Chapter 13: Never Alone

First, there was the ICU.

What followed was more extensive than she could have prepared herself for. Days of bed rest, of remaining in hospital under intense scrutiny, of more measurements and readings and poking and prodding that ever before. Blood pressure, heartbeat, respiration rate. Listening for arrhythmia with a stethoscope to the chest to hear what the machines were telling in a language of lines and numbers.

After that, she spent seven days in the hospital. Then, with a tick of approval from her doctor, she was free to go home. In theory, it was as simple as that.

For Allura, it didn't seem quite so simple. The practice was something else. She remembered struggling into wakefulness some indeterminable time after the anaesthetist had arrived alongside her gurney in the operation studio. She couldn't remember closing her eyes but she must have, and it must have happened while she was oblivious to the world. She woke up with a dull throbbing in her chest and grogginess in her head that made it next to impossible to blink her eyes open.

And the tube. Allura had never liked the breathing tube, even if she recognised it as a necessity. It didn't feel right and she could barely bring herself to move in her bed beneath its weight.

Coran had been there, though. From the moment Allura had opened her eyes, her oldest friend and pseudo-father was at her side and clasping her hand. She'd barely seen more than a blurry image of a pale face and bushy moustache, but it had been reassuring.

"You're alright, Princess," he said in a choked murmur. He was probably crying, Allura supposed, which she regretted. Coran was prone to crying, but it didn't make her feel any less guilty for inducing it each time. She struggled to squeeze his hand back to the best of her ability. Allura wasn't sure how well she managed.

It wasn't a pleasant first night in recovery. Allura could only remember bits and pieces of it, and she supposed in the detached, analytical part of her mind that whatever medication she was on kept her heavily stupefied. She didn't mind. She'd rather that than feel anything. The throbbing in her chest was distant and she was quite content to keep it that way.

Moving to her pre-op room wasn't particularly exciting. The following days were long, filled with bed rest that flipped into doctors urging her to rise from her bed and try to move because "It would do you good". Allura tried. She managed fairly well, too, considering everything.

The minimal appetite.

The long hours of struggling to stay awake to watch a television program that didn't interest her.

Her struggle to cling to wakefulness as Coran spoke at her side bare minutes before visiting hours ceased.

Allura was kept on high fluids initially that gradually faded into regularity. She was afforded a pair of terribly attractive elastic stocking that were supposed to help her blood circulate and would have felt more discomforting if the greater discomfort of her chest hadn't demanded more attention. After a few days she was even allowed to shower, though the nurses offered her a helping hand every step she took to the bathroom.

Allura appreciated it. She really did. But it all was a little tedious. Especially given that the doctors said she was doing fabulously. Allura didn't feel fabulous, but she supposed she would listen to her doctor's opinion. Dr Hammel hadn't led her astray yet. He'd never been wrong.

It was a long week. A boring week, and discomforting, stuffed with fitful sleep and slowly reducing minimisation. But Allura managed. She managed and cherished the moments that weren't so bad: with Coran, when she was allowed to wander through the halls just a little, when her friends came. Her work friends, her old college friends that had visited from time to time over her illness but had lives and busyness and slowly lost the inclination to do so.

From her paladins too. For Allura, the days that they visited were the very best. They were what kept her going.

They almost made Voltron's final closure bearable.

Coran was the one that drove her home. On her seventh day, Allura's status was deemed acceptable to leave, and she was never happier to see the back of a bed, of a building, of a group of lovely, helpful and nothing but supportive people who could only urge her to hasten in her departure with well-wishes and professions of hopeful regret. As soon as her stitches were pulled out, Allura couldn't leave faster had she tried.

In some ways, Coran seemed almost as excited to see the last of the hospital as she did. More, and far more jubilant. He was a bubble of animation as soon as they climbed into the car.

"Hopefully we won't be heading back to this place anytime soon!" He exclaimed, pulling onto the main road to the sounds of indignant beeps. "Never thought I'd say this, but I think I was actually sick of that room of yours by the end of it, nice as it was."

Allura smothered a smile, as much for Coran's excitement as her amusement for his driving skills. Coran was a dubious driver, to say the least. He always had been and it was something that Allura had grown accustomed to. Her paladins, or so she'd heard, had not. As Shiro said it – in the nicest and most uncritical way she'd ever hear – Coran was an interesting driver but he was his main incentive for buying a car himself.

