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mason-fanfiction · 2 years

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Chapter 6: The Red Paladin

Mel and Mike Tarny arrive at the Church of Scientology in Wallingford, CT. They step through the reflective glass doors. Mike Tarny sips the green drink he is cradling in his hands. He’s wearing a shirt.

Mel and Tarny peer around the lobby area with intrigue. The calming vibrations of AJR’s hit original single “Bang Bang!” is projecting from the overhead speakers into the skulls of the lobby members. Mel taps his foot along to the music. He loves the band AJR, even in their old age. If Mason knew the truth, Mel would be living on the streets.

Mel glances at Mike Tarby’s green drink. “Why is you drink green?” he quanders judgingly. There’s no place nearby to acquire a green liquid that Mel knows of. Mike Tarny looks down but doesn’t respond. Mel scoffs his mouth. I guess I’ll never know.

A woman at the front desk greets them. “Can I help you?”

Mel crosses the lobby to greet her at the front desk and Mike Tarny follows like a little duckling.

“Yes, we’re looking for Spider, I was told he would be here.”

She flips through a few pages of a clipboard. “Which Spider?”

“Uhh…” Mel looks at Mike Tarny but Tarny shrugs his shoulders. “The Australian one.”

“They’re all Australian,” she laughs condescendingly. “It’s a common name over there.”

“Ok, fuck you, he’s-“

“Mellophone!” An Australian voice shouts from across the foyer. Mel and Tarny whip their heads around. It’s Spider!

“Spider!” Mel smiles and dabs him up.

Mike Tarny stands directly behind Mel. He raises his hand in greeting. “Hiya, I’m Mike Tarny.” Spider can’t see him because he’s behind Mel.

Mel ignores Mike Tarny. “You gotta come with us, dude. Butch Ashley appeared to me while in the bathroom at Tarny’s car wash slash house. She told me we have to go to this river, and there’s a thing in the river, and you’re the key or something. I don’t know, I was so freaked out, the memory is starting to go in the vault. But Tarny knows what I’m saying, right?”

Tarny now scoots beside him. “Yeah, I heard her say there’s a secret base in the river and we need to go there with you. This could really help Mel on his quest, right Mel?”

Mel continues to speak, “I really think this will help me on my quest.”

Spider is silent for moment, looking back and forth at Mel and Mike Tarny. “I hav to stay heyre. Oim becomin’ a priest. I canny just leave.” He ushers them towards the glass doors. “This is moi passion boys. Take cayre. And Mel-“ Mel stops in the door as Spider pats his shoulder. “Promise me ya’l go home and check on Mason, aight mate? Buy him a brayclet far his one arm. And check on him, today.” Spider winks with a smile.

“Got it, man. Thanks.” Mel walks out of the building.

—-

“Let’s kidnap him,” Mel says as he steps out of the building. “We need him, and I’m not leaving this lake undiscovered.”

“Ok!” Mike Tarny agrees.

“K, I have an idea too.”

—-

As Mel, Mike Tarny, and Elizabeth She crawl through the surprisingly spacious vents of the Wallingford Scientology building, Mike Tarny suggests a few ice breakers for the group to try.

“We used to do some sick ice breakers in marching band back in the day. I played mellophone- just like your name, Mel!”

Mel rolls his eyes as he crawls behind Tarny. “Yeah I get it.” After a beat of silence, Mel adds, “How about you tell me how you lost my brother? How’s that for an ice breaker?”

Mike Tarny’s shoulders tense up at the mention of Mel’s half-brother. “I told you, Mel, I just lost him. He just gone. I don’t know what happened. I’ve always felt guilty about it, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” Mel says, scowling. “You really couldn’t just cause 9/11 and fuck off, huh? You had to lose a baby too.”

Elizabeth She stops in her tracks. “Wait-“

“Well I feel bad about 9/11 too. I’ll never forget.” He raises his fist in the air and says, “We will, uh, overcome.”

When Mel doesn’t reply, Mike Tarny takes a deep breath. “Ok, I don’t like telling the story, but I’ll tell you the details Mel. And you too, Elizabeth, I guess.” Mike Tarny is confused as to how this random assortment of people came together. Elizabeth nods but still feels like a third wheel.

