Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Lance was used to rejection. As a middle child in a huge family, you could never expect to always get what you want. You would save up your chances, skipping out on Tuesday’s soccer practise just so you could have a better chance of getting to swimming on Friday. Lance was used to being the kid that suffered the worst, always sacrificing his chances for his siblings. Benji needed to get to play practise on the other side of town as Lance’s soccer game? I guess his team’s gonna have one less striker. His older sister needs to borrow the car for reasons when Lance needs it as well? I guess he isn’t hanging out with his friends tonight, sorry dude.

   He was also used to the rejection from his father. While his mother supported his bisexuality, his father ignored him and made Lance’s life hell because of it. Too many times did Lance end up missing something important because his mother wasn’t home and he couldn’t drive yet, or one memorable time he was starved when it was only him and his father home; his mother had taken his siblings to the city for new clothes and school stuff or something but with so many kids it would take more than one day. The trip left Lance alone with his father for almost a week, in which he only bought food for himself and forbade Lance from leaving the house even for school, where Lance fell behind and almost had to repeat a year. Pure rejection.

   It wasn’t a huge surprise when Lance got the short straw on this mission. Just a simple one, a drop for information and a virus on a couple newly conquered planets and what the Galra have on them. Sadly, the team had only got back a few hours ago from forming Voltron and fighting in a different quadrant, but because Lance had been the only one to grab an hour of sleep after the fight, he was sent out on the mission. Just because he said he got sleep doesn’t mean he actually did.

   While transferring the information onto a little drive, Lance is momentarily distracted by the sound of a large ship above the base. The base walls seem to be thin, so he could easily hear everything that went on above and around him. Hell, if he tried hard enough he would probably be able to hear the Galra in the next room. He couldn’t even hum the Mission Impossible theme song while sneaking around, but that was mostly because Pidge yelled at him through the coms every time he did. They were angry that they had to stay awake and monitor Lance’s mission.

   Lance taps his boot against the metal floors, nervously waiting for the information to finish duplicating and transferring.

   “Hurry up, Lance! We don’t have all day.” Pidge is chirping words and complaints in his ear, not watching him but instead the maps that they created. They must not be able to see him except for his probably blue cue dot, or they would know that he was waiting for the drive.

   “Sorry, Pidge.”

   “Whatever, just focus. Whatever information is on this base is important, and we can’t afford you making a mistake and losing it because you saw a twinkling star.”

   Lance can feel the sting in his heart at their rejection, and it hurts more every time. Offhand comments ache just as much if not more than intended ones.

   Lance watches the pink bar slowly grow inside the rectangle area it was given, and Lance looks around, just a little scan. He checks the door to make sure the carts and junk he piled in front of it will hold; his exit is through the vents anyways. Built like a swimmer, Lance is flexible and malleable enough to easily worm his way through vents and small spaces. He distinctly remembers Allura calling it his only useful skill besides stalling. Well at least he’s useful in one way, and his stalling has bought value time before...

   Lance turns back to the drive, and is ready to pull it out and leave when a voice behind him makes his blood run cold.

   “What an elegant surprise...”

   Lance jerks his head around to see a hooded figure on his side of the blocked door. A long chin marked with red juts out from under the hood, and so does long white hair. Pink and black energy curls at clawed hands. The witch.

   Lance tucks the drive into a chink in his suit; he’s not supposed to, Altean armour attributes that Allura didn't really explain to him and all, but he’s seen Keith do it and Allura’s never gotten mad at him before so it should be okay, right? He's also pretty sure he's going to need his hands free for this. His fingers curl around his Bayard, but he doesn’t want to change it to a blaster, not when the witch is so close. Maybe Keith would be proud for his logic.

   The witch raises her head, and Lance can just see her smirking face. “Oh, Blue Paladin. So much turmoil inside of you. So much pain.”

   Lance grits his teeth. “Shut up!” That energy around her hands pulses, and the witch cackles.

   Lance can feel something worming at his ears. He reaches up to pat his helmet over his ears, feeling mildly self conscious, but keeps his stare on the witch. Haggar stares back from under her hood, and Lance squirms in his spot as the pressing in his ears becomes increasingly harder. He scrunches his face, makes a sound, and backs away from Haggar with his hands clasped over his ears under his helmet. He can hear Pidge complaining about his time through his fingers.

   “What are you doing to me?” Lance hisses the words, hopefully quiet enough so that he doesn’t alert Pidge. No reason to give them another chance to hate on him.

   Haggar’s smirk grows, and she raises her hands. The energy bundles in her palms, facing Lance, and Lance flinches away. His ears pop, and a cold comes over him like someone dumped water on him. That’s happened before, when Lance was asleep after a nightmare. He had a note from his sister on him, one that he kept with him always. It got ruined by the water Shiro nearly drowned him in. Seriously, Lance inhaled a bunch of it, waking up so suddenly on his back. It feels like that now.

   Suddenly, the witch is gone. The room is empty except for Lance, his ears ringing and aching. Wait- no, there’s the witch’s voice.

   “It is done, Paladin. Enjoy your pain, for you bring it upon yourself.”

   Lance stands there, gaping like a fish, before Pidge screams in his ear.

   “Lance! For fucks sakes, listen to me! Get out of there! The witch just arrived on that ship!”

   Lance shakes his head hard, hoping to get rid of the ringing that seems to be hiding in the back of his head now. Just a faint sound, but he knows it’s gonna drive him crazy until it goes away. He smacks at the back of his helmet, scowling when it doesn’t even touch the ringing. “Got it. I’m coming out now.”

   “Took you long enough.”

   The comment sounds like it wasn’t for him. It’s quiet, like Pidge was walking away from the mic. He’s done now, and apparently he’s on his own for getting out of the base. Lance expects the stab of pain to his heart, but when his cheek starts stinging, he winces and frowns. Touching it, he stutters in his steps when his fingers come away bloody.

            ~~~

   Lance leans on the counter below his mirror. Each Paladin has their own attached bathroom, but the showers are in an actual shower room. There is, however, a long bathtub that fits Lance’s long legs perfectly. It was one of the reasons he chose this room. He’s pretty sure Keith has one too, since he’s right beside Lance.

   He can sink down to his nose and still have everything perfectly submerged. Maybe if he gets his ears under the water too then the insistent ringing in his head will go away. Whenever he tries to bring it up to Allura, she brushes him off. God, it’s been two days since it started and he’s going crazy.

   Lance sighs, and lifts a finger to poke at the scabbed up cut on his right cheek. He still doesn’t know how he got it, and now there’s a bruise forming underneath it to match. He knows for a fact that when Keith nailed him with the butt of his sword during training, he definitely didn’t hit his face; instead, Lance had doubled over as the hard metal slammed into his stomach. Keith apologized after, helping him up as Allura laughed from afar. So how...?

   Glancing at his array of makeups and moisterizers and masks, Lance sees about three things he could use to cover up the bruise. Good. Maybe then Pidge won’t tease him about being a baby. He knows that they're tough cookie, but it’s not his fault he bruises easily.

   Pain shrieks from Lance’s left hipbone.

   Gasping, Lance immediately rips his sweatpants off and halfway down his thighs, boxers coming with. There, forming along the line of his hipbone, is a cut. Lance watches in shock as the wound creates itself, opening up and bleeding as it goes. Lance wheezes, reaching a shaky hand to come and touch the blood that drips down his thigh.

   That’s what you get. Such a wimp, a weakling.

   Lance jumps nearly a foot in the air. The voice was so clear, so loud but so quiet like the person was whispering in directly in his ears. Again, living in a huge household made you desensitized to random sneak-whisper attacks from ninja sisters, but when the voice was your own...

   That’s right...tremble for me. It’s all you ever do anyways. Tremble in fear, locked up and useless. You’re so fucking worthless like this.

   Lance makes a strangled noise, a cross between a whine and a gasp, and grips the edge of the silver counter hard. He drops his eyes from the mirror, staring instead at the sleek water tap. True to the voices’ - his - words, his knees shake under him.

   Lance’s body just magically cut himself. From the inside? Or was there a force from the outside? No, there’s nobody here but himself. Magic? He did have a run in with Haggar... but that wouldn’t explain the voice in his head that sounds exactly like him. No, it’s not even in his head - it feels like it’s hovering on his shoulders, pressing down into his ears.

   The voice chuckles, echoing and bouncing off the walls in his head. It rises in volume, turning into a laugh that could belong to a maniac; uncontrolled and unrestricted.

   Lance stumbles backwards, grasping at the sides of his head and yanking at his hair, anything to make it stop. The laughing nearly turns into shrieking, like when you just can’t hold it back and all you wanna do is scream and laugh and it comes out as one serial noise. His pants are still down, and with his restricted movement, his heels hit the side of the walled tub, and Lance crashes down into it.

   He cries out as his back comes in contact with the opposite wall, and instead of getting up, Lance curls into himself, nearly crying, as his own voice laughs and screams inside his head. His lungs are heaving, only allowing him little breaths that leave him dizzy. Fuck, he can’t even move.

   Lance doesn’t know how or when he fell asleep, but he wakes up in the tub the following morning, head pounding and throat hoarse like he’d been screaming.

            ~~~

   It’s early as fuck according to the Castle and it’s minutely changing lights. Lance stayed up all night talking with Blue, and he knows he shouldn’t have but Allura is always harping on him about bonding with his Lion, so... they bonded all night and into the morning. His little voice stayed quiet the entire time, so that’s a plus; it only seems to pipe up when Lance is alone. Solution: don’t be alone.

   Sadly, it’s easier said than done. Shiro is quickly weirded out by Lance’s personality which stings. Allura has no reason to chat with him even though he’s long since stopped his flirting; he gave up after about two weeks upon meeting her, and hasn’t made a move towards her since, but whenever he moves closer to her she gives him this disgusted look like she would at a piece of shit on her shoe. Coran is cool but usually needed by Allura, so Lance doesn’t bother asking for his time. Pidge soon gets tired of Lance asking questions about their work and what things are and do, and sends him away after about ten minutes. Hunk is normally with them, so double whammy, and he and Keith can’t stay in the same room for more than five minutes without fighting.

   The only option is Blue. Blue accepts him for his flaws and insecurities and even shares some of her own. Obviously, she struggles to communicate through words so she sends images and feelings as Lance plays a guessing game to decipher them. Soon, he recognizes the certain images she sends as key words, like Green’s metal as yes or a fire as his heart. Sitting on her shoulder all night, Lance and Blue were closer than ever.

   Now, when the team works on maneuvers inside their Lions, it’s beyond easy to let Blue know what Lance wants, and it’s beyond easy for her to let Lance know how to do it. It’s instinct or relfex, whichever kicks in first. Sometimes, she even flies herself while Lance focuses on weaponry.

   While Hunk and Pidge struggle with the quick darting between stone pillars, Lance zips through them just as fast as Keith. When he finishes, he whoops out loud and congratulates Blue, patting his dash with a grin. “Nice flying, girl.”

   “Oh, shut up Lance. We know you’re just complimenting yourself.”

   When Lance tries to reply to Pidge’s biting comment, he’s met with a crash of dull pain on the side of his left knee, like someone just tried to kick in his kneecap from the outside. Lance slaps a hand over his mouth, stifling the groan that threatens to come boiling through. What the fuck?!

   Blue roars around him, cockpit trembling with the force of her cry, and Lance can hear the other Paladins questioning and commenting. Apparently, the power of her voice had caused the crumbling pillars to collapse.

   Stupid Lance, always boasting. We know you’re just compensating for nothing.

   Lance’s entire body jerks forwards as Blue lands on the uneven ground. Lance groans out loud this time, and the ringing in his head grows. He rips his helmet off and throws it somewhere, not giving a shit. He just wants the voice to go away. Doesn’t it only come when he’s alone?!

   You’re wrong, Lance. Always wrong, never right.

   Lance pulls his knees up, growling into his kneecaps. The left one throbs and for some reason Lance knows that if he looks at it he’s gonna find a nasty bruise. He knows. He was right the last time, and he’s gonna be right this time.

   Lance takes a deep breath, and uncurls his legs. He collapses back in the pilots chair, staring at the roof of the cockpit. Blue growls, swinging her head back and forth which makes Lance slide around in his seat. His head rolls back and forth, and the voice isn’t piping down anytime soon. It’s giggling now. Lance massages his knee, ignoring Blue and ignoring his voice and gets up to find his helmet.

   Three feet away from it and he can hear the angry voices of his teammates.

   “Control your Lion, Lance!”

   “Well, what do we do now?”

   “Congratulations Lance, you just messed up the entire training sequence.”

   Lance notices absently that Keith doesn’t say anything, but he might have before Lance got here; the ringing was too loud. He also notices that Blue hasn’t moved since she shook like a dog. Lance puts his helmet back on, hearing the tail end conversation of the team going back to the Castle. He sighs, and collapses back in his chair. If they’re angry, they definitely don’t want to see him. He wouldn’t either, if one of them had just fucked up so badly they couldn’t even train. Lance takes his helmet off again and sets it (read: chucked aimlessly) to the side.

   Lance knee throbs again, and he doesn’t hold back his groan. Blue whines.

   “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay...” Lance lets his eyes close as he tilts his head back. The ringing is so loud.

   Such a disappointment.

   Lance grits his teeth. Blue growls, spurring into action. She jumps around, shaking her head and sending Lance flying through the cockpit. He smashes into the wall to the left of his seat, crying out in pain. Still, Blue flings her head back and forth. Lance only tries to absorb most of the blows.

   When she stops, finally, he’s battered and bruised but the voice is gone. Lance lays on his stomach, panting and aching, when his head is flooded with images of a hospital room, a white blanket on a clothesline, and the glowy blue of the Castle. Lance huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll get in a pod. Thanks for worrying, but I could’ve done without the blender treatment.”

   Blue growls, and Lance gets images of Galra pink, a black sweater, and then an image of himself. But it’s not himself. He’s got glowing pink eyes and a twisted smile on his face. Lance shivers. “The voice...it’s because of Haggar?”

   The scraped metal of the Green Lion shows Blue’s confirmation.

   “Shit...” Lance drops his head back down, cheek pressing into the cold floor. “But why the pain? Why do I get hurt when I don’t do anything?! I don’t understand!” Lance’s voice rises into a wail, and he curls into himself.

   Blue floods his head with Pidge’s angry face which makes Lance flinch, Shiro’s disappointed glance, and Allura’s snarl. Lance can’t even shy away from them. Then, a burning fire, and a computer like the one he shared with his siblings a home. And then the cut along his hipbone.

   “What? Blue, I don’t-“ Blue replays the images, accompanied by a feeling so strong that Lance could only describe it as pure angst. Lance grasps at his chest, nearly choking with it through their bond, and relfects over the images.

   “Okay, well I guess I feel like shit when I get looked at like that by them... and a fire means my heart. It hurts my heart when they hurt me?” A rumble from Blue passes for approval. “But what’s the computer? My family?”

   The Red Lion passes through Lance’s head. No.

   “Uh, okay. Um... Oh! My brain?” Blue nods, letting Lance roll back and forth. “Okay, okay. And my cut? Yeah. It opened by itself. Literally, I watched it make itself and the bruise and cut on my face and-“

   Lance is cut off by a more insistently image of the sweater. He groans, and covers his face with his gloved hands. “I know Haggar has something do do with this! I just don’t know how.”

   Blue shudders, her version of a sigh, and pushes an image of the fire and a simple picture of Lance’s skin into his head. Lance doesn’t speak, but something clicks.

   “My hearts pain...is becoming physical?”

   Green Lion. Gotcha.

   “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” The team grates on Lance constantly and even though he’s a pro at hiding his feelings, if his emotional pain becomes his physical pain...

   Blue whines, ending in a questioning tilt. Lance brushes it off with a sigh, and pulls himself back up so he can sit back in the politschair. He pats the armrest comfortingly.

   “It’s all good Blue. I’m just gonna be in desperate need of healing pods for the next few days until we figure this out.”

   Alone. All alone because nobody wants to help you, poor Lance. Useless Lance. Nobody cares, Lance.

   Lance just directs Blue back towards the castle, already feeling the starting of his heart aching. This is gonna be a long ride.

            ~~~

   Lance gasps and slides down the wall of his bedroom, bloodied palm leaving a dark streak as he tries to stay on his feet. Lance whines, eyes burning and throat constructing as he twists what was a white towel tighter around his left thigh, covering the deep slash there.

   Coran had yelled at him. Lance had forgotten to clean an important part on one of the healing pods and when Coran has checked them and found the oil like substance covering the wires, he had hunted Lance down and tore him a new one in front of Shiro and Keith and Hunk. Lance had been playing with the mice while Allura was doing something that required all of her attention, keeping them busy and teaching them tricks. When Coran had slammed his palms on the table in front of Lance, Lance had almost flinched but still looked up with a smile. It dropped quick when the murderous face on the Altean made his heart race. 

   Lance whimpers, his head throbbing and fingers shaking as blood quickly soaks through his makeshift bandage.

   Coran started with a scary low voice that dropped with barely restrained anger, beginning his sentence with asking Lance how he think he cleaned the pods. Lance had answered that he did good, fingers frozen midair as the mice dangled off them, and Coran snapped, yelling and blaming Lance where he sat for potentially ruining his teammates life and killing them and how could you have been so ignorant?!

   Lance didn’t speak after Coran finished; the entire dining room had been shocked into silence, Lance’s teammates switching gazes between Lance and Coran quickly. 

   Lance winced as he pushes himself to his feet, unsteady, and brushes the mice off as he walks towards the door. Behind him, Coran is slowing his breathing and slowly coming to his senses and just as Lance turns the corner to leave he catches the wide eyed stare of Coran and the mauve gaze of Keith, but it quickly drops as soon as Lance finds it. 

   Lance didn’t see the way Coran reached for his retreating figure. Lance didn’t see the broken look on Coran’s face as the Altean clued into the gravity of his actions. Lance didn’t hear Coran’s explanation as to why he was so passionate about the pods. Lance didn’t hear in all his time around the Altean advisor that he had lost his own son to a malfunction due to inadequate cleaning. Lance didn’t see the terror on Coran’s face when he believed and feared the same thing happening again. Lance didn’t know.

   Lance hadn’t wasted any time: he hobbled to the nearest storeroom which is luckily by his room, focused on breathing and making sure the blood from the gash in his upper thigh didn’t drip on the floor. He hadnt looked at what he grabbed when he made it to the oversized linen closet; it was a lucky snatch when the item he found was a white towel. Already feeling dizzy as blood soaked down his entire pant leg, Lance tied the towel around his leg with a guttural groan and hobbled back to his room, collapsing only when the door slid shut and Locked behind him. 

   Lance pants hot breaths into the dark of his room as his head and vision swim, and he can hear that voice chuckling in his ears. It hasn’t said anything yet, not yet, but it’s just...there.

   With trembling hands, Lance yanks his jacket off and tosses it to the side. He needs to bandage the wound, but first he needs to slow the bleeding and pressure isn’t helping.

   Lance’s mind flashes to the roll of surgical thread and a curved needle on his counter. He had stole it from the medbay in case of emergency, and fuck if this isn’t one; Lance is going to bleed out long before he closes this wound with a strip of tape. Even if he does manage to suture it, will it even work? He's not a doctor...

   Lance groans as he drags himself to his feet, not bothering to hide his pain or damage to his room as blood smears over his wall. Lance slumps against the same bloodstain, pulling himself along the wall and into the bathroom. God, he's gonna have to try because he might actually die this time.

   Good. Good. Die, Lance. Nobody needs you here, you fucking waste of space.

   With his vision floating somewhere between black and fuzzy, Lance luckily smacks his supplies and a bunch of others off the countertop before he collapses next to them, crying out as the movement twists his leg. His elbow smacks against the side of his tub, echoing, and his bloody palm scrapes over the needle pack. 

   Lance gasps as he pulls himself to a seated position, bracing his back against the cupboards of his sink as he collects his supplies again. The towel isn’t doing anything now and Lance needs to hurry.

   Gritting his teeth, Lance snatches the thick scissors off of his floor so he can cut his pant leg off; there’s no way he’s getting the jeans off and cleaned again. It’s not like the Castle can’t make another, and they aren’t the ones he came to space in. Lance clumsily moves his fingers as he tosses strips upon strips of soaked denim away in the direction of his previously discarded towel.

   Lance spends too long threading his needle and he spends too long trying to wipe his fingers off on the floor so it doesn’t slip. When he finally gets the course thread through he lowers it to his leg, where blood still weeps from. Spots dance across his red skin and Lance blinks hard.

   The tip of the needle nears his skin. He grabs a nearby shirt and shoves it between his teeth and cries into it as the needle pierced his skin, centimetres from the wound.

   Lance works as fast as he can manage, gagging as he tugs the string taut and whimpering as his skin pulls. His fingers slip constantly and the shirt is wet with his saliva and tears. The ringing seems to have increased tenfold. It’s always there but it's so loud right now...

   Lance trembles as he twists and closes the knot on the end of his slash. His stitches are messy and uneven and ugly but they’re holding and stay that way as Lance grabs antiseptic.

   He doesn’t hold back his scream as he wipes his leg off, sobs wracking his body as he wraps it quickly, probably too tight, but with the way he lost blood, Lance doesn't worry too much. If Shiro can survive with a prosthetic arm Lance can survive without a real leg. Lance clutches his bloody hands to his chest, and sitting against the cupboard, he falls asleep in a pool of his own blood.

            ~~~

   Lance got better at hiding the pain. He’s always been good at hiding the pain in his heart, but after the curse, he got real good at hiding the ones on his body as well. Bruises were disguised with makeup or accidental bumps because Lance was just so clumsy Allura couldn’t believe it! How he ever became a Paladin must be a mystery. Lance had felt something wet on the inside of his shoe when she said that, later finding out there was an inch long slit on the inside of his right foot.

   Speaking of cuts, they were covered by slips of a razor when he shaved his legs, glued with something Lance stole from the medbay, or hidden under clothing and wrapped bandages until they closed. Sadly, the cut on Lance’s cheek seems to have scarred, hurting esteem even more. He knows some chicks dig scars but the reason behind this one...

   Lance didn’t have much to do. He finished training, cleaning and eating, so now he resorts to wandering around the Castle And finding things undiscovered. Last time, he found a small room containing buckets of gems. When he asked Coran about it, he found that none of them had any curses or charms on them so Lance may or may not have gone back and grabbed a beautiful oval stone, about the size of his thumb. It’s a gleaming black but it glitters a blueish purple in the light. He always has it in his pocket, and when bored or anxious, rubs it with his thumb. It’s grounding.

   Lance hums to himself as he walks down the hallway. Allura gave up on enforcing curfew when Lance broke it so many times, getting caught up in helping the mice or a Lion. He still hasn’t told Pidge about the time he helped Green get untangled from the wires dangling from the ceiling; the oversized cat had gotten her front paws stuck when playing, according to the images Blue translated for him, so Lance spent a good chunk of his sleeping time helping the Lion. Worth the lecture about only being useful to the universe with sleep from Shiro and the baseball sized bruise he found spread over his calf the next hour.

   Tossing the stone in his hand, Lance takes a left when he comes to a T, tracing the glowing walls with his eyes. There’s no doors down this way, but Lance presses on. If he gets lost, there’s always Blue to help him.

   “Lance?”

   Lance stiffens at his name, but relaxes just as quickly when he turns around to see Allura. Her hair is down, and she has a robe wrapped around her body. Lance can see her bare feet, and he’s pretty sure the mice are darting through her white hair and across her shoulders.

   Lance tries for a smile. When he shifts, he can feel the bandaged wound on his stomach that opened only yesterday. He needs to change them soon, and add to the growing pile of bandages in his bathroom because he can never find a good time to sneak them to the incinerator. “Heya, Princess. You should be in bed.”

   Allura narrows her eyes at Lance. She crosses her arms and taps her toe. “As should you. Go to bed, Lance.”

   “I can try.” Along with the physical-slash-heart pain curse thing, Lance has had the worst round of night terrors and nightmares the past few nights. Every single time, it features not-him and not-his glowing pink eyes. That maniac smile is drenched in blood as he laughs, the blood of Lance’s teammates staining every tooth and dripping from his gums. Every single time, Lance watches himself kill Hunk, kill Pidge. He watches them beg for mercy. He watches himself torture Shiro, taunt Allura, strangle Coran. He watches them scream and writhe under his hands. He even kills the mice. For the most part, the ways he kills them changes and rotates so every night is something different. 

   But Keith. Oh, Lance watches himself break Keith, and it hurts the most; when he wakes up, all he can see is the light fading out of nearly purple eyes. Every single time and every single night. The ways he might ruin Keith vary, but the end result is always the same: Keith screaming, Keith crying, Keith begging, Keith breaking.

   You don’t enjoy your dreams Lance? Too bad. It’s gonna happen. You're gonna do it. You can't stop it... hehe...

   Lance shudders, and drops his gaze from Allura’s. He turns away, but not before offering a small smile that burns with unshed tears. “Sorry for disturbing you. Goodnight, Princess.”

   “Wait- Lance?”

   Lance stops and angles his head to the left side but doesn’t turn. His foot throbs and a stinging tear rubs down his cheek, crossing over the new scar.

   “Don’t hinder in training tomorrow. Voltron needs to work as a team, and that can’t be achieved if a Paladin slacks off. Actually try.”

