shaking and Keith puts his arms around his Allura to keep her on her feet while Krolia and Pidge help their Allura. The braid gets tossed over her shoulder once more and she takes a few deep breaths before speaking.

“Well, this was not how I expected my day to go.”

Everyone laughs at that, grateful for the breaking of tension, and Keith and his Allura look at one another, smiling. Keith brushes her hair back from her face. “What happened? How are you here?”

“Honerva’s been looking for a way to send me back for a while, ever since the realities began multiplying naturally again. We managed to call the lions to us, but once there, they weren’t strong enough to return. Then we realized that you might be strong enough, Keith, but we needed a way to concentrate your quintessence so it could be fully drawn upon. It was Honerva’s idea to send you to a different reality.”

“Of course!” the other Allura exclaims. “By isolating his quintessence, you’d be drawn to one another like magnets!”

“Exactly. I do apologize for your discomfort; Honerva wasn’t sure what would happen.”

The other Allura waves a hand. “The pain was temporary, though I think a rest is in order. What about you, Keith? Are you all right?”

Keith feels sore, battered from the inside out, but he can walk and he can think clearly. There’s no need to worry the others. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t expect the penetrating look from Shiro, who steps forward and holds out a hand. “I can take you two to guest quarters.” His Allura nods. “I think that would be wise. Sleep, then food, then we can talk about how to get Keith and me back to our reality.”

*************

Keith is reluctant to leave Allura alone. He feels paranoia creeping in, that if he lets her out of his sight she might disappear on him.

The wolf head-butts him, then follows Allura into her room. She gives him a stern look. “No chewing on anything, understood?”

The wolf curls up at the foot of the bed since he’s too large to lie in it and leave room for Allura. He thumps his tail against the floor.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She starts pulling off her vambraces and Shiro gives Keith’s arm a tug.

Keith pulls away and steps forward, kneeling to give the wolf one more pat and whisper in his ear, “Come get me if she needs me.”

Shiro leads him to a room a couple of doors down and ushers him inside. Before Keith can glance around, Shiro takes him by the shoulders and turns him so they’re facing each other.

“Are you sure you’re all right? She didn’t hurt you?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” It’s on the tip of Keith’s tongue to tell Shiro to stop hovering, but he can’t. This Shiro lost his Keith. This Shiro has had months, maybe years of living with the grief, the what-might-have-beens. Given the chance to touch, to interact, it’s no wonder he’s seeking Keith’s attention.

And it’s taking everything Keith has not to just fall into it and let it happen. He hasn’t seen these looks from Shiro for a very long time. He remembers his own reaction, finding the clone of Shiro in that dead fighter and trying to be there for him as he recovered.

He has to leave here, Keith reminds himself. He can’t stay, can’t replace their Keith. He has his own mother, his own friends, his own life.

Shiro’s grip on his shoulders tightens and the slight dissonance from his touch increases, made much more noticeable after contact with Allura. Their quintessences don’t match up.

But judging from his actions, this Shiro either can’t feel the difference or doesn’t care. He moves in, pulling Keith into yet another tight hug. There’s dampness at the neck of his uniform as Shiro lets out more tears.

Keith holds him for a moment, long enough for Shiro to pull himself together, draw back, and wipe his eyes. He looks Keith up and down. “It’s so strange seeing you like that. You stopped wearing a Blade suit after you came back to us. After you found me again.”

Keith nods. That part checks out. He rejoined the Blades a few months after the final confrontation with Honerva, realizing that there was no comfortable place at the Garrison for him. They wanted him teaching others to fly instead of leading a squad himself. And while Pidge and Shiro were still there, they were both deeply involved in their own roles and visits grew few and far between.

And then Krolia had asked for his help as the Blades worked with the former rebels to clear out a particularly well-defended nest of pirates. Flying with a first-strike team to take out the pirates’ big guns had brought Keith to life in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. The target had been clear, the teammates competent fellow-soldiers rather than cherished friends. And when Kolivan observed that Keith’s help would always be welcome, it had been an easy choice to make.

“Why… Can you tell me why? You said the Atlas isn’t helping with recovery efforts? Why are you back with the Blades?”

Keith swallows, trying to find his way out of this maze. “It’s where I can do the most good right now. But I wasn’t on a mission or anything when I went through that portal. I was just exploring the quantum abyss again.” He glances away, in the direction of Allura’s room. “I wanted to see if I could find more space wolves.”

Shiro laughs at that a little. “You thought Kosmo needed a mate?”

Keith scowls a little. Some things never change.

“His name’s not Kosmo.”

“Has he told you his name, then?” Shiro challenges with a smile.

“No, but he will when he’s ready,” Keith snaps back, then pauses as the thought hits him. “Where...where’s the wolf now? In this reality? Do you know?”

Shiro’s good humor fades. “He… He stayed with Krolia a while. And then she reported that he teleported away one day and just didn’t come back.”

That hits Keith like a gut punch. It must show on his face, because Shiro steps forward and pulls Keith to him. “Hey, it’s okay. Kos—your wolf is here. And who knows? Maybe our wolf will sense what’s happened and come back and you can convince him to stay this time.”

Keith nods into his shoulder. “Maybe.��� He takes a deep, steadying breath and pulls away. “We’ve got a lot to try and do tomorrow. We should sleep.”

Shiro looks disappointed, running his hands up and down Keith’s arms. “I was hoping…but okay. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Keith nods and Shiro snatches one more hug before letting him go and moving to the door. He looks back. “I know. I know it’s not the same. But I never got the chance to tell him… I love you, Keith. No matter what reality we’re in.”

Keith holds it together long enough for Shiro to leave before the sobs tear up from his throat.

If only that were true…

*************

A pounding on the door wakes Keith the next morning. He groans and rolls over, burying his aching head under the pillow. It occurs to him that the last time he ate anything was nearly two days ago and in another reality.

The door slides open and several bodies tumble in. Keith barely has time to sit up before Lance is on him, tackling him back into the bed as he whoops in delight. Then Hunk yanks them both up and into a tight group hug.

“Dude!” Hunk exclaims. “We missed you! You gotta tell us everything about your reality! Matt said you guys lost the lions? But everything’s settled down for you?”

Before Keith can reply, Romelle has joined them, worming her way in to wrap her arms around him and smacking kisses on his cheek. Lance has started babbling along with Hunk and Pidge is shouting encouragement from the door while Shiro looks on, beaming at the sight.

The subtle discomfort Keith felt yesterday when touching someone else is growing, multiplying exponentially as he’s surrounded by all of these people who are his friends, but aren’t. The headache spikes and his stomach is churning and he needs them to back off...he needs to breathe...he needs out…

The two Alluras come into the room, and the sensation of their double image pulls everyone’s attention away from him. Keith backs away as they take in the sight: his Allura back in her armor with her hair in its heavy bun, while their Allura is in an Altean divided skirt with her hair loose.

Pidge breaks the spell. “Okay, we’ve got a lot to do today! Let’s all get breakfast and then it’s off to the lab.”

*************

Between both Alluras, both Holts, Hunk, and a team of Olkari, it takes a remarkably short time to construct an arch that will, in theory, detect the proper reality through Keith and Allura’s quintessences and open a doorway to it. Pidge and Matt are going back and forth explaining their theories while those who are trying to pay attention just nod along. They are positioned on the border of the Olkari camp, with the four available lions arranged on four sides, drawing on the transreality comet that created them.

As the Alluras prepare to activate the device, Pidge cautions everyone. “Don’t get too close. We’re going to do a test run, try to isolate the correct reality, make sure it’s a stable connection, make sure the other side of the portal doesn’t open anywhere disastrously bad. Once we’re sure it works, we’ll get you guys home.” She glances up at Keith, her voice wavering just a little.

He’s been avoiding touching anyone other than his Allura since getting overwhelmed earlier, but the hint of grief in Pidge’s words gets to him. He resolves to speak to each of them privately, give each of them a chance for the closure they need even though it’s going to hurt.

The wolf whines as Pidge counts down. On her mark, both Alluras reach out a hand and send a pulse of light toward the arch. It starts to glow. But Pidge’s crow of triumph turns into a panicked howl when the light leaps from the construct to envelop Keith.

“No! NO! NOT AGAIN!”

The pain engulfs him so quickly he can’t even scream.

****************

He’s in the stolen Galra ship, hurtling toward the shields surrounding Haggar’s weapon. Matt is shouting at him through the comms, but he has to do this. There’s no other way to save the team.

There’s no other way to save Shiro.

The agony of the impact only lasts for an instant.

~~~~the universe twitches~~~~

Matt is yelling again, but his voice is hopeful. “Break off, Keith! Everyone, go for the stabilizers! If the ship loses its nav control, it can’t aim!”

Keith swerves, missing the shields by scant meters, and corkscrews to the rear of the ship, firing in continuous bursts at the hull. The rebel ships converge and explosions bloom in the wake of their strikes.

The ship tilts and Matt’s ship fires at its belly, sending it into a spin. “Keep firing!”

“Rebel fleet, you did it! Naxzela has powered down! We’re out of its range!” The relief in Shiro’s voice is palpable.

“Zaiforge Cannon Senfama is back online!” Kolivan calls out through the comms.

“Rebel fleet, scatter! Let them take the ship out!” Shiro orders.

Keith responds instantly, weaving through the slower rebel fighters. When the blast from the Zaiforge cannon disintegrates the front of the Galra ship, he allows himself to relax.

“Who is that?” Lance’s voice is hostile and Keith’s heart rate skyrockets again.

“Attention Voltron! I am Lotor, crown prince of the Galra Empire. I come in peace. I think we should talk.”

***************

“You’re turning the room into a bomb!” Keith gasps, impressed at Thace’s technical ability but worried because the only entrance is blocked, with a squad of Galra soldiers on the other side.

“Yes. It’s not as elegant as the virus, but it will take down all power just the same.” Thace points to the well below them. “Your way out is below. There's an exit through the main power conduit. It leads to the second deck. Go, now.”

“You mean our way out,” Keith snaps. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Thace breaks into a wry smile. “I stand corrected. A new fellow Blade. Kolivan hasn’t had the time to indoctrinate you with the ‘mission first’ message. You have to go—you’re a paladin of Voltron. You are needed.”

“So are you!” Keith darts forward to grab Thace by the shoulder and try and pull him along.

Thace is much stronger than Keith, but it still takes him a fraction too long to loosen Keith’s grip. There’s a blast as the slab blocking the door cracks apart.

Keith’s awareness lasts long enough to feel the laser blasts that rip into him and the initial shockwave as the bomb detonates.

~~~~the universe twitches~~~~

“Go, now!”

Keith shakes his head at that. “What? No, I'm not gonna leave you!”

“You must. I will shut down the system. Paladin, this is where my journey ends, but, as a member of Voltron, you have a bigger mission. You must understand that.”

“What’s the issue? Timing? If you rigged the detonator, speed it up and come on!”

Thace looks at him briefly, then smiles. As he bends over the console and makes the adjustment, he tells Keith, “I look forward to the day Kolivan tries to instruct you in the code of ‘mission first’.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but loops his arms under Thace’s shoulders as soon as he rises. They vault off the edge and Keith pushes his jetpack to the limit as he flies them both down to the escape route.

***************

“Regris, no!” Keith feels Kolivan’s fingers just graze his back as he darts forward to try and pull his teammate to safety. He’s not even aware of Kolivan turning and running, leaving them both behind.

The explosion rips them apart before Keith can lay a hand on him.

~~~~the universe twitches~~~~

“It’s a trap!” Kolivan shouts as he lunges toward the doors that have just closed them in. Regris runs to the controls to try and override whatever self-destruct has probably been activated.

Keith looks around and spies a panel in the wall. Mentally crossing his fingers, he darts over to put a hand on the control. It slides open, showing a rack of plasma rifles. He calls out, “Here!”

Both Kolivan and Regris catch as he tosses guns at them, then Kolivan shouts, “Now!” They all fire at the center glass and it shatters, sucking them out into open space mere seconds before the ship explodes.

It takes a little doing to get back to their ship, especially since Keith has a rip in his suit, but they manage.

***************

Keith can’t breathe. His lungs are aching with the effort to find the oxygen in this thin atmosphere.

And there’s the small matter of Zethrid’s arm around Keith’s throat.

She’s screaming about revenge, about making Keith suffer as much as she has and he tries to get free because Shiro and Axca are approaching and Zethrid has raised her gun in Shiro’s direction.

Keith writhes desperately, throwing all of his weight back against Zethrid. Her shot goes high, missing Shiro, but she loses her balance and falls back, over the edge, dragging Keith with her.

~~~~the universe twitches~~~~

He can’t breathe. He’s dizzy from the lack of oxygen and Zethrid’s grip across his throat is like iron. Keith tries to break free anyway as he sees Shiro and Axca approaching slowly, the weak light reflecting off Shiro’s shoulder port…

...and only the shoulder port.

Shiro locks eyes with him and Keith plants his feet, dropping his center as much as he can.

And Shiro’s arm flies up from below the ledge to punch Zethrid across the face, then snap back toward Shiro, the fingers grabbing her gun and yanking it from her hand.

A sniper’s shot sends Zethrid backwards, stunned, and Keith twists, barely catching her by one wrist before she can fall to her death.

Shiro is there immediately to help him.

***************

“Come on, come on!” Keith yanks Red’s controls frantically but the lion is completely unresponsive. He looks up to see Zarkon shift his weapon into an enormous ax and lift it.

He’s got to move. If Zarkon takes him down, he’ll go after the Black Lion again and he’ll kill Shiro in the process.

