Chapter Text
He woke up to white.
White mind, white room, white clothes.
He found that he could understand that everything was white, despite not knowing or understanding anything else, like what exactly white meant, or why everything was that way. His body sagged forward and he heard a sharp gasp before he dropped into bony arms, that tightened around him as he melted into them, his body weak and fragile as glass.
As his eyes fluttered and focused more on the surroundings he found himself met with large hazel eyes staring at him, framed by ridiculously large glasses with slipped forward on the tiny girl’s nose.
“Lance,” she sighed; that one word was overflowing with an exhausted kind of relief. Was that his name? Was he Lance? Who was this girl? She pulled him tightly against her tiny bird-like body, she felt breakable and tiny but her hug was strong and powerful.
“Don’t do that again you absolute dick, I was so fucking worried.” He heard the slight break in her voice on the last word, a tiny sob, and realised she was crying. He still had no idea what was happening only that he felt a very intense need to protect this girl. She felt close to him, familiar and almost sisterly, someone he loved like a member of his family - maybe she was family?
He wrapped his arms around her instinctively before responding with a voice that scratched with lack of use, “I-I’m sorry,” the fear that was coursing through his veins was slightly calmed by a strange affection he felt towards this girl he didn’t know.
He felt sick with confusion, who was this girl? Why did she feel so familiar? Who was
he
?
Questions were slipping and sliding in his brain, rapid fire changing and he had no way of slowing them down.
Every place the unknown girl was touching him felt scalding hot and itchy but at the same time it felt normal. The concoction of confusion that was boiling in his stomach began to feel unbearable.
“I was so worried,” she repeated again as though he would understand; he wanted so badly to understand.
Finally he managed to spit out the words that he somehow knew would be horrid for her to hear, “I’m sorry but I don’t know who you are.”
The girl went rigid in his arms, pulling away from him slightly so she was looking up at him, brown tufty hair exploding around her head like a firework and dark circles apparent under her eyes, as though she hadn’t slept for a week.
“Lance don’t mess with me please, I can’t take it right now,” she sounded so upset and the tears welling up in her eyes made him feel sick with guilt. The connection he felt to this stranger tugged at him even stronger; an anchor amidst the crashing waves of his thoughts.
Lance - that was definitely his name - shook his head hurriedly, swallowing the guilt as best as he could, “I’m not messing with you, I’m really sorry, I don’t know who you are.”
She shuddered once, like her whole body was rebooting and the tears leaked across her cheeks, “Or who I am for that matter,” he added.
The girl stepped out of his arms, hands tangling into her toffee hair and tugging sharply, “Fuck,” was all she could seem to say. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she repeated the sentiment another four times.
A
whoosh
sound broke the tense stillness of the room, Lance spun around to be met with a massive boy standing in the doorway, a massive smile of relief stretching his face. The feeling of familiarity only strengthened when they locked eyes; he definitely felt close to this boy.
“Lance!” the giant boy exclaimed, his orange headband flying behind him as he surged forward and threw his arms around Lance. He scooped him up and Lance felt his body melt into the embrace, it felt so normal, so familiar, so brotherly.
Someone else spoke from behind the hug Lance was receiving, he tried to pretend he couldn’t feel tears prick his eyes as his brain struggled to remember who this person was, who he was,
anything
.
“Pidge? What’s wrong?” It was a deep, strong voice which struck a feeling of respect from within Lance, like his body knew involuntarily that this person was an idol to him. The giant boy released him from his hug, turning worried eyes towards the girl behind them. She was still breathing heavily and clearly trying to hurriedly wipe away the tears spilling, as though she was embarrassed to be caught crying.
“He doesn’t remember,” she (Pidge?) whispered, pushing her glasses up on her nose and standing taller, only the dried tears on her face and her shaking voice betraying the sadness she had just been displaying. Everyone froze, a sharp inhale travelling around the room.
It was only then that Lance realised it wasn’t just the four of them in the room. He let his eyes wander past the tall figure with a shock of white hair and a scar across his nose - a strong feeling of respect - towards the new strangers standing by the door. The first was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, although admittedly he could only remember Pidge. She evoked a feeling of comfort, and like the leader with the scar, Lance understood that he respected her a great deal, but maybe she was also sisterly like Pidge. Then to the side of her was a man with an incredible orange moustache who evoked in Lance a bond of friendship, someone he could talk to.
And then… no one, but there was an ache, as though something was missing.
Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, these strangers he knew nothing about and yet felt so close to. The big guy who had delivered Lance the most incredible hug of his life spoke first, breaking the silence, “Lance? Do you remember us?” He sounded broken and terrified but Lance didn’t even understand what he was supposed to be feeling, should he remember them? How does he even know if he can trust them?
The feeling of connection to them wrapped around his chest and squeezed, compressing his airway, he definitely was meant to know these people, but he didn’t. It was too much.