   Lance pulls one corner of his mouth up. It’s a tight smile, but in the hallway you can’t tell. “Of course, Princess. See you.” Lance continues his path slowly, but when he hears the door behind him close, he collapses where he stands, nearly biting his fingers off as he shoves them in his mouth to keep from screaming. His stomach feels like someone doused little strips in gasoline and set them on fire. Never has there been more than one wound at a time before and never have they crossed over themselves!

   Lance allows more tears to fall, hand pressed to the rapidly growing blood spot on his shirt. He’s gonna have to scrap it; there’s no way to get the blood out by sneaking past his teammates. Like they would even care anyways. They blatantly don’t care about Lance.

   That’s right.

   He’s just a body to fill a Lion. Allura could pilot easily if he was gone; Blue is adaptable.

   It would be so easy find a new Paladin; ask anybody. You’re replaceable.

   You’re trash.

   I’m only a body.

   I’m just a body.    

            ~~~

   Lance sinks down in the tub. It’s hot, and he knows that he shouldn’t have gotten in so early but the warmth feels so fucking good against his bruises and sore bones. His stomach burns though, but Lance ignores it in favour of the water. It should help clean it too, since Lance is running out of antiseptic.

   The lights under the tub make it glow blue around the outline of his body, and there’s little floating plastic balls on top, about the size of a bath bomb and cloudy in the centre. Lance taps one from under the water with his fingers and it bobs in place.

   Lance shifts, careful not to let the water overflow, and turns off the tap. Instantly, his bathroom is filled with the serenity of trickling water and his own breaths. Vaguely, he can hear Keith moving in the room next to his. Lance sits back, dropping his shoulders under the water. He stretches his legs out, and sighs when the twinge of pain from multiple little bruises ache.

   The tap stops dripping, Leaving Lance with only ringing. He can’t help the little smile, though, when he hears Keith close by.

   He’s always found Keith endearing. He could be screaming at him, mopping the floor with Lance’s sore body during training, or even just sitting curled up in the lounge and reading an Altean book (he’s insistent on learning Altean), Lance would find him so fucking cute that he needed a breather before continuing.

   It was only a matter of time before the admiration spiraled into a hard crush.

   Lance has never believed Keith likes him. While Lance knows Keith’s mannerisms and his expressions like the back of his hand, he’s never seen any that could mean Keith wants what Lance does. And what Lance wants, he doesn’t think Keith could give him without it being forced. You never really know, Lance muses to himself as he stretches out his toes, but he has a pretty good idea.

   Lance rolls his head back, letting it drop on the back of the tub a little too hard, but the slight ache is nothing compared to his last two weeks. Not even! It’s only been a week and just over a half and Lance is used to feeling pain constantly. He hardly remembers a time when there wasn’t any pain. How did Shiro not go crazy?

   Because Shiro is strong. Unlike a little someone. 

   Lance clenches his jaw. “Shut up,” he grinds out, “And let me enjoy my goddamn bath.”

   Lance doesn’t wait for a reply; he reaches for his ocean scented soap bar when suddenly, he has an idea.

   Dropping the soap back on the little platter, Lance quickly rinses his hand and looks around, paranoid, even though he’s the only one in the locked bathroom. Lance grips the edges of the tub, and leans backwards. Water creeps up his back, his spine, before soaking the back of his head and hair. His hands tremble, and Lance feels the strain on his muscles. Finally, when he covers his ears with the surface of the water, Lance closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He lets go.

   Submerged, Lance completely melts into the bottom of the tub. His eyes aren’t squeezed tightly, only closed, and he can feel bubbles leave his mouth when his lips part. It’s beautiful. It’s silent.

   Lance can’t hear the ringing. The constant, shrill bell in the back of his head is gone. He nearly laughs, but holds his air in. Living near the ocean all his life, Lance got used to holding his breath. On a good day, he can hold it for a minute. On a great day, nearly two. When his lungs start burning, Lance releases the breath through his mouth and rushes back up.

   Water drips down his face, off his chin and nose and in his eyes when he opens them and the ringing’s back but fuck if the temporary silence wasn’t glorious. Lance pants slightly, chest a little sore, but he gasps in hard and ducks under the water once again. This time, he keeps his eyes open.

   The water burns for a second and everything is blurry, but Lance can make out the balls floating on the water and the circular light above his head. There’s only two in the bathroom; the one above the tub and the one bordering the mirror. Lance opens his mouth again, a couple bubbles escaping, and stays under for a little longer. He wrenches up and a shudder goes through him when air rushes into his lungs.

   Suddenly, a growl echoes in the back of his head. It’s his own growl, a low scary sound Lance hasn’t heard for years, not since his little fifth grade brother got beat up by some seventh graders and Lance, who was in grade twelve at the time, took it up with them afterschool one day. It was safe to say that they never looked in Benji’s direction again.

   Little shit. Found a way to block us out? How clever. Sadly, you can’t do that forever. We’re always going to be here when you come back up. Unless, of course, you drown. Maybe that's your solution, Lance. Drown, whore.

   Lance feels his lips pull back in a snarl, and he slams the outside of his fist into the wall of the tub. It doesn’t move, just creates a loud bang. Lance watches the surface of the water ripple. “Shut. Up.”

   You can’t get rid of us, Lance. Let us in. Don’t fight us and just accept it.

   Don’t fight us? Lance frowns deeply before inhaling deeply and going back under. He closes his eyes and mouth intently, focused on staying under for as long as he can. Maybe he will drown. Maybe then he won’t be able to hear the voice all day. Maybe then the pain will stop.

   Lance has considered suicide before. The news of his bisexuality in school turned countless people he thought were his friends against him in an instant. Lance had come to school one day and found the words FAG and SLUT and WHORE written all over his locker. He found his gym clothes in the urinals and his shoes in the toilet bowl mixed with bleach, damp and reeking with urine. He had bruises on his shoulders from being shoved into lockers, on his shins and toes from people ‘accidentally’ kicking him. More often than not, Lance would come home roughed up or with a black eye or split lip. Any class was torture, and Lance would sit in the dark of his small room afterschool, holding a small straight razor that he stole from his father with trembling hands.

   When he entered in the Garrison, he didn’t tell anyone. Nobody on the team knows, not even Hunk although Lance knows he suspects. Lance forced himself to become an over-the-top flirt with only the girls because it was easier than dealing with who he really was.

   Lance squirms. He fills his cheeks with air from his lungs, and sucks it back. He slowly releases a couple bubbles at a time. The uncomfort in his chest grows into pain, and Lance can’t help but gasp in the water. He barely pulls himself up, coughing and sputtering. The voice is laughing.

   Stupid Lance. You can’t run from us and you can’t run from your problems. Let us take over, and we can fix everything. You just break things, you fucking slut.

   Lance’s blood runs cold, and a wave of emotion crushes him. He can feel his eyes sting, and buries his head in his wet knees. He doesn’t bother washing anything, and blindly uses pruny fingers to pull the plug. Lance doesn’t move until the water is completely gone, listening to his own laughter on a loop in his head. When he does finally look up, it’s to the blank metal wall his bathtub is attached to. 

   It’s perfect to write on.

            ~~~

   So what is it today, Lance? More denial? Rejection? Ooh, maybe Pidge will insult you. You’re such a sucker for pain. That's why there's little white lines on your thighs just like all your little white lies to everyone you think cares.

   Lance slides along the floor, between the legs of the training dummy, and lands a harsh punch to its spine. Like a human, it falls flat on the floor and Lance presses a foot into the middle of its back, grabbing its wrists and pulling them towards him. Lance hears the shoulders crackle; in a human, Lance just dislocated both shoulders and rendered their arms useless.

   Instantly, the floor around the dummy sinks and Lance jumps off as it is lowered into the floor. Lance turns, hands up and wrapped in white tape, ready for the next bot. His blood seems to hum; he’s completely prepared. 

   Maybe you’ll fuck up a mission. That would suck. You could make someone die. How would you live with the guilt? Answer...you couldn’t. Drown, drown, drownnn...

   It falls from the ceiling to Lance’s left and runs at Lance with a long sword; Lance immediately lowers one fist for a more defensive stance. He slides one leg a little farther back, and prepares for whatever the bot has to offer.

   Oh, how you will hurt today. Don’t strain too much, Lance; we left a nasty slash on your shoulder you know, and those little stitches you put in probably won’t hold. Oh well. You deserve it. Shiro definitely seemed to think so. He's better than you will ever dream of being and you know it.

   Lance steps to the side neatly as the dummy slashes vertically, and keep an eye on its other hand. He knows that with the level he’s on, the bots have the ability to switch sword hands without a fault. It wouldn’t be a problem if Lance had a sword, but right now, he’s weaponless, sweaty in his loose tank top, and itching for a fight. Vance is only egging him on.

   Ooh, we love our name. Voice and Lance? So original. So simple. So deadly.

   Lance steps backwards as the bot swings the sword at him again, and Lance takes the time the bot has on it so followthrough to get right in its space, grab its swordhand, and smash it down into his knee which drives up. The robot doesn’t make a sound, but it does stagger away and drop its sword. Lance kicks it away by the hilt, and returns to his original stance as the bot comes at him barehanded, single eye glowing brightly.

   They meet in the middle, hands clasped around opposing forearms, and Lance grimaces as its cold thumb digs right into a purple bruise. Lance can feel the stitches in his shoulder pull, and he growls deeply before wrenching the dummy to the left and using the bottom of his foot to kick in the outside of its knee and then basically crushing its hipbone beneath his foot. If it was a real person, there’s no way they’d be running anywhere anytime soon or ever, depending on how bad Lance destroyed it.

   Dirty move, Lance. Even Keith told you to leave that alone. But he doesn’t care what you do anyways. He just wants to impress Shiro. You'll never have him because he doesn't want you. Who would want you?

   Lance drives his elbow into the skull of the bot, and it collapses into the floor facefirst before sinking down like the last one. Lance pants in his spot, and wipes the back of his hand at his forehead. “End training sequence.”

   “Endurance Training Sequence ended. Trainee: Lance McClain. Level: Twenty seven. Breaks: One. Fatality Factor: Ninety-eight percent.” The mechanical voice of the Castle training deck calls out Lance’s stats plainly.

   Scratching at his hands, Lance blows a breath out that tickles the hair sticking to his face. Twenty seven. Twenty seven bots consistently destroyed with only one break. Out of the twenty seven dummy’s, Lance theoretically killed ninety eight percent of them sometime in battle. He sits down on the bench, and pokes a straw in the water pouch. The training deck is mostly dark except for the glow coming off the walls; Lance keeps it that way when he does night training so that nobody interrupts him.

   Ladies and gentlemen, we have a killer on our hands. Hehe... literally.

   Lance clenches and relaxes his fist absently, the tape pulling at his skin. He took advice from Keith and wrapped his knuckles and fingers because last time he tried to fight a bot in hand-to-hand he completely destroyed them. Plus, the last time he did the drill, he only reached level nine and had a fatality factor of about thirty two percent. He doesn’t even think about the breaks. Now look where he is.

   The record on the ship is twenty nine with one break and a ninety nine percent FF, and Lance is pretty sure it’s Allura or Coran. Alteans dont fuck around, but now neither does Lance. He normally deletes his recent history so that the other team can’t see who was practising last, but he’ll do it later.

   Lance smirks to himself, and uses the bottom of his dark grey tank top to wipe his face, momentarily revealing the jagged X of a white scar across his stomach. The top of the first line reaches the middle of his ribcage on the left and down to his right hip, and at the bottom of his right rib and down to below his bellybutton. His joggers feel restricting now, but he doesn’t hit the showers just yet; there’s one more drill he wants to do.

   Lance stands up, and checks his shoulder; there’s a litttle bit of blood seeping through the large white bandage, but it doesn’t worry Lance. You should see the rest of his body. Along with creating wounds, his body heals them faster than an average persons would. Only, his leave definitive scars. There’s one on his cheek, another on his hip, a slightly discoloured splotch on his knee, a multitude of white lines over his stomach along with the X; Lance looks like he went though a blender. He doesn’t wear tank tops around the team anymore and he never showers with others. He always wears his jacket, and after a mission, never unzips his flight suit until he’s alone.

   Shaking out his hands, Lance shifts his weight from foot to foot as he gathers himself and sits cross legged on the floor, but not before he slips a headset on, the same one that grants mind melds during team bonding. At least they’re over that part of exercises.

   “Begin Vance’s training sequence. Level one.”

   Lance’s world is doused in darkness. It’s like he closed his eyes, but when he looks down he can still see his body, cross legged. Lance stands up, breathing in shakily, and sets himself up in a defensive stance; one hand protecting his face, one down lower by his ribcage, and shifting his weight on his toes. He never knows what to expect during this sequence.

   A crazy, uneven laugh echoed through the darkness. Lance grimaces, and watches as Vance materializes out of the shadows surrounding him.

   He looks the same as Lance, from the scars to the hair to the build of his body, but there’s also the major differences. First, Lance is only wearing the loose tank for night training with his jacket wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t wear tank tops out and about, not now. All of the scars and bruise splotches make harsh designs all over his skin. Second, Lance has never seen himself smile like that in his life; his mouth is stretched so wide it looks painful and from behind it comes that laugh. Thirdly, Lance’s eyes are blue. Not Galra pink.

   Vance shifts his weight onto one leg, cocking his hip and smirking at Lance. Lance damn near growls. He hates this sequence but it’s the only way to get answers.

   Breathing shakily, Lance stands and brushes himself off before facing Vance fully. It’s unsettling, seeing a perfect reflection of yourself and not having it move in time with your actions.

   “Heya, Lance.”

   “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

   “Oh, Lance. There’s just so much In you’re pretty little head that I can’t leave alone.” Vance twines his fingers behind his back and walks circles around Lance. “Secrets, poisoned thoughts...me.” Vance chuckles, the sound echoing through the darkness. "I'm in your head and you can't get rid of me. no matter how long you hold your breath."

   Lance doesn’t take his eyes off his double. “Why do you look like me?”

   Vance laughs again. “Oh Lance, I can look like anybody. I just like this form cuz then I’m so much closer to you.” Vance trails his hands down his body almost seductively, but then traces them back up to caress his own head. “I especially like everything in here. So alone. So dark. So vulnerable."

   “Are you magic?”

   “Yep.” Vance pops the p, and a smile stretches his face. Lance grimaces. “A pretty little witch made me. I think she brought out the best in my eyes.”

   Vance claws at his face, fingernails leaving red streaks down his cheeks. Lance gags; he’s watching himself self-mutilate.

   “W-what do you mean by ‘let us in’?”

   Vance throws his head back and cackles. Lance can see the blood from his cheeks drop down his jawline. His pink eyes seem to glow brighter, and Lance whimpers. “It’s just that. Let us in. We want control, to not just be a voice in your head or in this simulation.” Vance spreads his arms, and Lance flinches back. He’s been hurt so many times in this simulation that he can’t help it. It’s like an abuse victim reacting to someone shouting; ingrained fear that can’t be changed.

   “We want to own your body. We want release and freedom and everything in between. Haggar kept us cooped up in her little arsenal of tricks for so long...” Vance’s voice turns wistful, and Lance grimaces as pink eyes focus on him. “We’re taking this chance we were offered. You’re just useless collateral damage.”

   It’s then when Vance strikes. Lance’s defences are just down a little, just a small chink, and Vance runs at him with a sweeping kick.

   Lance gasps, and just barely jumps over his doppelgängers leg. Lance blocks against fists, elbows, and knees in a flurry of damage, finding that the tricks that he uses on the defence are useless; Vance gets past alll of them because he knows them. He’s in Lance’s head. He can see everything Lance wants to do and is going to do. If Lance wants to try and punch lower? Tough shit, Vance just raised his knee. Lance wants to try and kick out his knee? Well Vance just sidestepped him and now he’s out of reach. But now he’s coming back with his hands outstretched, and Lance ends up in a position very similar to that of the training bot.

   Lance grapples with him in place for a couple seconds, Vance’s scentless breath smacking him in the face. With a scream of frustration, Lance tries to shove away Vance so he can get some sort of control. It doesn’t work, and Lance groans as a stab of pain in his shoulder makes his arm buckle, and suddenly Vance is throwing him over his shoulder and fuck-

   Lance hits the floor hard. His breath is knocked out of him and he gasps and claws at nothing because that’s all that’s in this dreamscape: fucking nothing. Lance claws up at his head, concentrating hard with what little oxygen he has, and pushes up, knowing it will push the headset off.

   “Cow-“ard.

   Light that’s so different from pure nothingness surrounds Lance. He can’t hear anything but the ringing and the sound of his own breaths. His shoulder stings and aches badly, and the surface of his stomach feels tight and there’s going to be bruises everywhere and god is he crying?

   Lance sniffles, and throws an arm over his face. He hasn’t moved from the floor, still having trouble breathing. Now, hot tears run down his temples. Lance feels his breath hitch rapidly, and a pathetic mewl escapes his throat. “Fuck...stop it...”

   He curls into himself, feeling the gross tape on his hands slowly turn damp as he brushes tears away. It stings, the tape against his face, and Lance realizes that he hasn’t done his skincare routine for days. He just hasn’t had the motivation, not with Vance chirping in his ears with every step.

   Lance doesn’t move until he can breath properly, and leaves the training deck without touching any of the equipment again. He slowly walks back to his room with puffy eyes and a sinking feeling. He knows what it is, and all he wants to do is sit under the water of his bath until he can’t feel anymore. He just wants the ringing to go away and Vance and everything needs to go away!

   Lance snarls, and before he clues in to his own anger, he’s slammed his fist into the wall in the hallway by the dining hall. Full pain rocks up his arm, like a shin splint in his forearm, and Lance grinds his teeth. However, Lance does clue in that the wall shouldn’t have crumpled like that. Lance freezes, and pulls his hand away.

   The wall is curved now, bent slightly around the imprint of his knuckles. Altean metal, strong for ten thousand years and infused with magic, was just damaged by a punch. Lance makes a high pitched sound of confusion in the back of his throat, and hightailed it back to his room. His head is full with ringing and his laughter, and Lance wishes for definitely not the first time that he had the ability to end it all.

            ~~~

   Lance swings his feet lazily from where he sits on a stool in the kitchen. Hunk moves around the kitchen, baking something from the array of ingredients Coran found him. The Altean advisor is such a kind guy; never once has he ridiculed Lance for anything, and yet Lance still has nightmares about killing him. 

   Lance stares into the oven-like thing behind Hunk, who is extremely focused on measuring some yellow liquid into separate holes of a tray, like a muffin tin. Only, this muffin tin has about forty different spots for food. 

   Hunk has his concentrated face on. Lance saw it the most in the Garrison when Hunk would study for exams or when he was tinkering with an especially delicate or complicated piece of metal. Lance allows his gaze to wander freely, noticing small things in the kitchen and on him. For example, there’s a smudge of black marker on his index finger, and there’s a pile of napkins on a shelf that look like the perfect material for making paper airplanes. 

   Inside the oven is a quickly rising ball of something that makes Lance uneasy. He glances at Hunk, who doesn’t pay him any mind, and then back to the oven. It’s a little bigger than a standard one on Earth, but the clearly red loafy thing is flowing over the sides of the bowl it was supposed to be contained in. Lance pulls a nervous face, and raises his hand like he’s asking a question in school. Hunk is concentrated. Don’t interrupt him. 

   Hunk doesn’t even look his way. Lance shifts in his seat, and looks back at the oven before back at Hunk. As Hunk carefully drops in a couple drops of the yellow stuff, Lance whispers tensely, “Hunk!”

   “Hold on.”

   “Hunk!”

   “Just- just wait.”

   “Hunk, buddy, your ov-“

   Hunk slams the measuring spoon in his hand onto the counter. Lance nearly falls off the stool and his heart jackhammers. He can't stand sudden and loud sounds; the memories from his childhood and Vance's simulators are wrecking him.  “Goddamnit, Lance! Can’t you just shut up for one second?! What's your problem this time?” 

   Lance doesn’t answer; he’s too busy staring at the measuring spoon clenched tightly in Hunk’s large hand. It looks like it hurts; Lance knows that the burning stinging sensation of a new cut opening on the inside of his left elbow sure does. Lance turns his arm in so that if he does bleed through his jacket, Hunk can’t see.

   A fleeting thought passes Lance’s mind as Hunk makes a scoffing noise and smacks his other palm on the counter. His eyes are bright and angry and a stab of fear runs with Lance’s thought.

   Would Hunk hit him?

   Lance opens his mouth, and closes it again. He can feel his hand trembling where it floats next to his head, and pulls it down to his lap so Hunk can’t see. His best friend is still staring at him expectantly and leans forwards as if to instigate an answer, but when Lance physically shrivels into himself at Hunk’s advance, the Yellow Paladin instantly recoils.

   “Oh my- shit, Lance- I didn’t-“

   Lance just smiles wobbly at Hunk, eyes watering as his heart aches as much as his arm. He slips off the stool, tucking it behind his back discreetly. “No worries, buddy. Just make sure you keep an eye on your oven, alright?”

   Hunk tossed a glance at the said item. His eyes instantly widen and he scrambles for oven mitts; when he opens the door, the red bready foodstuff billows out and Hunk complains through a groan.

   He doesn’t notice Lance slipping out of the kitchen, cradling a bloody arm.

            ~~~

   Lance doesn’t know what he did or what he didn’t do, but the mice are avoiding him now. Like every morning, Lance snuck a couple orange berries under the table from his plate for them because hey, they like them. Normally, they wait on lance’s thigh or by his foot, so he just drops them down, but this morning the berries hit the floor quietly. Lance stiffens.

   With the rest of the team distracted by a story Hunk is telling, Lance sneaks a glance at the floor. No mice. He sighs, and drops back in his chair. He rolls his spoon in his food goo. His hands smell like Sharpie.

   They didn’t come to his room last night. They didn’t visit him after training, and they missed their weekly storytelling time slot. Lance has become pretty fluent in Altean and even Galra (having a Galra entity in your head apparently has one [1] perk) so he reads to the mice in the library. Lance sticks his hand in his pocket and thumbs his worrystone.

   They just hate you, Lance. It’s pretty simple, but of course, you don't understand. Typical. 

   Lance grits his teeth. Normally, Vance is easy to ignore but he’s been grating on Lance’s nerves ever since the simulation, which was a couple days ago. Two days, seventeen hours, fifty seven minutes, and thirty two, three, four seconds to be exact. Or about two quintents, nineteen vargas, and now sixteen tics. Lance can nearly see the clock in his head, driving him just as crazy as the ringing.

   After the mice were a no show, Lance stuck himself in the bathtub again. He spent nearly two hours in there, watching his skin turn wrinkled and gross underwater. He didn’t care. Anything to drown out the ringing.

   Lance let’s his eyes fall to half mast. He stares at the green goo blankly, thumb’s movements becoming more and more vigorous. It gets to the point where he can’t keep his hand in his pocket, so he just sets it on the table next to Keith. He doesn’t stop rubbing it.

   Lance hasn’t slept since he got out of the simulation again, almost two days ago. Vance didn’t fucking shut up when he tried to go to sleep, so he just read some ancient Galra books he found in the library all night. When the Castle’s hallways slowly lightened to show the day cycles, Lance had realized he’d wasted a night. He didn’t even block out Vance; the voice had basically read to him because he relayed the words back to Lance as Lance read them.

   Lance clenches his other hand around his spoon, hardly noticing the creaking of the metal under his fingers. His stone feels warm from the constant friction.

   We love when you talk to us, Lance. Makes us all tingly that you’re paying attention. Maybe we’ll let you have front row seats to our control.

   Lance doesn’t feel his lips pull in a subtle snarl. The spoon handle starts to bend. Hunk keeps talking. Keith glances over at Lance, but Lance doesn’t see.

   Maybe we should kill the mice first. They seem to be reacting to us. There’s a few of them, too. So many ways to squash tiny animals... drown them, crush them, drain them. Ooh, we just got shivers.

   Lance’s eyes drop further. He makes a sound that doesn’t sound entirely human. That Keith notices. He frowns, turning towards Lance. “Lance?”

   Those tiny bones beneath your hands, shattered and bent and mm, so good. They would rip the skin from underneath, maybe bleed out. Wouldn’t you like that?

   Lance doesn’t respond to Keith. His hand tightens further and his stone feels legitimately hot from the constant friction. His thumb speeds up. Keith’s brow furrows more, and he faces Lance completely, waving a gloved hand in front of his face. “Lance? Hey man, your spoon...”

   The other’s seem to notice Keith’s little issue. Lance isn’t responsive when normally any words from Keith would set him off in a rant. Now, he doesn’t even look like he belongs at a table; he has the look of someone who belongs in a hospital.

   Maybe you could eat them. Wouldn’t that be great? Having those little bodies squirm around in your mouth, clawing at your tongue, and then you just bite down with a CRUNCH.

   Snap!

   “Lance!”

   Something touches his hand, and Lance flinches back violently. The corners of his vision are dark. His lungs feel tight. And what...why is his hand bleeding? Did someone insult him? He was paying attention, wasn’t he?

   Lance turns his head towards his teammates. They all have varying degrees of shock and worry on their faces. He’s never had them look at him like that before. It’s probably not even for him. He blinks and lets his gaze fall on his bleeding hand. Oh. The spoon.