Keith thinks he hears the screams of the others as the ax cleaves into the cockpit, bringing the ceiling down on him. He stays conscious just long enough to see the cracks in his visor and feel the cold as the vacuum of space draws his last breath from him.

~~~~the universe twitches~~~~

“Come on, come on!” Keith looks up to see Zarkon descending and tries once more to reach his lion—

There’s a jolt that feels like his soul leaving his body, then the briefest flash of a midnight landscape, purple terrain and diamond stars. And suddenly he and Red are on the far side of Zarkon’s command ship, held in Black’s jaws like a mother cat carrying her kitten.

“I got you, buddy!” Shiro sounds winded, but he’s alive. He’s alive and he’s back in Black’s pilot seat.

Keith leans into his own chair, heaving air into his lungs as Shiro takes them back to Black’s hangar in the castle.

***************

Keith stumbles as he lands on his feet, looking around for the threat. But it’s an apartment, a very familiar one. He spins around and sees Shiro in his captain’s uniform. He stands in front of the mirror bolted to the wall, holding a small navy velvet box in his hand as he talks to his reflection.

“I know we haven’t been dating very long…”

“I want to take us to the next level…”

“I think we’re good together…”

With a groan of frustration, Shiro tosses the box onto the table below the mirror and crosses the room to collapse on the sofa. He leans forward to put his head in his hands. “Why is this so hard?”

Keith can’t contain himself anymore. “Shiro!”

Shiro looks up sharply, but his eyes pass right over Keith.

“Shiro, don’t! Please don’t! I’ll come back, I promise! I’m sorry I didn’t stay, but I’ll come back!”

Shiro continues to look around. “Keith?” He rubs his flesh hand over his face and stands. “I’m hearing things now. Great.” He goes back to the mirror and picks up the box again.

Keith’s heart is tearing into pieces. “Shiro, please! I love you!”

~~~~the universe twitches~~~~

Keith watches, invisible, as Shiro checks himself in the mirror. He’s wearing jeans with a leather jacket and has driving goggles hanging around his neck. He reaches into one pocket and pulls out a red velvet box with black edging before taking a long look at himself and speaking.

“I know it’s hard to believe how far we’ve come from that day at your school. At the time I only wanted to help you, because I could see your potential. You said once that your life would have been a lot different without me. But I wouldn’t be standing here right now if it weren’t for you. You supported me when I chose my dream. You saved me...so many times. And you never once stopped believing in me. I’m honestly so humbled; you’ve seen me at my worst and yet you love me without hesitation. It took me a little while, but I know now. I love you. I’m in love with you. And I want to spend the rest of my life telling you and showing you just how much I love you.”

He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Keith, will you marry me?”

Keith wants to shout, but can only manage a whisper. “Yes!”

Shiro looks around anyway, but pain rips through Keith as a clamor of screams and shouts crashes over him in a wave.

*************

The pain evaporates as Black morphs into existence around Keith in a blaze of purple light. He grabs the controls. Black shifts back into real space and he recognizes the Olkari camp from the air. The other lions are looking up and roaring a welcome.

There’s a groan beside him and he whips around.

To see a red-and-white-clad body sprawled on the floor of the cockpit, trying to push himself up.

Frantic voices are pouring through the comms and Keith reaches for the panel automatically to answer. “I’m all right! We’re all right!”

“We?” One of the Alluras replies, her tone sharp and anxious.

The figure on the floor looks up at him. His eyes widen for a moment, then he asks weakly, “Did we do it? Did we save them all?”

Keith feels Black send assent and the other’s expression relaxes.

“Thanks, Black.” His strength gives out and Keith leaps out of the pilot’s seat to help him sit up.

The person with his own face looks up with a gleam of humor in his eyes. “So, which one of us is in the wrong place?”

*************

The others are rushing to Black, all shouting at once, as the lion lowers his head to open his jaws. Keith helps his counterpart down the ramp and they all skid to a halt, bumping into one another as they stare.

The other Keith sweeps them all with a look, a growing smile on his face. He falters twice, his eyebrows creeping together as he takes in the two Alluras, then again when he sees Krolia and Shiro.

Shiro gestures at Krolia, indicating that she should go first, but she shakes her head and pushes him toward the lion. With the amount of weight he’s bearing, Keith can’t step back yet and holds his double up. Shiro approaches with that same expression he’d shown the day before, equal parts hope and fear as he reaches out.

The other Keith doesn’t hesitate. He shrugs off the support and stumbles into Shiro, throwing his arms around his neck. Keith gets a full view of Shiro’s face, the tearful gratitude as he murmurs “Keith,” over and over. Suddenly it’s too much and Keith backs away.

Most of the others are surrounding them, looking to welcome their Keith back, but Matt breaks off and approaches him, the wolf bounding beside him. “You scared the hell out of us. Are you okay?”

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what happened.”

Matt looks down at a datapad. “Pidge was recording everything. It looked like you flew apart, the way she described it before when he died. But when our Allura was about to drop the connection, your Allura told her to keep it going. Then the readings showed energy coalescing instead of dispersing. And then the Black Lion just appeared out of nowhere and landed with both of you.”

“I saw… I don’t know how to describe it. I lost count of how many realities I saw, but in each one something bad was about to happen and then it’s like something tilted and it changed. In most of them I was dying, and the universe glitched and I lived instead.” He feels satisfaction coming from Black; it’s almost like a mental purr.

His Allura peels off as the group is sweeping their Keith toward the camp. She runs a soothing hand up and down his arm. “Are you all right?”

Keith pauses and takes stock. “I think so. I’m feeling sore from all those injuries and deaths, like echoes?”

She puts her fingers to his temples and concentrates a moment. A cool and soothing sensation fills Keith from head to toe and when she steps back, he feels much lighter. He can still remember so many of the other realities, but the physical sensations that lingered are almost gone.

She leans forward, touching her forehead to his. “I saw some of what you did. We need to try again as soon as possible. With the Black Lion here, I think we’ll have much more control this time.”

Keith nods as the wolf head-butts into his hip and Matt claps him on the shoulder. They follow the others back to the camp.

*************

If there were any doubt that the Keith who materialized out of thin air is the right Keith, it’s squashed when the wolf from this reality pops into the room where everyone is debriefing. He immediately goes to their Keith, who falls to his knees and buries his face in the thick fur.

Keith stays at the edges of the room, scratching his wolf’s ears, while everyone gets a chance to welcome their Keith home, including a comms call to the reformed Altea where Coran is stationed.

His Allura joins him when she hears the happy booming voice. Her eyes are shiny with unshed tears and Keith puts an arm around her. “We’ll be back soon and you can see him again.”

She turns into his shoulder. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

Keith pulls her closer. “Just think about getting to say hello to him again.”

Allura giggles at that even as a few tears spill over. She’s about to reply, but Shiro and the other Keith are approaching. Shiro says, “Princess, Pidge needs you. She thinks she’s got a fix on your reality but she wants to confirm it before we try again. I don’t think we’re ready to see any Keith disappear a third time.” His hand tightens around his Keith’s shoulder.

She nods and heads over to the crowd around the readout screens. The others remain. Keith takes the opportunity to look over his counterpart closely. The hair that is not quite enough for a ponytail. The absence of the scar in his eyebrow. The slightly smaller stature; Keith has grown a couple more inches in the three years since Allura left.

The confidence in his gaze. This Keith knows his Shiro loves him.

Shiro reaches over and puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened to push you two so far apart, but you’ve got the chance to fix it.”

The other Keith nods. “I’m pretty sure that last reality we saw was yours.”

Keith swallows hard. He still remembers the complete shock at getting the wedding invitation. Standing to the side with the others, his arms folded and trying not to glare at them, because they’d decided to stand together with no best man or maid of honor.

He definitely doesn’t remember his Shiro proposing to him.

His uncertainty must show in his face. Shiro glances at his Keith, who smiles and moves to one side.

Shiro steps forward and lays a hand on either side of Keith’s face. “Go to him as soon as you can. Find him and tell him. If he’s anything like me, he remembers you saying it before, but he talked himself into believing it was desperation more than truth.

“I had to lose my Keith before I realized how I felt. Don’t make your Shiro wait any longer.” He pulls Keith close, smoothing his bangs back with one hand, and places a kiss on his forehead. “I know you can do it.”

*************

They’re ready to go within two vargas. Pidge has tested the arch multiple times and every time it has materialized on a planet with a breathable atmosphere. But they have a helmet for Allura anyway and Keith summons his mask. He’s never quite figured out just how many different atmospheres the wolf can breathe, but he’s confident that of the three of them, the wolf can get to safety the quickest.

The last round of goodbyes has been said, everyone getting hugs or backslaps, and Allura has whispered something into her counterpart’s ear that makes the other Allura blush and pointedly not look at Lance. Keith gets one final nod of encouragement from Shiro and the other Keith as the portal opens once more.

“See you on the other side,” Pidge shouts over the whine of the machines and they plunge through…

And land, instinctively tumbling into rolls across soft grass. Keith gets to his feet and looks around. The terrain is familiar.

Then he looks up and curses in three different languages.

“What is it? Where are we?” Allura asks.

Keith stares into the sky, watching as dozens of celestial bodies are pulled together, stretched out and collapsing.

“We’re in the quantum abyss.”

*************

Pidge should have tested the gate once more. Ten more times. A hundred more times.

Keith is doing his best to channel his frustrations on the long branches he’s snapping into kindling length so he and Allura can have a fire. He tries to focus on the small blessings. They landed on a space whale, which means they’re not going to get drawn into oblivion. Keith kept the emergency kit from his pod, which means they have a plasma firestarter and some other vital provisions to sustain them in the short term.

And, irony of ironies, they stumbled across an entire pack of more space wolves. The whole reason Keith was here in the first place.

Keith’s wolf got in front of them as the largest of the half-dozen wolves edged forward, growling at them. He couldn’t get more than a sense of negotiations happening, but his wolf apparently convinced the pack that they were not a threat. They vanished with a string of sizzling lights. Keith’s wolf looked back at him, then disappeared as well.

That had been around a varga ago.

Allura comes up to Keith and bends to gather the sticks. “He’s been gone a while,” she observes.

Keith’s lips quirk up a little. She’s stopped calling the wolf that silly name the others forced onto him. “He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“And if he decides to stay?”

Keith glances away so Allura can’t read the pain that digs into his chest at that thought. “Then he stays. It’s his choice. I won’t take that away from him.”

Allura stands with the load of kindling in one arm. She reaches over to cradle his chin with her free hand, making him look back at her. “Is that what happened with Shiro?”

Keith jerks out of her grasp, stung. “What are you talking about?”

“Matt told me.” She grabs his arm and tugs, trying to lead him back to their makeshift camp.

He can resist, but it will only make things more difficult. It’s just the two of them, stranded together, and he can’t avoid her forever. He lets her pull him back to the clearing.

They start the fire and Allura draws him down to sit beside her. “What happened?”

He tells her. He tells her all of it, not just the bits and pieces he let slip to Matt or his mother. How he’d gotten involved in the rebuilding of the Galra as a society thanks to his connection to both Voltron and the Blades. How even as admirals Shiro and Sam Holt couldn’t fight a slow drag toward isolationism from the military bureaucrats who had suffered the invasion of Earth but had not been on the front lines to witness Sendak’s defeat. A standoff was coming, because Shiro was still the only one capable of transforming the Atlas.

Keith had suggested that Shiro take any willing crew members and bring the Atlas to Altea. Between the original plans and the crystal that had once been the castle, Coran certainly had some claim to the ship and plenty of resources on the restored planet to compensate the Garrison for the materials they contributed. But Shiro saw that as mutiny; it had turned into one of the most serious arguments they’d ever had. They’d ended on angry words, Keith warning Shiro against trusting the Earth bureaucrats and Shiro insisting that he could bring them around.

He’d been wrong. The armchair generals grounded the Atlas.

At that point the only thing Keith wanted to do was go back to Earth with a fleet and take Shiro and everyone who wanted to come with them back to space. But one of the things he had learned in his life was that choice was paramount. Keith had been given very few choices between his father’s death and meeting Shiro. He’d seen the lesson again, as Shiro rejected Adam’s ultimatum in favor of Kerberos.

So Keith had stayed back and let Shiro choose, no matter how much it hurt.

And it hurt very much indeed when Shiro chose to retire from the Garrison, followed by marrying a fellow crew member so quickly that Keith hadn’t even heard that Shiro was seeing someone.

By the end of it, Keith is crying on Allura’s shoulder as she rubs his back to soothe him. When the tears finally trail off, she sits back, taking his hands.

“Keith, you are one of the most honorable people I’ve ever known. It’s an incredibly generous trait to not push the one you hold most dear.” She reaches up and brushes his bangs to the side. “But you do have the right to tell him what you want as well.”

Keith shakes his head. “I can’t. I’d lose him, just like Adam lost him.”

The hand still holding his tightens. “No, not like that. Not a demand, not telling him he has to do it your way. But letting him know what you want? Talk together, see if there’s a way to meet in the middle? Isn’t that the cornerstone for a solid relationship?”

He looks off into the distance. He can’t argue with Allura’s logic, but doing anything that even hints that he’s trying to control Shiro’s decision paralyzes his heart with fear. It had hurt to watch Shiro go to Kerberos. It had hurt more to walk away in order for Shiro to reclaim his place with Voltron. And it had been crushing to watch Shiro tie himself to another person and settle for an ordinary life.

Keith’s not sure he can survive the pain if Shiro walks away again. He’s long since forgotten how to not care.

*************

Hours later, Keith wakes from where they’ve fallen asleep together at the fire. He’s no longer chilly and realizes there’s a very large and furry something draped over him. He smiles a little and strokes the wolf’s fur.

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and looks.

A second wolf  is curled up next to Allura.

*************

They spend the next day searching for a good place to camp. Keith comes across an honest-to-goodness cave, deeper than the one where he had lived with his mother, and he and Allura spend the rest of the day clearing it of rocks and debris. The wolves bring a carcass that looks like a cross between a deer and a llama and Keith gets to teach Allura the fine art of butchering.

The memory waves begin that night. Keith had almost forgotten about them when he’s suddenly dropped into a vision of Allura and Honerva. Faint outlines of their bodies glow against dark clouds as they face one another and concentrate. Allura gasps out Lance’s name, then the lions roar in the distance as the vision fades.

