Archive of Our Own ^beta

Pidge opened her eyes to the bare ceiling of her Garrison dorm, and panic flooded her lungs in one gasp. She looked frantically around her room that wasn’t supposed to be her room anymore.

Why am I—?

How—?

What happ—?

It took a few moments for her brain to resume its conscious processes, then a forced exhale and ten deep steadying breaths to remember the myriad of whys, hows, and whats that eluded her in sleep.

Once the final, most important detail of when resurfaced in her mind, a wry mirthless chuckle escaped her. She pressed her palms to her eyes to scrunch them shut while she berated herself: “You’re being fucking silly, Pidge.”

Because this was the seventh time. The seventh day back. She should’ve gotten used to waking up like this days ago, and even then, the first day wasn’t exactly the first time in her life that she saw the cursed ceiling or this small-ass room. It was just… It was just the first time in a long while. Two years and ten months, to be exact. Three weeks, four days, and—she checked her bedside clock—five hours, twenty minutes, forty-five seconds. Forty-six. Forty-seven. To be very, very exact. So yeah, quite some time already.

Pidge heaved a sigh, permitting herself one last moment of self-hatred and self-pity before sitting up. No going back to sleep now. She’d always been a late sleeper, as bedtime had lost its meaning at an unripe age of twelve. Since becoming a Paladin, she’d become a light sleeper as well. Not a combination anyone in heaven would ever come up with, but fighting in an intergalactic war came with not-so-perks like that.

Of all the things her present self’s body could choose to assimilate from the memories of many different but similar versions of the future, the low affinity to sleep was the one it made its top priority. Forget coffee; Pidge needed only to recall one bad memory from the futures she’d left behind and she wouldn’t be able to sleep much for the next two, maybe three days.

She released a frustrated groan as the same memory flashed in her mind for the seventh morning in seven days, a macabre wake-up call that wasn’t so different from the nightmares she’d just escaped from.

It was of an event she’d termed ‘the catalyst’, the domino that set off this miserable and continuous chain of falling apart.

Two years and ten months into the future, the ten-thousand-year war that had erupted with the fall of the original Voltron Paladins would be extinguished by the victorious Voltron Coalition led by their successors. Contrary to what was to be celebrated legend and popular belief, however, Team Voltron would end before the war could be won.

And the end would begin just before the end.

“Keith. We’ve cleared the east side. What’s your status?”

“Haggar’s forces are more concentrated here—we’re being overwhelmed, Shiro!”

“Hang on. We’re on our way.”

“Castle to Paladins, the Princess and Lotor have just engaged Haggar.”

“Hunk to Pidge and Lance, rescue teams are done with evac. Shut this ship down.”

Concentrated as she was with the mission at hand, Pidge barely paid attention to the updates over the comms, gathering just enough words to establish everyone’s status and location. She and Lance were approaching the main ship’s central hub now, and with Hunk’s go signal they stealthily made their way to the central computer to bypass the druid magic that protected it from outside interference. She didn’t bother replying, sure that Lance would do it for them. Instead, she activated her bayard, senses on overdrive for the first sign of the enemy.

Lance’s expected “Copy that.” came over the comm link. Soon after, a faint beep sounded to indicate that a personal line had opened between them. “Stay alert, Pidge. We’ve only gotten rid of one druid. They usually work in pairs,” he whispered. His ready rifle and serious face showed a focus that Pidge tended to forget he was capable of sustaining when off-mission. She’d never admit it, but the calm readiness he exuded was a balm that soothed her nerves frayed by anticipation.

“Lance. I know. We’ve confirmed that months ago,” she grumbled. He chuckled good-naturedly.

Pidge took in a breath.

Druids materialize once they activate their magic. They’ll be defenseless in that split-second just before activation. Watch out for that instant, she reminded herself.

She strained her eyes for any movement. And she saw it. She released her grapple at the druid, Lance instantly following her lead. Bull’s eye.

The druid flickered and disintegrated in grainy lines—a hologram?! They’d never done that before!

“PIDGE!!” A panicked cry. She turned.

Blue, white, and black.

And blinding violet.

Then red. Flowing from the break in the white breastplate. Dripping from the druid’s fingers as it withdrew its hand.

Lance fell to his knees, and Pidge had to reach out to stop him from falling further because he was a Paladin and he couldn’t fall now, not this close to the end, when he shouldn’t be the one with a hole in the chest. No. No no no no. Her comm link burst in worried chatter, but it was all drowned out by what she heard next.

“Your efforts are useless.” The druid loomed over them, expression hidden behind hood and mask but clear in the mockery coloring its words. Distant explosions and screams of agony reverberated in the room. “You think you have won by attacking the main fleet. You may have killed the Emperor, but his Empire remains. But you… Kill the Paladins, and Voltron falls. Soon your coalition will follow.”

Images of planets in flames and sentries marching over dead allies burned her eyes with tears. Those aren’t real. Don’t listen. “Shut up!”

“Why delay the inevitable? Your resistance is but a flicker of existence before our Empire. Insignificant.”

Now she was seeing her teammates in real time. Allura and Lotor cornered by Haggar and four other druids. Shiro and Keith struggling with the last surviving rebels, picked off one by one by platoons of Galra soldiers. Hunk making one last stand before Galra generals as the final shield for the escaping prisoners. Coran bleeding on the bridge’s floor as pro-Haggar Galra disguised as refugees commandeered the Castle. Matt, helmet-less, floating amidst the remnants of his spacecraft.

Her heart pounded against her chest, begging to be liberated from the nightmare she was witnessing. “Sh-Shut up…” This isn’t real.

“Insignificant,” the druid repeated. “Just like him.”

Her vision returned and focused on Lance. His face was impossibly peaceful amidst the violence that surrounded him. It gave Pidge the conviction that all this was definitely not real, and if the fucking druid would just shut up she’d escape this hallucination.

“Your efforts are useless, Paladin of Voltron.”

She barely heard its words and the crackling of magic in its hands. She pulled Lance’s body closer. “Shut. Up.” If the druid would just. Stop. Talking.

And it stopped. So did the rumbles and explosions in the ship, the cries of murderous intent and fatal defeat. Soon her visual on Lance faded, too.

A presence slowly enveloped her and warmed her from the outside right to her bones, a gentle blanket that she somehow knew would protect her from the chilling reality before her eyes.

Grief, consolation, reassurance, devotion. All of them weaved into a single promise: ‘It will be alright.’

She clung to it and let everything stop. Her trembling. Her pain. Her mind. Her time.

‘Entrust the rest to Green.’

And she did.

When next she woke up in a cryopod a few days later, the Coalition had claimed complete victory. The Team, on the other hand, had lost Lance irrevocably. Because of a stupid oversight by the genius of the Team.

Pidge had never encountered that particular mix of failure, grief, guilt, regret, and gratitude before, and fuck if it wasn’t the bitterest pill to swallow, or even stomach. So she refused to swallow it, refused to accept that Lance had died because of her, and refused to concede to the constraints of the currently known laws of the universe. Absolutely not.

Katie Holt had made the impossible possible quite a few times already. Formulating a miracle wouldn’t have been too far-fetched, right?

Right.

She did it in six weeks.

Her miracle plan went like this: first, compress the entirety of each Paladin’s memories and store them in portable devices engineered from the memory storages and A.I. chamber in the Castle of Lions. Next, transmit those memories back to their past selves by bending space-time through Voltron. Lastly, save Lance without compromising the universe’s temporal integrity.

The easiest part had been constructing the memory-melders; she’d modified them from the mind-meld devices, working under the hypothesis that wearing mind-melders will ease the integration of their future selves’ memories into their past ones. Convincing the others of changing the past for a different future had been a bit touch and go at first, but was accomplished more easily than she’d expected. Agreeing on which point in space-time to send their memories back to, then utilizing Voltron’s power and Allura’s wisdom from Oriande to bend space-time for a short time? Easy.

She learned on her first jump that that was as far as the easy parts went.

Pain exploded in Pidge’s head, blasting away all coherent thought. Then everything went black.

Once her brain rebooted and her thought processes gradually returned, so did the questions.

Did their plain work? Where was she? More importantly, when was she? Well, only one way to find out.

Her eyelids scrunched tight on instinct.

“Guys, I think she’s waking up!” Someone said from somewhere to her right. The voice sounded so excited and relieved and alive. She’d missed that voice.

Her eyes snapped open and wide. And there Lance was, leaning over her.

“Hey, hey! How you feeling?” she heard Hunk say, but her gaze remained on Lance.

She’d made it. The plan worked.

She reached out to touch his face, testing the rest of her senses to confirm that this was indeed real. His skin was soft and warm against her fingers, warming further as his face darkened with a confused flush.

“Uhh, Pidge?” he said, blue eyes clear and questioning, “How hard did you hit your head when you fainted during training?”

Lance really was alive. Tears sprang to her eyes.

She pinched his cheek for good measure.

“Ow!” He jerked away from her, a hand jumping to the injured cheek. “What’d you do that for?!”

She withdrew her hand and blinked the tears away. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

“You usually pinch yourself for that!”

She shrugged dismissively. “Close enough.”

With her mental functions reaching normal capacity, Lance’s first question registered. That was when she finally noticed that she was in the med bay. Lying down. Surrounded by the whole team, who seemed to be more concerned about her than about Lance.

Why weren’t they worried about his imminent death?

Unless… she realized with rising panic, unless nobody else made it.

“Wait,” she said. She kept her voice low to stop it from shaking. “Did you say… I fainted during training?”

“Yes. We think it’s a mind-meld device malfunction,” replied Allura.

“It happened so suddenly,” Shiro said, to which Keith added, “We felt some of your pain; it was like a shot in the head. No wonder you blacked out.”

“Aside from that, you were in a state of deep sleep, but your bio-scan showed increased brain activity.” Coran held up a bioscanner displaying her results. “It was quite strange.”

Pidge shut her eyes. Another headache was building, this one much more troublesome than her first one.

Her memories made it back in time and merged successfully with her past self’s brain. But she was the only one who made it. And she just changed the entire future by fainting the second she got back.

To think that Hunk had hammered their time travel rules to their brains by incessant repetition: “First and foremost of the Paladins’ Time Travel Rules: Minimize the butterfly effect. In other words, don’t change anything until the last moment possible.”

She sighed. “Fuck.”

“Language, Pidge.” Her gaze found Shiro. Though his voice sounded berating, his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Pidge felt guilty knowing what she knew and what she was about to say. She sat up despite her body’s wish to stay supine. “Listen, guys.” She took a breath. Here goes. “I just came from the future.”

“Uh, no. You literally came from the training deck,” Hunk was quick to rebut. “I carried you here.”

“You really hit your head hard, huh?” Lance asked again, teasing but much more worried this time.

A familiar irk bubbled in her chest, so painfully nostalgic Pidge couldn’t bring herself to glare at Lance. Or look up at anyone, for that matter. She stared at her clenched fists.

“…Pidge?” Keith called uncertainly.

“Maybe we should let you rest a bit longer.” Lance was positively worried now, but she disregarded his suggestion and spoke again.

“Two days from today, we’ll win the war and—” She gulped around the words that had lodged in her throat, unwilling to be voiced out.

Say it, she urged herself. You’ve got to say it, Pidge.

“—and lose the Blue Paladin.”

“The Blue Paladin?” Hunk repeated, voice becoming quieter as her words sank in. “But that’s…”

“That’s me.” Lance’s whisper resounded in the shocked silence of the med bay.

Albeit initial protests it hadn’t taken too long to reassign Lance from Pidge’s support to back-up, on standby in the Castle of Lions until his estimated time of death in the original timeline had passed in the current one. But while Lance had promised to stay put in the Castle, supervise the medical teams, and help them tend to the evacuated captives from Haggar’s ships, he was first and foremost a Paladin.

Pidge really should’ve known better than to think he’d prioritize his own safety over others’ even when his life was in jeopardy. Unfortunately, she hadn’t. Or maybe she had known better but hoped that, for once, he would.