   Lance broke the spoon. He shattered it, to be exact, inside his hand. Lance squeezed it so hard that he bent the ends down so they curled into a C, and then the utensil shattered into tiny pieces. Odd, since metal doesn’t usually do that. Lance turns his hand over, palm down, and he feels his lips curve downwards. Pidge gasps, and Hunk makes a sick noise.

   A piece went straight through his hand. Lance furrows his brow, and brings his hand up for closer inspection. Blood drips down the three inch long metal shard and into his food goo. Vaguely, he hears Hunk gag. Keith moves next to him.

   “L-Lance, what did you do...?” Lance pays Keith no mind, and scowls at the metal. His vision is still framed black.

   Stupid metal.

   Stupid strength.

   Stupid Vance.

   Pidge suddenly shrieks in shock when Lance lifts his other hand, stone clacking to the floor and spinning under the table. Everyone ignores it. Lance pinches the widest end of the metal, and with a growl, rips it out of his palm.

   The pain he feels hardly affects him; he’s been hiding cuts and bruises for the past two weeks, what is this compared to them? So why are his teammates making such a big deal out of it? Lance sends them a small smile as Hunk runs out of the room. Allura looks green.

   “What’s wrong, guys? It’s not a big deal, I just broke a spoon.”

   Shiro pushes himself to his feet. He, too, looks uneasy. “That went through your hand, Lance! Can you even move it?

   He just wants to know if I can still pilot Blue. A pilot and a sniper with an injured hand is no good, Lance. You’ll be even more useless.

   Lance shrugs, and pulls himself to his feet via the empty chair beside him. “I’ll be back. Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up later.”

   Keith grabs the back of his jacket as he walks away. “Wait, I’ll help you.”

   “O-oh. Okay.”

   “Here, wrap your hand in this so you don’t make a bigger mess.” The oh-so familiar pain of a wound opening somewhere on his body at harsh words strikes Lance across his right arm, a couple inches above his wrist. Lance doesn’t even react to it. He and Keith make their way down the halls in silence, a cloth stopping his hand from dripping. Lance knows they’re going to the medical room, but really he just wants to sink underwater. Maybe he should head to the pool instead of filling his bathtub every night. He can clean this on his own.

   Keith tugs Lance by his good hand into the medroom. The smell of antiseptic hits Lance, not unlike the smell of his own bathroom. He gave up on his skincare routine; the things that occupy his counter now are bandages and disinfectants and some concealer. He doesn’t even bother to cover up his dark circles anymore. The nightmares occur too often.

   “Sit here. I’ll get something to pull out any other metal slivers.” Keith sits Lance down on a bed with blue blankets and a white frame. The nightstand has an empty bowl thing and a couple rolls of bandages, and Lance is pretty sure the things in the drawer underneath are pills. He can see clear cylindrical bottles, but they turn opaque towards the bottom to conceal their contents.

   Lance unwraps his hand from the fabric napkin that Keith gave to him. Blood has soaked through the soft cloth, and Lance pulls a face when guilt courses through him. He made a mess. Keith told him not to make a mess. He sets it aside when Keith pulls up a chair and a rolling table with an attached light.

   Keith pulls his hair up into a ponytail and sheds his jacket. He pulls the moveable top part of the table over him so it reaches his chest and makes a move to grab Lance’s hand. Lance flinches on instinct, eyes gaze dropping and heart clenching.

   Keith stops. Lance doesn’t look at him. How could he? He can’t even be threatened with touch without panicking, images of Vance and the pain of his wounds surfacing in his mind. It’s fucked.

   Keith reached out again, this time with his palm up, and offers it to Lance. His fingers are spread, and it looks so easy to just grab his hand, thread their fingers together and press the warmth of his palm against Keith’s. What would their skin look like in comparison? Lance’s is naturally tan, and Keith’s looks like ivory. Lance wants to clench his hand but he knows that it’ll just make it bleed more, so he settles for carefully reaching to Keith. As Lance sets the heel of his hand in Keith’s palm, he can see himself trembling.

   As Keith slowly transfers Lance’s hand to his left one so he can focus with his right hand. Lance watches Keith’s fingers brush near his palm, staring at the hole that’s modtly closed up by itself. Blood still oozes from the edges, though, and Keith sucks in a breath through his teeth. He doesn’t let go of Lance’s hand, but reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the box of square tissues and a bottle off of the top. He gets Lance to hold the box with his free hand, and unscrews the lid of the white bottle with his right hand. There’s a smooth ball on top, like roll on deodorant has, that glistens when Keith rolls the ball a few times. Lance doesn’t meet his eyes.

   Keith sets the bottle down on the table and grabs a couple tissues out of the box. Unlike Kleenex on Earth, these tissues are actual fabric and soft, good for cleaning wounds because they don’t break apart.

   “This is gonna hurt.” Keith wipes a tissue on the ball, and then folds it so he can dab at Lance’s palm.

   Lance scowls deeply as the sting rushes through him. It’s no different than the antiseptic he uses in his bathroom. He keeps glaring at his palm, seemingly deep in thought as Keith glances at him repeatedly.

   Keith wears his own frown as he clean up Lance’s hand, tossing the bloodied tissues into the metal platter. Neither of them speak as Keith picks up the tweezers and uses the pinky and ring finger of his right hand to carefully spread the jagged wound. Lance winces, and Keith notices.

   “Shh, it’s okay. Do you need to bite something?” Lance’s head jerks up at the soft words, and the tops of his cheeks are brushed pink. Keith doesn’t poke around in his wound yet, absently stroking his thumb along Lance’s wrist bone.

   “No, I’m alright.”

   “Okay. Deep breath for me?” Lance nearly melts at Keith’s words, unconsciously sucking a breath in slowly as the raven spreads the wound again and presses the tweezers to the edge of the hole. It feels like it’s been ages since someone spoke so softly to him, without any twisted desires. He wants to cry.

   Lance’s brow scrunches as Keith slowly moves the tweezers deeper, and at one point he tries to jerk his hand away, it hurts so bad. Keith doesn’t remove the tweezers, but he does look up to met Lance’s gaze and hold it. Lance stops struggling.

   “There’s one piece in here. Can do hold on for a few more seconds? I promise it’ll be quick.” Lance hesitates, licking his bottom lip nervously. He doesn’t like pain, not by any stretch, but it’s all he’s been able to feel for the last couple weeks And now Keith is here promising that he can make it stop after a few ticks. Lance wants to cry when he nods, willing his body still from a trembling shudder when Keith smiles at him and his calloused thumb runs constantly over Lance’s wrist. “Okay. Okay. It’s okay, Lance.”

   Keith drops his nearly purple eyes from Lance’s, but Lance doesn’t move his from staring at Keith. He just watches the minuscule tremble of Keith’s bangs as he moves, watches the way the tip of his tongue pokes out to touch his bottom lip when he concentrates. Lance doesn’t even pay attention to the pain of him ripping a sliver of metal out of Lance’s hand; he’s too busy wishing for this moment to last forever.

   Keith has a soft but triumphant grin on his face, eyes lit up with life and victory as he brandishes a slightly bloody medical tool. His other hand comforts Lance, soothing and calm with the strokes of his thumb. Lance glances down and yes, the contrast between their skin tones is perfect and when he glances back up Lance tries to take a mental picture of Keith. He tries so hard to memorize the dimples in Keith’s cheeks, the glint of the medroom light off of his iris’, the way he looks at Lance like Lance matters.

   But you don’t. Remember Lance, we went over this and we decided that you’re just a body in a Lion.

   Keith reaches to Lance’s other hand for the tissues to clean the wound again before dressing it. Lance watches him carefully, still memorizing every feature he can. It’s so weird...here he is trying to memorize Keith’s face when he can’t even recall most of his family’s...

   Oh Lance. Oh, Lance. Poor, poor, Lance. Pining for the boy who will never love you back. Don’t worry, he’ll hate you soon enough and you won’t have to worry about him anymore.

   Lance bites his lip. Keith’s hands are moving dangerously close to the cut on his wrist. Lance swears he can feel a bead of sweat run down his temple. What if Keith finds it? Will he think Lance cuts? Would he ignore it? Would he tell the team? If he told the team then they would know somethings up and they would confront him about it. Vance would like that. He likes anything that hurts me. Maybe he would. Take the chance to take over cuz I know I wouldn’t be able to do anything. Maybe all of the things he told me would come true. Me killing the mice and everybody else. Maybe the mice already know about Vance and that’s why they’re avoiding me. Maybe they can tell something wrong with me.

   Maybe now is the moment. Maybe he’s gonna take over now. I don’t know, do I? Vance never tells me in the simulator. I-i don’t know...

   Keith wipes the cut again and quickly wraps a bandage around it. He goes to fasten it on Lance’ss wrist with tape but suddenly Lance is standing and pushing to get away from Keith and snatching his hand away like Keith burnt him.

   Lance scrambles off of the bed backwards, keeping a wide berth between him and Keith. His eyes are wide and fearful and glazed, like he’s not all there. When Keith gets up, dropping the empty bandage roll on the bed, Lance flings his newly bandaged hand out. Stop. Please, Keith. I don't want you getting hurt.

   “Don’t come near me.” Keith feels like someone is squeezing his lungs in his chest, but Lance sounds like he’s the one being strangled. The tan boy pants, Uninjured hand clenching his shirt at his chest and looking wobbly on his feet. “J-just dont.”

   Keith holds his hands out, Palm up, so similar to a couple minutes ago when he needed Lance’s trust. He needs it again and so does Lance because Lance looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown; he’s shivering and muttering and backing up towards the door-

   “Lance-!”

   But Lance is already gone.

            ~~~

   Allura waves her hand to the side to move the zoomed in image of the planet Veliy 52. In its place, she pulls up the image of the inhabitants themselves. Lance studies them, standing to the side of Pidge.

   The entire team is in full gear, ready to head down to Veliy 52 on a moments notice. The planet had been in control of the Galra for nearly the entire time the Alteans had been trapped in the Castle, but somehow they had managed to overthrow the Galra on the planet and even those surrounding their atmosphere. They had sent word to The Castle a few Vargas ago, requesting the Lions to help rebuild their cities.

   Veliy 52 is a cold planet, the surface made of rock and ice. There’s hardly any green plants that grow naturally, but the aliens grow crops in thick glass green houses that take up acres of land. It’s very interesting, actually; Veliyans are sensitive to the cold although they are surrounded by ice, so they live inside the greenhouses. Their cities are surrounded by glass walls, and any paths or trails are lined and enclosed with glass. The glass is electronic as well, and you are able to darken portions to block any light to simulate a dark night, Or put them on maximum absorption to gather as much sunlight as possible.

   The glass nearly never breaks, but after the fight against the Galra, the Veliyans are stuck in the cold because they can’t rebuild fast enough without the workers becoming sick. Allura wants to send down Keith, Shiro, and Lance to build; Keith for warmth, Shiro for strategy, and Lance for the glass. Pidge altered Blue’s ice Ray to make the ice solid and sturdy, and to act as an adaptor to the rest of the glass. There’s more to it, but as soon as the fancy words broke out, Lance didn’t understand anymore. He opted for learning as much about the Veliyans as possible.

   From the picture Allura supplied, the Veliyans are vaguely humanoid aliens with a face shape not unlike a thin persons. However, they have no nose, only a smooth slope leading down to thin lips and a pointed chin. Scales lead up the sides of their faces and dusts their soft cheekbones, gleaming slightly. Their hair varies from alien to alien, and in the image the Veliyan has coarse looking green dreads tied up into a bun. While the colour of hair is unique to every alien as well, their skin tone stays similar. Honestly, the light ice blue is the only hint that they live on an ice planet.

   In the middle of what would be the aliens forehead is a closed horizontal slit that is decorated with green and black makeup. They do have regular eyes, located in a normal place like on a human, and are completely black without any pupil or iris. That doesn’t mean they look soulless; just dark. However, the third eye, according to Allura, is hardly ever opened and is used for deep mind searching. The Veliyan don’t like violence and fall to it only when desperate, but the Deep Eye, as Allura called it, can be used for mind manipulation and interrogation.

   They have the ability to read the thoughts you project to them, and as they hardly ever speak, that is their main form of communication. Allura assumes the Galra utilized them for interrupting messages from across space as they traveled near the planet.

   Lance suddenly doesn’t want to go down to the planet anymore. Vance laughs in his ear, and the ringing makes Lance shiver. It’s only been two weeks.

   “Alright team, lets make this clear,” Shiro crosses his arms and stares down Keith and Lance. Lance drops his gaze immediately; Keith doesn’t. “The Veliyans are very sensitive to fighting and unnecessary violence. If you two are going to brawl it out, do it now and get it over with before we go down there. You have about five minutes before we leave.” Shiro turns away from Keith and Lance. “Pidge and Hunk. You guys have got the transmitters installed in our helmets?”

   Lance keeps his eyes trained on the floor. Shiro thinks so little of you. Why wouldn’t he? Lance grinds his teeth hard as a dull thrum echoes on his right ankle. That’s gonna make this mission harder, thank you Vance.

   “Yep. They should allow you to translate the waves the Veliyans give off, or their language. If you want to take your helmet off, but I don’t know why you would, just transfer the clip into your ear. Simple.” Pidge holds up their helmet to show as an example, deft fingers quickly detaching a little piece from the bottom left corner of the helmet and sticking it in their ear. Lance glances at his own helmet, finding the same piece in the same spot.

   Allura pulls the image of the planet back up into the centre of the bridge. Lance purses his lips as she’s stares pensively at the planet, but she seems to dismiss any doubt she might have had. “Go to your Lions, Paladins. Prepare for anything.”

   Lance hardly thinks as he walks out of the main bridge area. He hardly thinks as he slips into Blue’s cockpit and they launch into space. He hardly thinks as Shiro and Keith converse through the coms. He doesn’t want to think. Maybe the aliens won’t be able to hear Vance? It’s not like hes projecting his thoughts.

   As they break through the atmosphere, Lance’s view is instantly filled with blowing snow and thick clouds that make up the outside of the greenhouses. If he looks hard enough, Lance can vaguely see the explosions of yelllow that are the spiderweb cities of Veliy 52. Lance can hear Keith grunting and complaining about how he can hardly control Red in this weather, but Lance doesn’t seem to have any problem. He guesses that the increased ability in water extends to ice as well.

   Shiro’s voice cuts through the coms. “Land next to the dome Sector 3. We can go inside and start a plan from there.”

   Blue touches down on the icy planet next to the dome moments after Keith. Blue sends him comforting images, but underneath all of them is the ringing. Lance sighs, and pushes himself away from his chair. as he walks out of his Lion, the harsh wind bites at his nose and freezes his cheekbones, but for some reason it feels so good. The initial sting is a little shocking, but it fades to a dull ache. If Lance stayed here, would the wind block out the ringing?

   Lance doesn’t jump out of Blue like he normally does. He carefully walks down her ramp and onto the rock surface where he landed. His ankle throbs, but he ignores it as he follows Shiro and Keith through a door seemingly lined with black tape. A ice-skinned, redheaded Veliyan that is nearly as tall as Lance waits for them, large hand spread wide against a blurry panel beside the door. As Lance walks through, it snaps close down behind him and the Veliyan lets go of the panel. It’s a lot like the Olkari, only with glass instead of plants.

   The inside of the greenhouse is a stark difference than the outside. It’s hot but not sweltering, and the tall buildings look like a modern Earth city. Imagine if the busiest part of Manhattan or Toronto was cut out of the city, dyed mostly pasty yellow and ice blue and stuck on an alien planet inside a giant glass dome. Oh, and multiply that single city chunk by about twenty, and then add farmland for the rest of the 32 domes. That’s Veliy 52.

   Lance nearly cracks a grin as a Pidge sized Veliyan runs around the gathering crowd with a tiny Veliyan on thick, muscular legs with inverted knees, like a dinosaur. Lance is pretty sure there’s even scales along the outside, acting as a natural armour. He watches as the tiny Veliyan opens their mouth and raises their arms in a victory pose, the bigger alien slowing their pace to a bouncing jog. The little ones screeches, but the sound isn’t released into the air; it’s released into Lance’s head.

   Keith and Shiro, who are on either side of Lance, flinch. Their hands fly to their head as the child laughs, and Keith looks mildly uncomfortable. Lance doesn't react; he’s had a voice in his head for the last two weeks. The only difference with this one is that it’s a child and doesn’t have impure intentions. Lance does grin this time as the child pair comes closer, wondering about the creatures that arrived in giant beasts.

   Although he’s never spoken to the creatures before, Lance crouches down and thinks back to what Allura said. ‘Project your thoughts’. Lance shrugs to himself, and makes eye contact with the larger alien.

   “(Hey there. I’m Lance. Can you hear me?)”

   The Veliyan smiles wide, and so does the smaller one, both of them nodding viciously. Well. That worked. Lance can’t help the laugh. This is so neat.

   “(What’re your name’s?)”

   The smaller Veliyan points to themselves with a thick hand. “(Bepla.)” Then, they point down to the Veliyan carrying them. “(Frey.)”

   Lance lifts his hand to wave although the aliens are mere feet away. They don’t really have a concept of personal space, and inch closer to Lance with every passing tick. Lance stands up straighter, and offers a grin to the large crown of Veliyans. One of them steps forwards, taller than Lance and even Shiro and dressed sparingly in yellow cloth. Their black hair is braided long over their shoulder, and the blue staff they brace themselves on has multiple carvings and stones dangling off of it. Their black eyes are decorated with black makeup, and Lance gets the feeling that this alien is very, very old.

   “(Paladins of Voltron. We thank you for coming. I trust that you can help rebuild our home.)” Again, Keith and Shiro flinch but Lance stands unmoving. Shiro doesn’t look like he got any of the greeting so Lance jumps in. He’s not the best with diplomatic issues, but at least he can communicate.

   “(And we thank you for allowing us this opportunity to learn about your kind. Our Princess said that other than what you offer, there is very little information about Veliy 52 and the people who live here.)” The aliens gaze snaps to Lance, and a laugh reverberates within Lance’s skull, but unlike Vance’s, this one is kind and soft.

   “(You are the Blue Paladin, yes?)” Lance nods, and Shiro’s gaze snaps to him as Lance offers a little bow. Right, Shiro can’t actually hear the conversation. Keith looks like he’s trying, and seems to be getting some parts of the conversation. The transmitters on their helmets must not be that reliable, so why is Lance’s?. “(Are you to be the translator for this trip?)”

   Lance laughs, and lifts his arm to rub at the back of his neck. “(We had translators, but they don’t seem to be working. Apologies for that. If they don’t work soon, I might just have to be.)”

   “Lance!” Shiro hisses. Lance jerks and so does the alien, and turns to his left to stare questioning at Shiro. The aliens seem alright wth waiting, even if some of them watch Shiro with unbridled curiosity. “What are they saying? The transmitters are fuzzy.”

   Lance shrugs. “Project your voice out but allow others in. It feels weird, I know, but just do it. I don’t think we need the transmitters at all.” To price his theory, Lance pulls his helmet off, and stares back out to the aliens. “(Can any of you still hear me?)”

   The tall alien nods, and Lance grins. This is so cool. “(Awesome. We don’t even need the transmitters. If you would allow me some time, I can get the rest of my team used to this form of communication?)”

   The Veliyan noods again, the stones on their staff shaking. “(Of course, Blue Paladin. My name is Orrin, but if you need assistance, please feel free to call upon anybody.)” Lance bows his head, and Orrin turn away, directing the crown with them. Lance watches them for a second before turning back to Keith and Shiro.

   Shiro looks like he wants to burst, he’s so red and Keith just has an awed but neutral expression. How? He must still be freaked out from their last encounter, when Lance broke the spoon and Keith helped him. However much that might have freaked Keith out, the moment stayed as one of Lance’s favourite memories. For some reason, he’s struggling to recall any other better memories.

   Lance can’t help but flinch as Shiro steps close to him, dreading the conversation. He just brushed Shiro off before, so now he might pay for it.

   “Why are they leaving, Lance? What did you do?” Lance feels his brow tug down when Shiro’s angry eyes reach his. Lance puts his hands out unconsciously, a sort of defender against anything. He’s slowly advancing on Lance, playing right into Lance’s personal space. Lance doesn’t like this. It’s too crowded. Vance thrives off this feeling so Shiro needs to back away or else Vance is gonna come back...he’s been silent up to this point, but with every growing sting on various places inside Lance’s flight suit, he’s definitely gonna come back. Shiro’s angry words allow his hot breaths to touch Lance’s nose, he’s so close. “Did you mess this up again? How-“

   Suddenly, Shiro is cut off by a flash of red. Lance balks as soft hair brushes his nose, and suddenly instead of Shiro in his face, all he can see is the back of Keith’s head. Lance’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly; Keith is standing up for him.

   “Back down, Shiro, seriously?!” Keith pushes his hands against Shiro’s chestplate, taking a mildly defensive stance in front of Lance. Lance leans to the side so he can peek over Keith’s shoulder at his team leader. He can kinda see the side of Keith’s face as well, and boy, does he look mad. Something curls in Lance’s gut at the thought of Keith standing up for him, but it’s squashed down by the truth. He hates Lance, and Lance knows better to get his hopes up. “Lance is communicating with them. Give him a chance to speak, Christ!”

   Instantly, Shiro’s face morphs into that of pure guilt and his stature shrinks back. He raises his hands in a surrendering position and glances between Keith and Lance. “Okay, okay. God, Lance, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

   “It’s fine, Shiro. Don’t worry about it.” Lance comes up beside Keith, standing as close as he can to the Red Paladin without actually touching him. The minuscule distance between their shoulders burns. Keith is grounding, and if Vance decides to join the party, Lance is gonna need the support.

   Lance offers a small smile to Shiro, and tips his head towards the city. “The Veliyans are giving me some time to help you guys with communication. Orrin, the Veliyan with the blue staff and black braid, is basically the leader and they seem chill.”

   Lance tosses his helmet in the air and catches it again, but he winces when the edge of the helmet lands in his palm, where the scar from the spoon is still sensitive. Superhuman healing apparently doesn’t extend to wounds that he creates himself, so the morning after the spoon incident, Lance tried to hold his Bayard and nearly dropped it, it hurt so bad. He’s kinda got to live with it, though. “The transmitters don’t work, apparently. My theory is because instead of sonic waves or a twist on echolocation, the Veliyan probably thrive off emotion and that’s how they communicate.”

   Keith nods. He hasn’t moved from where Lance stepped up next to him. “That makes sense. It’s still a telepathic form of speaking, but instead of sound waves they project emotions as words?” Keith looks to Lance for confirmation, and Lance shrugs.

   “I don’t know, man. Allura said sound waves, so I’m probably just talking out of my-“

   “Well maybe Allura was wrong.” Shiro cuts Lance off, but not unkindly. “Her information is kinda outdated, and the Veliyans could have evolved to avoid transmissions being interrupted. They rarely speak, as well, and they seem to be a very close bunch.” Shiro motions with a hand to a group of Veliyans sitting in a close bunch, nearly sitting on each other as they play with toys or something that glows and seems to buzz. “Mind helping us with communication, Lance?”

   Lance nods slowly, crossing his arms and taking the weight off of his ankle. His scowl deepens. “I don’t know exactly how I did it. They didn’t ask to be let in my head, but I was able to hear them. Maybe because you have to want to hear them?”

   “But I wanted to talk to the leader, and I still couldn’t make out anything.” Shiro’s eyes narrow, and Lance can’t help the shudder of those eyes being narrowed at him.

   “Our theory is emotions, right? So maybe you have to have no hidden emotions?” Keith turns towards Lance a few inches, but Lance is already shaking his head. That warm twist in his gut is back. Keith looked to him for confirmation- no. Stop Lance.

   “I don’t think so. Honestly, I think that you just need to relax and let them in so that you can let them out.”

   Hmm, sounds smart Lance. How long did it take you to figure that one out?

   Fuck fuck fuck. Lance tenses, and forces his posture back into something serious. He wants to leave this goddamn planet before Vance starts chatting up any locals because he’s an emotional train wreck, isn’t he? Acting out in anger against Lance, hurting him and using Lance’s emotions against him.

   “Okay, so we just have to chill around them and the words should flow?” Keith looks to Lance again, but frowns when Lance looks too pale.

   “Y-yeah. Yeah. If you want them to try and talk to you make a conversation with them first. I asked the kids names and I got answers.” Lance rubs his thumb against his index finger, aching for his worry stone. He lost it after the spoon incident and normally he would get the mice to help him but they won’t go near him. “And if you do have to speak out loud, do it softly. I didn’t see any ears, but if they’re sensitive to emotions then I’m guessing that they’re sensitive to words as well. I don’t wanna accidentally hurt them. Remember, Allura thought it was soundwaves. Maybe some things stay the same.”

   Shiro and Keith nod with hard faces, and Lance waves them off with an easy (read: forced) grin. “Seriously guys, loosen up. I know the Galra were here recently but if you’re all stuff around the Veliyans then you’re never gonna understand them. Just...offer your thoughts.”

   With that said, Lance shrugs, walks away to explore deeper within the city. He’s surrounded by the quiet sounds of people walking and just going about their daily business; in his head, Lance hears the blend of voices and words that you would in a general busy city. The buzz in his head feels so different than the ringing and the harshness of Vance’s voice, and Lance welcomes it with open arms.