Over the next several days, they share memories. Keith gets to see Allura’s past, including surprisingly painful views of Lotor as a child. Allura sees Keith with Shiro at the Garrison and gushes over how young they were.

Keith tenses every time a wave hits, wondering when he will have to relive Shiro’s wedding, waiting for that ax to fall.

It doesn’t happen.

Eleven days later by the series of scratches Keith made on the cave wall, they feel their surroundings shake and look to one another. Allura gets to her feet when the wolves trot to the mouth of the cave. “Was that a tremor? Did that happen to you before?”

Keith shakes his head as he rises. “No, that’s new.”

It happens again, and now that he’s upright, Keith realizes that the rumble is coming from within, a growl rising from his gut into his chest and filling his heart…

Allura gasps just before twin roars echo outside their shelter. Keith grabs her hand and they break into a run out of the cave.

Across the valley, two lions crouch, heads down and jaws open wide in invitation.

**********************

After a quick discussion, they decide to start with Coran on Altea and then get in touch with everyone else. They gather their sparse belongings and Allura races to Blue, radiating joy. Keith starts up the ramp into Black, savoring the warm mental welcome, then pauses to look back.

His wolf is at the foot of the ramp, ready to board. The second wolf, smaller and with more gray in her markings, has paused several meters away. She’s been happy to stay with them so far, joining in the hunting and engaging in play with his wolf.

Keith takes a deep breath and comes back to crouch by his wolf. He scratches behind an ear and presses his face into soft fur.

“You’re one of the best friends I have. If you want to stay, I’ll try to come back and visit when I can.” He sits up and turns to the she-wolf. “But if you’d like to come with us, you’re welcome. I can promise it’s never dull.”

His wolf whines, stretching his neck out and toward the other. She takes one more look around the valley, then lopes forward to bowl Keith over, licking his face.

Allura’s voice booms from the Blue Lion. “Get your pets and come on, Keith!”

Laughing, Keith leads the two wolves up into Black’s cockpit. Black’s approval flows through him as he takes his seat and plots the course to thread them out of the abyss and to Altea.

****************

As they approach Altea’s atmosphere, Keith hails the new Castle of Lions. The comms officer on duty doesn’t get even a full sentence out before Coran’s voice fills their ears.

“Keith? Oh, thank the ancients! Where have you been?”

He pauses at that. “Um, the quantum abyss? I let everyone know I was taking a little time to explore it again.”

“My boy, you’ve been missing for nearly four phoebs! We were worried sick!”

“Oh, I...I didn’t realize. It was a couple of weeks—movements—for me. I’m sorry about that.” “You need to stop going into regions that warp space-time itself! Now, are you landing your pod here and staying for a bit or do you want a teludav somewhere? You need to let your mother and the other paladins know you’re all right.”

“Stopping here, but we’ll land out in the memorial park. Can you meet us there?”

“In the park? Why there?”

With Keith’s encouragement, Black roars as he and Blue finish breaking through the atmosphere and descend toward the castle’s grounds.

Keith knows Coran has seen their approach when the words come quietly through the comms. “Oh my.”

***************************************

Keith lands first but watches from the pilot’s seat as Blue lands and lowers her head. Allura jumps to the ground before the ramp is fully extended, staggering briefly before taking off toward the castle. There are people on the grounds, staring at the sight of two Voltron lions. They start looking at one another and calling out when they realize just who it is they’re seeing. As it turns into a crowd that looks like it might overwhelm her, Keith grabs a handful of his wolf’s fur.

They’re beside Allura in a flash and Keith draws his blade. “Back off! Don’t mob her!”

The surrounding group, mostly Alteans, are surprised enough to pause, and the wolf threads himself between them before teleporting them out of there.

The wolf deposits them back in the Black Lion’s cockpit. Allura protests, “Wait—”

And the she-wolf appears and dumps Coran into her arms.

Allura squeaks. Coran is speechless, staring at her with his mouth open. Finally he draws a shaky breath and whispers, “Princess?”

She beams, even as tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, Coran! I missed you so much!” She tightens her embrace and Coran flings his arms around her.

“Allura! How? When? What happened?”

As she starts trying to explain Honerva’s plan, Keith kneels down between the wolves. He strokes the she-wolf’s head and murmurs, “That was a good move. You’re just as smart as he is, aren’t you, girl?”

She chuffs and head-butts him as his wolf gives a mildly affronted growl. The conversation catches his attention again.

“—quintessence to draw me through. Then it was just a matter of getting to our reality from that one, although Keith gave us quite the scare. The first time the other Pidge tried the gate, there was a surge of energy, not just quintessence, that appeared to blast Keith apart. But I could still feel a connection to him somehow, and when I realized it was Black I pushed to keep the gate open. Then the energy started coming together and suddenly Black phased in, and he not only had our Keith but the Keith from that reality, who had disappeared during the final confrontation with Honerva.

“After that, we tested the gate multiple times and it worked. But it dropped us on a space whale in the quantum abyss and it took the lions eleven quintants to get to us.”

“Incredible,” Coran sighs. He turns to Keith and pulls him into a hug. “Thank you. You brought Allura back to us. Thank you.” He makes a show of producing a large handkerchief from his sleeve and blowing his nose. “Now, we need to—”

A voice bursts through the comms. “Pidge! Lance! Are you there? Did they find you yet? Yellow’s back! I’m in the Yellow Lion! Come on, guys, answer!”

“I’m here! I’m here! Green’s here!” Pidge’s joy easily matches Hunk’s.

“Holy quiznak, I can’t believe it! Lance, are you there?”

“You keep trying! I’m going to get Shiro! If the lions are coming back, then there’s a chance we can find Keith! Maybe he can get Coran to commandeer the Atlas in the Coalition’s name! They can’t say no then!”

Keith’s spirits rise, just before he remembers the bridge officer that Shiro married. If the quantum abyss has screwed up his timeline again, he wonders how long ago the wedding was.

He notices Allura giving him a look and mentally shakes himself. He steps over to the console and taps the appropriate screen while Allura signals Coran to stay quiet. “I’m here, guys. No need to summon the cavalry.”

Twin shrieks of “KEITH!” make the wolves flatten their ears.

“I’m okay! Black’s here, too. Sorry about the whole missing thing; Coran just told me how long I’ve been gone. It was only a couple of weeks for me.”

Hunk replies first. “Okay, I’ll forgive you because I’m just so glad to hear your voice again. But maybe stop going to that abyss?”

Keith laughs. “Yeah, maybe. I’m on Altea. Coran can wormhole you guys in and I can try and raise Lance.”

“And Shiro! He’s been going nuts trying to find a lead on you!” Pidge retorts.

“He has? But what about—”

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Lance!” Hunk’s gleeful shout echoes in Black’s cockpit. “Lance, did Red find you?”

“Yeah, yeah, she did.”

“So did Yellow! And Green and Black are back! Keith’s safe, he’s on Altea! Can you meet us there?”

“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Lance’s tone is quiet and Allura covers her mouth, drawing Keith and Coran’s attention. She gulps once, then touches the marks below her eyes.

Keith gets it. “Lance, are you okay?”

“Yeah...I think so. I think we need to find Blue. My marks...my marks are glowing. I think they’re finally trying to bring Allura home.” Lance’s voice breaks at Allura’s name.

***************************

Pidge tells Coran to wait until she’s corralled Shiro, so he arranges wormholes for Hunk and Lance. They land their lions in the park, now filled with people gawking and sharing rumors. Keith sends the wolves to retrieve them, depositing them in Coran’s sitting room where he and Allura are waiting.

Keith grabs Hunk’s arm and pulls him into a hug, clearing the way for Allura to fling herself onto Lance. As Hunk squeezes his ribs to the breaking point, Keith watches Allura alternate between peppering Lance’s stunned face with kisses and wiping away his tears. Finally she slows down and reaches over to grab Keith’s arm. “Here, trade for a tick. I need a hug from Hunk.”

Lance looks him over for a moment, then holds out a hand. When Keith takes it, Lance tugs him forward and throws his other arm around Keith’s neck. “You did this, didn’t you? You found a way to bring her back.”

“It was more like she had a way back but needed me to do it.”

“Still. Thank you.” Lance draws back and cuffs him on the shoulder. “Man, is Shiro gonna be glad to see you.”

“I don’t know why. He’s been busy with everything Earthside, hasn’t he?”

Lance gives him a look. “Seriously? I thought you’d gotten over this by now.”

Keith stares, bewildered. “Gotten over what?”

“Oh my GOD,” Lance starts, sounding so much like his old self that Hunk does a double-take. “Hunk, we’ve got to do it all over again.”

Hunk groans dramatically. But before Keith can ask just what they’re talking about, Coran’s voice sounds through the comms. “Pidge and Shiro are on their way!”

****************************

Keith retreats while they wait. He lets the others talk with Allura while he takes a low seat away from them and learns how the she-wolf likes her ears scratched.

Both wolves perk up, seconds before Pidge’s voice comes through the comm. “I see you guys left a parking spot! But how the heck are we gonna get through that mob to the castle? And what’s Blue doing here?”

The she-wolf disappears and reappears almost immediately with Pidge. She shrieks Allura’s name as Shiro’s voice sounds over the comm, “Wait, that wasn’t Kos—”

Keith’s wolf zaps him into Green’s cockpit before Shiro can finish his question, then shoulders him at Shiro before vanishing.

He stumbles forward, but Shiro catches him in a tight embrace. His hand is on the back of Keith’s head, fingers tangled in his hair, while his Altean arm pins Keith close.

His approach is completely different than the Shiro in the other reality. The other Shiro hesitated to hug Keith at first despite his need for comfort and closure; this Shiro is holding on to Keith with desperate strength, radiating relief.

It’s a one-eighty from Shiro’s attitude the last time Keith saw him, wrapped up in the gaze of his new husband.

Finally Shiro’s grip loosens. “God, Keith… You scared us so much.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning to go through an inter-reality portal and get sent back to land on a space whale again.”

“Is that what made you vanish for four months?” Shiro brings his hand forward, cradling Keith’s face.

Keith reaches up to remove Shiro’s hand. He doesn’t understand why Shiro is acting like this, but it’s painfully close to everything Keith ever wanted and he needs to separate them before he simply melts into Shiro’s arms.

His fingers brush across Shiro’s knuckles and pause, seeking something that he knows ought to be there. Then it hits him.

Shiro isn’t wearing his ring.

Keith had hated the ring. Not only for what it represented, but because it was so not Shiro. Big and gold with a chunky raised setting, it was designed to be flashy, to grab attention. To stake a claim. Shiro would never have chosen it for himself.

Of course Shiro might have left it behind. It’s hardly a practical thing to wear if one is going off on a mission, even one with known parameters.

Keith takes Shiro’s hand to draw it away from his face, but Shiro immediately twines their fingers together and pulls their hands to his chest. Keith can feel his heart pounding. He responds instinctively, feeling guilty for causing so much worry.

“I guess. It was just a couple of weeks for us.”

“Us?”

Keith can’t stop the smile that lights up his face. “Yeah, us.” He reaches mentally, asking the wolf to come back. There’s an ozone-filled flash and the wolf appears, sitting with his head cocked to one side in an inquiring manner.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the one that did this.”

The wolf rises and circles them, shoving Keith up against Shiro once more. Shiro laughs and wraps his arms around Keith as they teleport.

They land in the room with the others. A voice scolds, “You’re still a menace, even if you have learned not to chew things.”

Shiro’s head snaps up from Keith’s shoulder. “Allura?”

Keith disentangles himself from Shiro’s embrace and pushes him toward Allura. As the two of them hold one another and laugh through tears, Pidge crosses to tuck herself into Keith’s side.

“Missed you. Glad you’re back.”

Keith squeezes her, lifting her up from the floor. “Glad to be back. Sorry, again.”

“Can we please stay away from places that are prone to time-travel shenanigans for a while?”

Keith laughs and sets her down. “We can try.”

“On the bright side, I think this has convinced Shiro that we need to move the Atlas to Coalition jurisdiction, like you suggested.”

Keith freezes.

Pidge continues to talk, not noticing his reaction. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry, when the top brass flat-out said they weren’t going to re-activate the Atlas just to look for one person, even if said person had been one of the heroes who saved the planet. He and Dad and Iverson were ready to just take all willing crew members and go, but the comms officer threatened to report them. It took weeks of maneuvering, but Dad got him reassigned and put Matt on comms instead. By then, your mom had gotten in touch and was able to talk Shiro down from just taking off with the Atlas—oh, quiznak! Your mom!” Pidge whirls out of Keith’s arms. “Coran! We need to let Krolia know Keith’s back!”

Everyone flocks around Coran as he pulls up a comms screen and Keith is drawn to the front. He looks for the timestamp on the screen, in the corner. It lists the date on Altea, New Olkarion, Daizabaal, and Earth.

He feels eyes on him and glances around. Allura is looking at him, her eyebrows up in inquiry. He nods.

The date is nearly six months before Keith originally took off to explore the quantum abyss.

****************************

Keith has no time to consider the implications. The screen winks into life, showing his mother. Her expression is calm, but Keith can see the relief in her eyes.

“Well, little star, you gave us quite a scare. I am very glad to see you safe and sound.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t plan for an inter-reality portal springing up in my path.”

“Aha,” she replies. “So that’s what happened. Did you meet interesting versions of anyone? Was there a Sven?”

Those who experienced the first crossing to an alternate reality laugh at that. Keith shakes his head. “No, no Svens. It wasn’t all that different from here...except at the final battle, instead of Allura leaving with Honerva… I died.”

That gets cries of protest from the others. Keith draws breath to explain that it had all worked out, but almost chokes in surprise when Shiro’s arms clasp him from behind.

Krolia’s mouth curves up into a knowing smile. “No more letting him out of your sight, Captain. Understood?”

Shiro leans down and props his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Loud and clear, ma’am.”

She nods, satisfied. “Are you all staying on Altea for now?”