Like in the original timeline, only two druids manned the central hub. Pidge had found it odd the first time, seeing druids instead of Galra soldiers doing non-magic things. Seeing them a second time, she realized that it was because most of the Galra factions had already accepted Lotor’s rule and now deferred to him.

Valkor, assigned to lead the group of Blades with Pidge, held up a closed fist. Everybody watched closely, waiting for the druids to move farther from where Pidge and the Blades hid.

Once they turned away, Valkor gave the signal to go.

They fell easily before Pidge and the Blades. To Pidge, it was a little too anticlimactic.

A little too easy.

Pidge narrowed her eyes. There must be a catch. She asked the Blades to double-check every area for traps as she started to hack into the systems. She didn’t like the unease wrenching at her gut.

The feeling remained even after she’d commandeered control of the ship, even after Hunk had cleared her to shut the ship’s power down.

What’s going on?!

Her comms crackled. “Lance! Where are you going?” It was Coran.

“I’m just going to check on that incoming pod.” Lance’s reply had been harmless, but his voice came through with poorly veiled suspicion and…

And fear.

Pidge’s blood ran cold. Willing her hands to stop shaking, she viewed her suit’s built-in countdown timer.

Just five minutes until they went past Lance’s estimated time of death.

She was sprinting to where Green waited before the action even registered.

“Shit!” Lance didn’t bother concealing his panic now. “Coran! I’ve gotta fly this pod away from friendly forces!”

“What? Why?! Lance!”

“I caught a glimpse of a broken sentry when we were contacting the pod. It was blinking, and I wanted to make sure it’s not what I think it is.” The rest went unsaid.

Pidge gritted her teeth as she and Green took off for the Castle. “Come on!”

Her timer flashed: three minutes left.

The wrenching unease spread to her chest.

“You should be far enough! Eject yourself!”

“I’m still too close!”

“But—!”

“Just get everyone away from my flight path, Coran!”

Two minutes.

“Lance!!” she shouted.

“Number Five!” Coran’s face popped up in Green’s screen. “Help me get Lance out of that pod!”

Lance’s face popped up next. He had the gall to look sorry, preluding what he’d say next.

And Pidge was not hearing his apology. “You promised!” He just shook his head. Indignation welled up within her until he began to blur in her eyes. “You promised, Lance!”

“But I also said that I’m a Paladin,” he reminded her gently in an attempt to mollify her even as he continued to fly at full speed.

One minute.

“Please. Lance, please!” she sobbed, pounding on Green’s controls like it could do anything. “Eject yourself now!” Where was he?! He should be far away enough now, so why wouldn’t he leave that fucking pod?!

Thirty seconds.

Lance reached out to touch something in front of him, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry, Pidge.”

No! No!!

The explosion originated from the pod’s rear. Pidge could only watch helplessly as it engulfed everything in an instant with the force of a Zaiforge cannon.

Her timer went off, shrill beeps mingling with her sobs.

I have to go back.

Eyes still blurry with tears, she fumbled for the memory-melder.

I have to go back.

She wore it, uncaring that they hadn’t formed Voltron yet. Pidge was going back, and she was going to give Lance a piece of her mind. She scrunched her eyes shut.

“Please let me go back.”

Green enveloped her in a warm, consoling embrace. Pidge reached back, letting Green’s presence wash over her.

And it immediately led to a second jump.

The exploding pain that came with the merging of her future and present memories wasn’t as severe as the first time. Maybe she was getting desensitized to it. Maybe the hurt anger that threatened to explode in her chest eclipsed it.

Either way, Pidge knew that the memory-melder had done its job, and she launched herself forward, her blue-and-white target clear behind closed lids despite her pain-addled mind.

An “oof” accompanied the impact when she hit her mark, clambering over Lance as she pounded on the sturdy chunk of armor that was undoubtedly his breastplate. “You idiot! You idiot!!” she screamed, her restraints on the other Paladins’ access to her mind slackening until they were no more.

When pained cries and labored breaths echoed in the training deck, she knew that the others were witnessing the tragedies she’d lived, sharing her thoughts, feeling her grief and anger.

Good, she thought in a moment of wickedness. Maybe now they’d understand.

“P-Pidge—” Hunk and Keith managed to choke out before their sobs took over. Shiro just kept trying and failing to sob quietly.

“I’m sorr—I’m sorry, P-Pidge. I’m s-sorry!” Lance cried in broken huffs between Pidge’s attacks. Not once had he deflected her hits. He didn’t resist at all, and her eyes involuntarily opened at his submissiveness, her anger melting into confusion and twisting into more pain as she realized that he thought he deserved every hit. As she saw the guilt swimming amidst the tears in his eyes. She stopped hitting him then.

When he sat up and repositioned her on his lap to pull her as close to him as he could, she thought she would crumble. The three additional pairs of arms that wrapped around her, however, kept her from falling apart.

Just having the other Paladins’ full, first-hand understanding of Pidge’s motivations and the gravity of Lance’s possible death in this timeline rendered the debilitating weight of her mission five times lighter. There hadn’t been any initial protests this time. Lance had even promised he’d follow any changes they’d be making in their battle plans to prioritize his safety.

By the time Shiro finished the final briefing and proceeded to reiterate and emphasize key parts of their battle plans, Pidge had marginally relaxed, relieved that the plan was unanimously and eagerly approved by the entire Coalition. By the time Lotor stepped forward, she felt a slight smirk tugging the corners of her lips as she offhandedly joked with herself that his speech would probably still be as she remembered it, word for word.

What were his first words again? Something like, ‘I know I have said this many times before.’

“I know I have said this many times before.”

Her amused smirk fell instantly.

“Allow me to say it one last time,” Lotor said in that smooth, regal voice of his, and Pidge snapped her head towards him, her body frozen in shock but her mind’s gears turning in frenzied revolutions.

“Victory or death. The Galra have only ever lived by that principle. Weakness meant death; survival meant more fighting. We knew all the ways to fight, seize, and take from others what we do not have. Our history was written in blood and bones, filled with cornered heroes who emerged victorious with a killing thrust…”

She sneaked a glance at the time-cycler on the bridge’s screen. It was also the exact time he’d delivered his speech in the other timelines. The same speech, the same time, despite the revised battle plans in every timeline and the delays from interruptions during the last one.

“…exile I began to question the reason why we always lead ourselves into dire situations, and the true meaning behind our ancient saying, ‘Vrepit sa…’”

Pidge’s eyes widened in realization. This was…

“…irony, I found the answer when my subordinates abandoned me and my own father had me cornered: it is because we Galra have been fighting to achieve the wrong victory. Our victory was self-preservation and glory, when true victory, as my people and I are learning in the past year, is life.”

This was a fixed time-point. In this reality.

Which meant that there could be others further back or further along in space-time.

She glimpsed, as she had in the two other timelines, Allura’s hand slipping into Lotor’s, and her mind raced at hyperspeed.

“…being able to live as we want in peace. In two quintants we will be facing the remaining forces of a tyrant from a bygone era. We will be fighting to reclaim the universe, and we shall prevail as victors.” His confident, hopeful expression turned solemn. “However, should you fall…”

Fixed time-points. If her hunch was right, and each universe or reality was composed of a specific set of temporal constants that dictate the general flow of space-time, then—

A hand lightly resting at the small of her back startled her out of her thoughts and back to the present, where Lance was jerking his head surreptitiously in Lotor’s direction.

“…in our hearts, and in the freedom we shall win.”

Oh. Right.

The Paladins and Coran joined Allura and Lotor. The rest of the Coalition cheered loud and hard, though not loud enough to drown out the pounding in Pidge’s ears or the discoveries screaming for her analysis and interpretations.

Strange. She knew she’d just had a major breakthrough, so why was she filled with a dread just as major?

In this timeline, Pidge had discovered the wonderful thing about opening up, sharing troubles, and letting others help: the burden eased exponentially with the number of people sharing the load with her. The downside, she found soon enough, was that the intensity of disappointment and guilt also increased exponentially in the face of failure, and there was no divvying up the devastation because everyone had equally contributed to the outcome.

And boy, had they failed.

Pidge saw Haggar’s entire fleet blink out of power just as Coran flickered into Green’s screen.

“The Blades have just infected the main ship’s central computer with Number Five’s virus,” he announced. “Paladins, do your thing!”

Her brows rose up with the corners of her lips. That was probably the most flippant thing he’d ever said while in the middle of battle.

Shiro’s amused face flashed next. “Copy that, Coran. We’re approaching Daibazaal to do our thing.” Pidge could hear the mirth in his voice. The others must’ve heard it, too, because their laughter transmitted through the comms. Hunk’s boisterous “Holy crow, Coran isn’t panicking for once!” and Keith’s smirking “Never thought I’d see the day.” finally dragged out a chuckle from Shiro. “Alright, Team. Daibazaal and its rift are the only ones remaining of Haggar’s last stand. Let’s finish this war!”

A chorus of “Yeah!”, and Voltron was zooming towards the inter-reality gate on the remnants of the planet.

“Blue says something’s wrong!” Lance suddenly said, his face popping up on the screen.

“Red’s on high alert, too,” agreed Keith, frowning in concern.

Hunk’s expression turned grave as well. “Ditto.”

Sure enough, Green’s cockpit flashed red and blared with all kinds of alarms.

What’s happening, girl? Pidge asked her Lion.

‘Danger abounds. Green’s sensors pick up everything and nothing. Blue Sister is worried about the strong druid magic and corrupted quintessence. Utmost caution, Katie.’

She nodded then addressed the others on her screen. “Guys! Green says it’s dangerous here; let’s destroy all access to the rift and get out quickly!”

They all nodded back then waited for Shiro’s orders.

“Keith, ready your bayard.”

“Roger.”

“Hunk and Lance, leg thrusters on full blast.”

“Ten-four!” “Copy that.”

“Pidge, keep a visual on our surroundings, Green’s scanners, and Lance’s countdown timer.”

“I’m on it.” Once everyone else shut off visual communication, she checked the timer on the corner of Green’s screen: fourteen minutes left. Trepidation lodged in her throat. She swallowed hard to try to push it down.

“Form Sword!”

Seeing Voltron’s blazing sword had always awed, amazed, and soothed Pidge’s nerves. This time, though, it didn’t have the same effect. This time, it seemed ominous, foreboding.

“Everyone, full throttle towards the rift’s gate!”

Pidge found out why immediately. The instant the blazing sword made contact with the gate, the rift began glowing a menacing violet.

Lance voiced out the tense confusion that permeated the bond they all shared as Voltron. “What the…?”

Orbs of light shot out of it into Daibazaal’s atmosphere.

“I think that’s our cue to leave!” Hunk cried.

Everyone leapt into action. With another swing of the sword, Pidge, Shiro, and Keith destroyed the gate. It gave way easily; whatever magic Haggar had infused it with must’ve been loosed during the initial strike. Hunk and Lance then steered Voltron straight upwards, away from the steadily growing light.

Green nudged Pidge’s mind worriedly. ‘Katie, look up.’

Pidge obeyed. Her eyes widened in alarm. The orbs in the sky weren’t actually made of light—they were alight with druid magic. And they were spreading out to form a barrier around the planet’s ruins. Fuck! “Guys, we have to go faster! That thing from the rift was a magic barrier of some sort!” She fired her Lion’s thrusters to maximum capacity.

“There’s an opening we could slip through slightly to the west.” Shiro’s voice came out strained.

“We’re not gonna make it!” growled Keith.

“I have an idea!” Lance shouted, “We should disband Voltron—that might give us the extra thrust to make it out!”

“Let’s try it. Everyone, disband!”

Pidge grit her teeth as the force from disbanding hurled her and Green towards the shrinking opening. Come on. Come on. Come on! They’d only barely made it through when all sections of the druid magic connected and covered the remains of Daibazaal.

Shiro’s relieved face popped up on the screen. “Did everyone make it?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Can’t believe that worked,” Keith said, smiling incredulously.

Hunk chuckled. “I know!”

Shiro’s eyes darted around. He seemed to be scanning Black’s screen. “Lance?”

No response. Whatever relief that had eased the tension vanished instantly.

Dread gripped Pidge in a stranglehold when she saw her countdown timer.

Nine minutes left.