   “(Lance!)”

   Lance turns to see the same pair of child Veliyans, this time with the smaller one on the stone ground. He’s been walking for a couple minutes, getting lost and familiarizing himself with the area. Vance is quiet.

   The small one - Bepla - has icy skin a shade darker than their possible sibling, and their flaming orange hair is braided similar to Orrin’s. Frey’s hair is a deeper red colour and cut into a soft looking pixie bob. Lance grins at them, crouching down on one leg.

   “(Sup, kids. Bepla and Frey, right?)” Bepla grins wide at Lance, and runs forwards to wrap their thick arms around Lance’s waist. A child’s laughter echoes in Lance’s head and Lance gives some of his own back as he lets the alien crawl around his waist and onto his back. Lance carefully wraps his hands around Bepla’s wide feet that resemble a cartoon dinosaurs and helps them up onto his shoulders, where they giggle with glee. Frey watches them, but soon enough they’re clinging onto Lance’s leg as the Paladin walks around, ignoring the pain in favour of playing with the kids. For how sturdy they look, Veliyans don’t weigh very much at all.

   The mental laughter of Bepla and Frey seems to resonate and attract the attention of others in the city; Lance did just start playing with them in the middle of a street, but the attention is happy. Lance feels as though happiness is pushing at him from all sides, but there’s still an edge of worry. Emotions. He was right, and maybe he doesn’t have to worry about anybody finding out about Vance, because while Vance toys with emotions, he’s magical. A spell. And spells can be broken.

   Spells can be broken. But not this spell. Lance hasn’t scoured every Galra and Altean and whatever other language based book there is and never has he found anything like Vance. He’s given up.

   Lance chuckles, making sure to express that through emotions. He’s happy. He’s playful. When Bepla shrieks with glee and cards their fingers into Lance’s hair, he knows it worked.

   Lance spends the next varga or so running around with Bepla on his shoulders and Frey clinging to his back, meeting with the locals and getting more information on how to deal with the domes. He doesn’t flirt; ever since Vance, he hasn’t had the motivation, and when he tried to do it on a different planet, Vance crushed his mental stability like a bug. Lance had spent the next day in his room under the guise of being heartbroken, but really he was trying to drown out Vance.

   According to Frey who is in fact Bepla’s older sibling, the domes were built when the planet suddenly froze over. The Veliyans has thrived in the open, soaking up the sunlight with their light skin and darker hair and playing between fields. The storms had started it, trashing the fields and buildings because they simply had never had to deal with the cold before, and after decades of struggling, mechanics and whiztechs got together to create the domes, all 52 of them.

   Like Allura said, 32 of the domes were designated farmland and the other 20 were for the people. Labelled by sectors, Lance is currently in Sector 3, so the largest dome meant for the public. They get progressively smaller so you reach number 20, and then grow back to the size of Sec 3 for the farmland. Sectors 1 and 2 are scopes out for the rich and royal, and have the underground safe houses in case of emergency. Currently, there’s about seven public domes broken and eleven farmland ones destroyed. Frey says that when they finally rebelled against the Galra, they lead them out to the farmland and outer public domes where people were scarce and they didn’t have to worry about collateral deaths.

   Lance nods, and adjusts his grip on Frey so they don’t slide down his back. Bepla seems perfectly content to chill on lance’s Shoulders and Lance is cool with that. They are slowly making a circle back to where they dropped off the Lions cuz Lance wants to check on his teammates, and nobody is really talking anymore; the silence is comforting. The siblings already told Lance all about their family and their oldest sibling named Len’aay, a darker blue skinned Veliyan with apparently beautiful blonde braids; Bepla and Frey speak highly of their makeup skills.

   Lance stretches his neck up, searching for one of his teammates. He finds Keith first, and smiles at him successfully conversing with a Veliyan. Bepla giggles in his mind, and tugs softly at his hair. “(Who’s that?)”

   Lance pats their leg before securing it back on Frey. “(That’s Keith. He’s my...partner.)"

   “(Your leikal?)” Lance glances down at Frey, who stares at him with a smirk on their face. A brow rises.

   “(What’s a leikal?)”

   Frey nods at a passing couple of Veliyans. They have their arms wrapped around each other, eyes locked on only the other and the emotionally charged air around them screams happiness. Lance watches as the taller one leans down to bump foreheads above the Deep Eye with their lover, and Lance watches as the shorter one laughs freely and winds their fingers into the original aliens clothes comfortably. “(They are each other’s leikal. They are happiest together and while have other relations, the care for each other is unique. Very rarely do leikals split, and there can be more than two Veliyans in a leik relation. Our parents are Toye and Miko, and they are leikal’s to each other and to Klai’leo, who is theirs in return. A leikal trio. I assume you and the Red Paladin are leikal pairs?)”

   Lance smiles sadly, and shakes his head. “(No, we aren’t leikal’s. I wish we were, though, but don’t tell him that. It’s too complicated right now, and I don’t wanna hurt him.)” Frey nods, black eyes gleaming with understanding, and they continue wandering. All that’s left is the happy silence of satisfaction.

   Hmph, you wish. You can still hear that ringing, can’t you? Isn’t is harsh?

   Lance hardly has a chance to react when Bepla suddenly yanks his hair, crying out in his mind as they fall to the side violently. Lance gasps, and reaches an arm out to catch them and thank god Veliyans don’t weigh much because they koala into his arm desperately. Frey does the same, landing on the ground roughly as they back away from Lance. Dark eyes from passerby’s lock into Lance, and confusion surges through the air. Lance’s brow furrows; out of the corner of his eye, he can see Keith standing with the local. There’s a smile on his face, and he nods every couple seconds, but when Bepla wails and jumps away from Lance to Frey’s arms, he looks over.

   “(Woah, what’s wrong, pequeño azul?!)” Lance crouches down to Frey’s height, and shock runs down his face when they flinch away. Keith is jogging over now, pushing through the growing wall of people as they crowd around Lance and the little Veliyans. Lance lowers himself onto his right leg, wobbly, and furrows his brow. “(What’s wrong? Can you tell me?)”

   They can’t. Such a stupid race, can’t even speak properly. The only use they’ll ever serve is to interrogate, and there’s tech for that now. Useless, just like you, Lance.

   Bepla buries their face into Frey’s neck, and Frey’s black eyes stare at Lance. They’re filled with pure terror. Lance glanced around the crowd, and finds that they’re staring at him with the same emotion. The air feels like it’s been infused with electricity, and all Lance can hear is the whispers of the people.

   The people who can hear him.

   The people who can hear Vance.

   Lance sucks in a harsh breath, and jerks away from the kids. Frey holds onto Bepla like a lifeline. Lance, already shaky in his stance, falls backwards towards the stone ground but before he makes contact Keith is there, scooping him up under the arms and pressing right into the newly formed wound high on his ribcage.

   Lance cries out and tries writhe away from Keith. Never has anyone touched those type of wounds before, and never has Lance touched them so immediately soon after they formed. It hurts.

   “Lance! Lance, what’s wrong?” Lance just groans, his head swimming with pain. Keith slings Lance’s arm over his shoulder as he brings him to his feet, but his knees buckle. Lance looks up to see Orrin parting through the crowd with Shiro close behind, black eyes narrowed. Do Veliyans blink?

   Keith’s breath feels hot against Lance’s ear. Lance can feel his entire right side becoming soaked with blood, and as Keith wraps his arm around Lance’s waist, Lance knows there’s no hiding it.

   There was never any way to hide it. You can’t hide anything from them, just like you can’t hide anything from me.

   Lance feels more than sees Keith go stiff. What Lance does see is Orrin recoiling in shock, Frey and Bepla being tugged away by a Veliyan with navy dreadlocks, Shiro’s face contorting in confusion. Lance can feel the terrified air infused with the emotions of the aliens, he can feel Keith gasp and pull his bloody hand away from Pance’s side. It must have soaked through his suit, and that means it’s deep. Shit.

   Lance leans bodily into Keith, edges of his vision going dark. How fast is he losing blood? Or is it Vance making him lose consciousness? Lance decides he doesn’t care as Keith pats his cheek harshly, trying to knock awareness into Lance.

   Lance groans as the ringing increases, and flinches away as Vance starts to chuckle. The slow, quiet laughter rises in volume until he’s shrieking, and Lance nearly sobs, it grates against his head so bad. It isn’t until Vance momentarily calms down that Lance realizes that he’s moving towards Red, limp body supported by a Veliyan with black hair and a Paladin with his arm wrapped around his waist. Lance blinks hard, bringing spots to his vision. The Veliyan is named Orrin. The Paladin is Keith.

   Lance passes out as soon as the glow of Red’s cockpit touches his face.

            ~~~

   Lance can’t move. He’s running but he can’t move. His body isn’t responding to his wishes, and it feels like he’s trapped in a moving suit.

   His hands are bloody. Why? Why do his knuckles feel like cracking because the blood has started to dry on them? Why does the blood splatter up his elbows and dot his biceps like freckles? Why can Lance feel it dripping down his chin?

   Why are the mirrors black? All Lance can see is himself but it’s not him. Lance knows that he doesn’t have pink eyes and that he doesn’t wear tank tops around anyone, so it’s not him. But it is him. It's always been him and it's all his fault. He can't remember why, though. It's dark. 

   Why is Hunk stumbling out of that mirror? He replaced Lance’s shape with his own unsteady self, but there’s something wrong. Hunk wears yellow, not red. Why is he clutching his throat? Why did he just fall at Lance’s feet? Why do his kind brown eyes look like glass and why does his warm skin feels cold under Lance’s touch? Why is his throat torn out? Hunk? Hunk? Where did you go? Where is the life in your eyes?

   What’s wrong with Shiro? His arm is missing again, but this time the stump is higher and he’s bleeding. Shiro, why are you bleeding? Why is your scar dripping red? Why are you screaming at Lance? What did Lance do? Why are you crying? Shiro? Don't cry, Keith will worry. Don't worry, Lance will take the blame for your arms and your face. it was probably his fault anyways. 

   Allura? Allura, Why are you clawing at your eyes, you’ll hurt them. Here, take your hands away. Allura? Oh, Allura...where are your eyes? Why are you collapsing on this black floor? That can’t be comfortable. Allura, get up. Please get up. The team needs you. Get up. Please, Allura, please...

   The mirror looks green...oh, that must be Pidge! Maybe she has something for Lance’s eyes. Pidge! Pidge...? Where are your fingertips? Why is your chin bloody? Is that vomit Lance smells? Why are you missing the tip of your nose? Did someone take it? Oh...you ate them. Why? Why? Why? Why? What did you do that for? Don't do that. No, don't. 

   Why are the mice so limp, Coran? Why do they look like pancakes against the floor? Why is there white and red sprouts coming from under your skin? Why do they rip your clothes? Those are your bones? Are they not supposed to be inside your body? Oh. Lance broke them all. Lance. It's Lance's fault. He knew it. 

   Oh Keith. Keith. Why do you have the same scars as Lance? Why is there tears in your eyes? Did you escape Lance? Come here. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long. Just let Lance grab your neck...isn’t that better? Oh. The tears are falling now. You won’t be able to see with your tears. You can’t see. Keith, please. Keith. Lance remembers Keith. Keith is special to Lance. Lance can remember every single time they spoke and every single memory that Keith is mentioned in. But now Keith can't see. He can't see. 

   How can you not see that this is what Lance is?

            ~~~

   Keith hasn’t left Lance’s side since he first closed his eyes on Veliy 52. He had felt the blood on his hand that belonged to Lance and immediately steered Lance towards Red so they could get back to the Castle. He didn’t know what happened; he had only just gotten the hang of the emotion speak that Lance told them about and was getting more info on the planet when he had heard the cry of a child and the gathering of a crowd. He didn’t expect to find Lance there, begging to know what was wrong with the kids. He didn’t expect to hear Lance’s voice calling the Veliyans useless.

   Keith runs the cloth over his blade again. The hospital-like machine Coran hooked Lance up to neeps with every beat of Lance’s heart.

   It’s been about three quintents since Keith flew Lance back to the Castle from Veliy 52. Orrin had wanted to come, but Shiro convinced them to stay on Veliy to continue planning the repairs of their planet. Keith wasn’t needed for that, and hasn’t left the med deck since. Coran periodically brought Keith food and drink but never spoke a word, andalways left with a sad glance towards Lance and a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The Altean didn’t want to put Lance in the pod when Keith told him about the voice that wasn’t Lance, but he didn’t tell anyone why.

   Keith sets his knife down on the nightstand next to Lance’s head. He looks so pale, the scar high on his cheek jagged and harsh looking. When Coran and Keith stripped Lance of his armour and flight suit, Keith almost puked.

   Scars. So, so many scars littered Lance’s body. Pale lines, both thick and thin, crossed his arms and his legs. They ripped across his stomach, dragged roughly down his shoulders. Patches of discolouration splattered his knees and his joints and the hard muscle of his thighs, cloudy looking sections that Coran balked at.

   When Keith had wondered about how much Lance trained, Pidge has checked the training deck logs and found only one time when Lance trained. She had read out the stats with a shaky voice, her computer balanced on knees that quivered. The boy laying broken on this white bed and hooked up to machines galore is a brutal killing machine.

   Hunk had checked Lance’s room to look for clothes for him, and wandered into his bathroom. Allura has run down because she heard Hunk scream.

   Lance’s bedroom was trashed, clothes strewn and little trinkets missing from their original spots on shelves and tables. The bed was stripped of the sheets and smeared on the metal walls of Lance’s room was the word VANCE. Hunk would have been worried and reported back to the team regardless, but he screamed because the word was written in blood.

   Lance’s bathroom was in no better shape. His skincare products were completely absent and some were even crushed around the centre, making room for rolls upon rolls of clean bandages and sterilizer sprays and needles and sutures and tape. A pile of bloody bandages sat in the corner, abandoned and old, and Lance’s bathtub was filled with cold water and blood flecks on the sides and something that Allura identified as vomit. There was a marker floating in the water, slowly bleeding it black.

   Above the tub, Lance had written multiple sentences and paragraphs with - luckily - a marker or something, but that didn’t make them any less heartbreaking.

the ringing won’t stop

i listen to myself tell me im going to kill my friends daily

its magic

hes magic

haggar is to blame, blue says so

make it stop i just want it to stop

im just a body

the voice is named vance

i named him

its me hes me im him 

i cant take the ringing

he sounds like me

rejection hurts me

my hearts pain is my bodys pain

dont hurt me anymore

please

im used to the burn

the sting

the pain

its not me

replace me

i c ant do it 

my eyes arent pink theyre blue

why dont i remember

drowning makes it stop

SHUT UP SHUT UP GO GO GO

i want to drown

let me drown DO IT NOW

drowning makes it stop but not forever the ringing always comes  back and it always there in the back of my head

im a killer

killers need to di

i want to die

GOGOGOGOLEAVEGETOUTNOW

let me kill me

im cruel

im going to kill, VANCE says so

NO

it hurts but im numb

kill them all NO

VANCE NO NONO N

i dont want to

i cant remember help me

strangle pidge he says

i can see it every night and it never stops why me why doesnt it stop

crush the mice no

GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT

who is my family who what do they look lik 

bleed coran

OUTOFMYHEAD

NO

i dont rem   ember

DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT DONT

dro  wn a llura he says so

NO cr ush shiro

i dont want to but he says I have to its loud i n  eed to sto p the pain do    esnt stop   please stop hurting me

STOPSTOPSSTPO STP        STO  p

stop tal kin g stop  hu  rtiNG NO

gut h   unk NO NOON

i fo  rg      et

WHERE AR EE YO    U NO

bre ak ke    ith g    od no    pleas

it hurts N O 

its gone NONOONNONONONONO

GETOUTOFMYHEADOUTOUTOUTNOWNOW

h es t ak  ing o ver

NONONONONONONONNONONONOO

I m     so sor  ry I m so s orr

I WILL KILL ME BEFORE THEM

   Hunk had puked on the spot, aiming into the bathtub. Hunk knows what Lance’s writing looks like, how he hates to use capitals and punctuation. The Galaxy Garrison hadn’t been able to lecture and punish that habit out of him. Allura had pulled Hunk out of Lance room. Neither of them got Lance clothes and they closed off Lance’s room with a vow to burn the entire room.

   Keith watches the blue line on the machine leap and drop rhythmically, displaying Lance’s heart rate. The yellow line underneath apparently shows brain activity and Keith is no doctor but he’s positive that the line shouldn’t be composed of such shallow waves. There’s more Altean script against the floating holographic screen, but Keith can’t read it. He drops his gaze and lets it wander over Lance instead.

   The tanned line of his jaw and nose cut clean against the white background, and his eyelashes rest completely still on his skin. His arms are limp to his sides, long legs stretched out under the blanket Coran had tucked around him gingerly. Keith hadn’t said anything while the Altean has done so; the look on the poor man’s face was heartbreaking, as though he lost a child.

   Keith shifts in his chair, slouching in place and letting the toes of his boots touch the frame of Lance’s bed. He doesn’t speak. The only sound that fills the silence of the white room is the beeping from Lance’s machine.

   Keith sighs, and he doesn’t move, but he must doze off sometime because the next time he looks up, Shiro is sitting across from him on the other side of Lance, expression broken and defeated. Beside him sits a Veliyan, one that Keith doesn’t recognize from the planet. Their darker skin and bleach blonde hair make for a striking combo, the lighter skin of their face decorated with black and yellow makeup. The tighter clothes that they wear gives no hints for any conforming gender, but Keith can tell this alien is very slender and strong. Like Lance.

   “Keith, this is Len’aay. They were sent from Veliy 52 to help with diagnosing Lance.” Shiro’s voice is soft, but with a firm undercurrent. Keith knows it well; it’s like talking to a frightened animal and that’s definitely what Keith feels like. His support is laying broken on a bed before him, covered in previously hidden scars and dripping in pain and unconsciousness. He’s beyond frightened at this point.

   “(Hello, Red Paladin. How are you coping?)” Keith shrugs one shoulder, keeping his eyes on Lance. There’s been no change since he last checked. 

   “(Your team has asked me to assist with the Blue Paladin. Is it-)”

   “(Can you fix him?)” Keith knows it’s rude, but he makes eye contact with the black orbs of Len’aay and sends his question out with shaky emotions. Emotions worked for contact, and Keith has much too many right now.

   Len’aay doesn’t appear disgruntled at Keith’s interruption. They level him with a firm gaze that reminds Keith so much of Shiro; they must be an older sibling. “(I am here to try. I can use a certain method of investigation that allows me to view his memories without much invasion. When on our planet, my youngest siblings were with the Blue Paladin during his stay. They told me of a voice that belonged to him, but was not him. Did you have any knowledge of this?)”

   Keith shakes his head, and Shiro glances at him. He must not be in the loop with this conversation. “(No. He didn’t tell me much of anything.)” Keith drops his gaze to Lance, brow furrowing as he tightens his jaw against the sting in his eyes. 

   Len’aay’s eyes thin slightly, as though they dropped their own brow. “(You care deeply for him, I can see. For a bond like this between beings, we call our partner our leikal, a soulmate if you wish. It’s unique and something to be held closely...you’re hurting greatly, Red Paladin. Please do not blame yourself for this event. Focus on helping the Blue Paladin.)” Keith doesn’t answer. “(May I touch him? I will open my Jrikapp Siol, or the Deep Eye as you call it, and search his memories. It will not hurt him.)” 

   Keith slouches and crosses his arms. He doesn’t like the idea of a stranger shifting through Lance’s head but if it tells what’s wrong with him, why his room is in the state that it is, and who Vance is...

   “(You’re sure it won’t hurt him?)”

   “(I am postitve. It is merely a viewing of images and emotions that are already present. I will not be able to alter or take anything, and neither will I be able to place anything. No harm is potential.)”

   “(Okay. Okay...use your... Deep Eye.)” As Len’aay nods, Keith shuffles so he sits on the edge of his seat and slides his hand under Lance’s. Keith sees Shiro’s brow rise but luckily he doesn’t comment on it. Lance’s hand feels cold in his tight grip, and Keith wishes that he could feel it when Lance could squeeze back. 

   “(Red Paladin, this will take less than thirty ticks. Do not fret.)” Keith nods tightly, and tucks his fingers between Lance’s as Len’aay stands on thick legs and leans over Lance. They touch Lance’s temples with their large hands, and Keith watches in curiosity as the horizontal slit on their forehead opens like an eyelid to reveal a stark white orb with a tiny black pupil. The pupil swirls and fades around and out of the eye, similar to their makeup. Keith holds his breath as seconds tick by.

   By the time the Veliyan pulls back, Keith is dizzy.

   When the look on the aliens face is scrunched and their eyes are glassy, Keith wants to curl up into a ball.

   When Len’aay lifts a hand and Keith can see their fingers tremble as they cover their mouth, Keith can feel the tears burn his eyes. 

   “(Well?)” He demands, “(What’s wrong with him?)”

   Len’aay jerks at Keith’s words, and slowly turns their head towards him. Their eyes are no longer glassy, but instead filled with a deep sadness and...grief? Keith watches their Deep Eye slip closed, and their normal eyes fall shut soon after. His heart clenches as Len’aay runs a tender hand down Lance’s arm and then to his own, sorrow replaced with a seemingly blank look, but Keith can see the determination simmering. 

   “(You’re leikal is in immense danger.)”

Chapter Text

   The dreams replay over and over.

   Lance kills them over and over.

   He can’t make it stop.

   He wants it to stop.

   Vance says if he lets them in it’ll stop.

   Lance can’t do that.

   Hunk isn’t supposed to be so bloody.

   Why is it so dark? 

   Where is Pidge? They were just here...

   Lance can’t breathe.

   He doesn’t know how to stop.

   Vance won’t stop laughing.

   Shiro is scared of him... he’s trembling...

   Does Lance have a family? 

   He doesn’t want this.

   He can’t let them in.

   Lance can’t breathe.

   Keith is crying. He’s crying because of Lance.

   Lance can’t breathe.

   Lance can’t breathe.

   Let us in.

   Lance can’t breathe.

   Let us in. Let us-

   It's quiet.

   It's dark.

   It's so d- no, wait. 

   There's a light

   Lance can see a light, there's a ligh-

   Keith is smiling at him. It was after they had saved a planet from mass destruction, after Keith and Lance had saved it by themselves because the rest of the team was elsewhere on different and hopefully peaceful missions. Lance had whooped into his coms all the way down to the planet, with Keith following him closely. 

   As soon as Blue’s paws touched the soft ground, Lance was out of his Lion and racing towards Red, where Keith was moving just as fast. Lance didn’t think; he just moved and suddenly they were meeting in the middle and Keith had his arms around Lance and he was laughing and when Keith pulled away from Lance’s neck he was smiling-

   What happened after that? Lance doesn’t remem-

   -us in. Let us in.

   Keith’s smiling. He’s smiling. He’s crying. He’s smiling. He’s-

   He’s cradling Lance’s bloody hand in the medbay and looking at Lance like he cares. Lance is sure he cares. But Lance doesn’t want pity.

   Lance would rather drown...

   Let us in. Let us-

   Keith is screaming. He’s screaming don’t scream, Keith, please, Lance doesn’t remember. Lance can’t breathe.

   If Lance lets them in, will Keith be okay?

   Let us in. 

   Will it save Allura and Coran and the mice?

   If Lance lets them in will he heal Hunk and Shiro and revive Pidge?

   Will he be able to breathe?

            ~~~

   Your leikal is in immense danger.

   Keith replays the words of Len’aay over and over in his head. He has so many questions, but his main concern is Lance is in danger? How? Why? Can Keith help? 

   Keith rocks on the balls of his feet as Shiro addresses the team, fiddling and scratching at his hands and nails and staring off and out to the side of the bridge, Veliy 52 and it’s four moons different shades of blue; the colour that Keith associates Lance with. Lance, who’s still laying unconscious in the medbay and has been there for the last two days because nobody has made a plan yet. 

   Keith grits his teeth and fights down a growl. Shiro is just informing Pidge and Hunk of Lance’s condition, with Len’aay standing silent to the side. Keith already knows this, he knows every line of Lance’s face and every best of his heart and breath he takes. Keith knows how many books sit on the shelves beside Lance’s bed and how many bottles of pills there are in the medbay for how long he’s been in there but all of it is useless if it can’t help Lance.

   A soft tap on his shoulders makes Keith jump and turn into the heavy gaze of Len’aay. When did they move? 

   “(Red Paladin, I have some information that is...sensitive. I would feel better if I received approval and guidance on how to deliver it.)” When Keith’s brow draws together warily, Len’aay places their full palm on Keith’s shoulder comfortingly. “(I am asking you specifically because it was one of the one things your leikal seemed to be holding on to. This is very important.)”

   Keith agrees quickly after that, and with a wave to Shiro, he and the Veliyan duck out of the room and Keith’s leads them to a quiet hallway. Len’aay grips his hands in their own, completely covering them in the darker blue scales and skin. Their eyes are narrowed with guarded emotion, and Keith braces himself for the worst.

   “(You and the Paladins ofVoltron... you all belong to the same planet, correct?)” Keith nods. “(And I assume you all had families?)”

