#especially since this isn't really my usual style

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Oct 23

So Canon Divergent AU with a ‘reunion’. I settled on my fourth idea for this (after writing a bit for the first lol) and it ended up being a reincarnation AU (which actually corresponds to one of the tropes listed on the original prompt generator whoops). anyway, i’d consider it gen with a healthy dose of plance. ~3700 words, kinda Weird(TM), but i hope you like it!!

Lance recognizes Shiro the moment he hears his name.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, struggling throughmatrix multiplication while his older sister gnashes her teeth in frustration.“And the determinant is…five?” he asks, glancing over at her.

Veronica scowls, snatching the pencil from his hand andpulling his notebook towards her. “Look, it’s not that hard, Lance.” Shescrawls the problem on the page, walking him through each step.

Lance tries to focus, but math doesn’t come naturally tohim, so it can’t hold his attention like other subjects do. Instead, he tunesVeronica’s pointers out, the distant hum of the TV coming into focus instead.

“…making Takashi Shirogane the youngest pilot on adistant space mission in history!”the news anchor says.

Lance blinks, unsure about the prickle of familiarity that strikes him. The name Takashi Shirogane rings through hismind, and though he knows he’s neverheard it before, a distinct face follows, that of a broad-shouldered man withblack-and-white hair and a kind smile.

Just like that, Lance loses all interest in algebra,letting his sister do his homework for him like she usually does if hefrustrates her enough. But later, he retreats to his bedroom with the communallaptop and does some digging:

Lieutenant TakashiShirogane, new graduate from the Galaxy Garrison, was selected as the pilot forthe mission to Pluto’s moon Kerberos in two years’ time.

Lance stops reading; he’s not sure why he’s smiling, notwhen the man in the articles accompanying photograph is too fresh-faced to bethe strange man in his memory. But his old dreams of space travel and pilotingreturn, and the low marks in math and science on his report cards don’t matteranymore.

The next afternoon, Lance brings his homework to hissister without his mother’s prompting, and he grins when she stares up at himin surprise.

He and Hunk take to each other immediately, which makesLance wonder if Hunk senses that same strange connection as he does. It’s all too easy to fall into a routine in theirshared room, and their disagreements are infrequent. Hunk even helps Lance withhis homework, even tells Lance without prompting that there’s nothing wrongwith being on the cargo pilot track.

(”But what am I going to tell my mother when I can’t advanceby the end of the year?”

“Call it my gut, but I have a feeling it’ll work out.”

“Just like your gut had a feeling and you got food poisoning eating the commissary’slasagna?”

“Oh, very funny, Lance.”)

But Lance still can’t shake the feeling that he and Hunkmet somewhere - sometime - before theGarrison.

It doesn’t really click until a night he convinces Hunkto sneak into a bar with him. They flash fake IDs, Hunk an anxious mess whonevertheless can pass as an adult over twenty-one thanks to his bulk, andwander inside.

Hunk has only one drink, but Lance, still reeling fromKeith’s expulsion, overindulges and winds up drunk for the first time in hislife. He clings to Hunk’s arm, more sentimental and bubbly than usual - or so Hunk will tell him later - and rambles.

“I feel like I’ve known you for my entire life, man,”Lance tells him. He stares at Hunk’s earlobe and, finding it fascinating, pokesat it. “Or, no, not my entire life, because that would be stupid.”

“Ha, well, me too,” Hunk agrees with a smile, though hetwitches and bats Lance’s hand away from his face.

“No, you don’t understand, Hunk,” Lance reiterates,fisting a hand in his sleeve. “I’ve known you for longer than my entire life, or that’s how it seems.” He meetsHunk’s eyes, and in his intoxication the severity of his words don’t register.

Hunk stares back, jaw dropping slightly. “That’san…interesting way to put it,” he says.

“Oh yeah?” Lance smiles, pleased with the interestedresponse he’s getting. Maybe if he was sober, he’d worry about sounding crazy, about speaking of a recognitionin Hunk that he doesn’t even have for his own mother. “What about…how did wemeet again?”

“We met because we’re roommates at the Garrison,” Hunkreplies with more patience than Lance probably deserves.

Lance giggles. “No, that’s how we met here, Hunk,” he says with a playful andsloppy punch to his shoulder. “I mean how did we meet the first time?”

“We met…oh.” Hunk frowns and stares at his empty glass,then at the half-full pint of beer and the single shot in front of Lance. Hepushes them aside and says, “I think you’ve had enough for one night, Lance.”

“Yeah, well, if you drink more maybe you’ll remember, huh?” Lance pokes Hunk in theside, pleased to see he’s as ticklish as he recalls when he flinches, afleeting smile on his lips. “I remember…somuch right now! Wow, I didn’t know one person could have so many memories…”He trails off, lost in thoughts, of battles and fights and struggles tooinnumerable to count, along with a face, a very important face, one that makes his chest ache in a way it never hasbefore.