“Lance!” the other three shouted, their Lions facing one direction. She followed suit.

Nine minutes left, and Lance was trapped on the other side.

“Lance!” Hunk shouted again, flying Yellow towards Blue.

“Hold on, buddy!” Shiro said as he and Black urgently inspected the magic barrier to find any weak points. “We’re getting you out of there!”

Lance’s face finally appeared on-screen. “No, it’s too late! You guys take as many people as you can and get out—!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Keith cut in.

“You have to!”

Not this again, no more, no no no. Pidge stopped listening and focused on getting Lance out. She steered Green to a distance before launching straight at the magic barrier.

“Pidge!”

“Pidge! Stop it!”

She distantly heard Hunk’s, then Lance’s voice; still she slammed into the barrier again and again.

“Shiro! You’ve got to go!”

When it still wouldn’t budge she fired at it with Green’s full arsenal.

“No! We won’t leave you. We’ll find something—”

“Please just go!”

But even that wouldn’t work. Why wouldn’t it work?! Running out of ideas, she maneuvered Green to claw at the barrier. She wouldn’t have stopped if Blue hadn’t flown into Green’s visual field, separated from all of them by that damn barrier.

“Pidge.” The calm, determined look on Lance’s face only aggravated her rising panic.

“You’ve got to live.” She sounded so desperate, and she realized that she was. At this point, she’d do anything for Lance to survive. She—They couldn’t let him die again. “Please.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got to do what I have to. And I need you to go help everyone.” Then he nodded, and Shiro and Hunk nodded back tearfully, brokenly.

Black and Yellow flanked Green.

“Go, Pidge,” he pleaded. She had no choice but to listen.

Pidge never took her eyes off Lance even as she and Green were dragged away at full speed, even as her vision blurred with tears. When he cut off the comm link, she watched on through her Lion’s screen, helpless once more, as Blue flew away and disappeared into the still growing light emanating from Daibazaal’s rift.

Nothing happened for a moment.

Then the violet light burst into a blinding flash before blinking out. And it happened quiet. So quiet that the countdown timer’s alarm almost drowned out the others’ words.

“Lance and Blue…” Hunk whispered.

“They—” Keith choked out.

“They saved everyone,” Shiro finished.

The ruins of Daibazaal had frozen mid-explosion. They seemed to glitter as sections began to disintegrate into crystals of icy debris and… and quintessence.

Grief bloomed and creeped throughout Pidge’s being, until she wasn’t sure where hers ended and where Green’s began.

‘Sister. Blue Sister…’

“G-Green…” she stammered out, eyes unseeing, shaky hands fumbling for her memory-melder.

Green’s bereaved presence readily wrapped around her mind. ‘Green goes with you,’ her Lion transmitted through their bond.

Pidge and Green reached out to each other. Their consciousnesses merged.

And then they jumped.

By her third jump to the past, Pidge had opted out of sharing this specific trouble of hers. Because Shiro couldn’t possibly handle any more deaths he would blame himself for. Hunk couldn’t possibly take losing his best friend again. Keith couldn’t possibly prevent the information from making himself more reckless. Lance couldn’t possibly grasp the fact that he wasn’t expendable and that he never was. Coran and Allura couldn’t possibly let another one in their family go, not after ten thousand years of losses.

So. Better Pidge alone than with any of the Team.

Still, the thought of sparing them couldn’t quite take the edge off her bitter pill now fortified with a little bit of helplessness. But at least she got a dose of something to lessen its side effects once in a while.

“Pidge! Look what I found in Red!” Lance called from behind Pidge, bouncing on his heels as he went over to sit beside her. He presented his… phone.

Despite her mood, Pidge couldn’t help but raise a brow. “You lost it? But you’re still using my headphones.”

“I borrowed Hunk’s. He’s got a solid music taste, but nothing beats my favorite songs.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Doooes he know you borrowed it? ‘Cause I remember him looking for it for months—”

“What matters is that I’m returning it now.”

“I bet he’s going to be so happy with you, Lance.”

“‘Course; I took care of his phone. Sheesh, enough nitpicking. Check out my songs!” He tilted his phone towards her, and she peeked at the screen.

“Music from before World War Three, eh?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered what the world was like then.”

“We covered it in World History. And you could read about it if you want.”

“Uhh. Boring. They focused on important people! I bet they don’t even listen to music. I want the non-important ones. How did they live with these songs blasting in those old radios? Interesting, right? Oh!”

“What’s up?”

“The song I grew up dancing to. Aww, I gotta dance it again! Let’s go to the training deck; I’ll teach you.” He rushed to his feet. But Pidge stayed in place, hugging her knees tighter. “Pidge? Are… Are you okay?” The disappointment in his voice quickly morphed into worry, and he knelt before her to study her.

As okay as knowing you’ll die in two days if I don’t do something and not knowing what that something is.

Pidge answered with a slight shrug, “Yeah, just… I think I’ll stay here until the final briefing starts.”

“Okay.” He settled back to where he’d been sitting, which elicited a puzzled look from her. “What?”

“You were going to dance your childhood song.”

“Alone? No way. I’d look stupid.”

“You a—”

“Don’t say it, Pidge.”

At Lance’s wincing face, a giggle bubbled up in her chest. Soon his short snicker joined in.

They eventually lapsed into silence, watching from the observatory a distant star as it seemed to set on the Balmera’s horizon. The beast sparkled in all sizes and shades of red, orange, blue, and green, proudly displaying its vitality in the most beautiful way Pidge had ever witnessed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it—and who even would, really?

But her eyes caught some movement at their periphery, forcing her head to turn to the stimulus, which turned out to be Lance. Grinning at her. Smugly grinning at her.

She dropped the small smile that she didn’t know she had and narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answered in that obnoxious drawl he used whenever there definitely was something.

“Lance, I swear—”

“Really, it is nothing! Just a sunset, right? One in a billion happening every day?”

Pidge fought the urge to smack him upside the head. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. “Contrary to popular belief, scientists can retract their previous statements when presented with irrefutable evidence.”

He gave up easily with a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Lance.”

A satisfied smile blossomed on his face as he stretched his arms backward and leaned on them. “I’m happy to hear that.”

They watched on in silence once more, shoulder to arm, until the inky evening sky soaked into the last fiery ribbons of light.

And then Coran’s panicked voice crackled in Pidge’s helmet, barely heard over her countdown timer’s alarm and Allura’s anguished sobs.

“All Paladins, head to Allura, Lotor, and Lance’s location!”

Even before she saw Lotor kneeling defeatedly before two still bodies and Allura hunched over the one that was Lance’s, Pidge already knew.

She jumped at the first opportunity.

Every succeeding jump redefined the meaning of disaster in the most unique and horrible manner conceivable. Different circumstances (each attempt to keep Lance from death progressively more creative and outrageous), different causes (each one more gruesome than the last), but once her alarm knelled, the outcome was the same. There were only so many ways she could live the same two days, only so many tweaks she could make, and only so many times she could stop herself before she saw a trend. Before she started making hypotheses and treating each jump as a replicate in one twisted experiment.

And she just couldn’t.

After she failed to save Lance for the ninth time, she wore her memory-melder a tenth time and sent her memories further back into the past.

The Team had never caught onto her… mission, for lack of a better term. She was the cautious, plan A to Z type of person, after all—she prepared for every contingency. Just in case. She’d learned how to compartmentalize her mind and emotions, occluding the other Paladins from the memories of alternate timelines the head-cracking instant they arrived. It wasn’t easy, and it never hurt any less, but damn was she excellent at hiding it.

Pidge realized that she’d given herself the credit a little too soon.

At two months before the final battle, her tenth jump had been the furthest back she’d gone, way beyond the two days that the original timeline’s Team Voltron had agreed upon. Pidge had arrived at the height of the most advanced and difficult training she’d ever had as a Paladin, wherein she was directly bonded to her fellow Paladins via the mind-meld device and deeply interacting with Green’s consciousness. Admittedly not the wisest time-point to return to, but temporally the closest one in which she was wearing a mind-meld device, and the first memory that surfaced in her mind under mental, physical, and emotional duress.

Pidge allowed herself exactly three seconds of grimace and three deep breaths—the limiting protocol she’d subjected herself to, all those jumps ago. The headache, though piercing and nigh unbearable, never lasted more than three seconds. That meant that if she waited it out and clung to consciousness, she wouldn’t attract any worrying eyes by fainting.

One. She gasped her first deep breath. The initial explosion of pain made her eyes scrunch tight and her fingers clench around Green’s controls.

Two. The memories assaulted her in a deluge of terabytes, intent on drowning her in grief, shame, and helplessness. As shakily as always, she inflated her lungs against a pain somewhat worse than her headache.

Three. Pidge recovered enough mental functions to begin compartmentalizing: battle plans and strategies, established and probable fixed time-points, updated data on Team Voltron members and key individuals in the Coalition, happy memories for desperate times, failures she needed to analyze but would really rather not revisit. The last breath she took came out as a sigh. She’d survived another—

A powerful wave of anguish hit her like a solid wall. Her heart nearly stopped in shock, then seemingly slowed into cautious beats, then spiked in alarm. Someone saw?! Who—

‘Katie!’ Green cried out through their bond as she let out a pained roar. ‘What has Green done?!’

Green. Pidge mentally reached out to her Lion, wanting to appease but also knowing that nothing she said could make the situation better because it never got better. Quiznak, it had never even been good. Green, the only thing you did was love me so much that you gave me all the chances to correct my mistake. And all I did was waste each one.

She felt Green’s presence grow in her mind, desperately filling it with warm images of forested brooks and flowery meadows and sunlight filtering through leaves. Her Lion’s gentleness only broke her further, and soon tears started spilling down her cheeks.

‘You must hold back a while yet, Katie.’ Green’s mild sternness stilled her a bit. ‘Green and Katie train still; the Paladins will see. Perhaps some of Green’s Sisters already have.’

You’re right. Pidge sniffled once, ran a forearm across her eyes, then concentrated on her bonds with the other Paladins and their Lions. There. I’ve limited all other access to my mind.

Green’s transmitted approval through their bond had the distinct sensation of a nod. ‘Entrust the rest—’

To Green, she finished, managing a wry fragment of a smile before curling tight into herself and succumbing to her tears.

By the time Green single-handedly finished the drills testing Lion-Paladin teamwork, Pidge had collected herself enough to start her mission of saving Lance anew without worried eyes narrowing at her.

Well, no worried eyes had narrowed in her direction, but there had been worried eyes.

“Pidge,” Shiro called out just as she stepped onto Green’s ramp.

Pidge flinched at the open concern on his face, and she would’ve run back to the cockpit, sealed herself there, and prayed Shiro away if not for the quick, silent swish of the doors barring its entrance.

Et tu, Green? she thought dryly.

Green merely rumbled her amusement, leaving no other option for Pidge than to sigh and walk the metaphorical plank.

“Hey Shiro,” she greeted back once she reached the floor. She heard mechanical movement behind her as Green closed her maw and straightened on her haunches. “Something the matter?”

He crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. “Actually, yes.”

Ah. Walked right into that one.

Pidge could swear she heard the creak of wood upon realizing her misstep.

“Oookay…?” She trailed off in a questioning tone to encourage him.

“I saw your visions during training.”

She sighed again. No use denying it. “…Did you see everything?” she asked after a silent beat. Another step on the plank, this one consciously taken.

He was studying her as he answered, “No. They were just skipping frames of various scenarios to me. But I’ve gleaned enough information from them to be worried.”

Pidge closed her eyes. This was Shiro she was dealing with; he wouldn’t let this issue go if he thought—and he’d thought correctly—that it bothered her. In fact, he’d even swoop in and gallantly, unconditionally offer a hand in the trademark fashion only he could pull off.

She started to say, “There are…” though she already saw herself walking right towards the edge of her plank. “There are some problems better faced alone.”

“But maybe this one is best faced with someone you trust by your side,” Shiro gently rebutted. Pidge felt his hands rest upon her shoulders just as gently, and her eyes fluttered open, finding sincerity and concern so clearly in his. “You know I’m always here for you, Pidge.”