Shiro straightens but doesn’t let go of Keith. “I think so. We need to come up with a plan to get the Atlas off Earth.”

“Kolivan and I can make arrangements and leave in the morning, if a wormhole can be managed?” Krolia looks over at Coran.

“Absolutely, Krolia! Just signal when you’re ready!”

“Thank you, Coran.” She focuses on Keith once more. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, Mom.” The call disconnects and Keith stands awkwardly, unsure of how to deal with Shiro still clinging to him.

Hunk solves the problem by coming forward and throwing his arms around both of them. “Okay, Keith, no dying! You hear me? You don’t get to die just because the you in another reality did!”

“Oh, it’s all right. We managed to bring the other Keith back before we left.” But Allura’s actions belie her words as she steps up to join the group hug. Pidge, Lance, and Coran follow her and everyone’s combined presence helps Keith to shake his hyperfocus on Shiro’s behavior.

As they finally separate, Pidge’s eyes gleam with enthusiasm. “I want to hear everything! What you and Honerva did, the other reality, all of it!”

Allura laughs. “All right, but first I’d really like the chance for a shower. Keith and I had to make do on the space whale and I’m sure we could both use one.”

There’s a glint in Coran’s eye that makes Keith nervous. “Lance, show Allura to the royal wing. She can take any suite there. Shiro, do you remember the way to the ambassadorial hall?”

Keith groans. “Coran, I remember the way.”

“Perhaps, but you have a recently developed habit of disappearing and I’d feel better if Shiro stayed with you. We need to prevent a repeat occurrence.”

Shiro shifts but keeps his left arm around Keith. “Coran’s right. And your mother did tell me not to let you out of my sight…”

The others don’t even try to hold in their laughter as Shiro leads Keith away.

****************************

Shiro doesn’t let go of Keith the entire way and it’s about to drive him mad. His head is bursting with questions and it’s like he’s got half the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and no box with the full image. He doesn’t know what to do with the possibility that he’s got a do-over, that he’s landed back in time before he and Shiro drifted apart to the point that Shiro married someone else without even telling Keith he was dating.

He knows Shiro can feel the tension in his shoulders as they enter the room that has been Keith’s whenever he visits the new castle. Shiro’s response is to turn him and pull him into yet another hug, pressing his lips into Keith’s hair.

He can’t take it anymore. Keith pulls back and holds his hands up. “Look, I need to clean up, I need some rest, and I need to think. It’s been a really weird couple of weeks. I need some time to process it all.”

The hurt in Shiro’s eyes feels like a knife penetrating Keith’s chest, but he has to do this. He has to get some space between him and everyone else, be alone and sort everything out.

Despite his pain, Shiro does what he’s always done ever since the day he walked into Keith’s classroom door and immediately gives him support. He takes a couple of steps back.

“I don’t know the full story of what happened to you out there, Keith. And I won’t ask until you’re ready to share it. If you need time alone, you’ll have it. But I have to tell you this.”

Keith looks up at the conviction in Shiro’s tone. He has no idea what Shiro is about to say, but he’s suddenly terrified.

“You were gone for months. We were starting to think you were dead, that we’d lost you forever. And the last time you and I talked, we argued over the Atlas and left angry at each other. I’m not risking one more minute leaving this unsaid.” He steps forward and gently lays his human hand along Keith’s jaw, the thumb stroking his cheek above his scar.

“I love you, Keith. I’m in love with you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you’ve been my defender and brother-in-arms, you’ve been my rock and you’ve been my savior. I don’t know exactly when I started to realize it, but you being gone made it crystal clear for me. And I understand you may not feel the same way, but after the last few months of not knowing if I’d ever see you again, I had to tell you.”

Keith can’t speak. Fuck, he can’t breathe. What is he supposed to do, how is he supposed to handle it, when the one thing he’s wanted more than anything from the universe is suddenly dropped into his lap?

He has no idea what his face is showing, but Shiro’s determination melts into fear and concern. His Altean hand comes up and he’s wiping at Keith’s face—shit, is he crying?

“Keith! I’m sorry! You don’t—you don’t have to—” Shiro’s words fall over themselves as he grows frantic.

Keith’s throat starts working, just enough for him to gasp out, “Shiro!” before he thrusts forward and up to crush his mouth against Shiro’s.

He can feel the surprise and joy from Shiro as his hands slide back to cradle Keith’s head, tilting it just enough so their lips mesh perfectly, tongues already meeting. The joy sings through Keith as he pours everything he has into the kiss.

The need to pause and breathe is what convinces Keith that he’s not dreaming. They pull apart just enough to gulp in air. Shiro keeps his hands in Keith’s hair and leans forward to touch foreheads. Keith’s fingers dig into Shiro’s uniform jacket.

“Still need me to go?” Shiro asks, his voice soft and gentle.

Keith shakes his head. “Don’t leave.”

Shiro chuckles and bumps noses with Keith before taking one more quick kiss. “Never.”

****************************

Keith emerges from the shower, an Altean-style robe pulled over his head and towelling his hair dry. Shiro is still there, changed into casual clothes and lounging on Keith’s bed, petting the she-wolf. Her head is draped over his lap and her eyes are closed. Keith’s wolf is stretched out on the floor. He lifts his head and gives Keith an exasperated look.

Keith crouches down and gets his fingers into the thick fur behind his wolf’s ears. “Feeling left out?”

The wolf licks Keith’s face and he laughs. The she-wolf watches as Keith moves in for more scratches, then sits up and looks at Shiro.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Shiro protests as she sits up and goes for his face. “You don’t need to slobber all over me if you want your ears scratched!” He ruffles her fur and she leans into his touch with a blissful expression.

Keith hides a smile when he sees the gleam of humor in her eyes, just before she surges forward and laps against his cheek anyway.

Keith breaks into laughter again as Shiro sputters. The she-wolf jumps down to rub noses with Keith’s wolf and Shiro sits up, wiping his face.

“They’re going to be a pair of troublemakers. And they really do need names now that there’s two of them. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer?”

“Those are cats!”

“Bonnie and Clyde?”

“They were criminals!”

Shiro holds up his hands. “All right, all right, I’ll stop. But everyone else is going to try and come up with something that goes with Kosmo.”

“They can try. I’m not forcing names on them like they’re just dogs.”

Keith’s wolf butts his head against his shoulder gently and Shiro softens, clearly seeing the gesture of gratitude. He gets up and crosses to Keith, holding out a hand to pull him to his feet.

“That’s just one of the hundreds of things I love about you. You’ve never once tried to dictate anyone else’s choices to them.”

Keith grins. “Hundreds of things? Come on.”

Shiro gets a don’t-challenge-me look in his eyes, then smiles. “I love how loyal you are. I love your daring. I love your fire. I love how your eyes are the color of a starlit night sky. I love how soft your hair is. I love how this is a guaranteed way to get you to blush—”

Keith plants a kiss on Shiro’s mouth to get him to stop. Shiro’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter as he wraps his arms around Keith and parts his lips, eagerly picking up where they had left off earlier.

There’s a beep as a comm screen appears, then a flustered “Oh dear!”

They pause and turn to see a chagrined Coran.

“I’m sorry for interrupting...yes, interrupting...that. Shiro, we’re getting hit with incoming messages from Earth. Admiral Holt, Admiral Iverson, Veronica, Axca, two of the MFE pilots, an Admiral McConnell, a Lieutenant Curtis…”

Shiro straightens, suddenly on the alert. “Can you put Admiral Holt through?”

The screen blinks, showing Sam on the Atlas bridge. He calls out, “I’ve got him!” As Shiro frowns, several others gather behind Sam. Keith makes eye contact with Matt, who gives him a relieved grin as the rest break into gasps and exclamations.

“Keith!” Sam bursts out. “It’s so good to see you! You had us worried.”

Keith nods. “Sorry about that.” He pauses to let Shiro take over.

“Sam, what’s going on?”

“It’s the Atlas. It—she...I think she’s going rogue.”

****************************

Shiro insists on getting back into uniform and convening everyone in the control center, where the bridge was on the original castle. In the time it takes to gather the others, Coran reports that Admiral McConnell has tried to contact them three more times. Shiro continues to ignore him in favor of Sam’s report, summarizing the experience of the around three hundred people currently aboard the Atlas. Which is currently passing Alpha Centauri and helpfully displaying a flight pattern to the crew that will eventually take it to Altea.

Sam describes how every single person on board was woken by an alarm and most received a texted message to board the Atlas and report to Sam immediately. While Sam himself was trying to sort out what had happened, the ship had closed all entryways, including closing the MFEs in their hangars, and taken off on her own.

Sam falters as he describes the bridge crew’s fruitless attempts to get control of the ship, and Iverson clears his throat. “We think the Atlas is coming to find you, Shiro.”

Coran lets out a hiss of breath. “Astonishing. Just like how Red used to go after Keith if he needed her.”

Shiro chews on his lower lip a moment. “Does anyone have a roster of who’s on board?”

Veronica has a tablet in her hand, skimming its display. “Yes, and yes, everyone on board is part of the group we considered trustworthy when we talked about ways to get the Atlas out of Garrison control. Including families. My parents got here before I did.”

Coran and Allura look at one another and she nods. He turns to the comm screen. “Admiral Holt, as a founding member of the Galactic Coalition, planet Altea officially offers your ship and crew sanctuary. We will begin preparing a formal request that the Atlas be moved to Coalition jurisdiction to present to the Garrison. In the meantime, we can arrange a wormhole, if you can convince the Atlas to fly through it.”

“Better idea,” Pidge pipes up. “Keith can take Shiro in Black through a wormhole to their location, and once they’re on board Shiro can direct the Atlas back through a return one.”

Shiro glances over at Keith a little shyly. Keith smiles back and can’t even bring himself to mind when Matt’s whoop of “Finally!” sparks a wave of babble and congratulatory cheers from both sides of the transmission.

****************************

It’s a messy transition.

The armchair admirals, led by McConnell, try to demand the return of the Atlas in front of the Galactic Coalition’s judicial body. Coran represents the Coalition and delivers an incredibly impassioned speech about how the Atlas may have begun by helping to save the Earth from the Galra but ended by helping to save all realities everywhere. It doesn’t help when another admiral makes a not-so-vague threat to the crew members who might want to return long enough to visit friends or put their affairs in order for a permanent move to space.

McConnell can’t silence him fast enough. The judges’ decision is a foregone conclusion after that.

****************************

Keith is leading a joint paladin/MFE  training session when the text comes through: How about a hoverbike ride before it gets too dark?

Keith grins. The training session is supposed to go for another half-varga, but they’ve done particularly well today and deserve a bit of a break. He texts back an affirmative to Shiro and gets everyone’s attention to dismiss them.

James looks put out at the deviation from their schedule. Lance trades a high-five with Nadia before going over to grab Allura’s hand. Pidge and Ina immediately put their heads together—they’ve been spending all their free time trying to incorporate Balmera crystals into the MFE jet engines so they don’t have to charge as often. Keith pulls Hunk aside for a quick consultation on putting a picnic together and Hunk promises to have a hamper delivered to the hangar that holds personal vehicles.

Even with that and stopping to change into casual clothes, Keith arrives first. He loads the hamper onto his hoverbike and opens the hangar door to the afternoon sunshine. They’re currently stationed on Tympaysia, a new member of the Coalition, and the Atlas is parked in an arid region that is remarkably like the Arizona desert except with sands of blue and purple instead of red and brown.

Shiro enters and heads straight for Keith, giving him a light kiss in greeting. Keith admires him for a moment in his black leather jacket—Keith has appropriated his old one from their Garrison days—and takes the set of driving goggles that Shiro holds out to him.

“So, are we riding or racing?” Shiro asks.

Keith grins. “Riding. We don’t know the terrain and I’d hate to make you lose.”

“Brat.”

“Seriously, I don’t want to shake up our dinner too much.” Shiro brightens. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, I got Hunk to put something together for us.” Keith puts on his goggles and mounts his bike. “Shall we?”

They ride for a varga or so, traveling up the hills around the valley where the Atlas is docked, and find a spot high enough for a nice view. They eat and chat about random things, like Veronica and Axca dancing around one another or Ryan’s next film project. The conversation fades and they relax in comfortable silence on a spread-out blanket, watching as the sun begins to sink below the horizon.

Keith is trying to judge how much longer they might stay before it gets too dark when Shiro takes his hand.

“So, I had a reason for this. I’ve been trying to find a chance for us to be alone and away from everyone else for a while now.” He threads his fingers with Keith’s and Keith is suddenly on the alert. He doesn’t know what Shiro is leading up to, but the very air around them suddenly seems heavy with anticipation.

“I know it’s hard to believe how far we’ve come from that day, when I came to your school. At the time I only wanted to help you, because you had so much potential. You said once that your life would have been a lot different without me. But I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. You supported me when I chose my dream over everything else. You saved me...so many times. And you never stopped believing in me. Not once. I’m honestly so humble; you’ve seen the worst of me and yet you love me without hesitation. It was so hard to make myself believe I could deserve someone like you. It took believing you might be dead to make me realize that I was focusing on what might go wrong, that I was missing the chance to have something great.

“You are that something great, Keith. I love you. I’m in love with you. And I want to spend the rest of my life embracing greatness with you.”

It’s not the same as the memory Keith has from the reality-hopping, now some six phoebs in the past. But the rhythm is there, the sincere emotion in Shiro’s words as they flow from him.

And the red velvet box is there, in Shiro’s Altean hand. He lets go of Keith long enough to open it, revealing the black cushion that cradles a startling ring. The slim metal band is a bright fiery red, smooth and polished, set with a black cabochon stone.

“Keith, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

He drags his gaze up from the ring to Shiro’s face, alight with love and hope and a little fear.

Keith launches himself into Shiro’s arms, knocking him flat onto the blanket as he kisses Shiro ferociously. He’ll eradicate that fear, that doubt, from Shiro if it’s the last thing he ever does.

