Published August 10, 2017.

"Thanksgiving"

The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing. ~ Psalm 31:10

When Keith alerted everyone that he had found Shiro, completely out of the blue, a kind of chaotic rejoicing broke out among the rest of the team. Lance did the same happy dance he had done upon learning he had made it to fighter class. Then he pulled out the rosary, kissed the cross, and clutched it to his heart, breathing, "Thank you."

When Shiro came back on board, there was no delighted group hug, nor even a series of heartwarming individual hugs, as more than one individual had hoped. At Keith's insistence, everyone kept a respectful distance, except to help move Shiro onto the ship, into a healing pod, and finally to his old bedroom. As excited and overwhelmed as they were, they stayed clear-headed enough look to his desperate physical needs before acting on their emotional impulses. Still, when they could, they squeezed his hands and expressed in soft tones how glad they were to have him back.

Pidge and Hunk examined the vehicle and played the log, to spare Shiro from having to debrief them when he was so exhausted. They were all horrified to learn that Shiro had gone without food and water for a week. Hunk was the most appalled, but he quickly overcame his emotion and focused on solving the problem. Knowing that extreme hunger can lead to overindulgence, he planned out a diet to help Shiro ease back into nutritious daily meals. It may not have been necessary, since Shiro was the most disciplined person out of all of them, but it gave Hunk something to do, a way to feel helpful as they waited for Shiro to bounce back to being the leader they knew and loved.

They took turns watching over Shiro while he recuperated. He was awake but still in bed when Lance came in for his shift.

"Hey man," Lance said softly. "You don't have to talk, I'm just here to make sure you're okay. I mean, I know you're okay, but Keith and Allura want someone with you." He sat down on the bench opposite the bed, where he proceeded to fidget. At least some things had not changed, Lance's hyperactivity being one of them.

After a moment Lance pulled something out of his pocket. "Will it bother you if I do my rosary? Aloud, I mean? It's easier than saying it in my head."

Shiro wet his tongue and found the strength to answer, "Sure."

Lance fingered the necklace, then looked back up at Shiro. "I prayed this for you, after you disappeared. I asked God, and I asked the saints to ask God, to let you get back safely. It was the first time I had a really specific intention for a really long period. So, now I'm praying it as a thanksgiving."

Shiro turned his head sideways to look at Lance. The teenage Catholic looked embarrassed, as he usually did when talking about the more personal aspects of religion. "I'm glad," Shiro said. Lance looked slightly surprised at this response. Shiro tried to support his words with a smile, but could not quite succeed. He turned to look back at the ceiling, remembering. "I tried praying. I had nothing to do except steer the ship and record a log. I could have recorded more, talked about my experiences, but I didn't want to make myself more thirsty, or give pertinent information to the wrong people if my ship was captured." He closed his eyes. "When I thought I was going to die, I thought of all you guys, and the Black Lion … everything I wanted to live for … I thought I had to come to terms with it, just hope that you'd do well enough without me. When Keith came with the Black Lion …"

Lance chuckled, or tried to. "Talk about 'god in a machine.' Y'know, I've wondered whether the lions' power has something to do with God."

"Maybe." Shiro opened his eyes to look at his friend again. "Thank you, Lance."

"Don't thank me. Thank God, and Mary and the rest of the saints who prayed for you."

"Well, you started it by asking for their—what do you call it?"

"Intercession."

"Yeah, that. So I should thank you as well as them."

"You're welcome. I'll pass your thanks on to them."

Lance began each decade with an introduction in English, naming a Glorious Mystery. The Latin prayers had a soothing, repetitive rhythm that almost lulled Shiro to sleep, but these English names caught his attention. The events included Jesus' Resurrection, Jesus' Ascension into Heaven, the Descent of the Holy Spirit, and Mary's Assumption into Heaven. It was all very transcendent, and appropriate for the events for which Lance was giving thanks.

"Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death."

Shiro had thought that he had arrived at the hour of his death, but something had happened—maybe Mary really had prayed for him at that hour—and enabled the Black Lion to locate him. Maybe it had been that surge of love for his team, stronger than his own desire for life and comfort. Whatever it was, they were grateful for it.

Now that God had kept His part of the bargain, Lance knew he would have to keep his end. And even not factoring in his promise to forego glory and put aside pride, the fact remained that they had one paladin too many. Someone would have to step aside—Shiro, Keith, Allura, or Lance. And Lance was pretty sure he was the least skilled among them. The other three were the team's leaders; everyone looked to them for direction and inspiration. Lance was just a support—either the leg providing sure footing to the body, or the right hand carrying out the head's instructions.

When he expressed these doubts, Keith did not say he was a vital part of the team, but he did not dismiss him as an unnecessary part either. He was not going to make a decision, believing that things would work themselves out. Lance supposed he was right, since the matter of pilots was really left to the lions. Even when they put practicality before personal preference, there were forces at work that knew better than them. If the lions were agents of God's will, as Lance increasingly supposed them to be, then the team had to follow their lead.

Author's Note: I loved Lance's character development in this all-too-short season, and I'm super pleased that it fits this story! I came up with this chapter quite spontaneously. Also, since apparently Pidge's heritage has been revealed as Italian, increasing the possibility that the Holts have a Catholic background, I'm wondering if I ought to rework parts of "The Pursuit of Truth" to account for this influence on their culture and worldview. A scientist as smart famous as Sam Holt could probably have connections with the Vatican Observatory. What do you think, readers?