Pidge nodded. She did. She also knew his favorite melee combination moves, his least favorite alien food, how he approached conflicts, about the identical defeatist sense of humor he was still hiding from Lance, the deeply ingrained trauma from his time as the Champion, the well-known fact that everyone respected him because he respected everyone first—she knew his strengths and weaknesses, and all those idiosyncrasies that made Shiro undeniably, uniquely him. She knew she’d follow her friend and leader to every pocket of the universe, just as she knew he depended on her tech genius and logic to guide their decisions.

Pidge knew that if she had to choose only one other person to help with this, it would be Shiro. So she jumped off her plank and into the thrashing waves, dragging him with her and hoping that once the storm abated there’d be seven heads breaking the surface instead of six.

“Those visions you saw, Shiro… They’re my memories from ten different futures. And Lance died in all of them.”

Shiro had been predictably astounded by everything Pidge had disclosed, but before she could even consider regretting it, he’d bounced back with the full force of his sympathy and support and determination. Together, they looked out for fixed time-points, whittled down Haggar’s faction by planning small attacks on some of the ships that strayed too far from the mothership, reminded Lance of his importance to the Team whenever they could, and reassured each other that they would save Lance in this timeline now that they had time to shake things up and change enough events to effect a different future.

Pidge was honestly relieved that Shiro’s hope and faith more than covered for both of them because hers had been consistently run to the ground. Nonetheless, she replenished her reserves from every comforting hug, hopeful look, motivating word, and reassuring pat on the shoulder that he gave her. Shiro had never shown any doubt that they’d succeed, never voiced the one question that plagued her mind in every timeline: What if Lance’s death was a fixed time-point, too?

She supposed he just didn’t let himself think about it for both their sakes—a wise decision, and one that she followed. With her own doubts pushed to the shadowy recesses of her mind, Pidge had felt hope tingle warmly in her veins when she launched into the final battle, confidence boosted and nerves calmed.

But…

Shiro’s roaring, agonized “No!” over the comms had Pidge sprinting towards his location.

Two other voices blended with hers into a chorus of worried “Shiro!” in response. Hunk’s and Keith’s, she belatedly realized as she stuck her bayard into the control panel on the wall to forcibly open the door.

No Lance.

No Lance.

He hadn’t reacted to Shiro’s shout.

It was then that her countdown timer’s alarm registered, every beep chasing away every other thought. Given that Lance was the one who worried the most over the Team, his silence, together with the shrill beeps of her alarm and the crescendo of Shiro’s sobs as she neared him, meant only one thing.

The lifeless Lance that Shiro was holding so closely to his heaving chest confirmed it.

Pidge fell to her knees in front of them. “Sh-Shiro—” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Lance. It was haunting that he always had a peaceful expression on his face regardless of how he’d died. Her eyes began to prickle at the corners. How could he surrender himself to death so readily every damn time?

“You were right, Pidge,” Shiro choked out. She looked up at him, but his head remained bowed, staring at Lance’s body between them. “You were right this whole time.” He sounded so defeated, so weary, so hopeless that she couldn’t bring herself to ask what he meant, fearing he’d say what she’d already suspected.

He continued anyway. “Lance’s—” He swallowed before meeting her eyes with his empty gray ones. “Lance’s death is a fixed time-point.”

In the crushing depths of grief and guilt, Pidge established two things.

One, Lance would keep dying in every version of this reality’s main timeline until she found a method of changing or replacing a fixed time-point.

Two, Pidge would go insane if she made herself live through his death in every single jump.

And so, when her eleventh jump showed the first signs of impending failure at two hours left in her countdown timer, Pidge spared herself from wasted time and forced herself to jump in the name of efficiency.

By the fifteenth jump, efficiency had become protocol.

By the eighteenth, she’d accepted that Lance’s death was a given and stopped crying over every instance of it.

Beyond the twentieth, jumps had been indexed according to the events that stood out to her, instead of Lance’s cause and location of death.

Jump 24, 2 Days Before the Final Battle

“Pidge! Look what I found in Red!” Lance called from behind Pidge, bouncing on his heels as he went over to sit beside her. He presented his phone. Just as he’d done way back in the third time she’d sent her memories to the past. This event was proceeding identically to its first iteration all those jumps ago, just because she’d happened to sit in the exact place she had before.

She sighed tiredly. “You lost it? But you’re still using my headphones.”

“I borrowed Hunk’s. He’s got a solid music taste, but nothing beats my favorite songs.”

It almost bored her to have to go through this again, despite Lance’s bubbling enthusiasm. Guilt poked her slightly at the back of her mind, but she poked it back and away. “Does he know you borrowed it.” Whoops; she forgot to add inflection to her query. “‘Cause I remember him looking for it for months—”

“What matters is that I’m returning it now.”

“I bet he’s going to be so happy with you, Lance.”

“‘Course. I took care of his phone. Sheesh, enough nitpicking. Check out my songs!” He tilted his phone towards her; she barely glanced at the screen.

“Music from before World War Three.”

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered what the world was like then.”

“We covered it in World History. And you could read about it if you want.”

“Uhh. Boring. They focused on important people! I bet they don’t even listen to music. I want the non-important ones. How did they live with these songs blasting in those old radios? Interesting, right? Oh!”

“What?”

“The song I grew up dancing to. Aww, I gotta dance it again! Let’s go to the training deck; I’ll teach you.” He rushed to his feet, but when she merely peered up at him, “Come on, Pidge!” he said, offering her an impatient hand.

Oh, now that was different.

Her gaze oscillated between his waiting hand and his shining eyes as she debated with herself on what to do.

Taking his hand would change something in this timeline. But wait, wasn’t that what she kept jumping back for? She’d miss the most beautiful sunset she’d ever seen if she left with him now. But she’d gain a new experience—she’d learn a dance! Besides, hadn’t she wondered what Lance grew up dancing in Cuba? It would be fun, right?

Pidge didn’t know, but she shrugged and grabbed Lance’s hand to stand up. Lance didn’t stop grinning the whole walk to the training deck.

“What’s the dance, anyway?” she asked aloud, standing idly in the middle of the deck as he plugged his phone into the audio adaptor up in the control room.

His answer came over the speakers: “Mambo.”

Her nose crinkled in distaste. “The ballroom dance?”

No reply came until Lance had returned and was facing her again. “The Cuban dance,” he clarified, and the corners of Pidge’s mouth instantly quirked upwards.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Jump 27, 3 Months 1 Week Before the Final Battle

“The trick,” Lance began, activating his bayard into a blue sword he’d called an Altean broadsword, “to turning your bayard into a sword is… is…”

Pidge raised expectant brows at him. “Go on.”

“Is practice,” he finished with a shrug.

She snorted. “I can’t believe I even asked for your help.”

“No, I’m serious! That’s how I—”

But she was already halfway out the training deck. So much for being spontaneous in this timeline.

“Pidge!”

She waved her bayard over her shoulder as a goodbye. “I refuse to give you any more of my—let me go,” she said in a calm threat when Lance caught her wrist. “Lance.” More threatening now that he wouldn’t release it.

“I will if you give me a half-hour of suspended disbelief.”

She turned her narrowed gaze towards him, slowly, to emphasize her suspicion. Nonetheless, she replied with a “Fine.” and let him lead her back to the center.

He activated his bayard first into his rifle and next into the Altean broadsword. “So as I said, I formed the broadsword from Red’s bayard when I was practicing against those flying drones. They’d slipped past the effective range of my rifle and had me cornered from every side. Then the bayard accommodated my need for a close-range weapon.”

“What, that’s it?” she asked dubiously.

“That’s it. And what did I say about suspension of disbelief?”

Pidge merely snorted at his reprimand.

“Hmm… Come to think of it, I really felt cornered at the time. You know, like with full adrenaline rush, in-the-zone focus. And I kept thinking I need to get rid of those drones.” He shrugged. “Next thing I knew, I was cutting them all up.

“Anyway, here.”

She stared blankly at his sword-bayard as he slid the hilt into her hands. “What do you want me to do with this? You know it’ll change back once you let go, right?”

“I know, I know. Geez, Pidge, you’d think I haven’t been a Paladin for as long as you,” Lance teased, then laughed when she shot him a withering glare. “I wanted you to have a feel for a sword. I was thinking maybe visualizing it will help with transforming your bayard’s current form.” Keeping his right hand on his bayard, he moved to position himself flush behind her so that his left hand could support hers. “I hold it like this.” His words both rumbled against her back and ghosted warmly down her cheek as he simultaneously adjusted her hold on the broadsword, effectively dividing her attention into three equal parts.

Pidge bit down a frustrated groan. Why, oh why in the hell had she put on her Paladin uniform instead of her armor?

Whatever. Just deal with it.

She huffed out a breath to refocus.

“Whoa, Pidge, you’re slackening your grip.” Another rumbling, ghosting sentence from Lance. Another adjustment of her now-sweaty hands. “There. Feel its weight now? It might be a little heavy for you to move quickly with, but it should be a good basis for your visualization, yeah? I don’t really know much about swords so I can’t tell you anything other than mine is double-edged and good for cutting up things…”

On and on he rambled, and all the while, her short-circuiting mental processors could only repeat one question: Couldn’t he stop talking and give her a break for one fucking second?

“…So what do you think? You ready to transform your bayard?” she felt and heard him ask.

No. “Yes.” If she nodded a little too quickly, he thankfully didn’t find it weird.

Pidge almost shivered when he stepped away, the air of the training deck cooling her flushed body down. But with her overheating issue resolved, her mental processors had returned to full capacity, and she was able to regain her focus in preparation for her first attempt.

She activated her bayard, held it in both hands, then closed her eyes. “What now?”

“Try to remember or imagine a time the enemy had you cornered.”

Flashing images of Lance’s limp body in her arms and the druid looming over them filled her mind with terror. Her grip on her bayard tightened.

“Now imagine that you can only get past them if you slice them up or stab them.”

“Your efforts are useless.”

No, they’re not. And if she could just get a stab in that damn druid, she would prove it.

“Imagine that the thing you need is in your hands.”

“Your efforts are useless, Paladin of Vol—”

Pidge didn’t let it finish; she lunged and pushed her arm in a single, fatal stab. Death by a killing thrust. An appropriate end for the druid of the Galra Empire that killed Lance—

“W-Whoa…” Her eyes snapped open at Lance’s very alive voice, finding his eyes and following their gaze towards the…

The sword in her hands.

She gasped.

“It’s a… uh, rapier?” she mused in wide-eyed awe as she studied the white blade interspersed tastefully with green and black accents. “But slightly broader. With sharp edges that could cut. So more of a spada da lato, maybe?” Her bayard thrummed underneath her fingers.

Green, are you seeing this?! she thought excitedly.

Her Lion purred into their bond. ‘Yes. You formed a beautiful sword. Green is proud.’

Lance draped an arm around her shoulders. When she directed a proud grin at him, he returned one just as proud and twice as fond. “See what ten minutes of suspended disbelief could do? Imagine what you could achieve with thirty.”

Pidge burst into delighted laughter, dropped her bayard da lato, and hugged him tightly.

Jump 31, 4 Months Before the Final Battle

Pidge sensed someone approaching just beyond her field of vision. Keith, she deduced, based on the waves of grumpy weariness rolling off of him. At last, someone who shared her sentiments.

“I hate parties,” she ranted by way of greeting.

Keith folded his arms over his chest once he reached her side. “Well, here’s some company for your misery.” Despite its sarcasm, the remark appeased her and lifted her mood somewhat.

“Perfect company, if I may say so.” She grabbed two beverages from the floating serving trays and handed one to him.

A melodic laugh carried over to them, drawing their attention to the newly engaged Allura and Lotor, who seemed to be enjoying their own conversation more than the party celebrating them. They made a therapeutic sight, the way happiness radiated from them and spread throughout the Voltron Coalition. Everyone’s spirits and morale hadn’t been this high since they’d obliterated Sendak’s faction at the cost of a quarter of their forces; it was reassuring to see hope return to the Coalition.