As the need to breathe asserts itself, Shiro takes Keith’s head in his hands and lifts him enough to look him in the eye. “So that’s a ‘yes’, I take it?”

Keith huffs. “Of course it’s a ‘yes’. What made you think I’d ever say anything other than ‘yes’?”

Shiro looks just a little abashed. He takes a lock of Keith’s hair, escaped from his braid, and tucks it behind his ear. “Well, you know how Slav would never admit anything could be a one hundred percent certainty…”

“How dare you bring Slav into my marriage proposal!” Keith tries to look angry, but can’t contain the joy he’s feeling. He beams at his fiancé.

“I promise it will never happen again.” Shiro pulls him close and sits up so that Keith is in his lap. He uses his left arm to keep Keith in place, sending the Altean arm to retrieve the ring box from where it had fallen.

Keith tugs his glove off so Shiro can slide the ring onto his finger. They both admire it for a moment as the rich light from the setting sun plays over it.

“It’s beautiful,” Keith says.

“Just like you,” Shiro replies, and he has to put fingers under Keith’s chin to get him to look up. Because Keith knows he’s blushing hard at those words.

“So beautiful,” Shiro whispers as he draws Keith in, opening his mouth as their lips touch to deepen the kiss.

Keith savors the moment, enjoying the perfection without fear of it ending. Because, in this rebuilt reality, he is certain that perfection will return often and be enjoyed for the rest of their lives.

[dreamsheartstory]

It wasn’t necessarily unusual that Niylah didn’t show up at Anya’s after her shift at The Trading Post, except that anymore it kind of was - it was only a rare night that she crashed at home, and usually there was a text waiting for Anya and Lincoln when they woke up. The sun is starting to peak over the horizon, melting the sky from midnight blue to navy to periwinkle when Anya wakes up reaching out to an empty space in front of her. Lincoln is pressed warm to her back, not quite spooning, but warm and close. The sheets in front of her are cool to the touch, which means they haven’t been slept in.

Anya hates waking earlier than she has to unless it’s only for a moment, a sleepy nudge against consciousness as she pulls Niylah into bed before succumbing once more to sleep. She sits up and scoots out of the middle of the bed; she grabs Niylah’s hoodie off the chair in the corner of the room and pulls it on as she pads through the house. It’s quiet and empty but still, she checks the couch and the breakfast nook.

Back in the room she checks her phone, which while she has several new messages, none are from her girlfriend.

Behind her Lincoln stretches and groans as he wakes, as if he senses that something is up. He shuffles across the bed and wraps himself loosely around Anya’s waist. “Did she crash at home?”

Anya shakes her phone as if a message might magically pop out of it and tosses it aside on the bed, “Don’t know.”

“Hey,” Lincoln presses a kiss to the back of Anya’s arm. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Anya stretches her neck and runs a hand through her hair. “I’m sure you’re right. She just hasn’t stayed home after work in more than a month, and it’s Saturday.”

Saturday’s meant lazy mornings in bed and sex and brunch and going out in the afternoon, and then seeing Lexa and the girls in the evening. It was the routine. Anya liked her routines.

Pulling Niylah’s hoodie around her closer she slides back onto the bed, and lays down, tugging Lincoln with her. He reaches across her and picks up her phone, handing it back to her.

“Call her, you’re pouting.” He presses a kiss to the end of her nose and settles in next to her.

Anya doesn’t want to wake Niylah up if she did just go home to sleep, but she can’t help but feel worry at the break in routine. Before she can overthink it she hits call and presses the phone to her ear. Four and a half rings later she’s met with the sound of Niylah coughing.

“Hey An., what time is it?”

Anya swallows down the guilty feeling and focuses on the relief flooding through her even as worry sets it about the thick wet cough. “Early. Sun isn’t quite up type early.”

“I slept through work.” Even sick Niylah sounds horrified at the idea.

“Atom didn’t call us, you must have texted him. What was the last thing you remember doing?”
“Coming back here after you left for work yesterday morning.”

Anya rolls over and kisses Lincoln on the forehead to get his attention. When he opens his eyes she indicates her phone, asking if he’s heard. He nods and takes the phone from Anya.

“Niylah,” his voice is still rough and sleep worn. “Darling. I’m going to come pick you up and bring you here while Anya makes whiskey tea and draws you a hot bath.”

Niylah coughs several times before she manages an answer.

With no traffic it takes Lincoln half an hour to go and pick up Niylah and get back to Anya’s apartment. He’s carrying her when they get back in, and she’s still protesting weakly that she could have walked up from the parking lot, as it was mostly an elevator ride. Every few words are punctuated with a small coughing fit.

Anya rushes over from where she’s been curled up on the couch with a book, instrumental music playing to calm herself down. She presses a kiss to the crown of Niylah’s head.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?”

Lincoln bites back a laugh at that as he sets Niylah to her feet. She coughs and sways slightly but manages to stay upright.

“I did… I just never sent the message.” Niylah holds up her phone as if it’s evidence. She coughs again before continuing, nearly doubling over. “I texted Atom that I was too sick to work, and then I apparently opened our chat and typed up a very sad sounding plea and passed out before I hit send.”

Anya pulls Niylah into a hug and kisses her forehead.

“I’m gonna get you sick,” Niylah tries to pull away but Anya just shrugs. In the few short moments of the hug Niylah’s already given her most of her weight. There’s no way they’re getting through this without a lot of them helping her move around.

“I’ll survive, besides, by then you’ll be fine and you can make me whiskey tea and put me in a hot bath.”

Niylah laughs but it turns into a cough.

Lincoln shakes his head and nudges them both toward the master bathroom. They’re typical Saturday plans might be changing but even with one of them sick and the other overly worried he knows he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

-----

Niylah snuggles down deeper into the couch between Lincoln and Anya. Her back is pressed to Lincoln and she can feel him wrap heavy against her as if he's almost asleep, his head on her shoulder. She's curled in Anya's lap, and Anya has an arm around her thighs to keep her in place. It would be perfect if she weren't burning up.

Vaguely, she remembers not being able to breathe properly laying down and Anya had coaxed her into the living room so she and Lincoln could watch Netflix while Niylah slept. Except now, between the bodies and the blanket and her fever she feels like she's trapped in a sauna.

Niylah tried to sit up fully, find the edges of the blankets and stand.

"What do you need, I'll get it," Anya whispers softly as she brushes back damp curls from Niylah's face.

"Too hot," Niylah says. It's followed by a coughing fit. Lincoln rubs her back.

She feels gross and phlegmy and doesn't know why either of them are anywhere near her.

Lincoln pulls back the blanket and it feels cooler instantly but not cool enough. She swings her feet to the ground and lets her head fall into her hands. Dizziness overtakes her and she doesn't know what she should do.

She feels the couch shift and Lincoln gets up as Anya continues to try to soothe Niylah and cool her down. Anya pulls Niylah's hair up into a messy bun and helps her take off the extra layers she had put on earlier when she was freezing. By the time Lincoln returns with a damp cloth and a glass of water she's down to short shorts and a tank top folded to expose her torso.

He places the cloth on the back of Niylah's neck. It feels like ice but she welcomes the sharp relief of it. She stays like that for more time than she can keep track of and just tries to feel less of anything. It's like the sick is filling her up and trying to burst out in any way it can.

"I want to try to lay down again," Niylah says as she sits up slowly. A coughing fit hits her then, tearing at her lungs and leaving her spitting into a spare cup. It's followed by another. "Maybe not," she groans.

Anya scoots back on the couch and piles up pillows behind her. "Come lay here," she reaches out and beckons Niylah to come lay on her chest. "At this point you've been breathing on me for eight hours already, if I'm going to get sick it's already started anyway."

Niylah scoots so she can lean back between Anya's legs. It's not laying down, but it's more reclined than she was, and with fewer clothes and no blanket the temperature is almost bearable.

She closes her eyes again. Anya's fingertips dance along her arms and she feels Lincoln lift her legs and place them in his lap as he scoots closer. His hands start massaging her knee, it's instinct at this point she thinks and that draws a small smile to her lips. Being sick sucks, but this is a small kind of wonderful.

[nautilusopus]

The Number I

Chapter 4: Before We Do Anything Else Though Let’s Talk About Math For Forty-Five Minutes

Very nervous. The more I post, the more I box myself in with potentially bad unworkable ideas that I won't be able to back out on in the middle of chapter 20. Oh well!

Things are gonna start moving pretty quickly from this point on once the setup finally wraps up. Very nervous about that too.

God this thing’s probably ridden with typos again.

Thank you again to @cateringisalie, @fury-brand​, @limbostratus​, @auncyen​, and everyone else I bothered to write this dumb garbage.

Four years after meteor-fall and Cloud Strife still isn’t himself. The thing that haunts him comes always at the same time… and when it does, on a distant far-off world, a needle moves. Twisty AU. Warnings for future chapters.

The click of the door to the decontamination airlock opening up was what woke up Aeris, and she quickly gathered up the few possessions she had brought with her and nudged Tseng awake. Cissnei was already awake somehow, and had already proceeded through ahead of her. Aeris was quick to follow -- the room was cold and humid, and an automated notification from the intercom had notified her that the other half of the team were on approach and would be using it in an hour or so.

The last airlock on the way out led into a small antechamber that would open up into the main facility. Aeris stepped out through the door, and it clicked shut behind her. Aeris looked down the long hall that stretched out in front of her, and began to lead the way down it.

"It's hard to believe it's all real," said Cissnei from behind her. "I guess someone had to be the person that realised you could actually send people into space, but it's still..."

"I guess so," she replied, heading deeper into the compound and passing through the first ring, mostly containing supplies, and into the second, containing living quarters for the crew. "All the numbers check out in the simulations, anyway." Another luxury they had now that they didn't the first time around.

They branched off into their own rooms, laid out like the spokes of a wheel. There were ten in total, though only six would be occupied. Aeris dropped off her candies in one of the rooms, claiming it as her own, and quickly followed after Tseng and Cissnei.

The next ring in was the biology lab. Tseng was already unpacking his briefcase onto the desk provided. The whole thing seemed almost too big for just one, maybe two people, and this section of the building alone probably had as much money sunk into it as the next three rings combined. Who needed eight different kinds of microscopes? Tseng did, apparently.

It had several doors leading into the next innermost ring, the medical ward; close enough to the labs for quick response in case of accidents, deep enough into the facility to prevent more of them through potential biohazard leaks. Hopefully.

There were two more rings, increasingly smaller, both separated from the sections in front and behind them by airlocks, containing a veritable jungle of computers and machines and detectors that might not ever get used. The idea was to never have to outsource anything they might find outside the facility and have it all done in-house.

Aeris took a deep breath and steeled herself in front of the airlock door of the second-to-last ring of the building, glancing at Cissnei, who nodded, not entirely sure what to expect.

"Excited?" she asked.

"Yes. Nervous, too. My feet are tingling a little."

"That could also be because we're pretty much on top of the generator right now," said Aeris. The entire thing was buried underground and heavily insulated, but the sheer amount of power on tap still made the whole area slightly charged with static.

"...Is that safe?"

"Yes," said Aeris grimly. "They wouldn't have let us build this place without getting it reapproved sixteen times. See for yourself if you don't believe me." And with that, she pushed open the door.

It seemed an unimpressive enough space upon first glance -- several computers along the outer wall, a large screen built into the inner ring. Desks, a whiteboard, and a couple servers.

Slightly more unusual was the rack of towels, and the raised metal disc about two metres across, covered by a glass panel and wired up to one of the more formidable computers in the room.

And of course, the large tank in the centre of the room. That too.

Aeris ran a hand over the side of it, suppressing a thrill of giddiness. It came up to her chest in height and was twice as wide, with a lid that was presently closed over the top. There were ten times as many wires leading from this one as there were the metal disc, and in particular three thicker ones were linked to the screen mounted on the wall.

"Spooky," remarked Cissnei, also staring at the tank, unwilling to touch it. "You're not worried?"

"Even if I was, it wouldn't matter." Truth be told, she was immensely worried. The simulations guaranteed no risk, sure. The lab rats they'd used in the trials seemed to be doing okay, sure. There would be five other people in the room with her in case something as stupid as her flipping over and choking on neuroconductive fluids happened, sure. The medical wing was intentionally right next door, sure.

A wild thought crossed her mind as she considered just jumping in the tank right now before she got cold feet. She even went as far as tipping up the lid. It was empty at the moment, of course, the drain in the bottom clearly visible. That would change in a matter of days, or perhaps hours if they were fortunate enough.

"It's exciting, too," she said after a moment, closing the lid. "We may as well get started with setup. Have everything running for when everyone gets here."

"'We'?"

"You could help, I guess. Get everything switched on and running."

"I am not touching the devil tank, though."

Aeris put her hands on her hips and frowned. "It won't do anything, even if it were on. You aren't in it, and we haven't picked a signal to replicate."

"What if you're wrong?"

Aeris gave the tank a firm pat on the lid. "Then we learn a valuable science lesson. Come on, give me a hand with the contact disc."

They worked for several hours after that. While a good majority of the simpler functions were automated, the instruments themselves weren't. Most of it wound up being staring at loading screens, waiting for systems upon systems to boot up. At about six hours into prep, Tseng joined them, having finished his work in the biolabs.

"You seem busy," he said, glancing over the pair of them. Cissnei had been pacing in circles around the room's circumference and seemed to have somehow managed to annoy herself with it, and Aeris was staring at a monitor watching driver 56 of 1189 load, a thin stream of drool of going down her chin.

"We're sciencing. What have you been doing?" Aeris shot back defensively.

"Much of the same thing," he admitted. "You aren't accomplishing anything at the moment. Neither am I. We may as well retire for the time being."

"Isn't this important?" objected Aeris, as Cissnei all too willingly went right for the door.

"Yes, but we're not supposed to be doing much without half the staff present anyway," she said. "Eat something."

"Fine, but I'm staying here," said Aeris. "I'd like to get a head start on finding a good anchorpoint. If they like, they can tell me to pick a new one when they get here."