   Keith hesitates, but really, he did have Shiro and Shiro had him. They became brothers. Keith nods again.

   “(Your leikal did as well?)” Keith doesn’t know where Len’aay isn’t going with this but again, he agrees. 

   Len’aay frowns. “(Upon looking into his memories, there were very few from his childhood. Very, very few. When looking at someone’s mind and emotion with the Jrikapp Siol, we are able to see every detail of every memory that being holds. However, if those memories are forgotten or erased, we cannot see them.

   “(Your Blue Paladin is missing a dangerous amount of memories. I do not mean simple things like funny jokes, but impacting things such as his family’s faces, his mothers name...his sense of being. There are even gaps in recent memories. The Blue Paladin has no recollection of landing on Veliy 52, but he remembers my younger siblings. He remembers Orrin’s name, but not what he looks like. 

   “(There are blanks in your teammates as well.)” Keith had been listening intently up until that point, but now shock laces his features. 

   “(He’s forgetting us?!)”

   “(Your leikal is not forgetting. No, of that I am sure. Those memories are being taken. The voice my siblings had mentioned and heard? That is who is taking the Blue Paladin’s memories. According to Lance’s recent memories, the voice is called Vance and is a magic entity cast by the Galra Witch.)"

   Keith braces a hand against the wall, mouth hanging open and lungs tight. What the hell?! A magic voice...in Lance’s head...one caused by Haggar?!

   Len’aay continues. “(Your Blue Paladin...he suffers from a minds illness, yes?)” 

   Keith frowns. “(What’s that?)”

   “(I am not sure what your terminology is, but a minds illness is literal: the mind becomes sick as a body would, poisoning your thoughts and affecting your actions. It can be caused by oneself, or from events in a beings life, or from the people around them. In your leikal’s case, his illness began early in his life and worsened upon leaving his home planet. I believe this cause was from those around him.)” Len’aay levels Keith with a stony glare. “(Your team is the cause of his most recent downspiral.

   “(The blame, the comments, the abandonment that the Blue Paladin has experienced and received from those he wanted to be closest with has broken his mind. His broken mind then allowed Haggar to plant her spell, one that hasn’t been seen for decaphoebs, from before Zarkon’s reign. For every hurtful word and drop of blame forced upon the Blue Paladin’s wounded mind, his body will experience the same treatment. For every slashing sentence and bruising lecture, the Blue Paladin was cut, beaten, and slowly driven to madness by an invisible force. His scars are the proof.)” With every word, Len’aay’s face turns more and more enraged and their words turn harsher and harsher inside Keith’s head. 

   “(The spell is meant to break a beings very soul from the inside. They show images that neither you or I would want to see. The most popular of the spell show the host killing those closest, driving them insane and desperate for a sanctuary. The only release...)" Len’aay pauses to compose themselves. “(The only release is death or acceptance. Death is self explanatory and acceptance...think possession of the body. The spell is a being themselves, and they strive only to possess the body they’ve attained. Your leikal is dangerously close to acceptance. The only thing keeping him on the edge is the thought of you, Red Paladin, and how he couldn’t bear to hurt you. I fear that may change soon.)”

   Keith can’t move. This is too much at one time. When Len’aay said sensitive information, Keith thought that it was just some sickness causing Lance’s coma and that they didn’t know how to tell the others, not this! 

   “(Did your leikal ever have any sort of contact with the Galra witch?)” Keith starts to shakes his head, but suddenly freezes.

   “(Almost four weeks ago...Lance was sent on an info run and virus drop. It was quick, like less than three vargas quick, but at the end...Pidge said that the witch was in an arriving ship. Oh god...)” Keith actually stumbles, and sinks down with his back to the wall. His eyes sting and he curls into himself. Len’aay joins him, pulling Keith into their chest and wrapping their arms around him. Keith shudders in the strong grasp, and buries his face in his hands. “(Four weeks...Lance has been suffering through all that...for four weeks... and-a-and-)”

   In that lone hallway, trembling in the arms of a new friend and ally, Keith doesn’t think he’s ever felt so useless in his life.

            ~~~

   “Lance is under a spell.” Keith’s voice is strong but hollow. He’s gathered the team in front of him on the bridge, and with Len’aay close for support, Keith bears the news presented to him.

   By the end of it, Hunk looks like he’s going to vomit, Allura has tears in her eyes and is holding her mice for comfort. Shiro is paler than normal, and Pidge falls to their knees to comfort Coran, who also collapsed when Keith started talking. Len’aay’s face scrunches when Keith finishes totally; Keith doesn’t have to be a Veliyan to sense the amount of emotion in the room. 

   “We could have prevented this. This is on us. We ignored him, we blamed him...” Pidge flinches and Allura let’s her tears fall. Keith straightens his spine and swallows against the lump in his throat. “Now we need to fix this. Len’aay needs to go back to Veliy 52 to verify, but they believe there is a way to help Lance...” ...before it’s too late. Keith leaves those unsaid and turns back to Len’aay.

   “(Is there anything else that we can do for him? Anything that will make him more comfortable?)”

   Len’aay hesitates, and nods slowly. “(You can stay with him. He was depending on memories focused solely around you, but as I said, his grasp on will may not last long. If the spell does take over, secure the Blue Paladin and whatever you do, do not give in to the spells wishes.)" Keith nods. They might have to tie Lance down. The spell brings out the worst, right? There’s a huge possibility Lance is suicidal.  After dealing with a voice in his head for a month, Keith would be too. “(If the spell does take hold, there will be drastic differences. Pink eyes, a fluctuating personality, and a taunting demeanour is what you should expect. Do not attack the taken. That is still your friend. Anything you do to him while the spell has hold will affect him after we break it.)”

   Shiro crosses his arms. “(Len’aay, no offence, but how do you know so much about this?)”

   Len’aay’s eyes seem to gleam as they raise their chin proudly. “(There’s a reason why the Galra needed us at the beginning of their reign and why there is so little information to be found about Veliy 52. Our kind is rare and extremely capable of constant successful interrogation. We have knowledge on every spell and echo in the universe, and we use it for good. Like this situation.)”

   The teams attention is drawn away from Len'aay as the bridge door slides open, revealing a much larger Veliyan and holding something Keith assumes are their helmets for their trip back to Veliy 52. Goodbyes are quick with the rest of the team, but when the kind alien makes it around to Keith, Len'aay pulls him into a tight hug and squeezes until Keith cracks a smile. 

   "(Be safe, Red Paladin, and remember: as much as you believe the spell and your leikal are the same, you are wrong. Do not confuse the two, or it will be the end of everything as we know it.)"

   Keith nods sharply, and claps his hands against Len'aay's forearms as a final goodbye. it's silent as the two aliens walk out of the room, and stays that way after the door closes behind them. Allura watches them make their descent to Veliy 52 safely, and only when they touchdown does someone break the silence. 

   "I don't want to have to tie him down..."

   Shiro turns to Hunk and comforts the Paladin with a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Hunk. None of us want this. I can't believe..."

   The room falls quiet again. Keith bites his lip and clenches his fists, nearly suffocating as the seconds tick by. A dark feelings roils in his chest and Keith hates it. Ever since Lance collapsed in his arms Keith can't shake the feeling and he hates it. “I’m going to sit with him. I’ll grab handcuffs on my way.”

   Keith doesn’t wait for anyone else to protest; he’s gone as soon as the words leave his mouth, heading through the same doors as Len’aay and their escort, but Keith veers off to the training deck before heading to the medbay, eight thick metal rings that create the handcuffs in his arms. They’re the exact same ones that Nyma chained Lance to the tree with. 

   Keith almost smirks at the memory; he’s been the one to help Lance out of that situation. Lance had been nearly numb in all limbs from the uncomfortable position, and he had almost cried with relief when Red and Keith touched down. Keith distinctly remembers Lance’s trembling body being such a comfort as Lance had collapsed against Keith. Laughs were shared about Lance’s numb toes and teasing jibes were thrown about girls and climbing trees but none of it was toxic. It was good, and one of the funnier memories Keith has of Lance. Keith has so many memories of Lance, even if Lance doesn't know it yet. 

   Keith can hear the elevated beeping before he enters the room. He inhales sharply, and turns the corner and nearly drops his armful of metal.

   Lance is sitting up. 

   Keith feels his jaw drops. His fingers quiver. He can’t think and he doesn’t know if he wants to. Carefully, he steps into the medbay. Lance doesn’t move, hunched over the side of the bed facing away from him. His scarred shoulders are tense and his head is dropped low. Keith can see where he’s got the blankets fisted at his sides. As Lance inhales, his ribcage expands and the machine beeps rhythmically. It’s faster paced than normal; Keith can tell from how long he was surrounded by it.

   This time, Keith does drop the handcuffs. They bounce and clatter, creating a loud noise in the silent Castle that will definitely draw the attention of his friends. Keith doesn’t care. Lance is awake!

   “L-Lance? Hey, man, I’m so-“ Lance stands halfway through Keith’s sentence, and Keith abruptly pauses. “Woah, hey, you’ve been unconscious for four days. Take it easy.” Lance turns to Keith as Keith advances, and Keith happily looks up into the face of the boy he-

   This isn’t Lance. 

   Lance doesn’t have a cruel smirk adorning his features.

   Lance doesn’t make smiling look painful.

   Lance doesn’t laugh like this, not crazy or maniacal. 

   Lance doesn’t have pink eyes.

   Keith stumbles back just as this copy of Lance reaches out and at him, fingers splayed and face twisted into a menacing smirk. He falls, legs wobbly, and Keith can only watch as 'Lance' throws his head back and a grating laugh sends cold streaks right through his body. Is this what Len'aay was talking about? The possession? Lance...gave in?

   'Lance' tips his chin down to Keith, a patronizing look on his face that makes Keith want to shrivel up. He advances a step, making Keith scramble backwards, desperation and fear coursing through his veins with every erratic beat of his heart. 'Lance' just chuckles, flexing one shoulder with his opposite hand on his bicep. it's such a Lance movement, it makes Keith angry.

   "Easy there, sweetcheeks. You're making Lance worried."

   Keith jerks like he's been slapped, but 'Lance' continues. His heart is roaring in his ears and it feel like the ground is swaying.

   'Lance' flinches, eyes snapping shut for a split second before he opens them and throws his head back, cackling. 

   "Damn, he's angry that I scared you. Oof, your man's a fighter, even in his subconscious." A smirk twists Lance's lips. "But I was stronger than him when I was a voice in his head, and I'm stronger than him while I control his body. The only control Lance has is leftover emotions towards you lot. Oh, call me Vance. Lance and I have had many conversations about you, Keith." Vance cocks his hip out and stares down at a now terrified Keith, who can nearly feel the blood drain from his face. Lance accepted the spell. He gave in. He gave up. He gave up on Keith. 

   Vance opens his mouth, but before more vile words can escape, pounding footsteps reach the medbay and Keith doesn't have to turn to see the shocked faces of his teamamtes; the heartbreaking gasps are enough for his imagination. 

   "Lance..." Keith can hear Shiro start to speak, but Vance cuts him off with a wagging finger and a smug look.

   "Ah-bup-bup-bup-bup, don't even go there, Shiro. It's Vance. i'm sure you've heard of me. My name is all over Lance's walls anyways. I'm sure you've discovered that by now. Aw, man, the pleasure rush I got every time he uncapped that marker, and then when he cut his own hand..." Vance hugs himself, a drooling and disgusting look crossing his face.  

   Keith feels hands wrap around his biceps, and suddenly Hunk and Shiro are pulling him to his feet. Keith places his handa aginst the wall, starting wide eyed at Vance. He hasn't moved towards them, but somehow that makes this entire situation more terrifying. Beside Keith, Allura takes a brave step forwards, hands clenched and her body tense as though she's preparing for a fight. Keith doesn't know; it might even happen. 

   "This is the only time I will ask you: come with us to the cells without a fight, and we won't hurt you."

   Vance throws his head back and laughs, pink eyes disappearing as he closes them. The team can do nothing but wait for him to calm down, hearts pounding as they look at this twisted version of their friend and comrade. "I'll come with you, don't get your panties in a twist." With that said, Vance walks towards the door and towards them. The result is the team making room for Vance to pass, and Keith wants to cry as the scent of Lance brushes by him. Coran had used his ocean-breeze shampoo, the one the Castle manufactured for Lance, to clean his hair and skin. Keith had originally been helping, but after seeing so many scars and bruises uncovered and in his face, he just couldn't. Keith had spent the next hour retching into the self-cleaning water basin beside the window as Coran actually helped Lance. Now, with that scent playing at his senses and so close, Keith finds himself reaching out to touch Lance's - Vance's - arm. 

   Keith sees Shiro reach out to stop him before he makes contact, but just as the warmth of tanned skin whispers against Keith's fingertips, Vance's back shakes as he chuckles. He turns his face around just so much that Keith can see the sharp scar underneath his glowing pink eyes. 

   "Oh, sweetcheeks, so desperate. Don't worry, we'll have our fun later." It sounds so much like Lance, it really does, but it doesn't have the same warm undercurrent that Lance speaks to Keith with. It doesn't have a joking tilt to the words, it doesn't have the same kind intentions Lance's does. It's not Lance because Lance is gone, and Keith let him slip through his fingers. With a wink, Vance struts off in the direction of the lower cells with Allura, Pidge, Hunk, and Coran following, and Keith feels his knees buckle and he lets them go. 

   Shiro falls beside him as the floor cracks against his kneecaps, and Keith feels his arms wrap around his shoulders carefully as Keith's body shakes with the first of his sobs. 

            ~~~

   If Keith was told to pick the top five worst moments in his life before Lance was possessed, it would take him hours and a pen and more than a few sheets of paper. But when the inhabitants of the Castle began to directly refer to Lance as Vance, further solidifying the possibility they wouldn't get him back?

   It was easily topping anything Keith could think.

   They have decided to take turns watching Vance personally. He went into the cells almost willingly, grinning like a madman the entire way. According to Pidge, when they asked what his problem was or what he wanted, Vance would giggle and either not answer, or say, "Poor Lance. Oh, poor Lance, indeed."

   They had contacted Veliy 52 as soon as Allura locked the seals on Vance’s cell. Keith hadn't been able to watch as each of those Altean locks snapped shut, keeping his eyes tightly shut and face turned away. It didn't stop Vance's cooing and giggling from reaching his ears, and Keith bolted from the room before he could break. Pidge had quickly followed him, both of them silently passing the indent outside of the kitchen wall, silently passing the med bay, and silently falling into place beside each other in the little Altean rec room on the couch. Neither speaks, not until Pidge sniffles and suddenly Keith is wrapping his arm around them and pulling them into his side where they curl up and shake. 

   "I-I I was o-on the coms w-with him when he-he-h-" Pidge breaks off to gasp wetly, "I should h-have warned him sooner, or-or stayed w-with him and talked to him and I didn't mean to brush him off that day I was just concentrating and it came o-off harsher and I-I-I didn't mean to hurt him!" Their cries turn into wails, burying their face into Keith's chest as he cradles them tightly. Keith doesn't say anything back; he doesn't know how to comfort them over something like this. How can you when your teammate, friend, right hand man, your damn alien proclaimed leikal is stuck in a fucking alien cell because of a fucking alien curse that everyone on this damn ship made worse?!

   Keith ends up making comforting, almost purring sounds into Pidge's hair, nearly petting them with the hand he doesn't have wrapped around them. Whatever he does it works, because Pidge seems to cry themselves out before they just lay shivering in Keith's arms. They feel so small and so broken, but Keith still doesn't say anything because he's sure that his attempt at feelings would make everything worse. 

   Eventually, Pidge peels themselves away from Keith. It's been just under an hour, and Keith knows that now is the time when they wreck their already fucked sleep schedule to try and find a cure for Lance. They wipe at their eyes, glasses long gone, and send a wobbly smile at Keith. "I'm gonna go to the bridge. Apparently Len'aay sent us something to help figure out Vance. Something about a Jikap Sol?"

   Keith perks up. "A Jrikapp Siol? Len'aay said that?"

   Pidge nods. "They said they can send the memories to the ship so we can review them and see if we can make any sense from them. According to them, Lance's memories are out of order and there are some... missing." Pidge trails off as Coran steps into the rec room, normally cheery face drawn with sorrow. Keith feels a stab of empathy for the man, but there's sympathy too; Coran thought of Lance like his son, and now he's falling fast.

   "Princess Allura is ready on the bridge with La-" Coran pauses, and clears his throat. "She has Lance's memories ready to view."

   Keith shares a look with Pidge, who reaches over and squeezes his hand. Keith turns back to Coran. "We're ready."

            ~~~

   They were not ready. Nobody was.

   When Keith, Pidge, and Coran entered the main bridge area, Allura had the big holoscreen pulled up, a solid black image completely covering it. Hunk was leaning against his chair with the mice, and Shiro and Allura were staring at the black screen. Allura turned her head when they walked in, only her slightly red eyes giving away her emotions. Nobody spoke, and when Allura nodded to Hunk, the Yellow Paladin pressed a couple buttons on his chair. When he pressed him palm against his own holo-screen to activate the feed Len'aay send them, the kind aliens voice rang out over the bridge.

   "Hello, Paladins of Voltron, Princess, and Advisor. When I returned to Veliy 52, Orrin requested that we help you in any way possible. This is my way of assisting you to find a probable solution for the Blue Paladin. I beg of you, watch these memories with an open mind and accept anything that you see or hear. This is what your teammate and friend has suffered and seen for the past thirty-five quintents. This is what he endured."

   Len'aay's voice cuts off, and Keith returns his attention to the screen. the endless black is still there, but now it seems as though there's colour shifting in it, like oil. then, suddenly, the screen explodes in colours and light, making Keith blink harshly. A child's laughter filters from the speakers, and when Keith's vision clears, he can see a small girl. Her skin is tan, her eyes are deep blue, and she seems to have her hands on the top of the screen. Keith realizes that this must be Lance's memories, seen from him point of view. He studies the video image; there's not a lot to go on. The background is completely white, and the girl is wearing a pink and blue floral dress but that's it. The memory is nice, and Keith almost smiles as the girl laughs and he can hear Lance laughs and the 'camera' narrows as Lance's eyes close more and as the 'camera' shakes-

   "Maybe you'll fuck up a mission. That would suck. you could make someone die. How would you live with the guilt? Answer...you couldn't. Drown, drown, drownnn..."

   Keith freezes as the image of the little girl seems to be ripped apart with black and red static. Her pretty dress turns into flowing water covering long tan legs, but then snaps to an image of Lance's face. If this is from Lance's perspective, then he must be looking in a mirror. Keith watches, frozen with fear, as Memory Lance lifts his hand to poke at his cheek. keith distantly realizes it's when he first got the scar on his cheek. Lance sighs, and as he pulls his bottom eyelid down in the mirror, the bottom edge of the 'camera' becomes a little wider. It swings to the side as Lance looks at his array of facial care items, and Keith hopes that this will be a normal memory, and then Lance is gasping and he's looking down as he pulls his own pants off and Keith looks away but not before he sees the cut that rips open all by itself on his hip. 

   "That's right... such a wimp, tremble for me. it all you ever do anyways, you're so fucking-"

   The screen cuts off into darkness edged by red static, and it's so dark that Keith shivers. Then it brightens again, showing Hunk's concentrated face as the Yellow Paladin drips something into a pan in the kitchen. The background is white as well, but as though it's a cutout shape, the oven is behind Hunk. Keith hears Hunk gasp, but doesn't look away from the screen. 

   "Hunk!...Hold on hold on hold on... Just- just wait-Hunk your oven-"

   Keith physically flinches when suddenly Hunk's passive face turns into a snarl, the flashing scrape of light red static covering the screen momentarily. hunk's face is literally twisted, as though someone took a picture and played around in Photoshop with it for a few seconds, making one eye bigger and his snarl creeping up the side of his face, well past his cheekbones. Real life Hunk makes a strangled noise.

   "Shut u- What's- shut the fuck to you queershit- your problem this time?!" 

   And then it cuts out to red static, but it just stops and freezes mid screen. Keith spares a glance, and finds that Hunk has his palm on the screen again, face pale and eyes wide. Unsettling silence falls over the bridge. 

   "Hunk," Allura manages, "We need to continue watching."

   Hunk jerks, and seems to take a few seconds to prepare himself before he lifts his hand again. The static destroys the silence and makes Keith's hair stand on end, but now it's not just the static. There's another sound. Ringing. Has it been there the entire time? 

   The red cuts away to show metal floors lit by purple light. Lance was in a Galra base. The Galra base that he got cursed in. Keith holds his breath as he watches the virus upload on the screen through Lance's eyes. Lance looked around, showing the barricaded door and the vents that he got out through after the mission, and then he turns his head back to the screen. 

   "...elegant surprise..." Allura jerks, eyes narrowing and face turning hard. That was Haggar. 

   Keith's blood runs cold. That was Haggar. This is when Lance got cursed. This is what happened. 

   Lance jerked his gaze around to show Haggar, her hood up and hands glowing, and Lance is pulling the drive out and Keith sees his hand go down for his bayard and Lance is turning back and maybe they can find out what happened exactly and this can save-

   The memory cuts out, and switches to a Lion's cockpit filled by blue light. The screen is blurry. 

   "No!" Allura takes a step forward with her cry, hands clenched in what Keith assumes is frustration. Lance's memories are corrupted. There's only pieces and chinks of each one and Keith is slowly losing faith that they can find something from them. 

   The blue screen blurs more, and then suddenly clears. Then, Lance's hand comes up and he wiped at his eyes. Keith grits his teeth because lance was crying. He was crying in his Lion because he couldn't talk to anyone else. And they had belittled him for it. Lance sniffled and gasped in, and Keith felt his knees go weak. The desire to go back in time and comfort Lance, to give him anything to stand on, was insurmountable. lance makes a high pitched whine, and then his voice filters out of the speakers. 

   "Naïve, stupid, child. He doesn't need-... want you. Never will, never has, never will, never has, never will, never...has..." Keith grimaces as the voice isn't Lance's; it's that bastard of a curse Vance and if Keith wasn't falling to his knees right now, fuck his kneecaps, he would walk right up and break the screen even though he probably couldn't even touch it. it doesn't matter anymore. He can't. 

   The pink static comes back, and suddenly Lance's memories change to a simple one, one of what Keith assumes is his family, but somethings wrong. 

   In the place of the face's of Lance's family, it's blurred. The blur is tinged with pink, and as little Lance's laughter filters into the bridge area, another person's laughter arises. A maniac's laughter. Vance's laughter, Keith realizes, when suddenly current Lance is in little Lance's memories, his eyes pink and body littered with scars. Keith doesn't move from his spot on the floor, having sunk back to his heels with every note of Little Lance's giggles and every gasping breath between peels of laughter from Vance. Keith can feel his blood draining from his face as the pink static rips every single one of Lance’s family members, giggling the entire time. 

   However, this time, the pink static gives away to nothing. It's just dark. Empty, empty, darkness that makes Keith shiver despite himself. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like any of this and it hurts so damn bad that he can't help Lance. There's nothing he can do until they completely go over his memories and the darkness is making Keith want to cry. He looks away from the screen and keeps his eyes shut tight.

   "Don't hinder in training tomorrow. Actually try. Voltron- can't be achieved if- you can't work as a team! You can't! You're so fucking useless! You fucking can't, Lance, you can't you can't you ca-!" 

   Allura makes a strangled noise as her own voice comes through, but there's not a second for the team to hurt with her because more voices are escaping Lance's memory list. 

   "What's your prob- Can't you just- you mess this up? What did you do- make them shut up shut up shut up for one goddamn second!" 

   Shiro inhales sharply as his voice mixes with Hunk's, mixes with Lance's, and makes a horrible symphony. It's grating and harsh, and it makes tears spring to Keith's eyes; along with every single word that forces it's way out of Lance's mind, every single droplet of guilt and remorse is piling from each figure in the room and making it hard to breathe. Keith takes a shuddery breath, and tries to balance himself so he can stand. He needs to at least try. Lance was able to walk around for four weeks with this thing in his head and the static and bells are back and Keith can handle a little-

   "I want him."

   Keith stops.

   "I want him so bad..."

   It's Lance's voice. Lance's, not Vance's.

   "I want him, oh God, I want him so bad, please, just... let me have this. Let me remember him."

   Keith opens his eyes and looks at the screen. 

   He's on the screen. Lance is looking at him. Lance is thinking of him. 

   Keith watches with helplessness as he pushes silver tweezers deep into Lance's hand, to which Lance tries to jerk his hand away. Keith watches himself look up and into Lance's eyes, and immediately, the 'camera' stops moving. Keith holds his breath. 

   "There's one more piece in here. Can you hold on for a few more seconds? I promise it'll be quick." 

   The 'camera' blurs, and Keith can't stop his tears from falling as he realizes Lance was crying that day. Lance was crying. Did Keith make him cry? Was it Keith's fault?

   "Okay. Okay. It's okay, Lance."

   Memory Keith tears his gaze from Lance's so he can look back down at Lance's hand. Lance doesn't move. 

   "He's helping me. He cares. He cares. God, his hair looks soft, I want him. Please, just let me have a chance with him. That’s all I want, please."

