#car voltron

He fell asleep listening to it, lazily turning it about inside his mind.   He was sure it was part of a story.  There were no forgotten feelings of lyrics, no grasping in the dark for images as if it were a movie.  So it must be a story.  A children's story.  Except he didn't remember it which meant it wasn't from his childhood.  He could remember his childhood.  There had been no Nut Brown Hares in it.  No Very Far to be crooned.  But it did croon in the back of his mind, lulled him until he could sleep, all but an actual voice he could hear near him. Tucked in close.  Whispering drowsy words against his jaw as the stars spun by outside...

That is very high, thought Little Nutbrown Hare as Shiro woke up the next morning and he caught at it before he even opened his eyes, held it up mentally in front of himself and tried to fit it to its other piece.  What was very far?  What was very high?   Why did his heart ache so badly, wanting - needing to remember? He chewed over it during training and the routine intel sorting afterward, mind on what was happening around him but a piece of him stood aside from it all, off where it devoted itself to -

far? high?  If it was a children's book it had to be something easy.  ‘Far ‘ could be far to grandmother's house, or far for a whale to swim on a journey but - high?  ‘High’ meant up.  So - clouds?  The sky?  Stars?  Why would a rabbit be talking about height and distance in a children's story?

Oh. That's far, said Big Nutbrown Hare and Shiro formed the words as well, feeling the familiar taste of them on his tongue.  That is very, very far.  He knew this story.  He knew it well.  Could feel it under his skin, along the edge of his tongue, caught in the curve of his ears, pressed against the beat of his heart.  But - how?  And where was the rest of it?

"Haven't heard that in a while," Keith's voice was somewhere between nostalgic and melancholy and Shiro turned his head to look at him.  He hadn't realized he'd been reciting it outloud but Keith was looking at him, quiet sadness and hopeful relief on his face in equal mix and Shiro didn't understand that.   They were the only ones left in the observation room, both staring at the stars now that the view screens were gone and everyone else had left, both lost in their thoughts - until Shiro had inadvertently shared his.   "You know it?" There was weight to the way he asked, a little fear.  Was it that easy?  Something he'd heard with Keith that he just hadn't remembered.  That - didn't feel right.  Didn't fit to the pieces drifting lazy in the darkness of his mind.  Keith shot him a sharper look, hurt and worry in his eyes now and Shiro recognized that both of them were for him.

"I know it was just for the two of you but yeah.  Sometimes I'd hear her too.  It was her favorite way to put you to sleep."

Shiro blinked and something cold and quick, the sensation like the slap of ice water, hit his skin and washed through him.  His stomach clenched and twisted and then dropped and for a moment he felt sick, skin feverish, heat and cold.  His throat was tight and he swallowed.  It felt like broken glass when he did.

Somewhere in the back of his mind someone was screaming.  No.  Two people were screaming in hellish harmony.  Only one of those screams was his.

"She?" croaked out of him and Keith's eyes went wide - and then apologetic and he looked away, back at the stars.

"Sorry." His voice was low.  "I - thought it was okay to bring her up.  You haven't talked about her so neither have I but  - when you quoted the story I thought - you wanted to now."

In the back of his mind, Shiro felt a hole opening up, wider and wider, threatening to suck him down, pull him into it, swallow him forever.  He instinctively shied away from it, tried to seal it behind a mental wall, tried to hide from it.  Did he - ?  There was so much he didn't remember.  And sometimes... sometimes he was almost glad he didn't remember.  He knew he'd done awful things, unforgivable things but - if he didn't remember them - maybe he could tell himself they weren't as bad as they could have been.  If he couldn't remember - he couldn't be forced to relive it.  If he couldn't remember... maybe there was some kind of half-assed forgiveness.  But if he remembered - if he remembered it all then he was responsible - all over again - for all of it.  And he didn't even know how heavy 'all of it' was.  Just that he wasn't sure he wouldn't break under it if he had to carry it a second time.

Oh.  That's far, said Big Nutbrown Hare....

"Tell me," he forced it out past his tight throat, past the throbbing in the center of his skull.  Past the sharp tang building behind his eyes, making them feel sand coated and dry.  Keith looked at him, hard surprise that melted into a slow horror and then a breaking sadness.  It was in his voice when he softly said:

"Shiro... That was Lisa's favorite story.  She used to whisper it to you all the time when she was trying to put you to sleep.  Sometimes when we were all crashing together at one of your apartments on campus I'd hear her when none of us could sleep."  There was a slight twitch to Keith's lips.  "It was Pavlov's dog for you.  You never made it to the last line before you'd be out hard.  I'm pretty sure she trained you on purpose that way."

