The Best Klance Fanfictions

Secrets Of The Past

See, he turned his head to look around, to see what exactly was happening, when he felt the brush of hair along his shoulders. His hair.

Immediately, his breath caught in his throat. Panic exploded throughout every fiber of his being, stiffening his joints and making him sweat, pooling quickly under his arms and at his lower back. He wiped his hands on his pants, also sweaty, and was forced to face his very real and very horrible reality.

He'd been sent into the past.

Or, more accurately, he'd been turned into a past-version of himself and was now stuck on this god-forbidden planet, forced to partake in some ridiculous trial while he looked like this.

It was his best kept secret. No one knew he was trans, not anymore. Not since he'd left Earth. No one knew he'd struggled with his identity since elementary school, and then struggled with the thought of telling his family all throughout middle school. No one knew that he'd finally told them just before entering high school, receiving more support than he'd ever dared hope for.

No one knew he'd had surgery just before leaving for the Garrison. That he'd been on T since the ninth grade. He was still on it now, though he'd managed to convince Coran it was for a special allergy he had when getting him to use the replicator on the few pills he'd spectacularly happened to have on him when they were whisked into space. Sometimes paranoia was a good thing.

And now.

And now all of that was gone. Sure, it was only temporary, probably, oh-god-please-hopefully, but that wasn't the problem. Or, that wasn't the only problem. No one was supposed to know. He'd finally gotten away from Earth, from all the people who had treated him differently before the Garrison, before he had finally, finally started to actually pass.

He missed Earth every day: missed his family and the beaches and the rain and everything outside of and in between that, but he certainly didn't miss all the horrible shit he'd left behind. All the bullies. All the prejudices. All the things that had reminded him of the fact that, no matter what, some people would always view him differently.

So, despite his family no-doubt thinking he was dead, despite the fact that he lived in an ancient Altean ship and fought the Galra in an attempt to save the universe every day, he could appreciate his life for what it was. He could appreciate the fact that everyone viewed him exactly as he wanted them to. He could appreciate the fact that, for once, he was exactly who he wanted to be.

Except for now.

Now, he was standing beside a building while a bustling crowd of eye-covered strangers moved around him, talking to each other and gesticulating as they walked and taking absolutely no noticed of the terrified kid standing stock still against a wall.

Lance tried to take stock of his situation. He was no doubt supposed to find the rest of his team, band together and work through whatever it was the Amalax wanted them to do, but he couldn't. His hair was long, like past his shoulders long, and he was - God, he must've been about thirteen years old. He didn't have a binder yet, but he did have fucking breasts, which had caused enough of a panic the first time they'd happened, thank you very much.

He was shaking. His knees were wobbling almost dangerously and he could feel the tremors all the way up his body. He'd literally been inches from death before, had faced down hundred-foot tall beasts and been surrounded and completely without help. He'd been bleeding out in battle, been unconscious and half-dead and barely-making-it-to-healing-pods, and yet the terror he was feeling now was unlike any of those. The terror of suddenly being out, the terror of having the choice taken away from him, the terror of not knowing exactly how everyone would react.