“Like I said before, Mason gave me his baby at the end of Age of Mellophones. He said he didn’t want it because it was fat,” Mike Tarny starts.

“At the end of what?” Mel asks.

“You know, the memoir Britt wrote of Mason’s love life in college. It has like ten chapters. Mostly about me and Ryan fighting for his love.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that story. It sounded like a fanfiction. I call it Mason Fanfiction,” Mel says.

“Sure, I think we all do,” Mike Tarny says. “Anyways, the child, your half-brother, was named Fatty. He was my biological son. I loved him like a son, because he was. My son. I raised him like a single mom in my shitty college apartment, but I was living my best life. Me and Fatty would take on the world together.” Mike Tarny stops crawling momentarily to take in the memories.

“I was a band captain for marching band my senior year at UConn. I was dating Shelly still, and she’d help me take care of Fatty when she had time, which was very sweet.”

“How often did she have time?” Elizabeth She asks, for some reason.

“Oh, well she was always very busy hanging out with her friends and writing captions for her instagram posts. But one time she read a story to Fatty about the concept of rest, which was very nice. Well she didn’t read it, she played her podcast for him.”

Elizabeth She nods.

“I had to bring Fatty to band practice (bractice) because the directors wouldn’t let me skip or I would fail band.”

“That’s not normal,” Mel chimes in.

“Band is great,” A chip in Mike Tarny’s neck beeps as he reflexively defends the UCMB. He continues, “One day, we were playing at a football game, and it was a really exciting game. Our team was only 21 points behind, they actually had a chance to lose by a reasonable amount. So we were all excited, doing our cheers, really focused in on the game. I always placed Fatty under my seat with my marching hat.

“In like a baby holder?”

“No, just raw.” Mike Tarny chuckles, “Sometimes he would squirm too far to the side and I’d have to edge him back with my dinkle, lol.”

“Lol,” Mel and Elizabeth repeat.

“Yeah. So, the game ends, and they lost by 209 points, but it was a good effort. I go to collect my things under my seat, and Fatty is gone.” Mike Tarny sighs in embarrassment. “It was so fucking embarrassing. I had to be like, ‘Where’s my baby?’ I was shouting ‘Fatty!’ at everyone around me. Some people misinterpreted that, and they wouldn’t let me do band the next year, so I just graduated and took a job in Wisconsin. Really destroyed some of my confidence if I’m being honest.”

Mel and Elizabeth stare at him. They’re still in the vents btw.

“Yeah, and Shelly broke up with me because I wasn’t growing as a person anymore. I decided to just move back to Wallingford because I love this town. It’s such a charming and quirky little corner of paradise.” He takes another deep breath but gets lightheaded and has to sit down. Then he realizes he’s already laying down, because they’re in the vents.

“Ok…” Mel starts, “So you just didn’t look for Fatty after that day? Didn’t contact the police?”

“Of course I did,” Mike Tarny says. “Look Mel, it’s been 16 years, I’ve tried everything. You don’t have to keep asking questions.”

Suddenly, the group hears Australian snoring noises coming from another room. They peer into the ventilation hole in the Hole in front of them. They see Spider sleeping about eight feet below them.

“Ok, you guys know the plan, let’s just do this,” Mel says.

—-

Mel drops ties a knot to something in vent and then slides down quietly until he’s standing at the foot of Spider’s race car bed. “Hey, Spider, wake up!” He shouts.

Spider gurggles drowsily, wipes his eyes, and looks towards the noise. “Gday Mel, what’s this abouyt?”

As Mel stalls, Mike Tarny tells Elizabeth She several funny jokes in the ventilation system. She begins to laugh, and directs her laugh towards the hole that leads to Spider’s room. As she laughs, she sucks up the oxygen from the room.

Mel notices his senses dimming and promptly equips his oxygen mask.

Spider doesn’t notice a thing, and continues to reply to Mel’s question about sex. “…and ya realy gott’a make sure ya have a blowtorch on ya when….it’s time….far ya..big noight.” Spider’s eyes begin to close, and he passes out due to asphyxiation.