Though she despised big, fancy parties like this, Pidge decided that she wouldn’t mind it as much tonight. The smiles brightening the Castle’s ballroom rendered every second in the stuffy green dress and golden heels that Allura had persuaded her to wear worth the discomfort. “Allura looks so happy. Everybody looks so happy.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed with an amused smile. “After that stunt Lotor pulled for his proposal, involving the whole intergalactic Coalition, we shouldn’t expect any less.”

She chuckled. “At least he asked for both the blessing and permission of the Team before going through with it.”

He shrugged. “Allura would’ve said yes no matter what.”

“Mm. True.”

He was right; Lotor and Allura’s engagement was a fixed time-point in this reality. Still, Lotor’s showy proposal proved to be a vital move that helped ensure the Coalition’s eventual victory in the war every time. A devious plan with sincere intentions and beautiful results… He’d really come a long, arduous way from the merciless enemy who’d once hunted Allura and Blue down.

Keith suddenly laughed, recalling her from her thoughts. She shot him a bewildered look. “Turns out you’re wrong, Pidge.”

“Uh, what are you talking about?”

“Seems like not everybody’s happy,” he answered, staring pointedly somewhere at the other side of the ballroom.

Pidge squinted to scan the area. The buffet showcasing Hunk’s culinary prowess was stationed by the wall. Tired guests sat chatting at the tables not far away. Near the dance floor gathered a small crowd of aliens swarming a slightly frazzled Lance.

She tilted her head to the side. “You mean Lance?”

As if sensing their gaze on him, Lance’s eyes darted towards them and immediately sent them a desperate look they both recognized: SOS.

Keith laughed again.

Pidge gave him the side-eye. “Go help him once you’re done.”

Wide-eyed fear replaced his mirth. “I’ll be mobbed, too,” he argued.

“And you think I won’t?” she shot back, one brow raised.

“I’m too intimidating; they’ll take me too seriously.”

“I’m too short; they won’t take me seriously.”

“Yeah, you’re short. But you look stunning, so they will.”

Any retort she’d thought up fell off her mouth when her jaw dropped. She could feel a blush rushing up her face. “Wh-What?” she ended up stammering, which only worsened her embarrassment.

Seeing that he’d won the argument with his compliment, he smirked. “Lance’s words. Now go help him.”

“You’re being a jerk, Keith,” she grumbled. Her shoes suddenly seemed so captivating. Had they always been so gold? She hadn’t noticed until now. Wow.

He nudged her side gently. “I’m also being honest when I say he’s right this one time. You do look stunning; if you walk towards the crowd, you’ll distract them enough to let Lance slip away. Then you both can come back here,” he reasoned with her in a placating tone.

Well, his strategy made sense, so Pidge nodded and returned his smile with a small one before setting off for her retrieval mission.

She headed straight for Lance’s crowd with purposeful strides, her path clearing as everyone made way for her. Another blush threatened to emerge despite her efforts to ignore the overtly admiring stares. It annoyed and further embarrassed her that Keith had been right.

Seven more steps and the group of aliens parted, revealing Lance. He quickly moved towards her before his admirers could trap him again.

“Pidge,” he sighed, relieved. He grabbed her hand, obviously raring to leave, but gasps of recognition echoed all around them.

A chorus of “Paladin Pidge?” and a flurry of movement later, Pidge found herself engulfed by the same crowd she was supposed to be delivering Lance from. Lance’s panicked eyes met hers. She saw them briefly roam around the ballroom until they settled on something to his right.

His hand tightened around hers. “Pidge, won’t you dance with me?” he half-shouted so everyone in their vicinity would hear.

“Of course, Lance!” she shouted in response, hoping their plan would work.

It did.

With collective “ooh”s and coos, the aliens allowed Pidge and Lance to squeeze through and out onto the dance floor.

They took deep breaths of relief, then grinned triumphantly at each other.

When Lance started walking towards Keith’s corner, Pidge held him back.

“Wait.” She furrowed her brows. “We’d still have to dance, wouldn’t we?”

He grimaced. “Do we have to?” A glance back at their overeager audience answered his question. He grimaced again, this time groaning, too.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Lance. Stop whining. Let’s just wait for the next song.” Having nothing else to do, she watched the aliens that had spread out on the dance floor. A sentimental ballad was playing over the loudspeakers, so they were swaying in all manners of strange. She sighed. “I really hope it’s upbeat.”

“Oh, it’s definitely gonna be upbeat,” Lance asserted. “We’ve had enough slow songs for our power couple to dance to. It’s about time for something fast.”

She turned to face him, releasing his hand. “You sound so sure.”

He turned to face her, too. “I made the playlist.”

“So what’s the next song?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” was his cryptic answer. “Say, Pidge, ever heard of mambo?”

“Heard?” Pidge scoffed. “I can dance it, Lance.” You taught me, she wanted to add, but he didn’t need to know that in this timeline.

She backtracked.

Wait a tick!

Realization dawned, flooding her veins with excitement. Pidge perked up instantly. “The next one’s a mambo song?”

“Well,” Lance said as he straightened up in front of her. “It’s not as good as the original pieces we dance to in Cuba, but…” He gave her an inviting smile, his blue eyes sparkling. “Care to mambo, Number Five?”

Some applause, a short introduction by the singer, and the song began.

Jump 36, 7 Months 1 Week Before the Final Battle

“Yes?” Pidge demanded. Cornered as she was by a fidgeting Hunk, an eager Keith, and an ecstatic Lance, she really had no choice but to hear out the plan they obviously wanted to consult her with. She waited impatiently as the three engaged in a nudging match on who would speak up.

Hunk apparently lost because he declared, “We need Paladin uniforms.”

Paladin uniforms again? Like, they have to wear their color twenty-four-seven again? Is this a fixed time-point now?

Whatever her reaction was, Hunk caught it. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Stop looking at us like that, Pidge,” he reprimanded, then proceeded to state their case passionately. “You’ve seen how Coran reproduced his uniform within minutes that one time a Yalmor ripped it apart. We—” He gestured at himself and the other two on either side of him. “—don’t see why we’re subjected to wearing our stuffy armor all the time just to indicate which Paladin we are.”

“Yeah!” Lance interjected while Keith crossed his arms defensively and nodded.

Clearly, these three had become way too bored during their downtime in this timeline as well. This only made Pidge sigh.

“Okay,” she allowed, “So Coran has some clothing-producing machine in the Castle. Are you seriously going to leave our uniforms’ design to him? Because I love him, but no.”

Their eyes commenced a silent conversation. They shortly seemed to reach an agreement when they nodded and turned to smirk at her. This time, she narrowed her eyes at them. Hunk, Lance, and Keith conspiring together. Always a refreshing combination, albeit strange.

“We’ve already come up with the designs,” Keith answered.

“We just need your approval,” added Lance. He opened his tablet to their proposed design before showing it to her with a flourish.

“Huh.”

The base design wasn’t much different from the uniforms of the Galaxy Garrison officers, though the gray top was white. The Paladin’s representative color spanned the shoulders and the area a few inches below them, as well as the outer side of the sleeves. While not exactly original, it provided comfort and breathability while commanding respect at the same time.

In the other timelines, she’d commented with a “Not bad.” which had sent the three over the moon. Pidge winced internally. Was she that stingy with positive feedback? What would their reaction be if she praised their work?

She smiled affectionately at them. Well, she’d find out in five. Four. Three. “It actually looks great.”

They gaped at her for a rather long, astonished moment. Lance even dropped his tablet for full dramatic effect.

“She—” Keith attempted to speak.

“She!” Hunk didn’t even try.

Lance just stared at her in awe.

Pidge rolled her eyes. Then burst into fits of giggles. These dorks.

These dorks were her space family, and she loved them in all existing timelines of this reality.

Jump 44, 9 Months 1 Week Before the Final Battle

“I’m going to stay with the Blades,” Keith announced right after they’d all finished welcoming him back. Needless to say, everyone regarded him with dismay and disbelief.

“What!” Pidge cried out. Though she’d lived through this time-point once before, his decision and the reason behind it still pained her. He was almost as blind as Lance, thinking he wasn’t valuable already just for existing and being physically there, safe, in the Castle with them. In some twisted way, she supposed a jump this far back was worth it, if only because she’d get to relive this moment. The moment the universe felt like it had finally realigned itself.

“No way, man!” objected Hunk, which garnered resounding agreement around the bridge.

Shiro clasped Keith’s shoulder, a frown on his face. “Keith, you just finished your training.”

Keith turned away from everyone’s disapproving gazes. “They need me there,” he replied.

“But I—we need you here, too.”

“You can pilot Black again, Shiro. I’ll be more useful giving you intel and back—”

“Keith, no,” Lance cut in, stepping into Keith’s field of vision to look him in the eye. “You’ve learned everything you could about espionage. It’s time you returned to the Team. We miss you. Red misses you, too.”

But that only elicited a sigh. “Lance, we’ve talked about this. You’re already bonded to Red.”

“Well, I was bonded to Blue, too, but… I think I’ve served my time for both of them,” Lance said with alarming finality that Keith looked sharply at him.

“Don’t say—”

“I’ll talk to Blue.” Everyone turned to Allura in surprise. “I’ve been thinking of returning her to Lance for some time now. With the Galra Empire’s civil war inching closer to the end, I plan to continue the research on quintessence and alchemy that Lotor’s and my parents started long ago. He has reason to believe that the sacred land of Oriande actually exists, and I want to—” She shook her head slightly. “No, I must find it. I must learn what my father did, and what I can do to help secure peace throughout the universe once and for all.”

Lance began to protest, “But Allura—”

“It will be alright, Lance,” she assured. “Blue has missed you so much as well. It is I who has served her time.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, still hesitant.

Allura gave him a kind smile. “Yes. I’ve found my path. Besides, if I had to lose Blue to someone, it would be my greatest pleasure to return her to you.” Then she winked, and Lance blushed.

And Pidge averted her eyes. That, she didn’t need to see twice.

Jump 47, 8 Months 3 Weeks Before the Final Battle

“…pathetic. I used to make fun of people who get their hearts broken.”

Pidge stopped dead in her tracks and nearly dropped her tablet at the sound of Lance’s voice. She didn’t think anyone would be here at this time. She waited for him to acknowledge the swishing sound that the Paladin lounge’s doors had just made.

“Heck, I was the one breaking hearts!”

But Lance was evidently too lost in his thoughts. She considered giving him privacy for the rest of his very personal soliloquy but entertained instead the idea that maybe he needed someone to listen to him. She shrugged and walked in silently.

“I guess I never knew what it meant to like someone the way I like Allura.”

Since it didn’t seem that he’d stop any time soon, Pidge opted to sit on the floor, her back to the back of his head, to lessen the awkwardness she felt even by an iota.

“Allura’s not like any other girl I’ve ever met before.”

Had he ranted alone like this in the other timelines, too? She stared up at the ceiling as he talked on.

“Probably because she’s an alien, but still. She’s smart, courageous, and makes me want to be a better person.” He paused for a beat. “That is so weird to say. And I can’t tell her how I feel. She wouldn’t take me seriously anyway.”

He genuinely liked Allura, then, Pidge concluded. Her chest twinged at the thought. From what exactly, she didn’t want to know.

“I don’t have anything to offer. I’m just a boy from Cuba, not a space prince like Lotor,” he grumbled, then sighed.

Silence followed; he’d finished his sad rant. Pidge decided to give him her perspective, having heard everything and all.

“The universe—” she began but was cut off by Lance’s melodramatic gasp.

“Pidge! What—”

She rolled her eyes, leaned back all the way onto the floor so that their heads were slightly aligned, and tried again: “The universe isn’t kind enough to always give us what we want, Lance. But,” she added when she saw in her periphery that his brows had furrowed and his mouth was opening in argument, “But it’s also not cruel enough to not give us what we need.”

Mollified somewhat, he hummed in thought before his head tilted up towards the ceiling, too.

A comfortable, contemplative hush fell over them as Pidge proceeded to fiddle with her tablet while Lance mulled over her words.

“So,” he said after a long while, “What should I do now?”