Their meals consisted of prepackaged rations. They could have been quite a bit worse, considered Aeris as she dug into some sort of precooked meat pie-esque thing. She had offered the gummy bears and allsorts again, and no one had been particularly interested.

After another half hour of waiting for the system to be fully online, the light beneath the glass-covered disc flickered on as Aeris sat at the computer next to it and began to enter in a string of numbers -- the data from the first bridging experiment.

Once it was determined that the planes of reality they had discovered more or less had atoms the way they were understood in their own, there came talk of visiting said planes using the same technology. The process was simple, in explanation anyway. Safely sending a remote-controlled drone through to another universe had been considered, but ultimately was impossible -- there would be no way know what was on the other side without observing it, and there was no way to observe it that didn't involve sending a billion dollar rover through and hoping it didn't come out on the other side miles underground, or in the vacuum of space. The method considered by the late Dr. Gainsborough involved energy signatures -- the human consciousness was really little more than electricity, and if there were a point of reference on the other side that they recognised and had already mapped, one could use that as a jumping-off point to send their own signal through.

The problem with that, however, was the same catch-22 with the drones; there was nothing for them in the other dimension to see if there was anything for them in the other dimension.

That, and the fact that it sounded ridiculous and essentially ended her mother's career.

Eventually, she and her husband (nee Dr. Gast) had decided someone would have to be the first one in the pool. The effort had been privately funded, unsupervised, and ultimately, fatal.

People had died for these numbers.

It wasn't until three years ago that Aeris realised that they must have succeeded directly prior to the whole thing quite literally blowing up in their faces. The data was garbled enough that it had nearly been discarded, but it was there, and she had worked through it all herself, filtering out distortion, correcting for bugs, and deciphering what she could from burnt papers.

They had their signature, and with it their waypoint.

The glass-covered disc flickered on a few moments later, and pinpricks of light began popping up on its surface. All of them were instances of the pattern they had identified. Some were steadier than others. Most of them didn't remain fixed for more than an instant, and were limited in scope. She sifted through the options, watching them flicker in and out of existence, until she zeroed in on the most consistent one she could find. Good scope, steady source, very few variations. Perfect.

She scooted over to another computer and began running the calculations for it. It would probably take a lot longer on her own, but a head start was still a head start, and Cissnei and Tseng probably had a limited understanding of particle physics and the numbers that went into it anyway.

She was about five hours deep into her work before she turned to look at the disc again and swore.

The waypoint she'd been setting up calibrations for had terminated, she realised. All of them had. She could continue, but the results would be skewed with the signal truncating as it had. Perhaps she could wait a while and see if it picked up anything else.

She got up to retrieve the container of allsorts, and noticed another waypoint. Very steady, decent scope, but not particularly strong -- it had barely registered at all.

It was better than nothing, though, and five hours wasted was still five hours wasted. She scrapped the work she'd done for the first point with a heavy sigh and began on the next one, this time frequently checking to see if it was still there.

She peeled her face off the desk sometime later, not having realised she had fallen asleep. At some point someone else had left another ration pack next to her. She picked it up and went back to the outer ring to the living quarters.

Cissnei was there waiting for her. "It's about time you left that room. They're getting out of decon in ten minutes."

"Who? Oh." Aeris wiped a drool stain off the side of her face and allowed Cissnei to lead her around to the other side of the ring. "Where's Tseng?"

"Asleep," said Cissnei. "He probably didn't want to admit he was still nauseous in front of the project's head."

"I'll get him. You can say hi for me," she said, and started off down the hallway again.

"Should you be here if you're in charge -- okay, goodbye," she heard Cissnei say behind her.

By the time she got back with a decidedly less-put-together Tseng, Cissnei already appeared to be having a conversation with the three men that had just arrived, and Aeris paused uncertainly for a moment.

The first was clearly who the Netherlands had sent, what with the blond hair and blue eyes and the significant height advantage he had on most of them. He seemed mostly content to watch the others. Perhaps this was because of the language barrier, as Cissnei was presently engaged in a conversation in German with the second man. He seemed to be the oldest of the three, a few years older than the blond man, his black hair streaked with grey in places, and Aeris was fairly sure she recognised him from the meetings. She could tell even through the reserved, formal way he carried himself that he had been dying to talk to someone all day.

Aeris was half convinced the third was an intern that had wandered in by mistake. He was significantly taller than all of them and oddly musclebound for a physicist, and looked about as young as she was. He hadn't stopped fidgeting with the sleeves of his scrubs and was clearly bored out of his mind. Her mind went back to the dossiers after another moment -- by process of elimination, the lab in Hawaii had sent him over.

Cissnei paused mid-conversation and turned to Aeris and Tseng, who quickly made an effort to straighten the collar of his shirt.

"Dr. Gainsborough aus dem Vereinigten Königreich Großbritannien und Dr. Tseng aus der Volksrepublik China," said Cissnei, gesturing to each of them as they exchanged handshakes. She turned to Aeris. "Dr. Angeal Hewley from the Federal Republic of Germany, Dr. Lazard Deusericus from the Kingdom of the Netherlands, and Dr. Zachary Fair from the United States of America."

They each gave a polite nod at the mention of their names. The blond man, Dr. Deusericus, smiled. "It's an honour to work with you on this project, Dr. Gainsborough."

"Likewise, and Aeris is fine," she replied. "It'll be too stuffy if we keep up the titles the whole time we're here." She turned on her heels again and began to move back towards the sleeping quarters. "Well, get yourselves in order. We've got a lot of work to do."

The tall one, Fair, blinked in surprise, but if he would have said anything she wouldn't have heard it, already on her way towards the fifth ring, unable to keep the grin off her face.

"So, uh... that went well, I guess?" Zack watched the project head disappear around the corner and went back to messing with the sleeves of his uniform.

"Swimmingly," came Lazard's voice behind him, sounding somewhat amused as Angeal heaved a heavy sigh behind him. Zack had decided almost immediately to be on a first-name basis with everyone he was in decon with. Lazard had tolerated it good-naturedly, more or less. Angeal had responded by looking at him exasperatedly and accidentally-on-purpose not hearing him on occasion.

"So... Ange. Can I call you Ange?"

Zack received another stern look.

"Angeal, then. It's unprofessional to ignore your coworkers, Angeal."

Angeal sighed and proceeded down the hall to the living quarters.

"This relationship's off to a great start," said Zack, heading after him.

"You can't blame us for wanting to maintain a professional environment," said Lazard.

"Yeah, but we're basically bunkmates now," said Zack, looking at one of the identical white doors Angeal had just disappeared into. "Can you imagine spending a month at a time living with someone you couldn't stand? Like a girlfriend, but you can't dump them, because it's her house, and also you've lost the keys, and there are no windows and neither one of you can leave without causing an international incident."

"That's... certainly colourful," said Lazard.

"Tell me about it," muttered Zack, and picked a room at random.

It was fairly minimalist -- a bed in the corner, with a couple pillows and some blankets. He'd have to see if there were any more pillows in the supply section.

He spent a full two minutes just sitting on his bed and staring at the mirror over the sink in front of him -- it was the first time in a month he hadn't had any cameras pointed in his face. His jaw ached from the constant need for a "winning smile". He scowled at the mirror over, which was immensely satisfying, which involuntarily made him smile again, which started the cycle over.

A knock on the door dragged his attention away from the mirror. "They're setting up for the first round," came Lazard's voice. "You're needed in the fifth ring."

Zack got to his feet and stepped outside. "What, already?"

Lazard began to lead him back. "Yes, already. Apparently they'd been taking care of the preliminary work over the last day or so. Nothing left to do but start."

Zack took his time making it through the facility -- he spent a few minutes watching Tseng and Lazard hurry around medical, and offered to feed the five rats they had available to them, until Tseng had to shoo him away when he tried to take one out to pet. He probably shouldn't be getting attached to something that he'd have to watch get dissected, but then that was why he wasn't a biologist.

Another two airlocks led him into the fifth ring, where Angeal and Aeris were already deep in conversation, with Cissnei mediating between the two. Aeris was the first to greet him.

"I don't recognise you from the meetings," she said eventually. "So you're... Zax?"

"It's Zack," he grumbled. "That's a typo. And... yeah. Cosmologist. I was kind of a last minute addition."

"How last minute?"

"Try three weeks. They briefed me on the way over."

Aeris frowned, and he quickly continued. "That big scary room one door over? That was my design." She continued watching him, which he took as a sign to continue. "Partially my design, anyway. They figured, y'know, since I built it, they might as well have me operate it too. So, I'm here!" He waved. "Hello!"

"So how's it work, then?" A test. He hoped it wouldn't be like this the entire time he was working.

"The last one just ripped a hole open in spacetime for stuff to be fed through. It was, uh... brilliant, I'm sure, but wound up with some... casualties," he said, crashing into every single elephant in the room on the way to his desk. "That one just tears the hole at you."

"That sounds lethal."

"Oh, it is," said Zack, shrugging. "But by then you're in another universe. Kills you and brings you back before the laws of physics have time to realise you're dead."

It finally got her to look away, at least. "Well, welcome to the project, Zack."

"You too," he replied, turning back to his own screen and hiding a grin. Test passed, first name basis achieved.

Everyone spoke very little during the first part of setup. Deusericus, after getting set up in the medical room, had joined Tseng in observing everyone else until they were needed. Hewley, thank god, was finally present to help fine tune the calculations she'd made in a hurry and without much sleep, with Cissnei helping to translate the occasional communication or two -- it seemed he understood some English, but spoke very little of it himself. That left Fair hovering over their shoulder, apparently making Angeal nervous.

After a while, Aeris spoke up again. "I'm still sort of surprised they have someone else this young on the project," she said. "I was involved from day one, and I recommended Cissnei. What's your story?"

"Maybe they thought it'd be good publicity or something if they sent someone from Mauna Kea." He shrugged, leaning on the desk. "Genius from a poor family, y'know. Makes a good Lifetime movie. I don't think it's bragging or anything to say I'm pretty photogenic, either."

Aeris frowned. "You're awfully up-front about it."

"Hey, I said that was one of the reasons," he said, looking mildly offended. "You don't think I got my doctorate off a basketball scholarship, did you?"

"Well, you can show me," she replied, and passed him a set of papers. "Help get the overlap signal set up."

Zack looked through them, still looking mildly stung. "What's this from? I thought we'd never done this before."

At this Angeal spoke up, and Cissnei began translating.

"'We've never done this with a human before. We have tested the process on rats, using a weak partial signal. We know it's nonlethal as long as one doesn't choke and drown, and we know some kind of connection has been made, but the rats can't tell us what they're experiencing, what they've seen, or what the process is like,'" she relayed. Angeal then addressed Zack directly. "Ten days, ten rats. All fine."

"How does that work out for you?" he asked Aeris. "You'll be comatose, right?"

"That's what this is for," chimed in Deusericus, gesturing to a large screen that seemed to be more heavily wired up to the tank than the others. "This will be the first test to make sure it works."

"...And if it doesn't?" asked Zack.

"It has to," said Aeris, tying her braid more closely to her head in a bun. "They didn't tell you much, did they?"

Zack shrugged. "They went over the math itself, and the work I'd be doing. And the gateroom. Y'know, making sure anyone that goes in there comes back out in one piece. Not so much about the hell tank."

Cissnei pointed, looking triumphant. Aeris quickly continued, cutting her off.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight," said Zack. "You beat me by a year, looks like." He grinned, and Aeris again for a split second wondered if he mightn't have been an intern.

"Did you want to be here, or did they just send you over?" asked Aeris. "Why are you involved?"

"Well..." he scratched his neck. "I mean, of course I wanna be here. It's really exciting, you know? I wanted to be a part of it. That's why the rest of us joined, right Lazard?" he said, turning to Deusericus for support.

"Something like that," said Lazard, clearly amused at the familiarity. Zack had probably been doing that all through decon. "There are many reasons. The challenge, the honour for one's nation, having something nice on one's retainer..."

"And that's why you're here?" said Aeris, leaning away from the computer screen to let Angeal have a final look.

"More or less," he replied. "There's a suit for you on the examination chair. I'll meet you inside in five minutes for a physical before we start."

Cissnei flashed her another thumbs up as Aeris stood and left the room.

Lazard emerged ten minutes later following the physical, with Aeris behind him. After confirming she was in decent enough shape to not have a heart attack midway through the process, she had changed into what appeared to be a cream-coloured wetsuit, with silvery spots of conductive foil running down the spine. She'd tied her braid back up into a bun (showed them about her ribbon being work-inappropriate), and hauled herself up to sit on the ledge next to the lip of the tank as she watched it slowly fill.

She sat patiently as Lazard enlisted Cissnei's help in attaching electrodes to spots on her head and neck, as well as several more sensors monitoring her vitals. She very slowly slid her feet in -- the fluid itself was slightly viscous, and had a silvery tint to it -- and felt them drag through it with a bit more resistance than water. It had been diluted somewhat, and gallium generally wasn't known for being poisonous, but Aeris couldn't help but think of pitcher plants.

They passed her sealed oxygen mask and helped her secure it to her face. Apart from air, there would also be a mild sedative mixed in, enough to keep her from unconsciously thrashing around and flipping herself over. She and Cissnei flashed another thumbs up, and Aeris carefully lowered herself into the tank. The fluid had been heated slightly, but she still shivered as she carefully positioned herself to float on her back.

"The first set's active," she heard Tseng say from somewhere to her right. "Count down from ten."

Aeris felt her thoughts skip a beat, and she felt as though they were sagging slightly, leaving a small space underneath them. The large screen flickered on.

The sedative began to kick in, and the sagging smoothed out, leaving the space within reach. Aeris focused on it, and began to count.

Numbers began appearing on the screen, neatly typed: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

"Spooky..." she heard Zack mutter. She was sure Cissnei would probably be inclined to agree. 

"Now up from twos," came Angeal's voice. On a new line below the first came 2-4-6-8-10. Ready.