   Keith makes a pathetic noise in the back of his throat as the screen changes once again. This memory starts with the view of the sun. The sun from Earth. Keith feels his heart twist as Lance blinks, and Keith can hear the grumble of Lance's stomach. Lance sighs, and turns away from the sun shining through his window. Keith notices the blue walls of his room, the white waves painted on them, the Polaroid pictures taped to the wall. He sees the white sheets on Lance's bed, the messy desk and chair, and the pink, purple, and blue flag hanging on the door of Lance's closet.

   Lance's hand comes up over his face, and his eyelids are pulled down as Keith assumes he's rubbing his face. Lance makes a small sound, and Keith's gut clenches as he coughs, hard and ragged. It's loud, and Lance mutters a nervous swear before glancing at his door. 

   Immediately and almost on cue, thundering steps hammer up what Keith thinks is the stairs, and Lance jerks back violently as his white door is suddenly ripped open. 

   A man is standing there, skin tan like Lance's and he's tall like Lance, but he doesn't have the same kind look as Lance, not with the twisted snarl of his lips under his scruff or the intimidating clenching of his fists as he shakes them at Lance. What gets to Keith, though, is the pink static distorting his facial features even more. 

   "You fucking faggot! Why are you so damn noisy?! I can't stand-" With each word, the man steps forwards towards Lance, and Lance raises his hands to block the man and that's when Keith notices the bruises on Lance's arms are such a different colour than the blue of his room. "-Having weak little faggot boys in this house!"

   Lance falls back, and Keith gasps out loud as the man's face fills the screen, pink flashing across the screen as he gets in close. 

   "Such a weakling. Can't even fight back against your own father. You got any pride, queer-shit? You deserve-" Another hit. "-Everything-" Another into Lance's gut. "-I'm doing. You're so lucky I'm not going farther, queer-shit."

   Keith barely has any time to get angry before a fist comes down across Lance's face and his eyesight rips to the side. Lance doesn't make a sound, but his fathers eyes fill the screen again and that's when the memory changes again, but it’s just to another session of Lance’s father beating him. Then again. Then again. And again.

   Keith ends up keeping his eyes closed until the memory changes again, and only then does he open his eyes. 

   The first thing Keith notices is the sound of running water. The second thing is the way he can barely make out the shower head because of the way Lance’s eyes are blurred and the way it’s so dark in the bathroom and the way he’s sitting on the floor of the shower. Lance’s breath hitches and he looks down, and Keith feels like he just got sucker punched when he sees the blood slowly dripping from Lance’s left bicep. Keith hears Hunk moan in turmoil when Lance raises his other hand and presses the little razor blade in his fingers against his skin. Another red line appears, and Lance chuckles to himself as he holds the razor in front of his face. He turns it, studying it, before the ‘camera’ goes blurry and Lance suddenly throws the razor away with a sob. The screen cuts to static.

   Just before another comes on though, Keith reaches out to Hunk. "Enough..." he whispers, "Hunk, just stop the video, please."

   Keith isn't expecting the Yellow Paladin to comply, but with a reassuring but pale nod from Allura, he stops the video and Keith lets his hair fall over his eyes and he bows his head. it's almost as though he can hear Vance from the cells below, laughing at him with Lance's voice. Keith grits his teeth, and manages to gather enough strength to stand shakily. Nobody moves to help him, but even if they did Keith doesn't think he would accept their offer.

   Keith leaves the silent bridge, and ignores the tears running down his cheeks until the door of his room closes behind him, where he crumples and gives in. 

   It hurts. It hurts so bad. The metal floor under his shins, the unforgiving surface when he pounds his fists into the wall. It hurts when he gasps for breath, nearly choking on tears and grabbing at the front of his jacket. It hurts when he thinks of Lance, how broken he looked laying in that medical room bed and how many scars covered his body. It hurts when Keith thinks of how many the team may have caused and it hurts when he thinks of how many he may have caused. It hurts when he thinks of Lance's room, how he was begging for help and how he couldn't find any in the people he was supposed to trust the most. it hurts the most, though, it burns through his soul with the vey pain of his realization, but it hurts so, so bad when Keith realizes that he could have helped Lance at anytime and he didn't. 

   Keith bends over his knees, his forehead close to the floor and arms trapped between his chest and his knees, and he can't feel anything but the pain when he thinks of how he could have helped Lance. Lance suffered through that for a month and Keith can't even bear it for 15 doboshes. A low whining sound starts in the back of Keith's throat, and ends in a deep sob that wracks his entire body.

   He's grieving, grieving the loss of Lance already because he doesn't know if he can get him back. Lance wanted him, Lance wanted Keith and Keith didn't give him the time of day when Keith really could have given him the universe. Keith is grieving the loss of Lance's smile, his voice, his laugh. All Keith wanted was Lance, and Keith lost him because he didn't act soon enough. It's all his fault. He could have helped and he could have found a solution with Lance and he could have made everything better and he didn't. 

   Keith feels as though he just got his heart ripped from him, and there's nothing that can bring it back. 

            ~~~

   Keith tried to avoid watching the cell. He really did, and he's pretty sure that Shiro took pity on him because the Black Paladin went twice before Keith was asked to. When Keith was sitting alone in the dining hall, a full plate of green goo in front of him that hadn't been touched for the last hour, when Coran walked in, face drawn and dark. Keith knew what he wanted immediately, and touched the Altean's shoulder with his hand before walking out of the hall and down to the elevator that would take him to his present place, mere feet from the entrance to the cells. 

   Keith takes a breath, and pushes the correct keys on the solid door that leads to the hallway of cells. Keith's footsteps are loud compared to the light room; he walks down the entire hall to where Shiro is sitting at the end on a bench, eyes closed and arms crossed as he faces the last cell on the left side. Lance's cell. 

   Shiro opens his eyes as Keith approaches, and just as a sympathetic frown crosses his face, Keith hears Vance laugh. 

   "Ooh, is it his turn? I can't wait..." Keith stutters in his steps, but doesn't stop moving until he's sitting on the bench. He closes his eyes, not looking into the cell, and feels the loss of Shiro's comfort when the Paladin stands and walks back down the hallway. No words are shared; there's nothing to say. 

   Keith tightens his jaw as the door out of the cell hallway slips shut. He is dreading anything Vance has to say to him, so Keith just keeps his eyes closed and focuses on the hum of the Castle's power. it doesn't work for very long, because about four tics after Shiro leaves, a giggle floats across the electric blue cell bars. 

   "You avoided me, Keith. I'm so insulted." Keith flexes his fingers over his biceps and his toes curl in his boots. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Don’t worry, though... I had fun playing with my friends. Aw man, I love them all so much... the sad one...the angry one...the bitter one...the fancy one...the old one...and of course, you, the vital one. So, so vital.”

    It's quiet for a few seconds, and Keith almost opens his eyes, but then there's the sound of movement in front of him and footsteps get closer. A rhythmic tapping echoes through the hallway, and Keith assumes Vance is tapping his feet against the floor. It's loud and annoying, and Keith wishes he had the courage to open his eyes to tell him to stop, but he lets it go on. He just doesn't want to see Lance like this, even though it isn't Lance. Keith breathes in. The air around him seems charged, filled with tension for whatever could come next. 

   "Aw, Vital! Won't you look at me?"

   Keith sits in silence. He replays Allura's plan in his head, the one where she made the schedule to watch Vance. 

   "We take turns in vargas. Every four vargas, we switch. If something that it says becomes too much, you will ask to be switched with any one of us. Don't try to reason with it. If what Len'aay says is true, there isn't anything of Lance left."

   "Pretty please?"

   "We don't know very much about it. When they aren't watching, Pidge will study the information sent from Veliy 52 and try to find key phrases. Hunk and Coran will further investigate these phrases while watching for Galra. Shiro and I will attempt to help Veliy 52. And Keith-"

   "Sweetcheeks!"

   "-Keith, you will keep watch over the Castle. Don't do anything rash."

   Sorry Allura. 

  Keith opens his eyes and barely retrains himself from lunging forwards, handing gripping the edge of the bench so hard that the metal digs into his palms through the leather. He opens his mouth in a snarl, and he goes to tell Vance to shut the fuck up and what does he think he's doing talking with Lance's mouth but he's immediately met with pink eyes and a twisted smirk.

   "Hey there, sweetcheeks. Glad you could drop by. Mm, you aren't scary by the way."

   Vance is leaning against the Altean-blue metal bars. His hand is idly stroking one, and he has his shoulder wedged partially through one set but it's not to escape; he's just bracing himself. His arms are exposed, showing tan skin crossed with pale lines and cloudy spots that Keith assumes were bruises. Keith lets his eyes wander up so that he can fully see his face, restraining a whine of unease when Vance smiles bigger, flashing white teeth and bright pink eyes. They remind Keith of the quintessence tubes in Galra headquarters; always shifting and too powerful for it's own good. The scar on his cheek crinkles as the smile gets bigger.

   Vance taps his nails on the bar, making a higher pitched sound than his foot would. "They finally dragged you down here, huh? Having fun yet, Vital?"

   Keith just growls. The dark wave inside of him is slowly creeping up and Keith doesn't think he can last the rest of his shift if he's this bothered already. 

   "Awh, you poor kitty cat. So angry, so crushed, so filled with emotion..." Vance licks his lips lewdly and Keith flinches. "You aren't normally this bothered, are you? Don't look so shocked... I lived in Lance's head for a couple tics and I already had him figured out. He's so...easy."

   Keith tries to push the wave down. It's not working. 

   "I mean, he tried to put up a fight. Hell, he held out the longest out of all of my hosts. I was impressed, since he knew nothing about me. There's a reason why my species is so obscure, Vital." Vance leans towards Keith through the bars, face squishing between them as his fists bracket his head. Vance chuckles, a light sound that makes Keith shudder. "Our method of torture is slow, so slow that you don't realize you're falling until you hit the dirt in a huge. Bloody. Mess.

   "See, that's what happened to poor Lance here. He was so concerned about keeping the team out of the loop, he forgot to keep checking on himself. A shame, really. He had such a beautiful mind... it was filled with childhood trauma, insecurities, and you. Always, always you." Vance nearly snarls the last words, changing his carefree stature in a fraction of a second. "Wherever I looked in his little, fragile brain, there you were. It was like he was obsessed with the idea of you, so much that it affected how he functioned and how he acted. I couldn't do anything to him without him snapping into a mushy memory about you. Ugh, 'Keith this' and 'Keith that'. I wanted to puke, so I did the next best thing. I broke him."

   Keith shifts in place, anger swiftly and steadily rising. He's reaching his breaking point, and the bench metal creaks under his hands. 

   "I filled him with doubts that stemmed from his own mind. I gave him the slightest grasp of happiness just to take it away without mercy. I broke his body to make his conscience shiver and tremble at the mention of my name. I trained him to avoid situations that would cause him pain, tearing him away from his so called family." With every word, Vance turns to grab two bars with both hands and tightens them, pink eyes staring directly into Keith's. There's no pupil, no whites; just pink.

   "I took memories. Pesky, pesky memories of his mother and his siblings and his pets. They're gone now, Vital, lost in the wind. Oh, and I took memories of you. Every single thing that made him want to fight me? I took it and I destroyed it, crumbling the lyrics in my fingers and twisting them into my own version. Lance gave himself to me not remembering how you saved that planet together, how you cared for him when the training bot kicked him too hard, how you promised you wouldn't leave him when he was breaking before I knew of him. He doesn't remember, Vital. All he remembers is you hating him, you blaming him, you drowning him." 

   Something in Keith snaps and he lunges forwards, grabbing Vance's shirt with his hands as he roughly pulls him into the bars. Vance doesn't even flinch, just smiles wide and releases a loose chuckle, something that sends cold up Keith's spine. He almost looks pleased with Keith’s outburst, and Keith glares hard, switching his gaze between the two pure pink eyes before physically steeling himself and pulling away, clenching his hands once before letting go of Vance’s shirt. He grinds his teeth before stumbling back and nearly collapsing on the bench. He’s not gonna last the next four Vargas.

   Vance laughs, high pitched and loose, as he leans against the bars again. Keith crosses his arms and closes his eyes, blocking out Vance for the moment. During his little rant, Vance said that he stole memories, and they were all of the good ones. Keith knows that they already got a summary of what Lance remembers from Len’aay, and that they didn’t alter anything while using their Jrikapp Siol, so all of the memory loss and change is Vance’s doing. Did he destroy the ones he took? But how do you destroy memories?

   Keith bites his lip as he thinks. Vaguely, he can hear Vance humming a slow song in the background. Is it even possible to completely destroy memories? The Veliyan’s have been evolving with mind reading and communication and memories for centuries; they should know if you can destroy memories. Even if you could, how would that work? Everyone else would still remember, so the memory would only be gone in one person, and they would have still been active in the event.

   Keith sighs. He shouldn’t be thinking about memories now; he should be thinking of ways to get this thing out of Lance. Len'aay said this thing was old, from before Zarkon's time, and Keith can nearly feel Pidge and Coran's frustration at how little information there is on the disease. When the team does a shift change, Keith needs to tell Shiro to get a hold of Veliy 52 and get them to compile everything they know about this thing so the Paladins can find a way to get it out of Lance. There must be a way. Keith isn't the best at optimism, but he needs to be when Lance's life and everything regarding the boy is on the line.

   He can't really do anything until they get all the information that they can, which Pidge and Hunk are probably most definitely searching for, so that means that he can only sit here until they can switch shifts, or find a way to get a camera on all corners of Vance's cell. Maybe he can ask Coran, because he doesn't want to particularly ask Pidge yet. The poor kid hasn't spoken since Vance let himself into his cell, choosing to throw themselves into finding a cure for Lance. Keith can only hope Shiro is making them take breaks. In fact, he hopes the entire team is taking at least some breaks. Everyone is pushing themselves past their limits to find something for Lance, and if they forget to eat on a regular basis, then how will they all stay functioning when something like this comes up? The least Keith can do is set up some sort of camera system with Coran's help and deliberately force them all to eat. 

   With Vance shifting around mere feet in front of him, Keith keeps his eyes closed and figure defensive. He doesn't have to listen, just be aware, and that's how he spends the rest of his shift, only moving when Hunk touches his shoulder with a hard face. When Keith checks the little clock by the end of the hallway door, he sees that it really has been five vargas and that his shift is up. He also notices that Vance goes completely quiet when Hunk sits down in Keith's spot, but he shrugs it off as he pats Hunk's shoulder back before leaving. His pace increases as he nears the door, and he's suddenly running as he heads to the bridge. He just needs to help somehow, and the faster he gets there, the faster they can find a cure for Lance. He's not giving up on him.

            ~~~

   Coran installed the camera in the cell when Allura finished her shift, two people after Hunk. Now, permanently pulled up on a holoscreen next to a couple different screens is the view of Vance’s cell without any blind spots. There is technically four cameras, and you can switch between them for different views of all the corners of the cell. There’s an option to mute the sound, and there’s also a speaker that leads into the cell. 

   With the camera installed, everyone was able to throw more of their attention into finding a cure. Shiro used Keith’s suggestion to contact the Veliyan’s, and suddenly they had so much more information to go through but it seemed more accurate than randomly searching the galaxy databases. Keith held true to his thoughts and forced Pidge to eat and catch a couple hours of sleep, and then he made sure that everyone else had eaten something in the last seven vargas. After doing so, he returned to Pidge when they woke up, already typing at their computer harshly. Keith tugged them along to the bridge, where they slunk down into their seat to balance their computer on their lap. Currently, the screen is filled with little words and symbols and Keith glances over Pidge’s shoulder to see them muttering to themselves. He taps them on the shoulder.

   “Can I help?”

   Pidge nods, and quickly sticks a little hard drive into the machine and presses a couple keys before whipping it back out and handing it to Keith. “This is a couple different articles Orrin sent. Look for catchphrases like ‘possession’, ‘stolen memories’, and ‘Galra’. If you think you found something, refer to the notes on Allura’s screen. We’ve got everything we know so far on there. If it matches, just speak up.”

   Keith nods, and makes his way to his own chair to plug the drive in. Instantly, six different holoscreens pop up, filled with different languages. When Keith touches on, it enlarges and shrinks the others, and suddenly all of the words translate to English in front of his face. He doesn’t take time to marvel; he starts reading. 

   Keith doesn’t find anything in the first article, so he switches to the second. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. He’s spent hours on these things, reading every page. Each article is nearly nine pages long, and they seem to be research papers of some type, or a medical log? All of them are backed up with evidence and at the end, there’s some theories about connecting different studies. For alien-to-English translation, the words make sense but it’s medical and scientific as fuck. Keith sighs and rubs his burning eyes before swiping the pages away and pulling up the shorter sixth article.

   Keith goes to Pidge for more when he finishes.

            ~~~

   Keith jerks awake to the sound of singing, his face resting in the palm of his hand as he leans his elbow on his chair. The glowing screens of his medical papers in front of him haven’t moved since he closed his eyes for a short nap, but the position of his teammates sure have. Keith frowns, running his hand down his tired face, and stands up. The holoscreens disappear for a second before materializing back into place as he walks away.

   “What’s going on?” Keith walks up behind Allura. Her hand is over her mouth, and she seems to be worrying about something on the screen. Hunk looks pale, Pidge is somewhere between angry and distressed, Shiro is a face devoid of emotion, but the way his hands clench tells all, and the only way you can tell Coran isn’t a pale statue is the gleam of unshed tears in his eyes. “Guys?”

   “He’s alone,”

   “He’s alone...inside...his head.”

   Keith freezes at the sound of Lance’s gravelly voice, every note that he sings drawn out at the start but quick at the end of the verse. It’s the same tune he was humming when Keith went for his watch.

   “He’s crying,”

   “He’s crying...inside...his head.”

   “He’s dying,”

   “He’s dying...inside...my head.”

   “He’s screaming again,”

   “‘Let me be free’,”

   “He’s screaming again,”

   “‘I won’t let them see’.”

   Keith grits his teeth and attempts to reach for the mute button but something in Shiro’s eye makes him stop. He takes a shuddering breath and forces himself to listen as Vance’s song picks up the pace.

   “Poor little Lance, all alone,”

   “Your father hates you, it isn’t your home,”

   “Stupid, stupid Lance, he doesnt love you,”

   “He took every chance to come and beat you,”

   “Poor little Lance, bleeding and broken,”

   “Took the Garrison road, what a lucky token.”

   Hunk gasps in a breath as Vance sings. He stares at the others who desperately await an explanation. “He’s telling Lance’s life. It’s a review of Lance’s life.”

   “Dumb, naive Lance, you’re not worth much,”

   “Without you, simulations deliver in clutch,”

   “Dumb, naive Lance, you’re not a fighter,”

   “Without you, Blue would be much lighter,”

   “Stupid, stupid Lance, why can’t you see?”

   “The reason I’m here is because you didn’t flee.”

   “Okay, turn it off! I can’t-“ Keith reaches for the mute again, but this time Shiro grabs his arm and forces it down, shaking his head. Keith can feel despair welling in his chest. “Shiro, please!”

   “Hehehe...”

   Keith watches helplessly as Vance starts laughing, head falling back so his mouth can open wider. The laugh almost turns into a complete scream, and using Shiro’s distraction, Keith slaps the mute button with his other hand before turning away and sitting back down in his chair. His heart is beating wildly, and he can’t seem to focus. God, fuck.

   Keith ignores the looks that are sent his way as his teammates slowly return to their unassigned assigned work spaces. Shiro touches Keith on the shoulder as he walks by, and Keith nearly shrugs it off but holds himself back as another article translates in front of his eyes. Keith stifles a yawn and blinks away tears. He refuses to believe that they’re connected to Vance’s singing.

            ~~~

   Keith found Hunk by accident.

   He was walking back from the bridge, too tired to read but too wired to sleep. He ended up resorting to wandering the halls of the Castle, mind blank for once. He had just turned a corner that would slowly lead him back to his room, but wasn’t expexting to see a slouched, trembling figure crouched against the corridor wall. Keith had frowned before softly calling out the name of his fellow Paladin.

   “Hunk?”

   Instantly, Hunk jerks and sniffles, and as Keith approaches, wiping his face face on the sleeves of a sweater. Keith recognizes it as one of Lance’s old ones that he bought from a space mall, but ended up tossing it in the wrong machine to wash, enlarging the sweater past what Lance wanted. He had given the turquoise sweater to Hunk after a hard mission, when they were all catching their breath in the lounge area, laughing that it was a mix of their colours. Team Hance strikes back.

   Keith walks up right next to Hunk, who has given up on trying to tidy himself. Keith sits next to him, braving his back against the wall as he splays his legs out. In front of Hunk is a computer, the screen dark but a couple lights on the keyboard let Keith know it’s probably just sleeping. He’s pretty sure Pidge built it for Hunk’s birthday.

   Keith doesn’t look at Hunk as he sniffles and untucks his legs from under him to mirror Keith’s position. The low glowing lights of the Castle illuminate both of their faces just enough to see the mutual pain. Hunk hiccups, the sound echoing in the silent hall, and Keith feels him reach for his hand, which he immediately gives. His trembling fingers wrap around Keith’s hand, enveloping it.

   “I-I-“

   “It’s okay, H-“

   “-No it isn’t! Dont you see, Keith?! This is all happening because of us, and we can’t even find a way to fucking help him!” Keith hides his wince when Hunk’s fingers nearly crush his own. Hunk's hand nearly encompasses Keith's entirely. He stays silent when Hunk kicks out at his own computer in a fit of almost uncharacteristic anger, sending the electronic sliding across the hallway. He stays silent when it thuds against the opposite wall. “We can’t help him because he’s down there, stuck with a physical embodiment of his insecurities and emotions and all we did was make it worse! Did you see the look in Len’aay’s eyes when they told us about the possession?! This is our faults!”

   Hunk stands halfway through his sentence, pacing the hallway and tugging at his hair with glassy eyes. His bandana is missing. Keith watches and listens.

   “We ignored him. We made him feel small and alone and insignificant. We took out our anger on him. We- I was horrible to him...he went around a-and apologized to me and everyone else after his mission and I ignored him. I yelled at him when he was trying to make amends and it made it worse! God, and I knew about his anxiety and his depression and I still yelled! He covered for me, he took care of me when I was torn up over leaving Earth and-!”

   Hunk stops, face a desperate and crushed image of pain. Tears slip down his cheeks but he doesn't move to wipe them away. “I was there after he got cursed. I could have helped him but I walked away. I abandoned him. God, I abandoned him...”

   Hunk fists his hands in his hair, pulling steadily. His breaths come out faster and shorter and Keith immediately stands up to envelop him in a hug. Hunk trembles against him, and his hands tangle desperately in the folds of his shirt. Keith doesn’t speak; he wouldn’t know what to say anyways. Lance is much better at that than anybody he knows.

   Rubbing Hunk’s back in a way he hopes is soothing, Keith stands in the hallway with Hunk for an undetermined amount of time before slowly directing him back to his room. Keith steps over the mess of the floor and clears off his bed from electronics parts, and physically tucks the bigger Paladin in.

   Keith turns to leave, but Hunk catches his hand and his gaze. They don’t speak, but through the red rims of Hunk’s eyes, they convey a grateful message.

   Thank you.

   Keith allows himself a small smile before squeezing their hand softly. Hunk retracts it slowly and rolls over as Keith allows the door to slide shut behind him. He goes straight back to his room to try and fall asleep. 

            ~~~

   It’s been a few days since the camera caught Vance singing for the first time. The next time was when Keith was sleeping in his room, and the disease just kept singing the same song over and over. The third time was when Keith was reading articles again, but Coran muted it with a hard fist as soon as the first few notes flooded the bridge.

   Keith sighs, and runs his hand through his hair. It feels greasy, and he realizes that he hasn’t showered recently. Recently being over a week ago. He should also drink something and probably try to get more than three hours of sleep but he just needs to finish this damn report and apparently Pidge’s code isn’t working as well as he thought because the words are choppy and mixed there’s untranslated bits and-

   Keith stops. There, in the middle paragraph of the entire article: ‘There is, however, the more discreet but effective form of interrogation. This method is beyond dangerous with for interrogators and can prove fatal to the victim victim. That method involves slow slow victrai possession of the victim via corrupted quintessence, generally over the course of grapk goqa two weeks (depending based regarding the victims mental state), and flayi strabnach creation of a twisted persona of the victim victim who may or may not work for with interrogators.’

   He scans over the - luckily translated - title of the article: ‘The Incorporation of Quintessence into Forceful Interrogation’. Keith quickly reads the end, which is a full two pages down, and finds the topic the same. Keith feels his heart jump in his chest, and he waves his hand wildly in the air, still reading from his screen. It feels as though fresh air has been pushed into his lungs and he can breathe again.

   “G-guys!”

   Pidge looks up from their computer and looks at Hunk and Shiro, who both eye Keith before walking over. Allura and Coran are slower, but Keith is already talking before they reach him.

   “This is the thing! The thing that’s in Lance, this is information on it, look!” Pidge leans hard on his shoulder, reaching out to enlarge some parts. They read quickly, and when their eyes go wide and Keith can feel the shocked gasp run through them, they instantly send the article to Allura’s holoscreen, where it is set for all to see.