“Ok, that’s enough!” Mel shouts.

Mike Tarny insults Elizabeth She. “You’ll never be a singer,” he says. She stops laughing.

They drop down from the rope and make sure Spider is still breathing, just unconscious.

“Alright, let’s get him to the river.”

—-

Elizabeth She abandons the group because of Mike Tarny’s comment about her singing career, leaving only Mel and Mike Tarny to complete the quest. The two lads carry Spider out of the Scientology building in the dead of the night. Mike Tarny managed their information system so they were not spotted or questioned by anyone. It works in their favor, as they have to take frequent breaks. They both did band, and played mellophone, which isn’t heavy, so their muscles are not used to this.

They pack Spider into the trunk of Mike Tarny’s white can and drive to the Wallingford river docking point.

“So that worked, but how are we getting to the secret base?” Mike Tarny asks Mel. “It’s in like, the middle of the river.”

“I called Uncle Bone,” Mel explains. “He didn’t answer, or set up his voicemail, so I texted him. Luckily he was still awake because his crew just completed a shipment for Greasy Dick. They were just turning in for the night. I asked for a favor.”

“Well that’s nice of Bone.” Mike Tarny drives through a red light by accident, like Ashley Brown right before Huskython 2022. “You can call me Uncle Mike Tarny if you want, I don’t mind. Mason and I are still pals. We used to have a lot of sex, ya know.”

“Maybe I’ll call you Uncle 9/11,” Mel snaps back. Mike Tarny switches his focus to the road and continues to drive quietly.

Finally, they arrive at a docking station containing a number of grand pirating vessels. Each ship has their own unique flag. Mel searches through the flags before landing on the one with the single bone. “There,” he says.

Bone, PJ, Sea Man, and other crew members are standing out front, chatting. A few of the bros have cold glasses of beer, while others have monster energy drinks. Mike Tarny takes out his green drink to fit in and talks to Sea Man away from the group.

“Hey Bone, you sure you’re okay with taking us to the dropping point?” Mel asks as he and Mike Tarny take an unconscious Spider out of the trunk. None of the mateys bat an eye, but rather begin to help them secure Spider onto the pirating vessel.

“Yeah,” Bone says. “Did you bring the payment?”

Mel pays Bone in wires, and also one C cup lacey hot pink bra from Victoria’s Secret. Bone beams at his payment, his boobs breasting tiddily. He’s wearing a low-cut top and he’s showing some cleavage ;). John Green is there, and writes something down in his notebook.

“Sick, you got the XXX-Tentacion wire. I’ve been trying to find this. Thanks, man.” Bone’s boobies jiggle like as he speaks, like in anime. “Come on board.” he gestures towards the boat, and the two boys climb on with their unconscious friend.

—-

After about 30 minutes of sailing through the clean sweet-water river of Wallingford CT, the lookout aboard the ship signals that they’ve reached their destination. Mel and Mike Tarny peer overboard. At first, there’s no sign of anything special below the rhythmic movements of the waves. Then, they spot a light source beaming from deep below the water. “That must be it!” Mel shouts.

“Here,” Bone hands them three Google Pixel phones. “Attach these to your feet and you’ll sink right down. There’s probably an opening, and we’re not sure how to check otherwise, so just send it,” he explains.

“Ok,” Mike Tarny says, but Mel looks concerned. “Hey, we’ll be alright, Mel. This isn’t my first experience trying to find a hole.”

Mel takes the android phone in disgust. “I don’t even care if I die after that.” Mel and Mike Tarny step up to the Edge of the ship. They walk the plank and hold Spider upright between them.

Mel takes a deep breath and slaps Spider across the face, promptly waking him up from his brief coma. Spider jolts awake, takes in his surroundings, and inhales as he begins to shout, “Mel-“

With that, the three boys are pushed off of the plank and plunged into the cool midnight water of the Wallingford River. The android phones drag their bodies downward at an alarming speed, as everyone holds their breath against the push and pull of the water as it displaces their bodies. They feel pressure push against them as they sink deeper, and the welcoming moonlight of the surface water dims and is blackened by the increase in depth.