Shiro blinked.  He - didn't remember.  But - no.  He remembered.  He did.  He remembered what had happened before Kerberos.  It was only the mission onward that was lost to him.   He remembered - and his mind blanked as he reached backward in it.  Pieces.  He remembered pieces.  Jumps of moments.  Enough to fill in the rest without needing to remember specifically and that was why he hadn’t noticed.  It wasn’t as if he’d had time to sit down and sort through his memories.  But - Very Very Far whispered Big Nutbrown Hare in his ear.

Keith was standing in front of him now, looking up, worry on his face that was stronger and newer than the usual worry.

"Shiro. Don't you remember?  I thought you'd only forgotten Kerberos.  Lisa was your co-pilot.  She was with you on the mission."

She was your co-pilot.  And suddenly it hit him hard enough that he had to stagger back, had to curl both hands around his head and sink to the floor because something was trying to get out and it was prying his skull apart in the process.  Lisa.  Lisa... The name did nothing - except it did everything. There was no memory, not a single memory and yet - that comforting weight in his chest, the familiar feeling of someone just around the corner about to walk into the room, the soft presence just before sleep took him, the murmur of an almost name on his lips when he woke.  There was laughter in the back of his mind, something bright and easy and private, and he realized it wasn't his, had never been his.  The sighs, the good-natured complaints, the encouragement, the - not a word of them but the feelings of them that had come in slow washes or quick rushes, like waves that came and retreated, that he'd just accepted and found healing and comfort in - not his.  Not all of them.  The sensations were mingled in with his own so closely that he hadn't noticed the difference, just that sometimes things felt deeper and better and sometimes they felt thin and lonely.  Those hadn't been all his.  Not entirely at least.   The screams hadn't always been his...

His head came up and Keith was kneeling next to him, panic on his face for all he was trying to contain it.

"Shiro - Shiro!  I'm sorry.  You never talked about her and I thought that meant she was - that you couldn't bring yourself to talk about what happened to her.  I didn't realize you - you really don't remember?"

All he could do was shake his head.  No.  He didn't remember.  There was no face to go with the sounds in his head, no voice to go with the words. But she was still there.  Still there because he could still feel her. A second heartbeat that had been so close to his he hadn't realized there was even a second part to it.  His co-pilot.  Lisa.  And - more.   She'd been more.  Enough that parts of her had melted into him until they cast shadows.  Long after she was gone.  A bank wall in Hiroshima forever imprinted with a shadow of someone long gone... Except -  no.  What if she wasn't gone?  He didn't remember her but - crew.   She'd been part of his crew.  And he couldn't just let her go, any more than he could let Matt or Commander Holt go.  Not until she'd been brought home.  Not until she'd been found.  Why couldn't he remember her though?  Had he - seen her die?

Had he been the one to kill her?

"I have to know," he pushed himself to his feet, suddenly fueled by terror and anger and horror.  Determination.  Because he'd never run from what he was afraid of in his entire life.  Because you ran to face the fears, not away from them.  Attack, no retreat.  Keith scrambled to his feet as well, still looking wide eyed and worried.  Shiro shook his head at him.

"I don't remember her.  At all."  said Big Nutbrown Hair.  "I should.   Which means something's more wrong than I'd thought.  I need to - " he hesitated.  Re-calibrated.  Headed for the door with a more sure step.   "I need to get a look at Pidge's files for the Kerberos mission.   Something's wrong and I need to fix it."

Because that was what you did.  When you’d done something wrong.

When you’d abandoned your co-pilot and hadn’t even been strong enough to remember the moment you chose to abandon her to forgetfulness.

"I'm coming too," Keith had that stubborn sound in his voice and Shiro knew better than to argue.  In a way, he was glad.  He didn't want to face this alone.  Didn't want to face whatever horrible thing had stolen his memories of one person in specific from him alone.  Didn't want to go into the dark alone.  Didn’t want to be the only one that could hear her voice without a voice...  He simply nodded, started walking again, heard Keith's steps fall in at his shoulder and match him.   Whatever had gone wrong - it had gone very wrong.  And it had stolen something very private and precious away from him.  Had tried to at least.  Because she was still there.  Right up against his heartbeat, waiting in the shadows in the back of his brain.  He'd sworn he'd bring Sam and Matt home.   Whatever there was of Lisa to find - he'd bring that home too.  And the truth of why she was so important someone had taken her away from him in mind as well as in body.  He'd bring her home.  He'd bring her back.  To him.

Oh.... sighed the Nut Brown Hare....

that is very

                        very