   The team converge on the screen, Keith in the front to point out where the beginning of the priceless information is. “Look! It mentions corrupted quintessence and t-the twisted persona! That’s exactly what’s happening here, isn’t it? The spell with Haggar, how this disease knows everything about Lance because it’s become part of Lance?!” Keith looks wildly around, heart threatening to leap from his chest. “We can use this to save him!”

   Shiro, always the voice of reason, puts both hands on Keith’s shoulders. He makes Keith look at him, his expression partly kind and partly concerned. “Keith, calm down. It’s great that you found this, but I think you need to focus on yourself now.” 

   Keith scowls, and looks to Allura, who is reading the article. “Can you contact Veliy 52? If we can base our search of this and ask if anyone on the planet knows anything else, it should help us.” At Allura’s hesitation, Keith clenches his fists. “Please, Princess. We haven’t found anything as good as this yet and we can’t waste it. Not if it means we can help Lance.”

   There’s a few seconds of tense silence. Keith wonders if anyone else can hear the beat of his heart and the gears turning in his head. He keeps looking at Allura, who purses her lips and finally sighs, reaching for something on the holoscreen. Her fingers work quickly against it, and a beeping sound fills the silence as Orrin’s face fills the screen she has enlarged. 

   “Paladins of Voltron, how can Veliy 52 assist?”

   “Orrin, one of our Paladins has found something that contains useful information that may help Lance. You’ve assisted us so much already and I hate to ask more, but is there anybody on Veliy 52 that May know more about us article...?” With a flick of her wrist, Allura sends a copy of the record that Keith read, and when Orrin turns their head towards the left, Keith assumes they’re reading it.

   “Hm. This record is old, very old. I’m very impressed that you were able to find a translation code, as this language is bordering on death. ” Orrin seems to lose themselves in thought for a few tics before jerking and Keith holds his breath as their black eyes light up. “I may have the Veliyan!”

   The Castle’s inhabitants can only stand there frozen and Orrin turns away for a second, beckoning at a dark blue Veliyan. Am exchange occurs between them, and the navy Veliyan runs off into the crowd on powerful legs. Orrin turns back to the screen. “I have called For an Elder Veliyan, one who has dealt with massive interrogation techniques over the years. They may have a way we can put this information to good use. I can send them to the Castle of Lions, if you require?”

   Allura seems to melt in relief, and Keith finally remembers to breathe. “Please, Orrin. Voltron cannot thank you enough for all you have done.” 

   Orrin bows his head to Allura, and they both speak a quick farewell before closing the screen off. Silence falls over the bridge, but unlike the mood mere minutes ago, this silence is buzzing with hope. This silence is striving for some kind of cure for Lance. This silence is craving the knowledge that Lance will be okay.

   This silence lets Keith breathe.

            ~~~

   Lance can’t speak.

   He screamed his throat so raw it hurts to even breathe. 

   Why can’t he see anything?

   Why can he see blue bars?

   Where is he?

   He doesn’t know.

   Clueless.

   That’s him.

   Clueless.

   He’s lost. 

   Why is he crying?

   Where is this place?

   Why is it crushing in here?

   Where is here?

   It’s dark.

   Too dark.

   Lance doesn’t like the dark.

   Dark.

   It’s cold too.

   Cold.

   Cold.

   Hurts.

   Cold.

   Keith.

   Warm.

   Cold.

   Dark.

   Clueless.

   Lance doesn’t like the dark.

   Where is here?

   His throat hurts.

   Keith.

   His chest hurts.

   P-

   All-

   Keith.

   Dark.

   Why is he crying?

   His lungs sting.

   H-

   Keith.

   Cold. 

   He can’t breathe.

   It’s cold too.

   Keith.

   Keith.

   Shir-

   Co-

   Cold.

   Cora-

   It’s cold.

   It’s dark.

   It’s crushing.

   It’s drowning.

   He’s so done.

   He can’t.

   Done.

   No.

   Fight.

   Wait.

   The light.

   The light.

   The light.

   There’s-

   Keith.

   The light.

   Keith.

   Keith is in the light. 

   Keith is in the light.

   Keith.

   The light.

   Go. 

   Lance needs to kick.

   Breathe.

   Kick.

   The light.

   Kick.

   Kick.

   Kick.

   Breathe. 

   Kick.

   Bright.

   Reach.

   Bright.

   Kick.

   Gasp.

   Keith.

            ~~~

   The Elder Veliyan that arrives on the Castle is the same height as Pidge and less muscle on them then the mice, but they carry an aura of power that makes Keith stand straighter when they hobble into the room, escorted by the same Veliyan that brought Len’aay back to their home.

   The small alien is a blue so pale they look white, and their grey hair is buzzed very short, showing off silver dusted scales on their cheekbones. Black and silver makeup adorns their face, and the  baggy black sash wrapped around their waist and over their shoulders has slits for their thighs and arms, something like Greek gods would be drawn wearing. The Veliyan supports their weight on a staff much like Orrin’s, but this staff is black and decorated in pale blue markings. A yellow, orange, and red bead trio dangle from the top of the staff.

   Keith eyes the staff as another blue bead reveals itself from underneath the others. It’s chunky and sharp looking, not like the warm smooth beads, and seems to pulsate in the air. Keith swears it looks familiar, and he realizes it’s the same type of stones scattered around Veliy 52 at random. The Veliyan he had first talked to explained that the stones helped emotions reach others through waves, not just physical chemicals in the brain. This Veliyan just brought one with them.

   The Veliyan nods kindly at all of the Paladins and Alteans. “(Defenders of Voltron. I am the Elder Veliyan sent under the request of Orrin to assist you with the translation and execution of a probably cure. My name is Pleo.)”

   Allura steps forwards and smiles kindly. “(Elder Pleo, we can’t thank you enough. Please, the ledger is here...)” 

   Keith watches as the Veliyan and the Princess pass by, all of the air whooshing out of his lungs. Keith catches movement on Vance’s cell cameras, but luckily Shiro is there before him and sighs at the screen. Keith motions questioningly, and Shiro purses his lips amd crosses his arms. When he speaks, it’s softly and with consideration for the Veliyan in the room.

   “He’s dancing again.” Keith nods, not knowing how to respond exactly. Shiro sighs, and motions for Keith to follow him out of the bridge. Keith obliges, knowing in his gut there’s nothing they can do until Pleo is able to decipher the article. Which is hopefully soon, because this entire damn Castle is going through Lance Withdrawals and it’s horrible.

   The Castle is cold. No, the thermal readers aren’t broken; Keith means the Castle is just cold without Lance. It’s empty without his laughter filling the spaces. It’s silent without the sound of his running feet in the hallways. Its old age is pressuring without the young humour provided by Lance. It’s just cold, and Keith would go so far to say dead. It’s affecting all of the team, as well.

   Hunk’s food turns out bland and over cooked, his emotions coming out in his baking. Shiro is more withdrawn, but Keith can tell he’s trying to stay active for the team. Pidge is blaming themselves and desperately trying to run parts of the Castle in Coran’s absence; the old Altean spends most of his time in his room. It’s better than Lance’s room, which he cleaned from roof to floor with chemicals and space tools and he even replaced the bathtub. Allura is still the voice of reason, and she moved the Castle to a secure place in the gravity belt of Veliy 52. The Galra won’t be able to find them, as they were overpowered here. Keith overheard the Princess and Shiro when she aired the thought of finding a replacement Paladin, but the notion was wiped when Shiro immediately shot it down. Allura had instantly scolded herself. All in all, it’s fucking bad.

   Keith keeps his eyes on Shiro's broad back as they walk a bit into the hallways, coming dangerously near the place where Len'aay told Keith about Lance's condition. When Shiro turns to face Keith, his expression filled with something mildly sympathetic. Keith decides he doesn’t like it.

   “Keith, I know this has been hard,” Shiro says, lifting one side of his mouth in a quick attempt at a smile, “And the entire time is affected.”

   “I know, Shiro. That’s why I’m trying to fix it.”

   Shiro sighs. “I realize that...and you’ve been taking care of all of us.” At Keith’s raised brow, Shiro motions with his head to the bridge. “Hunk let slip what happened in the hallway, and Pidge mentioned you helping them at the very start.”

   “Oh. Yeah...” Keith trails off, awkward in receiving acknowledgment. He was just looking out for his teammates - his family - in a hard time. “I just...”

   Shiro stays quiet so he can finish. “They were so broken up about the entire thing, like all of the events they never knew about were piled into one shitstorm and it just exploded. They were frustrated, I could tell, and just needed someone to unload on and i was there and awake, so I just...” Keith searches for words, “Listened. They just needed to get it out, and as amazing as computers are at following orders, they aren’t very good at comforting, and food doesn’t hold the same feeling as people. I mean, I’m not either and I hope they’re okay but I tried...”

   This time, Shiro does smile softly and places a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Exhaustion makes him lean into it. Shiro’s strong; he’s able to support Keith. 

   “You did great, Keith. They’re okay- well, as much as you can be in this situation. Hopefully, Elder Pleo can translate the rest of that article. The one that you found.” Shiro looks directly into Keith’s eyes, but Keith doesn’t feel cornered. “Now. The reason that i called you out here.”

   Shiro squeezes his hand once before letting go. “Are you okay?”

   Keith blinks. Is he okay? 

   “I guess. Why?”

   Shiro sends him a look that just screams ‘I’m calling your shit’.

   “Remember when we first put Vance in the cells? You were pretty not okay then. And I forgot to check on you. I’m so sorry, Keith.” Shiro drops his gaze guiltily before looking back up. “So I’m checking on you now. Are you okay?”

   When immediately Keith opens his mouth to answer, Shiro silences him with a hand. “Think hard, first. I want an honest answer.”

   Keith stops, and crosses his arms loosely. An honest answer? He was honest, wasn’t he? His brow furrows, and he looks back to Shiro with confusion playing in his gaze. Shiro, bless his fatherly soul, helps him out.

   “Close your eyes, and think about how you felt before Lance’s solo mission. Find something that you can focus on that gives you a strong feeling.”

   Keith obeys, and his eyes slide shut. Before Lance’s mission? What happened before Lance’s mission...?

   Another food fight. Keith remembers the cuffs coming out again, only this time the Paladins were paired; Coran as the referee, Shiro and Hunk, Pidge and Allura, and Keith and Lance. Keith and Lance had dominated, what with Lance’s aim with a bendy spoon and Keith’s abilities with dodging spicy projectiles. Lance had smiled so big that day and Keith had nearly been hit square in the face with a chunk of curly pink noodle things. That had been a good day, and Keith realizes that the corners of his lips had turned up at the thought.

   “Alright. Now, Keith. Find an event after Lance woke from his coma.”

   Keith’s smile disappears immediately and his eyes clench as the taunting image of pink eyes fills his head, replacing Lance’s smile for Vance’s grimace. It hurts.

   “Open your eyes, Keith, and look right at me.”

   Keith does, and he can feel his eyes burning with unshed tears. God, hasn’t he cried enough?

   “Are you okay?”

   Keith stares at Shiro for a few seconds before he feels his chest constrict and he’s sure his face crumpled as he slumps forwards into his surrogate brothers waiting arms, shaking his head slowly, at first, before he’s tucked into Shiro’s embrace, furiously shaking his head as he shudders. There’s no actual tears; his face is dry. But the way his shoulders shake and the way Shiro brushes his hand over his hair and makes soft, comforting sounds suggests otherwise. 

   “Breathe, Keith, just breathe. Remember, you found that article. Orrin has sent someone to help translate it and put it into action.” Shiro rubs Keith’s back, grateful that the Red Paladin allowed himself this release. “This may be our shot to get Lance back. And we aren’t going to let it slip by.”

   Keith inhales, shaky, but clenches his fists and his teeth and nods firmly.

   They are going to save Lance, and when they do, for all his avoidance of human interaction, him and Keith are going to have words.

            ~~~

   Pleo has the article translated within the varga.

   Shiro and Keith had just walked back from the kitchen to the main bridge to find something to eat and drink when Pidge has nearly bowled both of them over after they burst from the doors. They hasn’t even opened all the way, and the Green Paladin was dragging both surprised males back with them inside. Excitement is written all over their face, and Keith looks up to see Hunk and Coran typing at their screens and Allura facing Pleo with a large grin. As soon as Keith steps into the room and he can see that blue stoned staff, the almost physical feeling of excitement, anxiety, and determination nearly choke him. He was right; emotions are traded through those stones. Len’aay must have had one on their person somewhere.

   “Pidge-“ Keith hisses, mindful of the Veliyan in the room, “What the hell are you doing?”

   The Green Paladin barely spares him a glance before shoving him towards the closest holoscreen. Keith’s eyes focus on the words, and he recognizes the title as the same one he has found. His gaze floats down, and he realizes he can read the entire thing. 

   “You translated it?!” His yell is met with a grimace from Pleo, and Keith quickly apologizes through the emotional bond.

   Pleo nods their acceptance, and takes on a smug aura. “(Of course. I helped create the language.)”

   Keith feels his jaw drop. “(Just how old are you?)”

   Pidge smacks him for his blunt question, but Pleo just chuckles. “(Young Red, I am many, many deca-pheobs old. As old as the Galran Lord, or older, if you may believe.)” Pleo looks at their own copies of the article, one that Keith sees is completely alien symbols, and one is those alien symbols translated to English letters but not English words. “(This language is dying, but by using the codex the Young Princess and the Young Green helped create, learning it is much easier than before.)”

   Pleo motions towards Keith’s copy. “(Please, use this to help the Young Blue. There is a counterspell that can be cast to reverse the affects of the original spell. It was created exactly for this certain spell, when it was accidentally cast on one of the mages during testing. The fools hadn’t thought to create an... antidote, if you will, before testing the interrogation.

   “(I must warn you, though. The counterspell may have been successful when the mages casted the spell, but it is just as unpredictable as it’s opposite. It may not work as you expect it to and it may not work at all.)” Pleo bows their head to their tense audience. “(I give you my hope for succession. Please, try to save the Young Blue.)”

   Pleo glances up, and offers a small smile. “(Please... my and my leikal’s grandchildren are missing him... they often speak of him with anxiety in their emotions and I know the Young Blue would not like to further worry them. Even Len’aay speaks of him, and they have never met him personally.)”

   Shiro blinks, and motions halfheartendly towards the screens. “(You’re related to Len’aay?)”

   Pleo nods again, but gives no further context or words until the Veliyan escort returns. They only close their eyes briefly in farewell, and shuffle out of the room. 

   It’s quiet for less than three seconds before Pidge starts shaking and their legs buckle under them. Shiro catches them before they hit the ground, though, and Keith nearly does the same thing when Pidge starts giggling nervously. 

   "It's almost over... we can almost save Lance..."

   Keith allows himself a small smile, and he turns back to the translated version of the precious counterspell as Shiro agrees with Pidge quietly.

   "It's almost over..."

            ~~~

   There's a few ingredients for the physical properties of the spell that are stored on the ship, thanks to Coran's ancestors, but there are some that are crucial. Apparently the mages played around in seeing what ingredients were not required to do the spell and only strengthened them, and the results were traumatizing. The team instantly agreed that they would collect every single item and it's recommended entirety and more. They will make this work. 

   Keith had just returned from his mission with Hunk, using the Red Lions swiftness to collect falling rocky chunks of Albonian awulkka from the inside of a mountain, which Hunk had drilled through and was using Yellow as a support to keep the cave from falling in as Keith and Red flew back and forth. They collected as much that would fit in Red's mouth, and quickly flew back to the Castle. It had been over two weeks since Pleo translated the article, and the team was getting anxious as Allura sorted through their piles of ingredients. This had to work. 

   Allura looks up to her team from where she is knelt next to a pile of the red stone Keith and Hunk just collected. Her eyes are gleaming with determination and energy. 

   Because the spell calls for someone with the same blood as the original caster, Allura is the only one who can perform the spell. She's been resting for the last week, preparing to put the counter spell into action. She's brimming with the need to do something, and it's slowly approaching with every addition to the pile beside the cryopods. 

   "We just need the petrified bark from the planet of Ymflor and we have all we need!" Allura's glee is contagious, and Keith and Hunk high five each other. Pidge and Shiro are gone on the petrified bark mission, and should be back anytime now. Allura also sent a message to Orrin if they could Len’aay to the Castle when the final recon mission was complete as they have already seen the inside of Lance’s head, so it should be familiar. 

   Keith can feel the bubbles in his chest growing in his excitement; he hasn't been this happy in a long time, not since Lance was first possessed. It doesn't hurt any less to think about, but Keith has gotten used to the pain. 

   What he hasn't gotten used to is the space where Lance should be. Voltron hasn't been formed since Lance was taken; Blue refuses to let down her shield for anybody, snarling at those who get too close. When Keith asks Red about it, she tells him that Blue is hurting greatly with the near loss of her Paladin. Red explains that she can still feel Lance, but all she can feel of him is his pain and confusion. Red tells Keith that the Lions can all hear her crying at night, wailing and suffering because Lance is. Keith goes to Blue after that, and puts a soft hand on her barrier, whispering words of encouragement to her because she doesn't have her Paladin to comfort her. Keith ends up doing that every night for the past two weeks, updating her on how the search is going and how soon they think they can do the spell. Only recently has Blue dropped her barriers to Keith, who sits on her large paw and talks to her about Lance for comfort. 

   He finds out that Red and Blue communicate similarly, but Blue likes interpretive images while Red cuts to the chase. He finds out that Lance came to her first when he had something exciting to spill or something bad. He found out that Blue helped Lance figure out how he got cursed, but Lance still didn’t tell anyone. Keith found out that Blue cared for her Paladins deeply, diving in headfirst when she found the one she wanted. Keith had chuckled, and admitted he was kind of the same way. Just like Lance had his own bond with Blue, suddenly, so did Keith.

   Keith glances towards the holoscreens to search for Shiro and Pidge’s Lion icons, and grins wide when they seem to be rapidly approaching the Castle. 

   “They’re coming!” 

   They all trip over themselves as the team scrambles up and over to the screen, watching as the black and green icons get closer, and then watching as Black and Green circle the Castle outside and land in their hangars. Keith reaches up to minimize the screens so he can pull up the recipe portion of the article. His hands are shaking. 

   Behind Keith, Allura instructs Hunk on how much or how little they need of each ingredient. Len’aay and their guard should be here within a few doboshes to help, so Keith turns and is immediately tossed a heavy bag of something that smells suspiciously like dirt. 

   “Take this down to the medbay. Shiro is going to move L-Vance there while Pidge drops the bark off there.” Allura powers through her stutter with gritted teeth. The elation of finally rounding up the ingredients for the counterspell has faded, and now the endless possibilities of how the spell could end loom over their heads. “We can tie him down safer there, and there is more room than a cell.”

   Keith nods sharply before nearly sprinting to the medical area. Coran is already down there, shoving all the beds to the side but one solitary frame in the middle. He has done the same with the nightstands, and cleared the area around the single bed. Keith sees some wacky Altean straps secured around the solid bed frame, and he hurriedly sets the bag down on a nearby table so he can run back to the bridge and get more. 

   The next few minutes are something like chaos; everyone is trying to get the ingredients down to the medbay, almost running into each other as they cross paths in the halls. Shiro has a giggling Vance handcuffed and blindfolded, leading him gently but firmly to the medbay. When Keith seems them, time seems to stop because he hasn’t actually seen Lance’s face, possessed or not, for about three weeks now. The sooner this spell gets done the better, he decides, and helps Hunk haul large chunks of alwulkka to the medbay. 

   Sometime during the moving, Len’aay appears with the same escort guard that’s nearly twice Shiro’s size and has cool blue skin, a white ponytail, and no makeup except black dusting over all visible scales. They have a swathe of black fabric around their waist, cut with slits for their legs, and Keith spots a blue rock hanging from a thin belt. Keith also learns the guard - named Brizq’ii - is a huge teddy bear, and graciously helps them move the rest of their materials, cutting the time in half. 

   Soon, everything is in place. Allura has mashed together a concoction of things that she says strengthen the physical properties of the spell. Keith stands to the side, by the door, with Brizq’ii and Shiro on either side. Coran has a holoscreen in front of him, watching the bodily statistics of Lance as Hunk and Pidge stick electrode thingies and needles into various places on Lance’s body. Shiro was the one who activated the handcuffs, and then he used thick straps where he could to keep Vance completely immobilized. There’s even a fabric gag in his mouth. Shiro leans over to Keith to tell him it’s to keep him from biting his tongue off. Keith doesn’t move or acknowledge Shiro.

   Allura stands, dressed down in a plain shirt and what looks like the bottom half of a flight suit. Her hair is tied up, and her face is determined. She activates a holoscreen from a bracelet on her wrist, big enough to see the letters from an arms length away. She visibly inhales, and releases it again as she looks to each of her crew members individually, waiting for their personal affirmation to begin. Keith doesn’t even hesitate when her eyes land on him.

   “Alright. Remember, do not speak, do not touch Lance, and wait until I give the command after the spell is complete to do any checks. Let’s begin.”

   Allura breathes deeply, reading over the spell that she’s most definitely got memorized before closing her eyes. She slowly approaches Vance, dipping her bare fingers into the paste and smearing it across Lance’s tan forehead. Vance’s eyes narrow and Keith sees him start to wiggle in his restraints. If a spell can be suspicious, Vance definitely is.

   “Voice of dark, torture of mind, revealer of pain. You have taken over a taken vessel. You will leave without belonging and you will leave without a life.”

   The entire time Allura speaks, she holds her hands slightly in front of her, and Keith barely restrains a gasp as she begins to glow a soft white at first, and then a sweet blue that reminds Keith of Lance’s eyes. Neither of the Veliyan's really react to the glow, so Keith assumes it's part of the procedure?

   “Leave the vessel! There is no place for a spell in a breath of body. Return to the empty, return to the nothing. That is your place. That is your place of pain and dark. Leave the vessel and return to the dark.”

   Vance’s eyes bulge as Allura keeps speaking, voice strong and body rigid. Keith swallows nervously when Vance screams from behind the gag, blood dripping from his palms as he digs his nails into his own hands. Vance physically looks in pain, chest heaving and eyes searching the room frantically. Keith glanced at Coran, who raises a slow thumb as a sign that Lance’s vitals are still stable.

   “I command the absence. I command the empty. I command the dark. I command the whisper. Leave this vessel!”

   Allura steps forward suddenly and places her hands on Lance’s temples. Vance’s eyes bulge, so wide that Keith worries if he’s being suffocated, and he screams behind the gag. Allura keeps her hands there, her entire body glowing a brilliant blue now. She repeats the entire spell over and over, the blue colour growing with every word until Keith can barely see.

   Then it’s gone. The blue drains from the room faster than Keith can blink and he’s left with Allura’s heavy breathing and the suffocating beat of his heart. 

   Allura takes her hands away from Lance’s face and removes the gag with trembling fingers. It hits the ground with a clatter and Keith flinches. Did it work?

   “Coran...” Allura murmurs, “What are his stats?”

   Coran stares at his screen. “Stable...his heartbeat is elevated and his brainwaves are extremely active but stable...”

   “Good. Good, that means Lance survived the spell. He’s-“

   Allura is cutoff by a high pitched and constant beep.

   “He’s crashing!”

   Coran bolts through the holoscreen and towards the corner of the room, where he grabs two square things that look like defibrillators. Keith watches with his breath trapped in his lungs as Coran tears numerous straps off and Lance’s tank top open. Coran rubs the things together until there’s a different pitched whine in the air, and presses them against lance’s chest. 

   Keith gasps as Lance’s entire body jumps. The first beep blips, but stays flat. So Coran does it again. 

   And again.

   And again.

   Coran only stops when Allura touches his shoulder, her face wet with tears. Coran lets the defibrillators fall out of his hands like the hope in his eyes as he slowly removes the needles and suctions on Lance’s skin. Keith doesn't flinch when they clatter against the floor. What?

   Keith can hear Pidge yelling, screaming, and Hunk holding them back. Keith can feel Shiro’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing painfully. Keith can see Lance’s limp body, laying on the bed. He looks too peaceful. He looks too still. He looks too...dead.

   No, no, no, no no no!

   Keith shoves Shiro’s hand off and runs for Lance. He collapses on his knees beside the bed, gasping because he just can’t seem to breathe. He grabs Lance’s hand, hoping for it to curl around his fingers like they did after the fight with Sendak. He presses that hand against his cheek, allowing his tears to fall against Lance’s calloused skin. It’s still warm. Keith chokes on his inhale, desperately grabbing Lance’s forearm and begging for life even though he knows Lance is gone.

   Lance is gone.

   He's gone...

   “Lance...Lance please,” Keith begs, voice shaky and cheeks wet. Lance is gone. 

   “Please, Lance, please!” Keith screams, shoulders shaking with the force of his cries. He muffles his screams into the bedsheets, but it hardly stops the sound. 

   When Shiro’s hand touches Keith’s shoulder again, Keith wrenches it away and pulls himself up further on his knees, resting his head on the bedspace beside Lance’s ribcage. He keeps Lance’s hand clenched tightly in his own with the naive hope that Lance will squeeze back, and throws his other arm over Lance’s chest, hard and heavy. he can't feel Lance's heartbeat. There's only his still chest. Keith searches for Lance’s other hand, and tangles his fingers with it.