Pidge shot him a bored look. “That’s entirely your business. Maybe you’re looking too close to home. I mean, you’re a Paladin, you can travel anywhere in the universe and across alternate realities, and you think you found love in the first alien you met?” A huff escaped her. “If your life is ever adapted into a rom-com chick flick, it’ll be a definite flop, man.” She returned her attention to her tablet. “I don’t know why you’re so eager for a relationship. You’ve already got Blue. And half of Red.”

He laughed at that. “Right. My girls.” He sighed wistfully. “I don’t know either, Pidge. Maybe… Maybe I just wanted to feel loved.”

“Well, you already are.”

A pause, a rustle, and then: “Pidge.”

“Mm?” She glanced at him—then almost forgot how to breathe.

Lance had turned fully towards her and was looking at her intently with a small, knowing smile that lit up his eyes.

“Are you… trying to comfort me?” he drawled, but all her brain could register were the four inches between them, and that her eyes had dropped to his lips, and the urgent need to breathe sometime soon or at least answer his question.

She inhaled rather shakily. “If only to shut you up,” she breathed out more than said.

His smile turned into an oblivious grin. “Uh, nuh-uh. If whining is all it takes for you to open up to people like this, I’ll never shut up.”

Spell broken, Pidge turned away, releasing a sigh half relieved and half fed up.

Jump 52, 6 Months and 2 Weeks Before the Final Battle

Hunk froze mid-slice of some alien tuber. “You’ve been what?!” He turned around to level an incredulous, gaping expression at her.

“I said I’ve been repeatedly jumping back in time trying to find a way to save Lance.”

“Pidge, that’s—”

“I know!” Pidge interjected. “But I’m not destroying this reality—it has a self-preserving mechanism. Basically, it has a single main timeline made of fixed time-points that safeguards its integrity,” she hurriedly explained, because this may be the only time he would let her. “It’s just that that timeline includes Lance’s death, so I’m trying to find a way around—” Hunk threw his hands in the air in obvious frustration, and Pidge shut up.

“Do you even hear yourself—?!”

“Of course I do—”

“Then the fact that you couldn’t see the wrong in your actions only shows that you’ve done this time-jumping thing enough times to stop caring about the consequences!”

She met his glare with a defiant one. “Oh yeah? But wouldn’t you do the same for Shay? For us? For your family back on Earth?!” she challenged, voice increasing in pitch and volume.

“If it were me, Pidge,” he said, his face as stone-cold and unforgiving as his tone, “I’d never get any of you cornered into a dangerous situation in the first place. Never again. But even if I do, I’d never create countless versions of the ‘main timeline’ and push the limits of this reality just to bring you back.”

Pidge was loath to admit it, but his sharp words had injected her with the icy idea that maybe she’d been doing this all wrong. That maybe the druid who’d killed Lance in the original timeline had been right and her efforts were useless.

No.

She fought the cold, which had invaded her mind and now gripped her heart, with a fiery reply: “Well, I’m different. I’ll do anything for the people I consider family, Hunk. And Lance is one of them,” she finished, heaving with an upheaval of pent up emotions from all the repeats she’d had to do.

All the while, Hunk just watched, eyes not quite narrowed in scrutiny but unblinking, as if he was working out something from her words and actions.

The uncomfortable silence stretched out to its full tension; when Hunk spoke next, Pidge nearly jumped out of her skin.

“But he’s not just family, is he?” he asked as he approached her.

She stilled under his piercing look of understanding, stuck between backing away and asserting herself.

“How many times have you jumped back? Ten? Twenty? Couldn’t be bothered to count so long as you have the chance to save him?” His questions were too direct and probing for comfort, and she wanted to shut them all out. “Does seeing him alive keep you sane? Is that why you kept going back and living in the past, because you can’t move past the fact that he’s dead?”

S-Stop.

Hunk gently pried her hands away from her ears; she didn’t realize that she’d been covering them, or that she’d shut her eyes tight, until the contact made her meet his softened gaze.

“I’ll take that as ‘yes to all’,” he determined quietly, as gently as he was holding her. “And I’ll take it you’re starting to figure out why, too. He’s not just family to you.

“At this point, Pidge, Lance is already your universe.”

With Hunk’s words, everything regarding Lance that had confounded her thus far finally clicked into perfect place in her mind.

But with the tragedy of its implication, Pidge wondered if it would end up tearing her mind apart.

Jump 53, 6 Months Before the Final Battle

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Pidge!”

This had never happened in any other timeline.

“Pidge, wait up!”

Pidge, of course, did not; she knew that Lance’s longer strides would eventually overtake hers, and she wanted to maintain the distance she’d gained from her head start for a few extra seconds to rein in the rage boiling within her.

Too soon, Lance caught her arm. His grip tightened when she tried to shake him off, letting up only after she’d stopped struggling. She didn’t dare turn around, lest her burning fury get fueled by another stupid thing from him and she start throwing punches.

“Hey, what gives, Pidge?” he asked. He sounded so confused and concerned, but she didn’t deign to answer him.

Because in all honesty, she didn’t know, either, and she hated not knowing.

Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

He tried another angle: “Are… Are you mad that the Matriarch’s daughter likes me?”

Pidge scoffed. Likes him? What a fucking understatement. She rounded on him. “Our mission on this planet is diplomatic. In case you’ve forgotten, that means we’re here to recruit the people as allies for the Coalition.”

Lance knit his brows. “I know that! Isn’t that what we’ve been doing this whole time?”

“That is what the rest of us have been doing. You, on the other hand, have done nothing but gallivant with the daughter all day!”

Silence settled in after her outburst, like the quiet destruction that followed the explosion of a bomb.

She glared at him with the full force of her anger, heaving breaths in a futile attempt to calm herself. He glared back, his face creased up in an affronted frown. Neither spoke for more tense seconds than Pidge cared to count.

When Lance broke the silence, his voice had gone low, cold, and distant. “I’m not sure of the exact definition of ‘gallivanting’, but if it means getting a crash course on the planet’s history through a tour of the Matriarch’s historical, museum-like palace, then you’re right. I have been gallivanting with the future Matriarch.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you, Pidge. Seems like that’s all I manage to do these days.”

Pidge shivered despite the heated flush from her fury.

After years of living together and fighting a war as a Team, it had been inevitable that everyone in Team Voltron would pick up each other’s traits and habits. Hunk, for example, would adopt Allura’s commanding tone when he wanted everyone’s attention. Coran had learned from Shiro to keep calm under almost any pressure. Keith would sometimes give random—albeit a little awkward—hugs and quips the way Hunk would. Allura had become more cautious like Coran, while Shiro had been coaxed by Pidge and Lance to let himself go and just enjoy the moment whenever he could. Pidge herself would now and then make an effort to be sensitive to others’ feelings like Lance. And Lance…

Lance had taken Hunk’s frankness, Pidge’s snark, and Keith’s aloofness and blended them into rare but really cutting remarks. Like the one he’d just thrown at her.

Still, Pidge didn’t back down. If anything, she only got angrier. He wanted a fight? He’ll get it.

“No, no. I should be apologizing. I wasn’t aware lip-locking was part of their history,” she bit out. Lance’s eyes widened, and she continued talking to preempt the objection about to leave his mouth. “Don’t worry; I am now.”

“It’s not like I initiated it! I couldn’t push her away and offend her whole planet, either!”

“But you could’ve been a professional and avoided it!”

That shut him up. He stared at her contemplatively, probably to think over his retort.

Smug victory washed over Pidge, dampening her anger and easing up the tension in her body. She made to turn around, but Lance apparently wasn’t done.

“Is that what all this is about?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

He just stared further. Under his unwavering, still contemplative gaze, every part of her brain began screaming for her to put up all defenses and prepare her wit. Because he wasn’t trying to figure out his next words.

No, she realized with growing alarm.

He was figuring her out.

“You’re upset because the Matriarch’s daughter kissed me.” It wasn’t a question; a hint of doubt colored his voice but it rang certain for the most part. Pidge froze.

On full defense now, she replied, “Of course I am. As I said, it was unprofess—”

Lance took a step into her personal space and the rest of her reply abandoned ship. Pidge suddenly had the urge to step back, but his eyes, turning a vivid blue as they cleared in comprehension, pinned her in place. She felt the dread of someone standing defenseless just inside an airlock with its countdown to open nearing zero.

“Pidge.” Lance called her so softly it was almost a whisper. “Are you jealous?”

The airlock opened, sucking her right out into space. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t help feeling like she was going to explode and implode at the same time.

“Don’t,” she vaguely heard herself say, “Ever. Speak to me. Again.”

When she regained her bearings, Pidge found herself on her bedroom floor with her back against the door.

“Are you jealous?”

She discovered that she was, and she didn’t know what to do about it. So she cried.

Jump 56, 4 Months Before the Final Battle

Allura knocked on the door. Pidge knew who it was because the most-awaited engagement party of the universe would start in a few hours, and she had yet to hear the talk that unfailingly persuaded her into wearing a dress and heels.

“Pidge, are you there?” came Allura’s muffled voice.

Pidge looked up from her latest tech project and answered, “In here.”

The doors slid open to let Allura in. She held a neatly wrapped bundle that must be Pidge’s outfit. “I brought you your clothes for the party.”

“Thanks, Allura.”

Allura made to drop the bundle on Pidge’s lap but hesitated. She instead sat on the bed beside Pidge and set it on her own lap. After a few beats of silence, she spoke. “Would you mind it terribly if I talk? Continuously talk, I mean? I really need someone to listen; I was hoping it would be you, Pidge, and that you’d be alright with that.”

Pidge had heard different versions of Allura’s imminent monologue, of course, but she promptly set aside her project to give her full attention.

This was their most important conversation, if only because Allura laid her feelings bare in every iteration of this moment. Everybody knew that while she was the epitome of sincerity and strength, she kept her own feelings and suffering mostly to herself. Hence, her willingness to share everything she’d shared—and would share—with Pidge was a testament to her trust and love, and Pidge loved her back for it.

So Pidge always listened, no matter how many times, no matter how repetitive. She would lend her friend an ear in all timelines of this reality.

“Sure,” Pidge said quietly. “What’s up?”

Allura let out a breath. “I must admit I feel overwhelmed,” she began. “Just a few years ago, I woke up after ten thousand years to discover that Altea had been destroyed. Coran and the mice were my only source of comfort and hope in those first days; they were all I had left of our planet, our home. Father was too, but… like all good things must end, I had to let go of my reliance on him, and lead the war against Zarkon not in his place but in my own. There was a universe to save, and there were new Paladins to train—there was no time to grieve what had been gone for ten thousand years.” A few tears rolled down her cheeks.

Pidge had always been clueless on how to comfort someone crying, but she’d learned from having this conversation multiple times that her presence, and a comforting touch now and then, often sufficed. She reached out to squeeze Allura’s hand encouragingly, receiving a tearful smile in return.

“Then you Paladins were chosen by the Lions,” Allura continued with a pointed, mildly teasing look that made Pidge snicker. “Five Earthlings with barely any teamwork and absolutely no idea of what they‘d just involved themselves with. Perhaps it was urgency, or perhaps your natural chemistry as a group, but you all learned and improved at an impressive speed. With that same speed, you welcomed Coran, the mice, and me into your group, and my family increased by five before I even realized it.

“And last week I learned that I have an intergalactic family, each one giving all kinds of well-wishes and blessings for Lotor—a descendant of the very monster who had conquered and enslaved them for ten thousand years—to ask for my hand.

“Now I have Lotor, too. And perhaps in the far future, once we’ve won the war and the universe begins to heal… Perhaps—” Allura inhaled sharply. “Perhaps I could even have another family with him,” she finished with so much yearning in her voice. She turned to Pidge. “I’ve so many people I love now—so much more than before Altea fell. I’m not sure how I can do that, and how I can protect all of you. It’s overwhelming.” She sighed.

Pidge squeezed Allura’s hand again. “Oh, no; the bad kind of overwhelming?” she asked in mock concern that elicited a genuine smile from Allura this time.

“No, the good kind.”