"That I won't be able to drive for a time," Shiro said. "That will have to be Lance's duty, since no one else has their license. Perhaps I should teach Keith to drive?"

"You could get a modified car," Allura suggested. "I'm sure it won't take much to custom-make one. Expense, yes, but difficult I think not."

"There's no point," Shiro replied with a small smile. "I'll have two hands in no time, won't I?"

Allura couldn't help but smile at that. It made her happy, even if Shiro's struggle to see himself worth helping still saddened her. He would realise one day; Allura would make sure of it. Just as she would with the rest of her friends. They were all worth it.

Now she had the time. According to Dr Hammel, she had all the time in the world. As much as the next person, even. It was a realisation Allura was still growing used to.

"Unfortunately, we'll have to return in just a few days for my first check up," she reminded Coran as they lurched through a traffic light.

"Ah, but that's different," Coran said. His moustache twitched, wriggling in delight as it often did when he grew excited. "Never again for quite so long, eh?"

"No," Allura said warmly. "Hopefully never again for quite so long."

It was an easy drive through the city, if she overlooked Coran's erratic driving as Allura was prone to do. Within the hour they were passing from the city proper and heading north in the direction of White Plains. It likely would have been faster had they waited until peak hour traffic minimised, but Allura didn't want to wait. Coran was more than happy to oblige her.

Allura hadn't been to the estate of Altea for months. Regrettably, as it was perhaps her favourite place in the world after she and her entire family had made the move from their manor in England. A sprawling property, at times it seemed like another world entirely to the hubbub of New York City. Considering Westchester County was barely any distance at all from the city proper, she really could have visited more often. She should have.

Would have, even. Except she'd been bedridden in a hospital.

The thickness of traffic faded behind them as they departed the city to leave them cruising along smooth roads dotted with houses that faded into sparse greenery and the occasional hamlet bypassed in minutes. Allura wasn't supposed to excite herself too greatly when she was only just healing, but she couldn't quite suppress her smile and the nearly audible thumping of her renewed heart as the passed through White Plains itself and trundled along the familiar road towards Altea. Her heart could handle it now. Or at least it would be able to. In future. For now, it managed.

As they curved around the road and the image of the old farmhouse of Altea perched atop its own hill appeared, Allyra's breath caught. It always would, and even more so after so long away. She could almost forget about her surgery, about the ache that still niggled at her chest, about… about Voltron. The serenity of the farmhouse manor was encompassing.

The property itself sprawled in a moat of greenery and was one of only several in the region with so much space. The peace induced by that space created its own little world of containment. It looked like a castle, Allura had always thought; far more than the 'farmhouse' misnomer. The castle of Altea, a scene from a fairy tale, had lost none of its mysticism for being lived in much of her life.

Allura would like to show her paladins one day. It was the one place she'd privately hoped to share with them had she the chance. If she survived. Now, with the success of her surgery, it became a when – of when they wanted to, when they felt comfortable enough to. When she could at last meet them in person outside of the confines of the hospital as they had met one another countless times now.

Allura was envious of them for that. She was relieved they'd found one another, but she longed to be a part of it too. They meant so much to her, and with Voltron gone…

Coran pulled up on the wide, round driveway with a crunch of gravel. He was out of his seat and skirting the car before Allura could even unlatch her seatbelt, opening the door for her as though she really was the princess he'd always dubbed her. She didn't mind. In a blast of winter air, the smell of unfallen snow flooding her nostrils, Allura's attention was unshaken from the pale walls of her castle that stood tall and smooth before her. She stared at the wide door atop a short flight of steps, standing regal at the end of a sandstone patio like a quietly waiting oaken sentinel.

Familiar. Achingly familiar. After months of uncertainty, weeks of considering that she might not survive to ever see it again, Allura could only stare at her home with blurred eyes.

"I am home," she murmured. "I made it."

"You did," Coran agreed with quiet compassion from her side. He held out a hand like the gentlemanly butler he'd claimed himself to be years ago and, smiling at the nostalgia of it, Allura clasped it in her own. It was as much an offer of support as it was a gesture of chivalry and Allura appreciated it. She was steady on her feet after a week of recovery, but the thought behind the Coran's motion counted.

