Allura smiled wearily as she gathered her newborn child into her arms. “Welcome, little one,” she sighed, and kissed his head. She booped his nose tenderly and he sneezed. 
	Coran chuckled. “I’ll go let the paladins know,” he said, finishing washing up.
	“Don’t let them come in right now. I’m not exactly feeling up to visitors.”
	“Not even one?” he asked knowingly.
	She considered it a moment and then nodded. “Just the one,” she allowed. Coran nodded and left.
	Allura counted fingers and toes, bundled him back up again in his blanket, and gently brushed the marks under her son’s eyes, already closed in sleep. “You think you’re tired?” she teased softly. “You do have your father’s eyes though. And eyelashes, for heavens’ sake.”
	“Allura?”
	She looked up and her smile widened despite her exhaustion. “Coran already found you?”
	“No; was he looking for me? I was too excited and worried and… Well, I couldn’t wait. I accessed the med systems and they’d finally shut down, so…” He sounded apologetic.
	She laughed. “Come see your son before Coran barges back in here all angry at the crazy duck run you sent him on.”
	“‘Wild goose chase,’” he corrected her as he approached. He sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s beautiful. Takes after his mother.”
	She replied the same way she always did to his compliments, with a quiet, “Stop that,” that she didn’t mean in the slightest.
	“Never,” he vowed, as usual. 
	“He has your eyes,” she pointed out.
	“And your ears.”
	“Thank the ancients.”
	“Ha ha,” he muttered mock-sourly. “Your hair color, too.” There was a soft coating of white hair on their son’s head. “He looks like he was dipped in stardust.”
	She smoothed the hair out over his scalp and his little eyes fluttered open. 
	“Oh, he has your eye color, too. Good.”
	“Why ‘good’?” she asked. “I love your eyes.”
	“Not as much as I love yours.”
	“Stop that. I think this is your nose, though.” She booped it again. There was no sneeze this time, but his eyes closed once more.
	“If you say so. I can’t tell.”
	She tsked. “Well, maybe as he grows up, you’ll see it.”
	“Did we ever decide on a name?”
	“I decided on Takashi Alfor.”
	He huffed. “I still say Alfor Takashi sounds better.”
	“Yes, well, I think I get final say after all of this. Wouldn’t you agree?”
	“I suppose I can’t stop you.”
	“No, you can’t.” She cleared her throat; that had come out sounding angrier than she’d intended.
	He frowned a little at her. “Still upset with me?”
	“I almost told Coran I didn’t want you in here, but… he’s your son. I want him to know his father.”
	“Thank you.” He paused. “You know why I made the decision I did.”
	“I know,” she said, trying to get control of herself again. “And I know that, if our positions had been reversed, I’d’ve done the same. But it doesn’t change how things are.”
	“In this reality.”
	She glared at him. “Leave Slav and the multiverse theory out of this, please. We’re supposed to be celebrating the birth of our son.”
	“You’re right.” 
	She expected him to call her on it: on how she’d started it this time, as she usually did. No, to be fair, she always started it. 
	The universe was as safe and peaceful as was reasonable to expect now. Zarkon and his evil were no longer polluting galaxy after galaxy, no longer enslaving or destroying entire worlds. The paladins of Voltron were heroes, and none more so than their leader. She was proud of everything they’d all accomplished together. But she was still angry. She took it out on him when she shouldn’t; she knew that. But she felt she had to. She had to vent it all out now, before baby Takashi was old enough to understand.
	Shi- …he had every right to point out that she was the one who’d brought it up again. But he didn’t. And she shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. Not now, anyway.
	“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
	“So am I. But I can never be sorry about this.” He was smiling down at the infant in her arms. “It’s… amazing. We made a new life.” He looked up at her. “Is it weird to be prouder of this than of defending the universe?”
	A new smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I don’t think so.”
	“I know new lives come into being every day, but it’s… it’s still the most magical thing I can think of.” He dropped his gaze to their son again. “Certainly the most magical thing I could ever have done.”
	“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
	“You give me too much.”
	“But he is your son. I know he’ll be so proud of you.”
	“Really? Not going to hide me away out of fear of him following in my footsteps?”
	“I wouldn’t do that even if I could. He deserves to know you at least as much as you deserve to know him.”
	He fell silent. “I wish I could touch him.”
	“I wish you could, too.” She cursed under her breath as the tears brimmed over and down her cheeks, heedless of her mental commands to stop. “I wish I could touch you.”
	“Same.” He stood. “More than anything, I want you to stop hurting, Allura. If that means we don’t see each other anymore…”
	“No!” Her cry woke the baby, who shrieked his disapproval. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She cuddled him closer and tried to shush him gently. Once Takashi settled down, she resumed talking with his father. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. I know it’s hard, but nothing will get better if I just run away from this.”
	“You’re right. I wish I could at least feel the same way. But… I suppose I don’t really feel anything anymore, do I?” He studied his own hands. “It’s weird. I feel the same but different. And I know I’m not really here anymore. But I can still feel everything, and it’s all so strong still.”
	She sniffled as she soothed the baby. “It’s all you are now,” she reminded him. “Your memories, your personality, your feelings.”
	He nodded. “Just no… container to put them all in. Well, I suppose there is a container, of sorts, but it’s not…”
	“WHY?” she asked. It was louder than even her anguished cry had been, and, of course, the tired newborn responded. She calmed him down again, a little glad of the opportunity to look nowhere else but at the tiny, squalling life in her arms. 
	When she could again, she clarified, “I could handle your death, Shiro. But it’s the fact that you planned so well for it that still hurts. It makes me wonder if you even tried to find another way.” She still couldn’t look at him.
	“I’m sure I did, Allura. I love you. Loved, I suppose.” He cleared his throat. Not that he really had a throat to clear. “But I knew this was a possibility, and when you told me you were…”
	“It was meant to motivate you to come home!” she sobbed. “You were supposed to come back to me, to US!” She broke down, but fortunately her son didn’t seem to mind the occasional teardrop that hit his bundled little body. “This was exactly what wasn’t supposed to happen!”
	“I swear, I wanted to come back, Allura. I wanted to, so, so badly. But there was no other way. If there had been, I would’ve erased… this.”
	She sniffled and tried to compose herself. “I know. I have to get over this.” She finally looked up at him again. At his holographic AI, anyway. “You were the love of my life. The one and only.”
	“No. No, Allura, don’t say that. I want you to be happy. If you can find someone who…”
	“No one will ever be you,” she insisted tearfully.
	“They don’t have to be me. They have to make you happy and be good to you, and to our son. That’s all I want.”
	“I won’t make any promises.”
	“You don’t have to. At least, not now. Right now, you should be resting; you look exhausted.”
	“It turns out that bringing a new life into the universe is rather tiring,” she commented wryly.
	“I’ll get Coran to come take Al-… Takashi,” he corrected himself. “And then I’ll let you sleep. Both of you.” He smiled at his son briefly, then turned the soft happy expression on her again. “I love you, Allura.”
	“And I love you, Shiro.”
	And then he faded away. She sniffled again and leaned down to kiss their child. “Sleep well. Grow strong. And know your father and I will always be here for you. No matter what.”