"The screen's online. The main set's coming in two minutes," said Lazard. "Good luck." The lid was closed over her, leaving her in complete darkness.

The large screen was essential for two of reasons -- once she'd made contact, she'd essentially have no knowledge of her surroundings, and no way to communicate in the event of an emergency. There would be no way to take notes, either, lacking a presence any more physical than electrical signals, and vital information could be lost due to simple human forgetfulness. The screen doubled as both.

A microphone in the lid of the tank directly over her clicked on, and Zack's voice wafted through, echoing slightly in the confined space.

"We're sending a partial at first, to see how you handle that," he said. "Just keep talking to me until you can't."

"Shouldn't a doctor be doing this?" said Aeris. The sedative had fully set in, and the warm water (well, some of it was water) she was suspended in made it feel a bit like a hot tub.

"Lazard's looking over your vitals right now and Cissnei's on translation duty. Besides, I am a doctor," he replied, and she could still hear the toothy grin in his voice.

"So 'm I."

"Well, then we're fine. You've got twenty seconds. Can you count for me?"

"Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen..." Spots of light began to appear in her vision. Minor hallucinations, something they'd expected. She made a note of it on the screen for them to go over later. The darkness in the tank suddenly seemed a lot bigger. Zack was saying something else to Tseng, and she could hear them all moving around her. The lights began flashing faster, and she shut her eyes.

"...four, three, two --"

Once, when she'd been four years old, Ifalna Gainsborough had taken her daughter to the zoo. It had been the height of summer, and while Aeris would have likely preferred to stay outside staring at the ostriches all day, her mother had successfully managed to corral her into the indoor deep sea exhibit after she started turning pink. One of her earliest memories was looking through those tanks, and coming across the informational video about dead fish, drifting to the abyssal zone at the bottom of the ocean, where there wasn't any light, until something much bigger and stranger than it snapped it up.

It was unimaginably deep here -- and at the same time, empty. It was absence, and yet she felt something incomprehensibly huge around her, and there was nothing around her at all, because here was nothing. She felt the nothing pass through her, and a low, deep noise began getting louder, like howling wind, even though there was no noise, and no wind.

Suddenly there was something, actually, and she was stunned she had missed it before. She was clearly seeing something, but for some reason her eyes didn't want to focus on it -- because of course, she had no eyes, and she was looking at nothing that existed, as far as her brain was concerned. Everything seemed distorted and distant and somewhat dreamlike.

She was in an enclosed space. That much she could make out. There was ground beneath her, and noises that she couldn't properly hear around her, because of course she wasn't hearing anything, there was nothing to hear.

She was here. She was looking at another world.

She began frantically taking stock of everything around her that she could see, which was not a lot. She wasn't entirely sure where the signal they'd overlapped with had come from, and she found she was unable to look around freely. Maybe an anchored point? That didn't make sense.

There was, at least, solid ground, or something that looked like it anyway -- that was already a promising start. She couldn't "see" particularly well, and every few seconds they plunged back into darkness, but the space around her seemed more or less Euclidean, though she would know for sure when she traversed it herself.

She was interrupted about thirty seconds later with the realisation that her chest hurt. That wasn't right, was it?

The pain got worse, and she made a note of it. Ten seconds later, she saw a tank lid slide open above her with a concerned Lazard leaning over her and offering her a towel. She tore off the mask and took deep breaths of air, even though she hadn't had any trouble breathing before.

She pulled herself out of the tank. Zack was still staring at the screen, looking gobsmacked, as was Angeal, whom Cissnei was translating for in a low, rushed voice. Tseng looked almost ready to express an emotion.

"You did it," said Zack. "You really, actually did it. Holy shit..."

"That's not workplace language," she said.

"We just discovered another planet in another universe," said Cissnei, also busy staring at her notes, "I think we deserve a 'holy shit' or two."

"Feedback," said Tseng brusquely. "We gave you two minutes. Tell us everything you can."

Aeris hesitated for a moment, wiping the accumulated moisture from her face with the towel, getting her words in order. "...It was a bit scary," she said. "I... saw something. Almost definitely objects and not hallucinations. Couldn't move for some reason. It sort of felt like I was choking."

Angeal turned around. "The partial?" he asked. Aeris shrugged.

"Can't think of any reason otherwise. Your head stayed above the surface the entire time," said Lazard.

"There's other issues we need to fine tune," said Zack, finally turning away from the note screen to look at Aeris, thumbing back towards it to direct her attention there. Prominently displayed was

minor hallucinations look like lights

very dark here, spatial distortion or limited human perception

amazing sol4igroundηdid232 lλわooks enclosed struχ24ure cave meれt maybe sign2αλわ111 yos1れ deの twowall 33tΘ1子14 metrρe供 unmer

hurtπ痛ain 6chest mine

Aeris frowned. "That's... not what I wrote."

"We figured as much," replied Lazard. "You're lucky we managed to parse the last bit. That's a safety concern we need cleared up before we try this out in full. Get cleaned up and meet us back here to disseminate our findings."

A couple hours later, they had discovered most of the difficulties had been due to it being a "test run" in the first place. The choking sensation had its roots in the same problem: higher brain functions had registered, leaving the more basic ones behind.

They'd been deemed unnecessary and a waste of power on a test run.

"Maybe you don't need to breathe, but your brain thought you did," explained Tseng. "Just as it had decided you had no nerves with which to move. Easily fixed."

Other issues lacked the necessary data for them to do much more than guess. Strangely enough, the pattern they'd used to get here seemed to be missing parts of it, snuffed out by Aeris's own, yet the signal had been more or less maintained. And there was the matter of her notes.

"I took measurements of what I saw," she explained. "Don't know how accurate they were. There shouldn't be that many numbers."

"We don't know what's making it do that," said Zack. "Shouldn't we -- "

"No" interrupted Aeris. "We're doing the next run tomorrow, and it'll probably clear up with the rest of the issues we had when we do it for real."

"And if it doesn't?" asked Tseng.

"Then we do it anyway. I'll just have to remember everything until we get it worked out." She was met with silence. "Think about it. Do we have any alternative? We've come this far."

Angeal said something else, and it took Cissnei a moment to tear her eyes away from the note screen, realise he was talking, and relay it to everyone else.

"'We keep going. We've made incredible progress, and we're about to make more. Would it be possible to do it with the lid off, and watch you directly?'"

"Probably. Maybe a bit of sensory bleed, but I can keep my eyes shut," she replied. "I'd say we do the next run today, but I don't know if I want to be drugged twice in one go."

Angeal said something else.

"'It's all about finding the path of least resistance. From our end, at least. We have a limited understanding of physics that --' I didn't translate that for you. How did..." Cissnei trailed off, looking between Aeris and Angeal, who sighed.

"I felt it would be prudent to allow you to continue translating. I assumed there was at least one other person in the group that would also require your skills," said Angeal curtly. "Clearly no one else thought the same."

"...You spoke English this entire time," said Cissnei slowly.

"Yes."

"Everyone here speaks English."

A chorus of affirmatives from the group.

"I -- why am I here, then?!" she sputtered.

"I assumed someone else would need the help," said Angeal.

"So did I," added Tseng.

"...If it helps, I know Spanish," offered Zack, scratching his neck. "If you wanna leave, the airlock's that way."

"Well, perhaps I don't!" she huffed. "Perhaps I am going to stay here anyway so you can all continue to spare my feelings!"

"Actually, maybe you have to!" said Aeris brightly. "You already went through decontamination. Going back out off schedule counts as an emergency. It could set off an investigation and stall the project for weeks. Maybe even months."

"...Thank... you?" said Cissnei after a moment, considering whether or not this was a good thing.

"You're welcome," replied Aeris. "The drugs have made me very tired, and I'm going to take a nap." Which is what she did.

The next two days were spent processing their findings and fine-tuning the tank for their first official launch. There unfortunately wasn't much data to go on about the other universe from the trial run, so most of the focus was on Aeris herself and the tank. Lazard had decided that the lid could be opened mid-process as necessary, but that the lights should remain dimmed. Cissnei would be watching the entire time ready to pull the plug at the first sign of distress, a position that she was determined to take very seriously out of resentment. Angeal and Zack would both be working with Aeris herself to focus on refining the overlap signal. Tseng had been largely quiet the entire time. Aeris walked up behind him and cleared her throat.

"Anything we should know about?" Aeris probed.

"Actually, yes," Tseng admitted. "It's not really concrete. More of a guess than a hypothesis, but... the reason we're able to recognise the signal as a familiar pattern is... I think, partially because it's organic in nature. That must have been what the late Dr. Gainsborough was identifying."

Aeris paused to consider this. "How do you know?" she asked.

"Brainwaves. Or something like them."

"...Is it intelligent?"

"That's difficult to say," said Tseng. "It could be an intelligence we lack the scientific knowledge to comprehend, but based off what we know about biology on Earth, no. Very little, if any brain activity. If there was, there would've been interference the entire time. Some sort of animal, most likely."

"Definitely bigger than a microbe, though?"

"Definitely bigger," agreed Tseng, and it was clear he was trying to downplay his excitement.

"How big did you feel?" asked Zack.

Aeris considered this as well. "I don't really know. It was hard to see, and everything was kind of numbed."

"Y'know, if you want someone else to go in for you --"

"You're volunteering?" she interjected, her eyes narrowing slightly. Zack held up his hands.

"Hell no. You wouldn't get me into that thing for a million dollars. Which is maybe how much they're paying you to do that anyway, so a billion. I thought maybe someone else could volunteer, though."

"It's really not that bad," she said. "A bit unsettling, maybe, but it passes quickly enough."

"You can swim in the hell bathtub all you like, then," returned Zack, turning his chair around to face her.

"I will," said Aeris, "and it'll be groundbreaking for everyone, I'm sure. Now come help me compile this. There's something here Angeal says might be a bug, and we'll need to do the next run perfectly or risk falling behind schedule." She opened the container on the counter to her left and tapped it with her pencil.

"Gummy bear?" she offered.

"Thought you'd never ask," interjected Angeal, reaching over the both of them. It was about time, she supposed.

[angemaya]

99.9999999% of your is Summary: all of those things — your friends, your office, your really big car, you yourself, and even everything in this incredible, vast — are almost entirely, 99.9999999% . Nuclei are around 100,000 times smaller than the atoms they’re housed in. If the were the size of a peanut, the would be about the size of a baseball stadium. If we lost all the dead space inside our atoms, we would each be able to fit into a particle of dust, and the entire human race would fit into the volume of a sugar cube. space is never truly empty. It’s actually full of including wave functions and invisible fields. when you “touch” someone (or something), you aren’t actually feeling their atoms. What you’re feeling is the force of your electrons pushing away their electrons. https://goo.gl/5M24hk 99.9999999% of your body is empty space Some days, you might feel like a pretty substantial person. Maybe you have a lot of friends, or an important job, or a really big car. But it might humble you to know that all of those things — your friends, your office, your really big car, you yourself, and even everything in this incredible, vast universe — are almost entirely, 99.9999999% empty space. the size of an atom is governed by the average location of its electrons: how much space there is between the nucleus and the atom’s amorphous outer shell. Nuclei are around 100,000 times smaller than the atoms they’re housed in. If the nucleus were the size of a peanut, the atom would be about the size of a baseball stadium. If we lost all the dead space inside our atoms, we would each be able to fit into a particle of dust, and the entire human race would fit into the volume of a sugar cube. So then where does all of our mass come from? Energy! At a pretty basic level, we’re all made of atoms, which are made of electrons, protons, and neutrons. And at an even more basic, or perhaps the most basic level, those protons and neutrons, which hold the bulk of our mass, are made of a trio of fundamental particles called quarks. But, the mass of these quarks accounts for just a tiny per cent of the mass of the protons and neutrons. And gluons, which hold these quarks together, are completely massless. A lot of scientists think that almost all the mass of our bodies comes from the kinetic energy of the quarks and the binding energy of the gluons. So if all of the atoms in the universe are almost entirely empty space, why does anything feel solid? The idea of empty atoms huddling together, composing our bodies and buildings and trees might be a little confusing. If our atoms are mostly space, why can’t we pass through things like weird ghost people in a weird ghost world? Why don’t our cars fall through the road, through the center of the earth, and out the other side of the planet? Why don’t our hands glide through other hands when we give out high fives? It’s time to reexamine what we mean by empty space. Because as it turns out, space is never truly empty. It’s actually full of a whole fistful of good stuff, including wave functions and invisible quantum fields. You can think about the empty space in an atom as you might think about an electric fan with rotating blades. When the fan isn’t in motion, you can tell that a lot of what’s inside of that fan is empty space. You can safely stick your hand into the space between the blades and wiggle your fingers in the nothingness. But when that fan is turned on it’s a different story. If you’re silly enough to shove your hand into that “empty space,” those blades will inevitably swing around and smack into it … relentlessly. Technically electrons are point sources, which means they have no volume. But they do have something called a wave function occupying a nice chunk of the atom. And because quantum mechanics likes to be weird and confusing, the volumeless electron is somehow simultaneously everywhere in that chunk of space. The blades of the fan are akin to electrons zipping around the atom, occupying chunks of space with their wave functions. It’s a painful reminder that what might seem like empty space can feel pretty solid. You’ve never really touched anything in your life Are you sitting down for this? Well, you’re not really. Your butt isn’t actually touching the chair you’re sitting on. Since the meat of your atoms is nestled away in nuclei, when you “touch” someone (or something), you aren’t actually feeling their atoms. What you’re feeling is the electromagnetic force of your electrons pushing away their electrons. On a very, very technical level, you’re not actually sitting on that chair. You’re hovering ever so slightly above it. So to conclude: Your very important human body is really, kind of, in a way, just a misleading collection of empty spaces on an empty planet in an empty universe. But at least you have a big car. Source: by ALI SUNDERMIER at businessinsider.com.au/physics-atoms-empty-space-2016-9

[hasansonsuzceliktas]