“Well, I think we can deal with the good kind of overwhelming in…” Pidge hummed thoughtfully for a while. “Four steps. Step one.” She held up her pinkie. “Let Voltron defend everyone with you. Step two.” Her ring finger went up next. “Depend on the Castle of Lions for back-up and support. Step three.” Her middle finger this time. “Use the wisdom you and Lotor gained from Oriande to guide you. Step four.” Her index finger for the last step. “Trust that the Coalition can and will protect themselves and each other.” She shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but seems kinda feasible to me.” She grinned when Allura finally chuckled and enclosed her in a warm embrace.

“Oh, Pidge, logical as always.” Allura’s voice was smiling. Pidge thought it was a beautiful sound.

“Allura. I have four boys as fellow Paladins,” she deadpanned, pulling away from the embrace. “Who else, if not me?”

They both burst out laughing.

Eventually, when their laughter had calmed to occasional giggles, and then further into happy sighs, Allura spoke again.

“Pidge, I know how averse you are to parties such as this. But I want you there to celebrate this once-in-a-lifetime event with me. I want you to enjoy it and be as comfortable as possible as well.” She carefully peeled the gauzy wrapper of Pidge’s party clothes. “Coran and I made this for you. It may be slightly more form-fitting than you’re used to, but…” she trailed off, seemingly unsure how to persuade Pidge.

But Pidge had already been persuaded so many times long before this jump, so she smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Allura. I’ll wear it.” Her smile widened when Allura regarded her with pleasant surprise.

“You will?”

“Well, it was beautifully made—thankfully, you envisioned and Coran constructed, not the other way around—and it served a diplomatic purpose. Sort of.” Pidge smirked. “You remember Queen Izar, the fashion-loving queen of O’ceo? She hosted that gathering of planet leaders just so she could see us Paladins again in the suits and dress you—”

“Pidge,” Allura interrupted. “What are you talking about?” At the astonished and confused expression on her face, the mirth that Pidge felt quickly evaporated, leaving an uneasy sensation that she’d fucked up somehow. Her eyes drifted down to the dress in Allura’s hands—only it wasn’t a dress.

It was a pantsuit.

Why was it a pantsuit?

Pidge swallowed audibly. “Oh, um…” She needed to think of a cover-up pronto. “I was… actually expecting a dress based on your introduction, so I wanted to, uh, assure you that I’d wear it by ah… predicting that the fashionable Queen Izar would like it. Very much.” She nodded at Allura but shook her head at herself internally. Couldn’t she have done better?!

“…Is that so?” Allura eyed her more expectantly than suspiciously, which confused her already flustered mind. What else was she expected to say?

Pidge had no idea, so she said, “Uh… yeah?”, earning a somewhat disappointed sigh from Allura.

“Well, then. If there’s anything else you’d like to talk to me about—anything—then I’ll be in my room or the bridge.” Allura gave her another expectant look, smiled sadly, then left the pantsuit on the bed. And with that, Pidge was alone in her room again.

What just happened? How had she made a mistake? Pidge only got a pantsuit if she’d reacted violently against the concept of wearing a dress. That had only happened once before, in the original timeline. Did this mean she’d protested against it in this one? She racked her brain to recall if she had. Memories of all the other versions of this event flitted in her mind, but not of the current one. Pidge couldn’t remember what she’d done three days ago.

She shook her head to force her mind to focus. She must’ve at least said something against wearing a dress, right? She could start with that. What did they do after outfit planning? The party’s music. Lance took charge of the playlist—no, that was in the thirty-first jump. It was Hunk this ti—no, jump forty-six. So Shiro? Of course not; eternally banned together with Coran, remember? Must be Keith, right? No! That was jump fifty! Her, then—wait, that was in the last jump!

Pidge growled in exasperation. “This is already jump fifty-five, Pidge! Think!”

But what she ended up thinking was: This… is jump fifty-five, right?

Dread squeezed the breath from her lungs.

She ran to one of her crates-cum-desk for her diary, clammy hands flipping frantically through the pages.

One day ago: taste-tested for Hunk with Lance.

Two days ago: let Allura get body measurements.

Three days ago: appealed that all Paladins wear the same thing.

And there on the day her future memories arrived in this timeline: Jump fifty-six, ten months before the final battle. Five days after Lotor lit the Kral Zera and became Emperor of the Galra Empire.

She was one jump off.

The diary fell from her hands.

Jump 59, 2 Months Before the Final Battle

“Paladin Pidge!”

Pidge startled awake, nearly falling off of Green’s paw where she’d been tinkering with… she couldn’t even remember anymore. “The fu—?”

“Where are you?!” Allura’s angry voice blared through the Castle’s public address system. “Head to the bridge immediately!”

Perplexed, she hastily followed the order. The sight of the other Paladins in their armor and everyone positively vexed waiting for her perplexed her further.

“Why aren’t you in your armor, Pidge?” She directed her confused gaze at a frowning Shiro.

Why would she be?

“Do you know what time it is?” She snapped her head towards Keith this time.

“It’s past midday!” Then to Lance. “We were supposed to start training at sunrise! After watching it!”

“What training?” Was there another training scheduled right after that intensive one yesterday? No way; she was exhausted, and they couldn’t make her—

They all looked at her like she’d lost her fucking mind. She glared at them, insulted.

Hunk cleared his throat. “Uhh, Pidge. Our training was supposed to be today. You know, the one Coran said was the—” He gestured to Coran, who continued without missing a beat, “—most advanced Paladin training in the history of Voltron.”

“Yeah. Today.”

“Today?” Pidge echoed, still rather lost. “But what about the one yester—” She went very, very still.

There was no training yesterday. They’d pushed it back a day because Pidge told them to, so she could see how it would change the events in this timeline. But she was sure they’d already had it in this jump—

What jump was this, anyway?

She couldn’t instantly recall the information, and her mind reeled at that fact, causing her body to take a staggering step back.

Oh, no. It happened in this jump, too.

“Pidge!” Lance jerked forward, hand outstretched towards her. The others followed suit, but she held a hand up.

“It’s fine,” she said shakily, taking another wobbly step. “I’m fine. Can you… Can you just give me fifteen minutes to get ready? I’ll meet you outside in Green.”

“You should rest, Number Five,” Coran suggested instead, regarding her worriedly.

Shiro nodded readily. “We can move it to tomorr—”

“No!” she shouted. At everyone’s troubled reaction, she lowered her voice and explained hurriedly, “I mean, we’ve already moved it back a day. We don’t have the luxury—”

“Splendid idea, Shiro!” Coran cut her off. “I’ll run some tests to check if she’s okay. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” And then he was ushering her towards the med bay with an inescapable arm around her shoulders.

Pidge started struggling to break free once they’d turned a corner. “Let go, Coran! I said I’m fine! I just forgot about it, okay?”

But he remained silent. His persistent pushing only aggravated her, and she felt the urge to say something, anything.

“Can’t a Paladin make mistakes now?” She recoiled at her own words. What a stupid argument, especially coming from her. It had been her mistake that started all this in the first place.

Pidge deflated, her head hanging shamefully.

She didn’t notice that they’d stopped walking until Coran put both hands on her shoulders.

“Pidge.”

Not ‘Number Five’. Oh, he must be very serious right now, she thought wryly. She didn’t meet his gaze, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked. As she expected, his voice had deepened into a somber timbre.

“No,” she muttered. How would she explain it now, anyway, without letting anyone figure things out like Hunk had some jumps ago? Without involving everyone again, knowing they’d all fail without a concrete method of changing a fixed time-point? “No,” she repeated firmly.

“Very well. Then won’t you answer some questions at least? Not to worry,” he assured, “Just a few yes-no questions; pretty easy to answer.”

She inclined her head once.

“Something is happening, isn’t it?”

“…Yes.” Some things are happening.

“Something bad?”

“Yes.” Lance dies in two months. I’m starting to confuse the timelines.

“You won’t say anything beyond this, would you?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you mean, ‘not yet’?”

“I mean ‘not ever’, if I can prevent that something from happening. Hopefully, I won’t ever have to say anything about it.”

Pidge felt Coran pull her into a consoling hug.

“Then I suppose I should hope so, too?”

“Yes.” She hugged him back. “That’s pretty much all that’s left.”

Jump 60, 3 Weeks Before the Final Battle

“Hey, Pidge! You there?” Matt’s call carried into Green’s cockpit.

Matt’s here, Pidge informed her Lion and got an affectionate mental nudge in return.

‘Go forth, Katie.’

“Katie! Matt’s Little Sister! Green Paladin! Smallest Paladin with the biggest brain!” he continued calling out when she had yet to acknowledge his presence.

“Are you trying to insult me?” she greeted her brother with crossed arms, eyeing him with mock challenge.

Matt gave a placating grin, hands up in surrender. “I was actually trying to get you to shout something back.”

Pidge chuckled as she ran into his arms. Nothing like her brother’s familiarly warm and tight hug to remind her that she was a little sister and a daughter as much as she was the Green Paladin. She relished Matt’s presence.

After a long, peaceful silence, Matt said into her hair, “So I heard you’ll be infiltrating the main ship’s central hub solo now.”

“Let me guess. Shiro asked you to come and talk me out of it?” she murmured, so at ease that her mental and emotional exhaustion from her consecutive jumps threatened to catch up with her.

“Lance.”

“Huh.”

“Said he must’ve royally upset you for you to get him reassigned from being your support. They’re all worried, Pidge. Now that I know about it, I’m worried, too.”

“Mm. Try talking me out of it, then.”

“Okay.” Matt gently peeled her from him. When she began to complain, he squished her cheeks with both hands, then leaned down to level his gaze with hers. His brown eyes were clouded with trepidation. Pidge wondered fleetingly if her eyes reflected the look in his or if they were instead empty, weary, sad. Scared.

“But let me ask one really important question first,” he said quietly, in that tone he always used to promise her he’d keep whatever they talk about a secret from everyone else. The last time he’d used it, secrets were crushes on classmates or mission teammates, school books flushed down the toilet by bullies, reading Dad’s decrypted love letters to Mom together on the rooftop after bedtime. It all seemed so, so far away in space-time now. Who would’ve thought that lightyears away, secrets became a matter of life, death, and victory in an age-old intergalactic war?

Even though she felt completely safe, Pidge couldn’t help but stiffen slightly as she waited for Matt’s question.

“Katie, what’s going on?”

She closed her eyes.

I’m a chronic time-jumper. I’ve jumped so many times that lately my memories of some timelines are starting to get mixed up and it scares me but I can’t stop until I find a way to save Lance. Because I can’t give him up. But I also don’t want to keep seeing him die.

“I don’t know anymore,” she answered instead, just as quietly. “I just want everything to turn out okay for once.”

“It will,” Matt replied. He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Have faith.” His hands stayed on her cheeks, warm and gentle and comforting. Pidge squeezed them lightly in silent thanks.

Jump 62, Day of the Final Battle

It’ll be okay, Pidge assured herself once Shiro’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Keith. We’ve cleared the east side. What’s your status?”

Things are so much different now.

“Haggar’s forces are more concentrated here—we’re being overwhelmed, Shiro!”

“Hang on. We’re on our way.”

“Castle to Paladins, the Princess and Lotor have just engaged Haggar.”

“Hunk to Pidge and Lance, rescue teams are done with evac. Shut this ship down.”

“Copy that.”

The entrance to the central hub of Haggar’s main ship came into view. Pidge activated her bayard into its default grapple.

The faint beep of a personal line opening. “Stay alert, Pidge. We’ve only gotten rid of one druid. They usually work in pairs,” Lance whispered.

She stole a glance at him: still with the same ready rifle and serious, focused face. He caught her gaze and flashed a small smile.

“Lance. I know. We’ve confirmed that months ago,” she replied quietly, her surliness in the original timeline now determination to get things right in this one. The sound of his still good-natured chuckle caused her heart to twinge.

She took a breath.

It’s fine. I know exactly where the druid would appear.

Pidge released her grapple the moment she saw the druid’s tell-tale flicker of materialization. As soon as the grapple made contact with the hologram, she transformed her bayard into a sword, spun on her heel, and—

“PIDGE!!”

—thrust with every bit of power and vindictiveness she possessed.

It hit its mark square in the chest, making the druid scream before disintegrating.