At least not inthis life.

Lance’s mood drops, so suddenly he thinks he’ll never behappy again. He drops his forehead against the bar and mutters, “But where’sKatie?”

“Who?” Hunk asks.

Lance shoots up and grabs Hunk’s shoulders, shaking him.“Katie!” he says. “Don’t you remember her?”

Hunk shakes his head, his eyes wide and, even to Lance’salcohol-muddled mind, worried. “Idon’t, Lance,” he says, but then he sighs and admits, “Well, it sounds familiar, but that’s such acommon name that…” He pats Lance’s hand. “Let’s get back to the dorms.”

Lance’s goes along willingly, too distracted by loosethreads of thought that end before he can follow them to the next. Shiro, Hunk, Keith, Katie… They’re allimportant, in a way he can’t begin to explain, least of all while drunk, but apart of him knows that as soon as he sobers up, the thoughts - the memories - will vanish almost as if theynever were.

Except for that…sense,that same recognition he felt when heheard the name Takashi Shirogane,when he shook Hunk’s hand, when he saw Keith’s face.

The journey back onto Garrison premises is a blur, andsomehow, they don’t get caught. Silence sits heavily between them, Lance tooconsumed and Hunk picking up his slack in avoiding detection. But once they’reback in their room, Lance collapses face-first onto his bed and says, “You’remy best friend, Hunk. You always were.”

“You’re mine too, Lance,” Hunk says, “but I don’t thinkwe should do this again.”

Lance hugs his pillow to his chest, closing his eyes andnodding into the sheets. His limbs weigh him down, making him unwilling to evenexchange his jeans for pajama pants, and Hunk’s distance hurts.

They never talk about that night again.

Keith is a different story, and one that Lance is surehe’s read before.

Top of the class, someone to whom piloting comes aseasily as breathing, and despite their instructors’ praise, he lets it fly overhim, as if it has no effect, as if he’s toogood for it.

Lance grips his pen tighter, hard enough he can imaginesnapping it in half and squirting blue ink all over his cadet uniform. Acomplex tangle of emotions always rises within him whenever he catches sight ofKeith, and he can never tell if he wants to break his jaw or pull him into ahug. Both temptations are strong, and neither really makes sense.

Sure, he dislikes Keith, covets the place he has withinthe Garrison, how effortlessly he rises to the top of the rankings, but hedoesn’t want to fight him, and hecertainly doesn’t want to show him affection.

(Absurdly, he wonders if Hunk also senses that strangekinship, but something stops him from asking.)

At first, that touchof familiarity drives him to attempt to befriend Keith, because it’s somuch - yet so different - from whathe first felt towards Hunk that he can’t help but be drawn in. But Keith showsno interest in befriending him, soLance gives up.

Maybe Keith is too goodfor him too.

Lance can’t bring himself to be surprised when he hearsthat Keith was expelled from the Garrison, but he smiles and celebrates when hespots his own name on the list of fighter pilots a few days later.

(It still feels wrong, somehow.)

There’s something familiar about Pidge, about his faceand his slight smile and even the way he dismisses them so thoroughly, butLance knows he’s never heard that name in his life.

There’s just something about Pidge that makes it hurtwhen he resists Lance’s attempts to draw him into conversation, when he tunesout his teasing and declines invitations to hang out. Of course, Lance alwaysfound it easy to make friends, though most were shallow relationships that hecould easily let go of when he started at the Garrison, but he had been brushed off before.

But when Pidge does it, when he mumbles something abouthaving homework and not having the time to sneak into town with him and Hunk,Lance’s chest aches, heart heavy with disappointment.

“You look like someone just told you your dog died,” Hunkobserves once after they successfully sneak out - without Pidge.

Lance stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets andshrugs. “I’m fine,” he tells Hunk, flashing him a smile he doesn’t quite feel.

“Is this just because Pidge won’t come out with us?” Hunkasks. When Lance doesn’t answer, he says, “Just give him some time! He’ll comearound.”

“How do you know?” Lance says.

“He always does, doesn’t he?” Hunk says with a sidewaysglance.

Lance stares at him, surprised by the ring of truth inhis words, but says, “What does that even mean?”

Hunk blinks, but then his eyes go round, as if he nevermeant to say what he did. “It just means that I…think he’ll come to us whenhe’s ready,” he says with a nervous smile, clasping his hands together.

Lance has the impression that Hunk isn’t being entirelyhonest with him, but he accepts his words anyway in favor of complaining,“We’re supposed to be bonding as a team, but Pidge doesn’t seem to care aboutthat!” He makes a wide sweeping gesture with his hands and slumps. “How are wegoing to improve our simulation scores if one of our teammates won’t even talkto us outside of class?”