“No!” He sobbed, his body crumpling like a piece of paper into a tiny ball, he found himself on the floor, every time he sobbed it ached in his bones and snapped, “I’m so sorry,” he said through the tears.
Those words seemed to snap everyone to attention and they surged forward and then slunk back when he made a shriek of fear, “Pidge,” he said.
Pidge rushed forward to him all the way, putting a small skinny hand on the slope of his shoulder in an awkward semblance to comfort.
“Lance, breathe okay?” She instructed and he nodded, managing to draw out sharp breaths from between the tears, “It’s okay, we’ll work this out.” She patted her hand against his shoulder blade stiffly, he guessed that maybe she wasn’t very in tune with how to comfort people. She was the only one he knew the name of though, his instincts - or maybe the bonds he held with these people - told him he wanted the big guy to help but he didn’t know how to ask.
He let the tears take their course, the strangers (Friends? Family?) didn’t leave and slowly Pidge managed to help him stand up and make his way over to a chair on the far side of the room. Once he had calmed enough to talk the beautiful woman stepped forward, her long silver hair shining in the white room’s light, “Lance, what can we do to help?” She asked gently, her voice was very different to Pidge’s, he didn’t know the right words to describe it, couldn’t remember the right words, but he knew it was different.
He took another deep breath, focusing on the gentle weight of Pidge’s hand still resting stiffly against his shoulder, “I want to know your names,” he said, “please.”
The group seemed to relax, albeit the uncomfortable atmosphere remained, the beautiful woman smiled softly, a fond but worried look muddled in her bright blue eyes.
“My name is Princess Allura, but you all call me Allura,” she introduced herself. It was then that Lance’s eyes honed in on the small jewel embedded in a tiara on her head, a princess huh?
The big guy waved a hand, Lance noticed he had tears in his eyes, “I’m Hunk you’re my-”
“Best friend?” Lance supplied and the group seemed to explode with shock, he hadn’t meant to interrupt but it was like his body
knew
they were best friends.
“Do you know us or not?” Pidge demanded, she didn’t sound angry per se, almost confused and intrigued. The group of people stared at him, waiting.
Lance hesitated, unsure how to explain what he was feeling, “Well I don’t know anything about you, but I can feel our connection?” He said, they stared back at him blankly, he sighed heavily and attempted to rephrase, “I can feel some sort of bond between us, but I don’t know who you are, so you’re like familiar strangers.”
“Familiar strangers,” Pidge repeated, a weird gleam in her eye.
Lance nodded in agreement, “Yeah like I know that you’re,” he pointed towards the scarred guy, “like a leader or someone I respect,” he felt like he should be embarrassed to admit that out loud but the leader guy beamed like he was proud of Lance.
“I’m Shiro,” he introduced himself, sticking out a hand for Lance to shake. He took it gratefully, before freezing with yet another realisation, the hand was made of metal which was cold to the touch. He tried not to let it phase him, but Shiro clearly noticed, sending him another smile.
The crazy moustache sporting man stepped forward, the last to introduce himself, which he did with a massive smile stating, “The name’s Coran my boy, and personally I’m simply glad you’re here with us.”
Lance smiled involuntarily at the man, Coran, he was bright and comfortable. Yet still he found himself waiting for something, that same ache of longing twinged in his chest but he quelled it, since he was likely longing for his missing memories.
He noticed strange markings on the side of both Coran and Allura’s faces and out of curiosity spoke up, “Why do you two have marks?” The group stilled once again and Hunk smiled at him sheepishly.
“There’s a lot to catch you up on buddy.”
~-~-~
“No way!”
“I swear I’m telling the truth.”
“I’ve flown two space lions?”
“Yep! Blue and Red.”
“Woah.” Lance leaned back in his chair, staring at Hunk with eyes blown wide. He could see how the two had been best friends, the comfort Lance felt with the boy was vast. There was still that weird ache though, the feeling that there was something more that Lance didn’t understand. Admittedly there was a whole 18 years worth of things Lance still didn’t understand, but it was something more than that.
Hunk shrugged, “I’ve always just been with Yellow, same with Pidge and Green, and kinda Shiro and Black I guess,” Hunk furrowed his eyebrows so far they almost became one, “That gets a little complex because Keith technically flies Black now but Shiro never changed.”
Something pinged in Lance’s mind, a doorbell of… of
something
, recognition perhaps? Either way his curiosity sparked once again despite the way his arms and legs were filling with heavy liquid and his eyelids were coated with a thick lead.
“Keith?” He said, leaning forward to prompt Hunk into talking again, he could see the big guy was getting a bit tired. Also, Lance noted with a guilty pang, a little saddened to see his best friend so clueless.