But it pierced Lance’s breastplate first.

“No! Lance!” Pidge screamed, one arm shooting up to wind around Lance and catch him as he fell to his knees. She buffered his fall with her body. “Lance, wha— Why did you— Oh god, I’m sorry!!” she stammered. Lance was starting to blur in her eyes, and she swiped hurriedly at them; she needed a clear vision to apply first aid—

Her trembling hands met weak resistance. “Pidge,” Lance forced out. He coughed up blood at the effort.

“L-Lance, just—just stay still, okay? I have to—”

“Your alarm…”

Only at his words did her ears register the shrill beeps of her countdown timer. The dreadful sound spurred her into more urgent action. She had to save him before it stops. She tried to move her hands, but his grip kept them where they were.

“Lance,” she pleaded, “Not this again! Please! I’ve had enough! Please just let me save you!”

“…Don’t… have to…”

“What?” she asked in a watery voice. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” His words grew more quiet and garbled. She leaned in as close as she could to catch the rest. “…only way… protect… you… S’fine…”

The first sob finally burst out against her will, and she could no longer stop the succeeding ones. “It’s not f-fine. Lance, I ki— I killed you! How c-could that ever be fine?!”

He reached up to rest a hand on her cheek. She braced his hand against hers.

“S’fine… for-forgive… you. I… you. Pidge.”

And then he closed his eyes.

“Lance… Lance!”

And then he was gone. Again.

Pidge kept Lance’s hand on her cheek even after his body went limp. She could still feel some warmth; if she shut her eyes and tried really hard, she might even convince herself that he was still alive and she hadn’t just killed him.

But he wasn’t, and she had, and so she released the crushing pain in her chest as an anguished shout that reverberated in the eerily silent hub.

Silent hub?

Pidge blinked slowly. And blinked. And blinked until her stream of tears receded into individual droplets. When had her alarm stopped? She feebly started up the countdown timer built into her suit. The minute-long alarm had been set to go off at Lance’s original time of death—which was six minutes ago.

“But…”

But the Lance in this timeline… hadn’t been dead for two whole minutes.

Her breathing picked up with her racing thoughts.

Lance had lived past his time of death in all the other timelines.

A fixed time-point… moved back by a few minutes.

Pidge’s mind reeled.

“G-Green… Are-Are you seeing this?” she called. Her eyes welled up with fresh, hopeful tears.

Her Lion’s consoling presence engulfed her in a tight embrace. She felt grief and hesitation in the reply transmitted through their bond: ‘Katie…’

“There’s—“ Pidge sniffled. “There really is some way to change a fixed time-point. If I keep jumping, I’ll find it for sure.” She wiped the tears from her eyes determinedly. At the loss of contact with her hands, her sword-bayard reverted to its deactivated form. It left on Lance’s armored chest a thin, red-outlined hole where some of his blood had oozed out. She covered it with her hands. “I’ll save Lance for sure.”

In place of a reply, a heavy, choking feeling flowed through their bond, pervading Pidge’s mind before settling painfully in her heart.

It was sorrow, she realized. Green’s sorrow.

And Pidge’s heart ached for her Lion.

“Green…?” she reached out verbally and mentally, both voice and thoughts subdued.

‘You lose a part of yourself with every journey to the past,’ finally came Green’s reluctant reply. ‘You will lose yourself in your endeavor to save Blue Sister’s Lance, Katie.’

She shook her head. “But I can’t stop now, especially when I just found out I could actually do it.”

Another pause.

‘Green has already lost Trigel. Green cannot lose you as well.’

“I can’t lose Lance, either! I’m tired of losing him. He’s—” Pidge inhaled sharply, eyes shutting tightly with the gravity of her next words: “He’s my universe.” Her whispered confession carried over every silent corner of the sepulchral hub, over their mental link, over the comms that erupted in confused but unheeded chatter. “Please, Green.”

Green’s sorrow intensified and rushed into her as their bond expanded until it encompassed her entire being. Until she held her Lion’s overwhelming emotion within her.

Until Pidge was Green and Green was Pidge.

Amidst the sorrow burst out Green’s love and pride for her, like slivers of sunlight penetrating the heavy shade of forest trees. Pidge opened her eyes and found that her imagery hadn’t been far off: she was standing, clad in her Paladin uniform, at the center of a grassy glade. Light filtered through a thin canopy of leaves to dully illuminate her surroundings. It was raining, she noticed; the hushed pitter-patter of raindrops on leaves created a tranquil, but very melancholy sound.

A rustle behind her had Pidge following the sound. And there she was, in a majestic coat of fur the exact color Pidge had always imagined it to be.

“Green.” Her name passed through Pidge’s lips reverently.

‘Paladin Pidge of the Green Lion.’ Green padded towards her. ‘Green’s Paladin. Green’s Katie.’ Golden eyes never strayed from hers until her Lion nuzzled her chest. ‘She defended the whole universe time and time again. Now she will defend her own.’

Pidge’s heart swelled with more emotions than she could name. Still, she did the few she could: love and pride that equaled her Lion’s, gratitude, regret, reverence, humility. What an honor it was to be chosen and recognized and loved by the Green Lion of Voltron. She leaned into Green so she could wrap her arms fully around her Lion’s neck. “I love you, Green.”

‘Green loves you as well, Katie.’ Purring, Green pressed her forehead against Pidge’s. The familiar sensation soothed the hurt and weariness that permeated her being.

The glade darkened; rain began to fall in torrents, drenching everything beneath it. It obscured Pidge’s vision and cascaded down her cheeks. Like tears.

 Maybe it was.

‘Green’s—My Lion heart.’ Green’s affirmation felt so loving, so final. Like a goodbye.

And it was.

Pidge thought she was dreaming when her eyes had opened to her Garrison dorm’s ceiling. After all, it had been close to three years since she’d last glimpsed it on her way out to her nightly monitoring of alien radio chatter.

But then her bedside clock alarmed at 5:30 AM as it used to do. Then she saw her long brown hair. And then the sun dawned, and with it the reality of what Green had done.

Green had sent her back to the time before the beginning. Back to when she had neither her family connected by blood nor her space family connected by heart. No one she could allow herself to rely on. No constant, comforting presence at the back of her mind. All the bonds she’d worked hard to forge and strengthen throughout the years, nonexistent.

She broke down then. Mentally, emotionally—on all levels, devastated as she was that her Lion had severed their bond right after telling her she was dearly loved. She even almost considered hating Green for the feeling of betrayal that had consumed her.

The following days had her mulling, brooding, and agonizing over her Lion’s thoughts and actions, replaying the final moments of her last jump over and over in the hope that they would start to make sense.

They had, eventually. In the middle of her second sleepless night.

Pidge had chosen to save Lance, but Green had chosen to save her.

By sending Pidge that far back, Green had given her another choice. A chance to walk away from a future she’d lived far too many times and spare what remained of herself from any more suffering and loss. Green hadn’t wanted to lose her but had chosen to lose Pidge as she was now rather than little by little, over time and jumps to the past. Green had also known with absolute certainty that she would figure everything out and see things through her eyes as Pidge always had, and so had given her time to decide.

Pidge glanced at the clock: 6:14 AM. Her week of deliberation had now dwindled into little more than an hour. If she got up and prepared for the day now, she’d finish in about half an hour. That would give her forty minutes of idle fidgeting and overthinking. She scrunched up her nose.

Counterproductive.

She opted instead to first tarry in bed by recalling the schedule of classes for the day—introduction to interplanetary rescue missions, lecture on the role of a communications officer, introduction to simulations in the Galaxy Garrison and the theories behind each type, simulation of the Kerberos rescue mission, supplied her brain instantly, chipping off five seconds from her time—then go about her morning routine at the most leisurely pace manageable. Even if there was nothing remotely leisurely in store for her today, the tasks would at least replace the fidgeting and distract her overactive brain into focusing on the thoughts that matter.

She sighed. Then got out of bed.

Twenty-one minutes.

That was the longest her brain could suppress the beginnings of one last debate with itself.

Pidge had just come out of the shower when the opening question finally sprung to the forefront of her mind: Did I really have the freedom to choose any other future?

And she was slipping her cadet uniform on when the answer came: Yes; Green gave me that freedom.

While securing the belt on her waist: But for all I know, getting involved with Team Voltron might be a fixed time-point.

After zipping up her boots: What if it’s not, though?

That gave her pause.

Then maybe I can save myself.

As she brushed her hair: But what about Matt and Dad? Oh. The argument reminded her to put on Matt’s glasses. What about Shiro, Keith, Hunk, Allura, Coran? What about Green? What about the universe? What about Lance?

Everybody else survived in all those timelines. Statistically, they should survive in this one, too. And Green would likely find another Paladin to defend the universe with. An Olkari, maybe. Or an Arusian? She decided to fix herself a cup of coffee to justify not thinking for a few minutes and skipping over Lance.

On the way to the pantry: But I was there with them! What if they don’t survive this time! What if Green never finds another Paladin!

Getting the coffee: Then I didn’t have to—and wouldn’t want to—know. For once, I’ll favor ignorance for the bliss it’ll offer, even if hollow.

Pidge asked herself again on the way back to her room: What about Lance?

Well, what about self-preservation? And sanity?

She sat on the floor, set her mug beside her, and leaned back onto the side of her bed. The happy memories with the Team more than balance out the bad ones. Plus all the new experience and skills I gained from all those repeats.

When the coffee had cooled enough to drink: But they’re all starting to get mixed up. Besides, the human brain is wired to remember negative events better and longer. She blew on the liquid in her mug and sipped. If I keep going, those happy memories will stop meaning much while the bad ones accumulate.

Pidge exhaled heavily.

The parting gift Green had sent her back with, while liberating, was also torturous. No matter what she decided to do, she’d lose something or someone. How was she to weigh her options fairly?

If she left the Garrison today or stayed in her room later tonight, she wouldn’t lead Hunk and Lance to the rooftop. They wouldn’t see Shiro return to Earth, or help Keith save him, or find out about the war. They might even live in relative safety in the long run.

Meanwhile, she would be able to go home, apologize to Mom for infiltrating the Garrison for any information on Matt and Dad, and live without being involved with Voltron. She would have an entirely different future that didn’t entail as much loss and violence as fighting at the frontlines of the war. But she would have lost everyone she’d come to love and trust.

If she preempted Sendak’s attack on the Castle of Lions in Arus then set off right away to rescue Matt and Dad by herself, then she could still distance herself from the Team and cut her losses early on. She at least would’ve been able to spend some time with the Team and Green. She wouldn’t have everyone and everything, but she’d have the ones that mattered to her, if only for a while. She’d lose parts of her heart and herself, but not all of them.

If she lived through everything again, she’d have everything and everyone. But she would eventually lose Lance, the one who mattered most to her. Everybody would lose Lance, and the fallout would change them all irrevocably. It wouldn’t be that different from losing everyone, then, would it?

Besides, even if she’d confirmed that it was possible to change a fixed time-point, she was still a long way from being able to prevent one from happening. How many more jumps could she do, anyway? And how many more would Green allow her? If she lived through everything and failed to save Lance again, she might not be able to go back anymore. She might have to capitulate to the inevitability of Lance’s death in this reality.

She wasn’t sure she could bear to do that.

Pidge’s head began pounding painfully to the point of tears. After trying to shake it off without success, she stood up and headed out to try to walk it off.

If she stayed today, then she’d meet Lance and Hunk for the second time.

Her hands turned clammy. She could remember the words they’d exchanged but not the exact way she’d regarded them. How should Pidge act now, after sixty-three timelines’ worth of time spent with them? How could she face Lance now, when just a week ago she’d killed him in the last timeline? When she’d confessed to Green that he was her universe?

But there’s still a little time left, she reminded herself. I could still go. Walk away from all of this. Save myself—

“—ta la later, Keith! And look, you’re my engineer.”

Her step faltered. Cold gripped her heart and froze her all over.

Lance.

“Cool. Uhh, can I do that from the ground?”

And Hunk.

“And our communications officer is uh…”

Pidge squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists.

“Who the heck is Pidge Gunderson?”

It was now or never.

She took a deep breath.