Hunk claps him on the shoulder. “I don’t know, Lance,” headmits, sounding worried himself, “but I have a feeling that Pidge is dealingwith a lot more than we think.”

Lance snorts but doesn’t press his point, wanting tobelieve Hunk despite his hurt.

“You seem to care about it more than it being for a gradethough,” Hunk observes.

“Do I?” Lance says, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

Hunk nods and says, “Yeah, if I didn’t know any betterI’d think you have a crush on Pidge.”

Lance trips over a loose stone, and the only thing thatstops him from falling on his face is Hunk’s hand shooting out to catch hisarm.

The sight of Shiro, not dead after all, strapped to anoperating table makes Lance’s breath catch in his throat. There it is, thefamiliar white forelock, the scar across the bridge of his nose, and…themissing arm.

Only now a prosthetic replaces it.

It’s a strange thought, but the sight of the prostheticsomehow seems wrong.

Lance glances at Hunk, his eyes widening when he spots ashell-shocked face nearly identical to his own. Hunk’s gaze flicks up to meethis, but before he can ask if he sensesit too, Pidge decides they’ll need to free Shiro.

The situation is eerie, makes the hair on the back ofLance’s neck stand on end, and it only gets stranger when light and soundexplode from the desert, smoke billowing into the sky. Lance presses Pidge’sbinoculars to his face, inspecting the direction of the explosion, and when hesees Keith he shoots up.

They have toget Shiro now.

Luckily Pidge and Hunk - if reluctantly - agree.

Lance sleeps fitfully in Keith’s shack, partly becausethe only thing between his back and the floor is a thin blanket, and partlybecause he can feel four other mindsbuzzing within this small space. And from the sound of the others’ breathing,Lance isn’t the only one struggling to fall asleep.

He eventually slips into a doze, snatches of dreamsplaying through his mind. They’re of scenes he doesn’t recognize from now, of cities he’s never visited andviews he’s never witnessed. Faces dance in and out, but some linger,indistinct; as they resolve themselves, Lance recognizes them.

There’s Shiro, his teacher once, a brother-in-arms moreoften, and always his mentor; Keith is always with him, or so it seems, andLance knows he can call him a friend. Hunk smiles warmly, except during aflicker of danger, whether it’s a gun or a blade held to his throat. Andthere’s Pidge - no, there’s Katie,balancing an open book in one hand and spinning a pen between her fingers inthe other. She glances up from her reading and meets Lance’s eyes, and a smilehe’d never seen her wear - yet one she’d smiled, just for him, countless times- graced her lips.

Her mouth moves, but Lance can’t hear the words as thesparse background details fade. His heart skips a beat, alarmed, and he extendsa hand out to Katie. She only stares at it, uncomprehending, and Lance tries toshout for her.

Darkness swallows her first, and Lance bolts upright,dizzy and gasping for breath. He lies back down once he catches it, staringaround and heart pounding as he remembers that he’s not in his own bed in theGarrison dorms.

No light peeks in through the curtains over the shack’ssingle window, so Lance turns onto his side and closes his eyes again.

He passes the rest of the time until morning trying toremember the name that almost escaped his lips.

“I had some weird dreams last night,” Hunk says asthey’re trekking through the desert.

“What about?” Lance asks.

“I don’t know,” Hunk admits without taking his eyes offthe path in front of them. “I just remember it was…weird. I think you werethere.”

“Aw, Hunk,” Lance says with a grin, elbowing him in theside, “I’m honored to star in your dream.”

“I never said you starredin it.” Hunk rolls his eyes.

“Well, since we’re talking about dreams…” Lance makessure Shiro, Keith, and Pidge are a little ahead of him, then lowers his voiceand says, “I had some strange ones too. You, Shiro, and Keith were there.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow at him. “Pidge wasn’t?”

Lance opens his mouth to deny it, then closes it again.“I…don’t think so?” he says, Hunk’s question making him second-guess hismemory. “She could’ve been though, since I don’t remember much else.” Heshrugs, trying to make it look like he was unbothered, though…

Well, he hasn’t been able to look Pidge in the eye allday; the worst part is that he can’t even beginto explain why.

They enter the cave with the paintings around noon, afterseveral hours of walking. Lance mourns his lack of a water bottle, at leastuntil the paintings glow as soon as he rests a hand on one, and the ensuinglandslide distracts him from a mere physical discomfort.

The Blue Lion is even more diverting.

A low rumble echoes through his mind, and no matter whichdirection Lance weaves yellow eyes track his movement. The fact that no oneelse can sense it isn’t comforting at all…

…at least until the sphere around the Lion descends, andan alien voice sounds in his mind.