On the way down, Mel makes out several objects lost to the Wallingford River over time. He sees a peppa pig plushie. The money Cristian borrowed from Kate. Eddy the fish (alive and well). Britt’s iPhone 8.

Just as Mel begins to worry about the descent, a beacon of light shines directly beneath them. He looks down and can make out a circle of light glowing warmly against the sandy bottom of the river. The android phones plummet directly into the hole, and land on a tiled floor inside of a room below the bottom of the river. After the boys pass through the hole, the ceiling closes up, and the water around them drains. They each gasp for air.

They stand in a completely tiled room, from floor to ceiling, like a community pool bathroom. The light from the hole was emitting from sensors below their feet, which seem to detect motion. They walk through a set of double doors into a much darker room, with tall walls and floors made of a black stone, and gothic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling emitting an orange light.

Mel immediately splits from the group and walks through a few rooms, trying to discover the purpose of the base, and who it belongs to. There’s a room of maps, with detailed images of each territory of Wallingford. His house is circled with a red marker. There are random lines drawn from his house to other parts of the town. He starts to feel uneasy about the situation.

He walks into a another room which seems to be dedicated to various female politicians and queer women. Another room has countless cases of instruments in it, with a string of 9 numbers drawn on the cases in chalk. Mel spots a case with his social security number on it, and opens the case to find a mellophone. One room just has glass display cases with various costumes, including a rat costume, a war uniform, and an empty display with a gold plaque that reads “Fake Beard”. One room has a coffin in it.

Freaked out, Mel returns to the main room. Mike Tarny emerges from the instruments room, looking equally aghast. “I just saw an instrument case with my social security number on it,” he says, his voice shaking. “What is this place?”

Mel shrugs, takes out his phone, and dials Mason’s number. To his relief, Mason picks up before the first ring.

“Hi,” Mason says.

“Oh, Mason, thank god. Listen, I found a base under the river. I’m with Spider and Mike Tarny. There’s a war uniform here, and a map with our house circled. Do you know someone who would be collecting things like instruments, social security numbers, female politicians? This has to be the person who targeted you.”

“Oh my god. Yes, that’s obviously Shelly. I haven’t seen her in years though.”

“Oh!” Mel looks at Mike Tarny. “Ok, I have her ex here. That has to be who targeted you and ordered the grenades to blow you tf up!”

“Mike Tarny is there? Tell him I say hi sexy. But playfully. YOO that makes sense actually. I knew I recognized the person in that uniform, but I couldn’t quite place it. They were dressed like a man, but it was Shelly’s face. She must have pretended to be a man to get into the war, like in Mulan.”

“That’s insane,” Mel says. “This must be why Butch Ashley sent me here. This is the truth we’ve been searching for. But then why did I have to bring Spider?” Mel stops short.

Mel thinks of the map room in the base with his house circled. He thinks of the vision he had of Butch Ashley earlier. Was it a vision? He remembers how the image of her flickered. She didn’t spin out of the room like she did at the hospital. She just…dissipated. Like a projection. Fabricated. Someone wanted him to bring Spider here.

He spins around quickly. “Wait, where is Spider?” Mike Tarny shrugs. Mel’s heart beats faster.

Mel and Mike Tarny traverse each room of the base, calling his name. There’s no sign of him.

“Oh my god…” Mel says. He suddenly remembers the advice Spider gave him earlier, in the Scientology building. It wasn’t advice, thinks Mel, It was a warning. Spider knew something was up. He’s known for a while. That’s why he didn’t want to go with them.

And we brought him right into this trap, Mel feels a sharp pang of guilt.

Where could he have gone now? And who could have taken him? As soon as the questions cross Mel’s mind, he already knows the answer. The evidence is all around him. Shelly.

Would she stop there? Or would she take anyone else?

Spider’s voice replays in his head, “Promise me ya’l go home and check on Mason, aight mate? Buy him a brayclet far his one arm. And check on him, today.”

“Hey, Mase?” Mel says slowly, “Is the house locked?”

“No, w-“ The sound of glass breaking is suddenly heard on the other end of the line. Mel stands paralyzed as he can only listen to a struggle take place, and the call is abruptly cut off.

#chapter 6 #the red paladin

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

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