They made their way into the house, Coran muttering to her of welcomes and relief for her return that slowly faded into his former merriment. Allura simply listened. She was content to soak in the panelled walls, the polished wooden floors and ornate light shades hanging bright and crystalline overhead. She trailed the fingers of her free hand over the tables standing as runners along the hallway walls extending from the main entrance, brushing fingertips over a clutch of flowers seated brightly in a vase as though only placed there that morning and along the ornate frame of a landscape portrait that was impressive more for its size than any mastery of its painting.

Familiar. So familiar.

Home.

"Can I get you anything, perhaps, Princess?" Coran asked as they paused at the end of the front hall before the wide window to look out over Altea's grounds. "A cup of tea, maybe? Or a plate of biscuits? We'll rustle up something for dinner soon, but if you'd like…"

"No," Allura said with a slight shake of her head. "No, thank you. I'm content."

"Alright then," Coran said, shifting slightly at her side. It was a fidget more than anything, and the suggestion of the motion drew Allura's attention towards him. His moustache was wriggling slightly once more. "Then I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Allura asked. She blinked. "Coran, what did you –?"

"Ah, ah, just appreciate it," he said before, grasping her hand once more, he tugged her in his wake. Frowning curiously, Allura allowed herself to be led.

She heard them first. It was next to impossible not to hear them for the ruckus they were making. Allura paused in step, because she knew their sounds. She would always recognise their voices from the first time she'd met them in her hospital room and each time since. The sound of laughter, of exclamations, of a reasoning voice and an exasperated sigh. Allura's breath caught and, glancing towards Coran, she picked up her step.

She'd only seen them days before, but this time felt different. It was different for her, for all of them, because they were in her castle.

The upstairs parlour was a large room of tall windows draped in heavy curtains and rich rugs spread across the floor to stave of the chill that the crackling fireplace couldn't. It should have been more than large enough to house five young people seat across every surface or, in Pidge's case, actually sprawled upon the carpet. But they filled the room with their noise and presence, and it was wonderful.

Allura saw them in a different light in that moment, and not only because they stood in her home. Her friends. They were her friends, and each of them had grown so much since she'd first spoken them. Hunk, who had spoken to his grandmother and was intending to restart at school after Christmas. Pidge, who'd confessed the truth about herself – or himself – to her mother but a week before and seemed to have only strengthened in confidence since. Apparently all was not entirely settled with her mother, something that Allura would be more than happy to get to the bottom of personally, but Pidge had changed.

There was Lance, who was as loud as ever and vibrantly standing as the centre of the conversation with wildly gesticulating arms. He'd approached Allura specifically to thank her but days before for what she'd said to him. Allura hadn't thought she'd said anything particularly profound – she'd simply told him the truth as she saw it – but according to Lance it had helped. He said he'd talked to his parents but days before. He said his parents had all but urged him to take routine days off from his father's barbershop, something that had clearly stunned him.

At his side, where Allura had found his each time she'd seen them together, Keith stood as the quietly considering opposite to Lance's loud enthusiasm. She hadn't expected Keith to change as much as he had, but most of that had arisen even before she'd met him in person. He was different to how he'd first been. He was accepting them as he'd seemed so reluctant to do. She had been utterly stunned to realise that Keith and Lance were actually dating one another, though in hindsight perhaps their Voltron interactions had been a little indicative. Such a step… she still hadn't expected it.

Keith was moving in with Shiro, too. If anything stood as evidence for how Keith had grown it was that.

For Shiro himself... He might be struggling. He might not think himself worthy of help because of something that hadn't been his fault. It was ridiculous, for Allura didn't think she'd met a more deserving man than Shiro, but it didn't matter. He was changing. He'd accepted the help. He was taking steps to further accepting more of it and Allura would make sure she was there with him the whole way. She could do that now. She would.

They were talking amongst themselves, and though Lance had been leading the conversation with enthusiasm it was clearly Pidge who directed it. She – or he, Allura would have to ask – overrode him in a minute. "God, Lance, it's not that different. You'd think it was an entirely different App altogether."

"Well, it kind of is," Keith said. "It's ours, isn't it?"

"Thank you, Red, I'm glad we're thinking along the same lines," Lance said with a sharp nod.

"This must be the coolest thing in the world, Pidge," Hunk said with an appreciative shake of his head. "You're incredible."

Pidge grinned. "Thank you. I do try."

"It works the same, then?" Shiro asked. "Just the same as Voltron?"

"What are we all talking about?" Coran asked, breaking into their conversation.

