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At long last here he stood, toes sinking into the sand at the water’s brink. How many times had Lance pined for this sight? There were moments he felt he wouldn't last a single dobosh longer without it. And finally--some twenty thousand odd doboshes later--Lance was home on the shores of Varadero Beach, staring out at the relatively gentle waves of low tide, pulling in and out along the coastline.
The view was everything he remembered. It was shocking, actually, how little had changed in so much time. Even the people seemed exactly the same. Nature, as intemperate and changeable as she could be, had seemingly frozen time here for Lance. This small microcosm represented the only true constant in the universe.
Closing his eyes, Lance breathed in the tang of salty sea air, felt the temperate water on his ankles with the push of the tide, pulling away the sand between his toes. He listened to the happy cries of people across the beach, friends and family laughing. Nearby a man shouted playfully at his friends for eating shit, and the others stood to help pack up. The sun was beginning to set, and a few groups had already broken up to head home, but the beach still felt full and lively.
Lance sighed, a pang in his chest as he thought of his own friends, left behind.
He'd expected someone to jump at the offer. A ticket home, instantaneous travel, a chance to reunite with family. Travel to Earth wasn’t impossible, but the distance from the rest of the known universe made the trip a logistical nightmare. And most spacecraft were trackable over those distances, a map straight back to Earth. Not returning there was safer. If the members of Voltron took an interest in Earth again, you could bet the Galra would, too.
He could almost understand Pidge and Shiro wanting to stay. Hunk was a bigger surprise. Lance knew the pair of them weren't really meant for battle. But finding another yellow paladin was a tall order, and Hunk didn't want to leave the universe unprotected. Because that's just who Hunk was.
Lance sighed, shifting an object in his hand, its texture calling Keith to mind. Nothing could have prepared Lance for that reaction.
“There's nothing left for me on Earth, Lance,” Keith had said with a frown, pacing across Lance's quarters.
“What do you mean ‘nothing’? I'd be there,” he replied, and Lance wished he couldn't summon every syllable of this conversation from his memory. “Am I not enough for you?”
“Hey, I'm not the one who's leaving.”
“That's not fair.” Lance shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You know how important my family is to me. And I want them to meet you.”
“We can't come back!” Keith shouted, fire in his eyes. He took a breath to steady himself. “We could be stranded there forever. Who knows when Earth will have the tech for deep space travel? You want to leave the universe down two paladins of Voltron so you can show me off to your family?”
“They have other options now, and you know it.” Lance scoffed, trying to control the heat in his voice. Once one of them lost control, the fight would be over, someone storming out in a rage. He had to keep calm. “The Galra are practically no threat anymore. This is the perfect time.”
“You don't know that for sure.”
Lance sighed in response. “Would it be so bad? Being stranded there with me?”
Keith paused, shooting a measuring glance in his direction. “You're asking me to give up my entire life for you, Lance. That isn't fair.”
“No. I'm asking you to make a new life with me.”
Keith shook his head, fiddling with his right wrist. He stepped forward, pressing something into Lance's palm--the bracelet he wove for Keith, entwining their shared colors, a symbol of their bond.
“I'm sorry, Lance.”
Tears filled Lance's vision in a moment; he'd never experienced bursting into tears before, and wondered distantly if this is what it felt like. Lance sniffed and blinked his eyes stubbornly clear, shaking his head as he tried to shove Keith’s hand away. “I can't take this from you”
“I want you to have it,” Keith replied, pressing the woven thread firmly into Lance's hand as he tried to pull away. “Something to prove that all this meant something for a little while.”
The words emerged like a weight shoved deep into his diaphragm and left him gasping.
“Holy crow, is this really happening? Are we really …?” Lance let the unspoken words hang in the air between them, unable to speak the two words that meant it was all over.
Keith frowned, but his dark eyes were swimming with regret. “I hope you find everything you're looking for, Lance. I really do.”
And then it was over.
Lance was the only one who stepped through the portal that day. As he breached through the other side onto First Street, Lance had been able to forget the ache in his chest for a moment. The shops were different, but it was still Varadero. The trees, the colors, and the very occasional use of traditional thatch roofing made that clear.
He was home.
He stepped through the streets, and noticed every new detail. The cars were more expensive. People wore some bold new styles of clothing--he’d have to look into that. All the lampposts had been upgraded on First Avenue. A lot of the shops had changed, too, replaced with fresh storefronts and expanded parking. Tourism must be booming. It was hard to believe a place could change in just a few years.
Lance considered sprinting directly to the beach, but his family was the real reason he was here. He ducked into one of the new cafés, impressed with the decor and amenities, and asked for a phone. They didn't have a phone, per se, but set him up with some kind of visual calling directory. This place was pretty high tech. Lance struggled with the interface, but eventually he figured out the hand motions. It operated similar to the hologram on the Castleship.
Lance searched his mother's name, but it wasn’t listed. Then his sister’s--not listed. His brothers’--not listed. How could that be? He looked up uncles and cousins and--in an act of desperation--an old neighbor he frankly hated. No one. No one was listed.
It was hard not to panic. His brain was piecing together all he'd seen since arriving and what began as a tickle in the back of his mind was now screaming at him in panic. Lance took a deep breath and tried focus on the café in front of him. There was no point in freaking out yet. He walked to a nearby customer.
“Excuse me…. What's today's date?”
“November seventh.” It took a moment to understand the strange dialect.
Lance bit his lip. As clearly as possible, he asked, “What year is it?”
The man pulled a face. Lance listened carefully for the response.
“Two thousand one hundred eighty-nine.”
For a moment Lance felt like he was falling, as if the earth beneath his feet had suddenly decided to betray him. Unable to find sure footing, Lance slowly turned away with a nod. Maybe he thanked the man as he left. More likely not. Lance walked out into the scattered foot traffic.
It was too long. Too long to meet his family again. Too long to change his mind and return to the war. Too long to see Keith one last time.
Almost unbeknownst to him, Lance wandered to the beach. His greedy eyes drank in the view that was exactly the same, the one thing left to him of the Earth he'd known. Perhaps if he stared forever, he could convince himself that he hadn’t lost everyone and everything he’d ever cared about. Maybe the water could heal the gaping hole in his chest. There was even a slim chance that, if he waited here long enough, he could take back the worst decision of his life.
Lance stood still as darkness fell across the water, bracelet in hand and chest aching with loss, unconsoled by the beauty of the tide.