The Creative Power of Being a Female

The two poles of creation and existence, the masculine and feminine, are seen in all planes of existence. The emergence and continuation of life depend on the cooperative union of the masculine and feminine powers. Without this union, nothing emerges. Throughout history, examples of this union have been expressed using different symbols and conveyed in the folk tales of various traditions. Symbols such as earth and sky, water and fire, night and day, yin and yang, Adam and Eve, and protons and electrons are essentiallytelling us about the masculine and the feminine. These are the “positive” and “negative” forces that are inherent to existence. Of course, when we talk about positive and negative, our minds tend to associate the positive with good things and the negative with bad things. However, creation is only possible when these two forces are in balance. Therefore, creation emerged only through the cooperation of these two polar opposites, the masculine and feminine forces, and this balance is intertwined with all aspects of our lives. Despite appearing to be opposing forces, they are actually two sides of the inseparable whole of existence. One could not exist without the other. Our modern civilization tends to emphasize the masculine force through its mostly patriarchic societies. The imbalances in the world, and our civilization’s march to the brink of collapse in many ways, are due to a lack of balance between the masculine and feminine forces, with the scales being heavily weighted in favor of the masculine force. New technologies are developed without proper balance, and Mother Nature’s delicate balance is disturbed, because society overly emphasizes masculine qualities and mentalities. Most of the problems we suffer today come from the masculine force becoming increasingly dominant and consequently disrupting the natural balance. Yet when we look at nature and the cosmos, the masculine and feminine forces are in a perfect equilibrium. After all, this state of perfect equilibrium allows the continuation of existence. If we delve into the atomic level, we see how the structure of matter is based on the balance between masculine and feminine forces. Likewise, in sexual reproduction, life continues through the balance between men and women and their masculine and feminine forces. Looking at the level of the psyche or the spiritual, we see the “masculine” and “feminine” forces that were called “animus” and “anima” by Jung. These two very different energies exist in both men and women, ideally in balance. Of course, the “masculine” tends to dominate in men and the “feminine” in women, and this is all natural, but it’s important to have a certain balance. When not balanced, a dominant “masculine” in a woman brings out the character of a “ball-busting woman,” while an excess of the “feminine” in a man brings out an “effeminate” character. The ideal situation, of course, is for the masculine and feminine sides to be balanced in everyone, regardless of gender. Keeping this in mind, I would now like to talk about the creative aspect of the “feminine” force. My aim is to show you that femininity is not exclusive to women. Men should also develop their feminine sides, because they will become more creative. Of course, when seen from a wider perspective, these are nothing but symbols, but it is a fact that the feminine side of  existence is a significant part of creativity. In feminine creativity, the female part contributes a piece of herself to the creation and feeds her fetus with her own blood. The masculine force contributes as well, but he does not give up something of himself. The female nurtures her offspring with food she produces herself, allowing the baby to develop. These examples in nature demonstrate the self-sacrifice and true creativity of the female as she contributes to the creation. This is why we think of creativity as a “feminine” quality. Of course, it’s impossible to leave the masculine force out of the equation. However, the masculine force has an advantage in terms of “power,” while the feminine force has the advantage of “creativity.” We all know the saying, “Men make houses; women make homes.” This succinctly expresses the creative and constructive qualities of the feminine force. What’s more, as more men get in touch with the “feminine” force within themselves, they too will become more creative and constructive. When a person balances the masculine and feminine energies inside and acknowledges them both, it means he or she has become whole. When this wholeness is reached, everything is all right. The problems people experience are mostly caused by them repressing or rejecting one of their two inner sides. The suppressed side becomes a “shadow,” and we then start projecting  it to others. We start to say things like, “Look at how emotional that woman is!” or “Look at how rude and mean this man is!” The annoyance we feel when we face such traits is due to the masculine or feminine side that we suppressed within ourselves. Therefore, when we make peace with the situation and integrate both of our sides, things become much easier. However, this integration takes time and may require some specific exercises. The contribution of the masculine force to creation is momentary. The male’s intervention simply involves fertilizing the egg, but nurturing and caring for the egg after fertilization is left to the female force. In nature, there are many examples of this. When we focus on mental creativity, we see the same feminine and masculine forces at work here. In this case, the masculine force starts the action, let’s say by bringing up an idea. The feminine force subsequently nurtures and grows this idea, because every creative idea goes through an incubation process. All creative geniuses begin with a germ of an idea and then incubate it. The feminine force effectively dominates this process by nurturing and growing this idea until it becomes just like a comely pearl in the dark waters. Afterwards, the “masculine” force brags about what he created, just like the average family guy does. When we study the lives of all the creative geniuses, especially the male ones, we see how their feminine sides were very strong. They are creative because they utilize their “right brain” very well. Sometimes their feminine sides may become too prominent, so they may display a female character in a psycho-sexual sense. This is a pathological state, of course, but keep in mind that creativity needs the feminine force to be in the greater extent. Every manifested object needs an empty space to exist within. Without emptiness, nothing can exist. So, we may take the existing matter as masculine and the emptiness as feminine. Nothing can exist without emptiness. Likewise, we always need a certain emptiness for creativity to fill. For ideas to pop into our minds, again we need emptiness. Without it, we cannot create anything. And this emptiness is the symbol of the feminine force. Usually we focus on what already exists and ignore the empty spaces where objects do not yet exist. However, we should remember that a huge proportion of every atom is empty space, just miniscule particles moving in the emptiness. That is why all geniuses create emptiness in their minds, and as they create things for this empty space, they do it using the power of emptiness. You cannot create something without empty space. This is another example of how important the feminine force is. Our civilization has conditioned a society that emphasizes the qualities of the left brain, such as consumerism. This imbalance has led to the masculine qualities becoming more dominant while also suppressing the feminine qualities, hence the imbalances. With such an arrangement, even the women have become more male-like to fit in. The new period we are about to enter is a time for rebalancing the masculine and feminine forces and restoring the feminine creativity to its rightful place. The state of unity that will come from this integration will form the basic reality of humanity’s new era. There are so many things to talk about when dealing with masculine and feminine forces, but for the time being, I will stop here and leave the rest to your imagination. Read the full article

[avidbeader]

I need more WIPs like I need a hole in the head, but this idea has taken hold and may turn into my version of a fix-it for Voltron’s wreck of an epilogue.

-----------------------------

It’s not until he’s hurtling toward the jagged portal, the pod’s right turbine still refusing to come back online after passing through a wave of unknown radiation, that Keith thinks this might have been a bad idea.

The wolf is pressed tight against him, whining softly, but Keith can’t spare a hand to soothe him. It’s taking everything he has to try and pull the craft up and away from the viridian-rimmed tear in space while also not letting them be pulled into the atom-smashing layers of the quantum abyss.

Then the left turbine fails as well and they’re spinning. At this point there’s no choice - Keith goes for the devil he doesn’t know and yanks the steering column with all his strength to direct them away from the abyss’ gravitational wells...and into the portal.

He spares one last thought for his friends. For Shiro, praying that he truly enjoys the happily-ever-after he bought into.

**********************

Going through the portal sends them through an intense wave of energy that runs through Keith like electricity, jolting and painful. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and realizes that the engines are still offline.

Which wouldn’t be a problem if they hadn’t materialized inside a planet’s atmosphere, rushing toward the ground at terminal velocity.

The wolf growls, shoving his head under Keith’s arm, and he gets it as clearly as if the wolf had said, “Come on!” He gets out of the chair, grabs the emergency pack and his one bag out of the storage bin, and brings up his mask before throwing his arms around the wolf.

They wink out of existence and reappear several hundred meters away as the pod crashes into the planet’s surface.

Keith is kneeling next to the wolf, holding still as he lets his Blade armor feed him the necessary information. The atmosphere is compatible for both of them and he lets his mask drop to look around. It’s a meadow, grassy and green and pretty, with a forest not far off to his right and some hills in the distance to his left. It’s empty and quiet other than the ticking sounds of cooling metal. Smoke drifts up from the twisted wreck into the slightly orange sky. He doesn’t need to get any closer to see that scavenging for the extra rations and supplies is a lost cause.

Keith shoulders the bag carrying his personal effects and takes the emergency kit by the handle. Assuming that, like the deserts of his childhood, trees mean water, he leads the wolf toward the forest.

They’re about halfway to the treeline when the wolf stops and looks up. A moment later Keith can hear it as well: the whine of an engine. There’s no cover to speak of other than the tall grass and Keith drops to a crouch as the noise gets louder. The wolf huddles next to him as a flyer passes over them and lands near the wreckage. A pair of tallish thin figures get out and start poking around. Keith lifts his head just enough to get a better look at them and gasps in recognition.

Olkari.

Keith stands and waves. “Hey, I’m over here! We’re okay!”

The Olkari look at one another and approach him slowly. Keith moves forward, smiling, and they stop and stare. Finally one starts speaking.

“Survivor? Part of ship? More that are part of ship?”

Keith frowns, wondering what’s happened to the translation circuit in his uniform. “Yes, I was on the ship. No one else was aboard. We got flung through a portal of some sort that took us here to New Olkarion. Sorry about the crash.”

The two look at one another, and the second one repeats, “New Olkarion?”

“Yes, isn’t this where you resettled after the Galra destroyed your homeworld?”

They shake their heads and the first one speaks in that strange garbled language. “In X-9-Y Sector as refugees. Now only looking for planet of relocation.”

Keith frowns. That’s not right. The Olkari quickly found a new planet to occupy, thanks to the scouting efforts of the Blade and the rebels. And what is wrong with his translator?

“Identity? You?” The second Olkari points to him.

“I’m Keith. Red Paladin of Voltron? Piloted the Black Lion?”

That sets them to babbling so fast in a communicator that he can’t keep up.

**********************

They take him and the wolf in the flyer, back to a large camp near the first signs of a permanent settlement being built. It’s mostly Olkari, doing their genius engineering thing, but there’s a smattering of other races as well. The pilot explains that they are establishing the first base of what will eventually be the new home for the Olkari, but Keith is only half listening, grateful that whatever was wrong with his translator seems to be working itself out. The pilot’s syntax is getting clearer with every sentence.

The wolf leaps out first and Keith follows him, only to hear his name being shouted. He turns to see someone sprinting across the tarmac to him, honey-colored ponytail flapping behind him.

He lets out a grunt as the other barrels into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I can’t believe it! Keith! Oh, my god, man!”

He pulls back and yes, this is Matt. But something’s wrong. It takes him a second to realize...it’s the hair. Matt had cut his hair back to military length once he rejoined the Garrison.

“Hey, Matt. Did I go through a time jump or something? Have I been missing? I’m sorry I worried everyone, but it was either get smashed to bits in the quantum abyss or go through that rip in space.”

Matt frowns, then his eyes widen. “Oh. OH. I think I know what happened, but come on. You need to hear it from Pidge.”

“Pidge is here? Why? She was at the Garrison, working on some kind of fleet to replace the lions after they left…” Keith trails off as they round a corner of one of the taller buildings and stops to stare.

Green is there, lying in a sphinx pose. A low growl of greeting rumbles through the ground and in his chest. And there’s a tiny touch to his mind, as if from a great distance, that he hasn’t felt  in over a year...

Matt tugs gently at his elbow. “Come on. Pidge will try to explain.”

**********************

Explanations are delayed momentarily, because the instant Pidge sees Keith, she plows into him and hangs on like he’s a lifeline. She’s crying into his chest while Matt pats her back, her sobs too strong to let words out.

As she finally starts to breathe more and gasp less, Keith tries to apologize. “Hey, I’m sorry I made you all worry so much. How long was the time skip this time?”

Pidge snaps her head up to glare at him. “Keith, you died. The minute whatever Allura and Honerva did started taking effect, it caused a quintessence backlash. You were screaming in agony as it ripped you apart. We all saw it.” She pauses, making the effort to moderate her tone, and leans in to hug him again. “Allura explained it after she got back.”

“Wait…” Keith tries to work through what Pidge just said. “What do you mean, I died? Allura’s the one that died! She never came back from joining with Honerva to save the last reality.”

Matt takes up the thread, rubbing Pidge’s shoulder. “We think the minute that one reality was preserved, nature took over and different actions began causing different outcomes again. Something as small as intending to step right but stepping left instead...two outcomes and two realities. In your reality Allura died, but in ours… you did.”

The wolf rubs against them and Pidge automatically reaches to pet him. Keith tries again. “So we’re in a different reality? Can I get back to mine?”

Pidge’s grip on him tightens, and Keith mentally kicks himself. The instinct to try and return home is the automatic first reaction. But then he realizes he can see Allura again and the sudden longing to speak to her, to know that there’s an Allura that’s still with them, surges through him and he starts trembling.

Matt comes around Pidge and holds him up. “We got you, buddy. Come on. Let’s get inside, get you checked over, contact the others. Allura or Shiro can arrange a wormhole to them.”

“Shiro?” Now Keith’s grateful for the shakes, because his suddenly hammering heart goes unnoticed.

Pidge nods. “Yeah, that crystal in his arm is enough for him to operate teludavs, too. Hell, the minute he hears he’ll probably just bring the whole Atlas in immediately. Dad and Iverson will fuss, but it’s just for show. They’ll be glad to see you again, too.”

“Shiro’s still captain of the Atlas?”

Matt and Pidge both pause at that, looking at one another and considering the implications. Matt replies as Pidge darts forward to start opening doors.

“Of course he is. He’s connected to it, just like you all are connected to the lions. After...what happened, Shiro tried to wake Black up but it just wasn’t happening. That caused a lot of worry, even though everything’s been peaceful other than a few spread-out pockets of Galra holdouts and some squabbles breaking out, but we’ve managed so far.”

Keith loses the thread of conversation, suddenly overwhelmed by two thoughts.

If Shiro’s still in command of the Atlas, does that mean he isn’t married?

Could I fly Black again?

That distant spark flares again in his head.

----------------------------------------

More to come, although I’ll probably run it by LaTart for betaing first. Just felt like sharing today.