As one, five pairs of eyes swung towards the doorway. Allura met curious eyes and she found herself smiling. That smile grew into a full-fledged grin when curiosity morphed into delight, and a bubble of laughter passed from her lips before she could contain herself. "

You're here!" she exclaimed in utter joy.

They were upon her in a second. Before Allura could think to take a step further into the room, she was surrounded by friends she'd not seen half a dozen times in person and yet loved so dearly. A cacophony of sound buffeted her, but she didn't mind. She could barely make out a word of it but for exclamations of joy, warm welcomes, the touch of fingers as they patted her arm in gestures of greeting and echoing laughter.

"You're back! Finally!"

"We weren't sure when you'd get here. Coran apparently doesn't approve of texting and driving."

"You're looking so well. I swear, there's more colour in your cheeks since the other day, even."

"Sorry we crashed your house, we hope you don't mind but I don't think any of us would pass up the opportunity."

And finally, "It's good to see you, Princess. Truly, so good."

Allura smiled at the circle of them spread around her. Shiro had spoken to her of how surreal it was to meet Voltron's paladins in real life, but to Allura it felt perfect. It felt as though everything had clicked into place. She was truly happy; her surgery was a success, she was home, and the five people she'd grown to care the so much about in the past months surrounded her.

"What were you all talking about?" she asked curiously, beaming in the face of her welcomes. Not even the mention of Voltron could dampen her mood "About Voltron? Has there been a final message, perhaps?"

All eyes swung to Pidge, but it was Shiro who spoke. "Perhaps Pidge would care to explain? It's her news to tell."

In reply, Pidge grinned with wide delight. She drew her phone from her pocket with a flourish. "Voltron's dead, Princess," she said with more good-humour than should have accompanied such words. "But it's not gone. Not for us." And with a flick of her phone, she spun it towards Allura to reveal the picture spreading widely on the screen.

It was the Voltron lion, Allura recognised. The lion, except there were five of them, all morphed and curled together and of a rainbow of different colours. Somehow, they fit together seamlessly, as though crafted to join into one, and yet somehow remained individual entities. Allura took the phone from Pidge as it was offered and touched a finger to the screen, to the black and white lion silhouetted at the very centre of the tangle. Beneath her touch it spread its jaws in a barely audible roar.

"This is…" Allura began, staring in wonder.

"Our Voltron," Shiro said from her shoulder. "According to Pidge, anyway. She made it."

"You made it?" Allura asked, drawing her attention from where Shiro had captured it and turning it back to Pidge. "You made it all yourself?"

Pidge's grin spread even wider and the hint of a blush touched her cheeks. She nodded. "Yeah. Just in my spare time."

"In her spare time, she says," Lance said, leaning around Keith to raise a commiserating eyebrow at Allura. "Sure, in your spare time you just make the best thing in the world."

"It's hardly original," Pidge said, though she didn't sound dismissive of Lance's praise in the slightest. "I think I barely scraped past copyright laws."

"It's fantastic," Hunk said.

"And it's just ours," Keith added, and, leaning forwards, he double-tapped onto the lion tangle. They unfurled into leaping figures and swept from the screen to reveal the home page beneath. It was familiar, if not quite exactly the same, but after Voltron had shut down days before it was heart-achingly wonderful to see.

"Just ours," Allura murmured, her gaze resting upon the screen. Never before would she consider such a thing to be so important to her. She'd barely been on a forum in her life, let alone a chatroom. But Voltron had changed that for her. It had changed everything. "Even though it's gone…"

"We're what's left over," Shiro said quietly.

"And pretty awesome leftovers at that, if I do say so myself," Lance said, raising his chin with a self-satisfied smirk.

Allura drew her gaze around her paladins once more. It had saddened her when Voltron had folded, tearing a piece from her that she couldn't quite patch up on her own, but this… this was what truly mattered. This stitched the wound. The people around her that still existed after the original had disappeared. She nodded as she felt her smile renew itself upon her face.

"Indeed we are."

~The End of Picture Perfect People~

A/N: So this is the final chapter! I'm sorry to see it end, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review to let me know your thoughts; I'd love to hear from you, lovely readers, even if it's just a passing word.

As an aside, however, this isn't really the end. As tends to happen with immersion into writing, I couldn't really stop. For anyone who is interested, I'll be posting the first chapter of a sequel called 'People In Motion' in about a week or so. Just a heads up that it is kind of different thematically and structurally, so I won't be offended if it's not to everyone's taste, but I thought I'd just let everyone know!