Lance sits in the chair inside the Lion as soon as herecognizes the room as a cockpit. He can’t help the smugness, the excitement,the impatience - all of which may notbe entirely his own. But he freezes as soon as he rests his hands on thecontrols, and—

The sounds ofbattle wash over him, of gunfire and the grunting of hardworking men and thescreams and groans of the dying. Lance leans against the wall of the trench,Hunk and Keith on either side of him, his rifle loose in his sweat-damp grip.

“This is rotten,”Keith observes.

“Yeah, we’re goingto die here,” Hunk says, sounding surprisingly calm.

Lance grimaces andsays, “God, I hope not. Katie will kill us if we do.”

Hunk nods, andKeith hums in agreement.

A shrill whistlethen sounds, and Lance’s eyes widen. “Duck!” he yells, right before theexplosive lands in their midst.

Lance opens his eyes; he can feel sweat beading down hisforehead as he tries to shake off whatever…thatwas. But he smirks and, as the Blue Lion feeds information directly intohis brain, says, “Let’s see what this baby can do.”

“Lance, mind if I ask you something about the Blue Lion?”

Lance raises an eyebrow at Pidge, surprised and a littleflattered that he addressed him. “Go for it,” he says cheerfully.

Pidge smiles, but before Lance can smile back he asks,“Did you get some weird…vision thingwhen you touched its controls the first time?”

Lance stares at her, his mind slow to process his words,but when it does his heart starts to race, mouth going dry. “What kind of vision?”

Pidge shuffles his feet, directs his gaze away from him,and if Lance doesn’t know any better he’d say he looks embarrassed. “A vision of…us.I mean, not us us,” he amends, wavinghis hands dismissively. “I mean all five ofus, but sort of in a different time or place?”

Lance blinks at him, but then he sighs and admits, “Yeah,except, well, you weren’t in mine.”

“Oh, then…the others were?” He sounds so disappointed bythe idea that he might’ve been left out that Lance grins and flings an armaround his shoulders.

“Pidge, you may not have been in my vision - or whatever it was - but I promise we’re friends.”Lance frowns. “Or we will be as soon as we figure out this Voltron business.”

Pidge snorts, but to Lance’s surprise he doesn’t pullaway. “So who was in yours?”

“Keith and Hunk,” Lance says with a shrug. “It wasa…trench of some kind, in the middle of a battle. I think we…” He swallows, thememory - because that’s how it feels,like something remembered rather thandaydreamed - hitting him all overagain. “What was yours about?”

Now Pidge withdraws, taking a step away from him.“Nothing like that,” he says. “I was reading some…old journals of my father’s.”He crosses his arms, a scowl upon his face. “It seems like even in daydreamshe’s gone.”

Lance frowns at him, uncertain what he means, but he canread the misery and anger on hisface. He rests a hand on her shoulder, reassurance like he did for him beforehe nudged the Blue Lion through the wormhole, and smiles when he looks up.“Hey,” he says, “I still have no idea what’s going on with you, but I hopeit’ll work out.” 

Pidge bites her lip and meets his eyes, but then he nodsand says, “Thanks, Lance. You’re really…not so bad.”

Lance scowls, but when he spots the teasing glint inPidge’s eyes it softens into a smile.

Lance stumbles out of the Blue Lion, fumbling his helmetoff and throwing it to the side without a second glance. He presses an armagainst his stomach, nausea threatening to empty it, and doubles hover.

His mind still fills with images and thoughts andmemories that do not belong to him,ones both familiar and unrecognizable. He sees a hundred lives in a hundredtimes, a hundred births and a hundred deaths. All the emotions and pain that accompany these new threadsthreaten to overwhelm him, and Lance experiences the collection agony of ahundred deaths’ worth of injury, disease, and weakness.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for it to pass, butwhen it does, he’s curled up on the hangar floor, tears streaming down hisface. Other memories lie in wait, and distantly Lance wonders how the rest ofthe team is coping, because he knows.

They all know.

The only constants in a hundred lifetimes is them.

Eventually, Lance manages to dismiss the memories thatdon’t belong, the ones to be mulled over later - like laughing with Keith,drinking with Shiro, studying with Hunk, and kissing Pidge.

Kissing Pidge.

Lance groans, burying his face in his hands once he sitsup. He can hear worried voices rising from the speakers in his discarded helmetand reaches for it.

“Shiro?” Allura says as he puts the helmet on. “Keith,Lance, Hunk, Pidge? Are you all right? Why haven’t you returned to the bridgeyet for debriefing?”

Lance grimaces, unable to muster much surprise that thebeautiful princess would be so businesslikeafter a major battle. He’s about to reply, or at least attempt to, butShiro beats him to it:

“Please give us all a moment, Princess,” he says, voicefainter than it should be. “We won, but I think forming Voltron took a toll onus.”

Lance chuckles, and fondly thinks of every suchunderstatement Shiro made, whether in this life or one of the last hundred.