Although Hunk seemed to subconsciously be drooping in his seat he smiled warmly at Lance’s interest, “Keith is the pilot of the Black Lion, former pilot of the Red Lion, he’s a part of our little family but he’s kinda reserved and you two don’t get along well at all,” Hunk shrugged as though this was old news.
Lance felt his chest drop again. So Keith wasn’t the answer to his weird empty feeling if they didn’t get along, “Why aren’t we friends?” He asked with a small pout.
Hunk laughed at his expression softly, “You guys are friends, just not close at all, you’re kind of self proclaimed rivals,” he explained, shrugging once again.
They slipped into a companionable but charged silence, it was brotherly in the way that only two people who really know each other can be, but uncomfortable because one of those people doesn’t remember their history. Lance swallowed the tears bubbling in his throat.
Not in front of Hunk.
“Hey buddy I think it might be time to head to bed yeah? I can show you your room?” Hunk scratched the back of his head sheepishly, the bags under his eyes getting more prominent by the second.
Lance nodded with an understanding smile, he doesn’t want to push Hunk further than necessary, the big guy seemed quite sensitive.
No matter how much he didn’t want to be alone with his missing history.
Hunk pointed out landmarks along the journey, the kitchen, the training deck, the elevator that leads to “an upside down pool”, Hunk’s room, Pidge’s cave - as dubbed by Hunk - and the rest of the bedrooms.
“And this is your room!” Hunk stepped to the side revealing a white door with a shining panel.
“It’s opposite Keith’s which has caused some…” He paused for a moment before grinning, “Disagreements in the past, but he’s not here right now so nothing to worry about!”
Lance tried for a smile but it must have come out as more of a nervous grimace because Hunk gave him a ‘pat’ on the back that almost knocked all the air out of his lungs.
“Night buddy,” were Hunk’s parting words as he left Lance by the shining panel with instruction to wave his hand in front of it. Lance was told only he and whoever he gave the handprint to would be able to unlock the door. According to Hunk, he had refused to give that honour out.
Then Lance was alone, with nothing but an unfamiliar door leading to an unfamiliar room, and no one to prepare him for what he would find.
“You can do this Lance,” he whispered to himself, waving his hand in front of the panel and grinning as it glowed blue, at the very least he would hopefully learn more about himself in here.
The door slid open to reveal a heavily lived in room; it was filled with trinkets and photos, all of which belonged to a boy who had so much Lance didn’t. Pictures filled the walls, selfies with aliens, tiny children with glowing eyes dangling from his arms, landscapes with purple and blue trees, a sunset, and beside all of those were notes from admirers which had dutifully translated English inscribed on them. A mirror hung in the center of this collection of photos, the centerpiece.
Two empty glasses of water sat beside a pair of glasses Lance felt like he didn’t need on a bedside table, string fairy lights twinkled around the whole room. Small crystals glowed on the shelves beside a collection of rocks, a dying succulent, a purple hair brush, a stack of books which were miraculously in English.
Then the more intriguing objects, a drawing of Lance done in charcoal with a gun drawn in his grasp and a smile on his face, tucked carefully beneath the mattress. An orange tablet which was lying on his desk beneath a pile of papers, filled with photos. A crumpled black t-shirt which smelt of something so familiar that it made Lance’s stomach lurch and pool with heat, folded under his pillow.
“Who were you Lance?” He asked the air, as though his memories would come waltzing in and answer him.
Despite the exhaustion that was seeping into his every movement he convinced himself to explore the tablet further, whether due to curiosity or the way his stomach curdled at the idea of sleep he didn’t know. It was so light he wasn’t sure whether it was real or not, but it responded to his touch as he fiddled with the different features and managed to locate collections of photos.
There had to be hundreds of photos in there, some that matched the ones on his wall, which prompted Lance to believe he had taken all of them which… woah. His face appeared in some, with random aliens or the others from around the ship, none seemed to contain the unknown Keith.
He swiped through some, smiling sadly as he watched himself sign autographs for alien fans, pulling faces with Pidge, taking impossibly glamorous photos with Allura, grinning with Hunk.
With a jolt he realised he had reached the end of the folder, he shrunk it away until there were a selection of folders displayed before him. Each named ridiculous things like
my beautiful face
,
the greatest people you’ll ever meet
and lastly, a locked folder titled,
if you don’t know don’t bother.
He frowned at it, clicking and praying the lock would open, instead a dark and gut dropping box demanding a password appeared. Maybe Lance was tired, maybe the pain of not knowing himself was too much, but seeing that 4 figure password and knowing he could do nothing about it was too much. Salty, fat tears spilled across his cheeks, stinging his eyes and making him splutter and choke with pain. He heard the tablet clatter to the ground as he wrapped his arms around his stomach in an attempt to keep the fractured pieces of himself together.
Or what was left of himself. He felt so empty and confused, what could be in that folder? Would anyone know? He should know the password to unlock it but he had nothing left. No memories to help him navigate his already chaotic life.