Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gaining clarity of a memory is hard enough, doing so whilst knowing whatever crosses your mind will be projected for everyone in the room to see just makes that challenge ten times harder. The mind-meld helmets create a pulsing sensation that feels as if it’s coming from inside your skull, like the memory, the wisp of a thought being shone from the crystal projector was just waiting, bursting to be free- rather than its truth of being lured out. 

And so put simply, the mind meld circlets were causing Lance some difficulties, especially with today’s topic of family.

“You know for how much you whine about missing them you sure can never produce much of a clear photo of them huh?” The blurred faces of his family flickered and further swirled into obscurity as Pidge waved a hand across the surface of Lance’s mirage- a shock of ocean blue eyes, ghostly pale skin, a nose broken one too many times falling into the features of the McClain’s for mere seconds. The circlet was slinging across the floor seconds later.

Thankfully the team mistook his panic for upset at Pidge’s comment, Lance finding her piled up in her arms seconds later a hushed apology sounding between them, his unnecessary acceptance following afterwards. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share this part of himself with the team, he really did want to truly but he couldn’t risk it, not when the stakes were so high. 

Shrugging himself out of Pidge’s hold, he took the offered circlet back from Allura and re-took his place back in the circle, ignoring Hunk’s quiet concern, Keith’s raised eyebrows and focused on projecting the complete McClain portrait. And if any of the others noticed his own absence in the photo they made no comment.

-

When Shiro went missing, saying the team went to shit would be putting it politely. 

Keith was volatile one moment and exhausted the next flipping between two like sides of the coin, even when Black opened for him it hadn’t really belayed instead the flames of his anger settled and cooled into a coil of determination to get his brother- Because that’s what he’d claimed they were to the team in fit of desperation, that ‘ Shiro was brother damnit’ and that ‘They needed to get him back ’. 

The before he went mad was left unsaid but well understood.

Allura’s shoulders had been held perpetually taut since they found Black empty and unresponsive; her eyes that had normally shone a thousand different shades of blue had settled into a mournful gaze. One that seemed to struggle at focusing in on anything apart from Shiro’s empty seat and then when Keith began to occupy it, anywhere past the curling brushes of her bangs.

Pidge was yet another within the dissonance of the team, festering away behind her screens- obsessive in an unhealthy way, often muttering to herself a seeming mixture of desperation to not lose another strung amongst the syllables of Shiro’s name was also Matt’s, her fathers.

And for Katie herself, becoming lost in grief as her search came to new heights, she was a ghost amongst the ship haunting her lab and nowhere else.

Situations like this weren’t uncommon for someone of Lance’s heritage- quests were thrown back and forth like a frisbee, people disappearing only to reappear months later (relatively) unscathed. He of course had been mortified when Shiro was declared missing, even more so when he stepped into the role of right-hand man. It hadn’t felt right but he accepted it. He threw himself into helping assist them all the best he could, focused on his own repertoire of skills so that when, not if but when they found Shiro, Lance could be of aid to them.

Hunk’s reaction hit him like a freight train. To be completely honest Lance still wasn’t a hundred percent sure what had happened. One night he’d gone to bed with a teary hug from Hunk, he placated it feeling that maybe his own lack of reaction was causing the others to overreact. 

And then Hunk went AWOL for a week. 

The panic had set in again, Hunk was gone, Yellow was gone and all that was left was a smudged note that promised return. Lance would have killed him, would have found his already dead body, resurrected him and killed him all over again if he hadn’t come back. 

But Hunk did come back, he came back with parts and a plan.

-

(Coran had been the one to stop the team from imploding though, lingering about and taking note, keeping the castle running, manning the communications.

Listing over hours of Alfor’s own notes, detailing a plan. 

Meticulously working to save these Paladins, another iteration of his family was not going to fall apart due to Zarkon. 

If that plan may have been mentioned in passing whilst buffing Yellow well, he’d deny it all of course.)

-

As per his usual luck, things got worse before they got better.

-

The planet of Neblina seemed pretty standard at first, Galra had wrung them dry of resources and swanned off to the next planet on their universe wide agenda. So as Lance said, pretty standard Voltron mission ( his continuous apathy definitely should have caused him more concern) . That was until he saw it .

Now the mist was something Lance was intimately familiar with, he knew what it felt like to twist the stuff, to be affected by the swirls of faint green. He couldn’t blame his shocked reaction when he saw it like 50 bazillion light years away from Earth though, like seriously it followed him here too?

Okay so back to the mission, go down and help the planet. Yeah well that went out the window when advisories came flooding out of the desolate city cloaked in mist invisible to them all but Lance.

- 

The comms were down, most of the team was down, and Lance was losing it. He couldn’t help the hysteria building in his chest as he ducked behind another chunk of rubble. Was his luck really this bad, was this unlucky stigma going to follow him forever. 

He took another potshot at the group trailing behind him before taking a turn at random, manipulating the mist as subtly as possible until he stumbled to a stop as he took in the very, solid wall that stood in front of him. 

Shit.

Taking a last ditch attempt at fixing the comms, he smacked the sides of his helmet a few times as the thundering of steps grew closer. 

Double shit. 

Still no response, he let go of his loose grasp on the mist and turned to face the entrance of the path. Okay Lance just like at camp.

You can imagine his surprise when he felt a hand grasp at his back and everything was enveloped in a starkly familiar darkness and sick feeling.

-

He passed out.

-

“..solutely no chance! Get that away from his mouth right now.”

“Well he’s not going in that test-tube looking pod, it’ll probably fry his brains or something.”

“Oh my god! We have literally shown you records- physical proof that he’s fine in there.”

“Yeah, from when you LET HIM GET BLOWN UP!”

At the increasing decibel, Lance jolted upright and registered that it wasn’t the usual cool, sterile feeling from the pod that regained his consciousness, or the harsh treatment of an enemy. Instead he felt warm?

Okay, someone was hugging him, not unusual. The fact they were shorter than him was though, because this was not Pidge cradling him like some porcelain doll, and even though the mop of hair in his face was a very similar shade to Keith’s. The black paladin was standing just in view over his hugger. It was equally as familiar though.

Holy shit.

“Nico?”

“Yeah and the rest of us dipshit.” A hand clasped his shoulder and gave a tentative squeeze. Tears sprung to his eyes, as he finally hugged back to the confused noises of his team. Oh well he could deal with that in a moment, his family was here. 

(That thought would freak him out minutes later but for right then, their touch, their familiar warmth was enough.)