   Keith tucks Lance’s hand under his face, loud sobs quieting down to body wracking shudders and choked breathing. Keith closes his eyes, and presses a slow kiss to the palm of Lance’s hand, right over the jagged scar. He keeps his mouth there as he breathes, “Please, Lance.”

   He should have known that begging gets him nowhere. He begged for his mom to return, because he couldn't listen to the kids at school asking him questions about where his mom went. He begged for his father to come home the night of the fire, when a police officer came to the house with a pretty lady in a pencil skirt to tell him his father wasn't coming home. Keith had begged for the news to be fake when they announced the pilot's error, and it had, but at what cost? Keith knows that begging for Lance won't bring him back. Nothing will. Because Lance is gone. 

   Keith doesn’t move as the sound of Pidge’s sobs into Hunk's chest become more apparent and the touch of Shiro’s hand is a ghost on his arm. He can hear Coran consoling Allura, telling her that it wasn't her fault the spell didn't work. He’s pretty sure the Veliyans left the room because of the sheer amount of negative emotion in it. And Keith’s screaming. Lance is gone. He’s gone and now Keith can never tell him. Keith will never be able to talk to him, laugh with him, kiss him. Keith can’t do it because Lance is gone and Keith didn’t pay enough attention to-

   Lance’s fingers twitch.

   Keith gasps and straightens so fast Hunk yelps from behind him. Keith studies Lance face hard. It hasn’t moved. 

   Keith deflates back into the bed. He’s delirious. He’s just imagining things because that’s what he wants. That’s what he did when his dad died, anyways. Imagined thing-

   Lance’s thumbs brushes against Keith’s cheek in a way that wasn’t of Keith’s doing.

   “Lance?!” Keith forces himself to stand and kneel on the bed and over Lance instead of the floor. He snatches both of Lance’s hands and makes them cup his face, closing his eyes in concentration as he leans over Lance. Shiro makes a questioning noise, and moves to stop him, but Pidge makes him wait. The room falls into a heavy silence, part of it hope and part of it crushing grief. 

   Keith ignores it, evens his breathing, empties his mind, and concentrates...

   There. Right there, against Keith’s cheek. Movement.

   Keith can feel his tears returning, but this time from happiness. They fall down his face, large and heavy, and land on Lance’s cheek. Keith can't stop the smile from spreading over his face. Lance’s hands twitch again, and then his eyes scrunch before opening slowly.

   Lance blinks and Keith sucks in air, his first real inhale since before the spell started. Behind him, Keith can hear his teammates cheering and scrambling to get the Veliyans but all Keith can focus on is the sweet blue of Lance’s eyes.

   “K-Keith...?” Lance whispers, blinking rapidly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Just think how Keith feels. 

   Keith laughs, short and damp and choked, and clenches his fingers through Lance’s on his face. “Yeah. It’s me. It’s me.”

   Lance opens his mouth again, but suddenly leans over to the side and retches, body shaking as he coughs out whatever was in his throat and his gut. it sounds painful, and Keith only looks at the actual vomit to make sure Lance isn't puking up blood or anything vital. Keith let’s go of one hand and rubs Lance’s shoulder’s all the way through it, offering soft sounds that he hopes are comforting. It's almost a purr. 

   Lance clears his throat, and flops back onto the bed. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at Keith with a wonder that should be reserved for children. Keith loves how it looks on Lance’s face.

   Lance brushes his thumb over Keith’s cheekbone. Keith presses Lance’s hand even closer to his face, nuzzling into the warm skin as he closes his eyes. Lance huffs softly from below him, but Keith doesn’t pay any mind, not even as Len’aay returns to the room. He isn't dead. 

   “(Blue Paladin. I am Len’aay, a Veliyan who diagnosed and assisted your crew through finding a cure. I am so happy to see you alive.)” Keith watches Lance carefully as Len’aay speaks. He doesn’t look uncomfortable in any way, and a spark of recognition reaches his eyes. 

   “(I remember you...you were the light...you helped me keep hold...)”

   Len’aay blinks in shock, but their face softens when they glance between Keith and Lance. “(Yes, I was inside your mind once before. I may have to do so again, to check for remnants of the disease. Is that alright?)”

   Lance clenches the hand of Keith’s that isn’t on his face. His face morphs into a worry that Keith is quick to comfort.

   “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere. They want to make sure you’re okay.”

   Lance hesitates, searching Keith’s face for any lies desperately. Keith smiles softly at him, and boldly kisses Lance’s pinky finger as it trails close to his lips. Lance’s gaze softens as he stares at Keith. Keith keeps his eyes on Lance. “I’m right here.”

   Lance relaxes slightly, and nods at Keith before nodding at Len’aay. 

   True to his word, Keith doesn’t move from Lance’s side as Len’aay scans his mind for any leftover disease. Lance doesn’t look anywhere else but Keith, who takes up the movement of rubbing his thumb against Lance’s hand that isn’t on his face. Keith can hear Brizq’ii talking to the rest of the crew, so they must be explaining what is happening. 

   Len’aay pulls away with a satisfied look on their face, the large eye on their forehead closing. They smile softly, and reach out with a large hand to brush through the damp hair on Lance’s head. Keith hasn’t even noticed that Lance had been sweating, possibly during the spell. Was it hard on his body? is that why he didn't regain conscious-

   You know what? Keith doesn't want to know. He really doesn't. 

   “(The spell was as successful as it could have been. There is no presence of the disease except the memory it left, but those can be healed.)” Keith grins at Lance, excitement bubbling inside him. It worked!

   “(Blue Paladin, I am the older sibling of Frey and Bepla. They have been worried for you since your departure from Veliy 52. I am elated to be able to tell them their friend and companion is well.)”

   Lance grins at that, but Keith can see the light in his eyes die and his grin weaken when he comes to a realization. “How...” Lance stops to swallow. His voice is croaky, which Keith blames on Vance’s screaming minutes earlier. “(How long was I out for?)”

   Len’aay glances at Keith, who slouches when reminded of how horrible the last weeks were. It really took its toll on everyone, but it is going to get better now. Keith is going to make sure of it.

   “Lance, you were gone for over a month,” Keith says softly.

   Lance’s mouth falls open. Again, he searches Keith’s face for lies, but this time he seems to be hoping for one. He swallows, opens his mouth again, but no words come out. 

   Keith offers a small smile, and he pulls on Lance’s hand a little. For some reason, the usually dull white of the bedsheets looks vibrant against Lance's skin. “Can you sit up? There’s a few people who want to see you.”

   Lance nods slowly, and Keith gently pulls on his shoulders to help him get situated. Lance ends up falling into Keith, weakened. Len’aay explains that the hold of such a disease is taxing on the host, so rest, food, and gentle care for at least a week is recommended.

   As soon as Keith gets Lance settled with his head on his shoulder and his arm around Keith’s waist, Pidge comes barrelling into the room and almost tackles Lance, burying themselves into his chest. Keith can see their shoulders shaking. Lance wraps his free arm around them, squeezing his eyes shut as he does. Keith watches them with a smile on his face. Pidge pulls away with a smile and wet cheeks before wrapping their arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Lance laughs, and pulls them in tight.

   “If you had died during that spell, I would have killed you,” Pidge says, sniffling loudly. 

   Lance chuckles, and Keith catches the gleam of a tear slipping from his eye. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Pidgeotto.”

   Just as the words leave Lance’s mouth, a mass of body comes flying at Lance, making Pidge groan as they’re sandwiched between a delirious Hunk and Lance’s chest. Keith laughs breathily as Lance tries to embrace both of them at the same time, and somehow succeeds. Shiro follows the duo, and he pulls Allura in with him. Coran wiggles his way between arms and bodies so that he can hug Lance tightly, the Altean’s face a painting of relief and happiness.

   As each of the team comes and piles on Lance with love and relief, Keith feels warm. He’s so happy that he’s buzzing and he feels warm inside, so much better than the empty cold that he’d been feeling when Lance was gone. It’s so much better.

   Keith relishes in that warm feeling when they send the Veliyans off with a promise to visit when Lance is better. Lance insists on waving them away when they leave, so Keith supports him all the way to the hangars. While they’re there, Keith takes Lance to Blue’s hangar. After they find him a new shirt, of course.

   “Hey there, beautiful,” Lance whispers when they enter. Keith smiles to himself when Blue instantly drops the particle barrier and stands, releasing a roar that vibrates in Keith’s chest. In the other hangars, Keith can vaguely hear the other Lions celebrating as well. Red purrs in Keith’s head, and Blue purrs out loud. When Keith helps Lance walk over to her paw, Keith pretends not to see the tears tracking down Lance’s face.

   Lance accepts Keith’s help to get on her large paw with a grateful smile that makes Keith’s chest tight. Lance glances up at Blue’s head and Keith stands awkwardly at his side while they seem to have a private and fast conversation, various emotions flashing across Lance’s face that switch too fast for Keith to decipher. It takes less than a minute, which is much faster than Keith could ever decide Blue’s pictures.

   Lance tilts his face back down to Keith, a soft look in his eyes that Keith has craved. Keith nearly misses Lance’s question, he’s so wrapped up in his gaze. 

   “You talked to her?”

   “U-uh, yeah, I did,” Keith says, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck, “She missed you bad.” And so did I.

   Lance huffs out a laugh, and rubs his hand across the smooth metal. He laughs again, eyes drooping as he seems to get lost in his own thoughts. Keith stays silent, and settles for leaning against Blue’s paw with his arms crossed, watching Lance.

   The scars are still there; Keith traces them with his eyes as he does the shape of Lance’s cheekbones, his nose, his jaw. Keith studies how he breathes, how his lips tremble with an unheard conversation, how his fingers unconsciously and slowly stroke weathered blue metal. 

   Keith watches Lance’s face. He watches his bare skin, how the muscle has somehow stayed through the month and how his muscles roll when he moves. Keith watches Lance’s feet as he taps out an unknown rhythm against Blue. Keith watches Lance because its finally Lance. 

   It’s not Vance or any stupid disease that’s hurting Lance. It’s all Lance. Lance, who likes garlic knots and trying new foods for the fun of it and convincing Keith to do face masks with him in the middle of the night. Lance, who cares for the team like his siblings and who craves assurance and who-

   Who Keith needs.

   Keith swallows nervously, and glances up only to find Lance already staring at him.

   “Keith? What’s wrong?” Lance shuffles closer and reaches for keith’s hand, urging him to jump up beside him on Blue’s paw. Keith settles beside Lance, less than an inch of space between them. Keith almost flinches when Lance reaches for his face, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone with a concerned face. Keith inhales sharply when Lance tips his face toward him. “You’re crying...”

   Keith touches his cheeks and is shocked when his fingertips come away wet. He tries to pull away from Lance, wiping roughly at his face, but Lance doesn’t let him. He gently directs him back and brushes his thumbs across Keith’s face. Keith is too happy to care that his face is probably getting red, and allows his eyes to skip closed under Lance’s ministrations. 

   “What’s wrong?” Lance whispers. Keith barely holds back a shiver as his warm breath fans across his face. Keith reaches up with the hand situated between them, slowly, and almost puts it back down when he feels himself shaking, but he grits his teeth and latches onto Lance’s forearm - his warm forearm - and holds tight. Keith opens his eyes to see Lance’s beautiful blue ones right on him. Keith holds his arm tighter.

   “Y-you...” Keith breathes, unwilling to ruin the precious space between them. “You were g-gone for so long...and n...now you’re back...”

   Keith hiccups softly, cheeks flaming harder when more tears slip down his face. Lance wipes them away without breaking Keith’s gaze, which has his face burning in its own. “I-I couldn’t...you were...just...gone and I d-didn’t know how o-or...how to help I-“

   Keith gasps for a breath, slowly but surely losing his composure. Lance shifts even closer, and cups his face with both hands. This time, Keith doesn’t have to hold them in place because Lance is alive.

   “It hurt so bad...” Keith nearly whimpers, and shuts his eyes tight as his heart jumps in his chest. If Lance couldn’t see the heat of his cheeks, he can definitely feel it now. “Oh God, Lance, it hurt so bad...”

   “Oh, Keith...” Lance breathes, and Keith gasps as Lance reaches out and wraps his arms around him and pulls him to his chest. 

   Keith shudders this time, burying his face in the warm crook of Lance’s neck and clutching desperately at his back. Lance shushes him as he shakes, still trying to speak.

   “L-Lance, I d-didn’t know if w-w-we would get you b-back!” Keith nearly cries into Lance’s skin. Lance wraps one arm around Keith’s back and the other around his shoulders, holding the back of Keith’s head and burying his own face into Keith’s neck. Keith openly sobs, shame forgotten, as Lance shakes beside him and Keith feels his shoulder becoming damp.

   “Keith...” Lance whispers, slowly rocking them back and forth. Keith takes up the motion as well, trying to almost crawl closer to Lance as he attempts to calm his breathing. Lance sees what he’s doing and pulls Keith back so they can lean against Blue’s leg as well. Keith swallows thickly and inhales deeply, taking in Lance’s faint scent of sweat and vaguely, the ocean. It’s calming, and is probably the reason why Keith stole Lance’s jacket from his room before Coran sealed it. Keith also grabbed everything he could of Lance’s, the things that Lance brought from Earth and the things that had been gifted to Lance. They’re all in Keith’s room, and Keith has slept in Lance’s jacket since he got his hands on it. The only reason he isn’t wearing it now is because he didn’t know how messy the spell would be and he didn’t want it getting damaged or dirty. 

   Lance chokes out a laugh into Keith’s neck, and pulls him impossibly closer. Keith goes willingly, and seeks out the hand of Lance’s that ends up wrapped around his waist. When he finds it, Keith tangles their fingers and Lance gasps, so quiet that if he wasn’t breathing into Keith’s ear, he wouldn’t have heard it. 

   “God, Keith...I was so scared. I was fucking terrified.” Lance laughs again, and Keith chuckles with him. “I-I didn’t know how to stop it o-or how to make it go away. It was just...there.”

   Keith nods, encouraging Lance, who squeezes Keith’s hand. Both of their tears have stopped, leaving a hum of something in their bodies.

   “I didn’t know what to do. It was me, but it wasn’t? Does that make sense?” Lance sighs and the air rushes down Keith’s shoulder. “I would get put down, and I would physically get hurt. Blue described it as my emotional pain becoming my physical pain...I guess she was totally right because holy fuck did everything hurt.

   “And the ringing. Oh, god, the ringing was constant. It’s gone now, though, and it’s quiet. It’s quiet...” Lance trails off and Keith clenches his hand gratefully. Lance is back. “The ringing drove me crazy...heh, I probably already was anyways. It was always there in the back of my head, just this constant noise that made it impossible to sleep and function. The only time it went away was when I-“

   Lance cuts himself off and inhales shakily. Keith feels his body tremble against him. “The only time it went away was when I was underwater. So I held my breath for as long as I could. Sometimes, I forced myself to go longer just because it was finally quiet.” Lance huffs lightly. “Fuck, I almost drowned a couple times. I was so desperate for it to go away that I didn’t care anymore. I distracted myself with training. I used the pain from the disease to get through the day. I-I wanted to die, Keith.”

  Lance stops, hands going limp around Keith for a split second before tightening again. “I wanted to die so bad. It was horrible. I wanted to die to protect you, to protect the team. He- it wanted me to kill you. So I would rather die than hurt you. Any of you. And I almost did. I was so close to giving up.”

   The hangar falls into silence with Lance’s confession. Keith doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to comfort Lance. But he still has some time to think it through because Lance is still talking and crushing Keith into an embrace that almost hurts. Lance shifts back so that he can press his forehead into Keith’s. It’s warm, and Keith closes his eyes for a blissful moment before opening them part ways and looking at Lance.

   They must look like a mess. Both of their cheeks are lined with drying tears. Their eyes are bloodshot and the grip they have on each other makes it seem as they are cemented in place. Lance pulls his hand away from Keith’s only to lace their fingers so their palms press together. Keith sighs softly, breath escaping his lips and most definitely fanning over Lance’s. From the heated glance Keith receives, Lance doesn’t mind. 

   “But you. You were always there, even when it hurt the most. Hell, sometimes I got myself out of the water just because I wanted to see you smile again. You kept me alive, Keith.” Keith can feel his own lip tremble but he holds it back. His chest hurts and he can’t breathe but he still inhales and exhales just as quickly as Lance does. 

   Keith reaches up for Lance’s face with the hand that isn’t caught in the others and brushes his thumb sweetly across the scar adorning his cheekbone. Keith pulls his face away from Lance’s and catches the hurt cross his features for a split second before Keith leans back in and brushes his lips across the pale line. He’s so close he can feel Lance’s breath hitch.

   Keith presses another kiss to Lance’s cheek before pulling away and lifting Lance’s hands. He kisses all of the white lines and splotches, soft and careful, and pays extra attention to the jagged cloud in the centre of Lance’s palm. Keith takes his time on that one. 

   When the scars on Lance’s hands have been kissed, Keith looks up to Lance, who has tears brimming in his eyes and seems to not know what to do with himself. “Where else do you have these?”

   Lance hesitates. Keith expected that. He knows where most of Lance’s scars are; he was the one that helped Coran stabilize him when he passed out on Veliy 52. Keith just wants to see how much Lance still trusts him, and how slow he needs to move to make sure he doesn’t scare him.

   Lance raises a shaking hand and motions to his entire body. His laugh is hollow, and he drops Keith’s gaze with shame on his face and red ears. 

   “Everywhere. They’re everywhere, Keith. And I’m sure you don’t want to see them. They're...”

   Lance trails off with a different kind of wetness lacing his eyes. Keith snaps his arm out and wraps his hand around Lance’s jaw, raising it again to glare at Lance sternly.

   “You are beautiful, Lance.” Keith softens his voice for the next few words. “Stop me if I go too far?”

   Keith waits for Lance’s nod before tugging Lance to him so Keith can plant a soft kiss on a long line on Lance’s bicep. He follows it to Lance’s shoulder, where he pushes the sleeve of the plain shirt away so he can get to the pale marks. Keith kisses across Lance’s collarbone, sideways, and basks in the sound of Lance’s muted gasps and his heightened heartbeat.

   When Keith finishes the other arm, he moves back to Lance’s chest and motions for Lance to lie down across Blue’s paw. Lance does, carefully under Keith’s determined gaze, and relaxes with a hand behind his head.

   Keith wastes no time, kissing over Lance’s shirt until he’s almost at the hem, and then he pull away to push the shirt up. Lance yelps, stomach revealed, and Meith stops.

   “Okay? Do you want me to stop?”

   Lance sucks in a breath and quickly shakes his head, exhaling a quick, “No.” before reaching for Keith’s hand. Keith gladly knots their fingers before turning his attention to Lance’s stomach.

   Even with his time with the disease, Lance has kept in shape with training. It’s shown with the lean muscle tracing his abdomen, slim but undeniably strong and on Lance, jagged and crookedly crossed with thick white lines that make Keith’s chest ache.

   Lance keeps glancing between Meith and his skin, worrying his lip between his teeth, but Keith just pecks right above Lance’s bellybutton, the muscle jumping under contact. 

   When Lance relaxes a bit, Keith does it again, lingers longer. And then again.

   And again.

   And again.

   Keith kisses around Lance’s stomach until Lance is completely relaxed, and then only then does Keith pucker his lips and blow air directly onto Lance’s skin.

   The reaction is immediate and Lance jumps and curls on himself, surprising himself with explosive laughter and giggles. Keith only stares up at him with an innocent smile as Lance collects himself and fastens a cheesy glare at him. 

   Keith continues kissing Lance’s stomach slowly, never going lower than a few inches above his pants waistband, and slowly, softly, carefully, the intimate atmosphere returns. Lance sighs above Keith as Keith moves upwards again, nearly worshipping Lance’s body in a way that he figured out for himself. 

   Keith pushes a long kiss over Lance’s heart; the skin jumps repeatedly against his lips, and Keith moves up so he can litter soft pecks all over Lance’s neck. Keith crawls closer, and with a bold move, straddles Lance’s hips and helps him sit up against the Lion again. 

   They both take a moment. Lance is panting, Keith’s lips are tingling, and both of them are lost in the others gaze. 

   Keith reaches for Lance again, and runs his lips over the edge of Lance’s jaw, tracing his face with a single kiss. 

   “You’re so strong, Lance,” Keith whispers.

   Lance shifts under him, hands coming up to hold Keith wherever they can. 

   “You’re worth so much,” Keith says as he kisses Lance’s forehead. Lance closes his eyes and his eyebrows crinkle, so Keith kisses that smooth too. “More than anything I’ve known.”

   Keith brushes over the scar on his cheek one last time before pressing his forehead into Lance’s. Lance looks up at him, and a tear slips down his cheek. Keith wipes it away affectionately and moves closer to Lance, tilting his head slightly to accommodate their noses. He moves so slow that it seems like a million years away but he needs to make sure Lance wants to do this. 

   Lance doesn’t pull away, and instead shifts up, straightening and pulling Keith down gently. Keith barely gasps in a breath before his lips fall on Lance’s. 

   It’s sweet; Hunk had given Lance some drink before leaving and it was sweet like blueberries and honey. When Keith kisses Lance’s lips, chapped from lack of care, he can taste it and it’s so remotely Lance it makes Keith whine. Lance only chuckles into their kiss and pulls him closer.

   Keith breaks away for air but he’s leaning back in immediately; he didn’t have to go far, as Lance followed him away. Lance is the one to tip their heads to the side so they can deepen the kiss, and Keith swallows Lance’s whimper as they softly succumb to the feeling of each other. 

   Hands trace over arms and jawlines and waists; Keith finds Lance’s hand somewhere in the midst and holds it tight, using his other hand to hold Lance in place. God, he’s wanted to do this for so long... Keith keeps his hands on Lance even as they finally break away with pink lips and misty eyes. Lance follows him a few centimetres, but catches himself with a sheepish grin.

   Keith is the first one to start laughing; just a snort at the melted look in Lance’s eye that turns into a giggle and then he’s lost to the laughter. Lance joins him soon enough, and Keith decides that the tears in his eyes are definitely from laughing so hard his gut hurts and not the fact that he’s so, so lucky to hear Lance laugh again.

   Lance wipes away Keith’s tears before his own, and they help each other off of Blue’s foot with a kind farewell to the Lion. She chuckles in both their minds, sending happy pictures based around the colour purple. Lance only smiles bigger, and Keith tugs him along to his room, cheeks flaming.

   They don’t see any of their team during the walk; they do run into the mice, however, and they crawl up his pants legs to get to his shoulders. Lance laughs softly the entire time, and Keith can tell he’s fighting back tears when the largest mouse gives him a smooth oval stone. Lance doesn’t let go of it until they reach Keith’s room, where Lance sets the stone gingerly on his dresser. Keith doesn’t bother turning the lights off; he can see Lance just fine in the dim evening sequencer. God, the day passed so quickly.

   Lance stands in the middle of Keith’s room, arms loose by his sides and eyes tracing the walls and few decorations. Keith watches by the door, leaning just past the sensor so that it doesn’t close just yet. He watches nervously as Lance’s gaze lands on his own supply of facial care supplies, and then a small stack of clothes on the dresser. Keith tenses further when Lance eyes his own clothes mixed with Keith’s in a dirty pile on the floor, and then his cargo jacket laying on Keith’s bed, crumpled and beside the spot where Keith had obviously been trying to get some kind of sleep. To Keith's relief, Lance doesn't ask about it. 

   Keith feels his brows furrow when Lance reaches out to a picture above his bed, taped to the wall. Keith recognizes it immediately; Lance had been the one to take the selfie of them both after all, with some practise shots and angles with the new space cam. This particular one has Lance grinning brightly at the camera and Keith half smiling with his gaze on Lance, soft and vulnerable. He had stolen the picture before Lance could see it, but it’s no use now. He’s seen it, and Keith can't find it in himself to care. Lance should know by now how he feels so-

   Keith almost flinches as Lance chuckles and reaches out to touch the picture gently, knocked completely out of his thoughts. Lance smiles to himself, eyes drooping, and Keith sees him try and fail to stifle a yawn. 

   “Tired?” 

   Lance tilts his head towards Keith, and sits down on the side of the bed. “Yeah, actually. I don’t know what I was doing the entire time I was ‘gone’, but I’m exhausted,” Lance lifts his hand and curls his fingers around one of his words before setting it back down. A dark look crosses his face. “And my room is...”

   “Sealed off. Coran sealed it and sent some droid thing in to burn it.” Keith pushes off the wall and comes to sit close beside Lance, spurred on by the confidence of what happened on Blue. “I just grabbed a few things that I knew you would want. That is...if you want to stay with me...?”

   Lance nods absently, and Keith laughs through his nose at him. He wraps a daring arm around  Lance’s shoulders and pulls him into his side. Lance goes willingly, seeking out the heat of Meith’s body. Keith turns his face into Lance’s hair. It’s soft against his lips, but smells slightly of sweat. “Do you want to clean up before bed?” 

   Lance bobs his head again, and Keith helps him up with a gentle pull and directs Lance to his bathroom. 

   Keith starts the shower, and strips both of them down to nothing with soft and caring touches. He has no intention for anything more intimate than caring for and washing Lance. They can save that for another time, because that isn’t what Lance needs right now. Keith checks the water before getting in, Lance following quickly. 

   The stall isn’t the biggest, so their chests brush and their thighs press together as water cascades over Lance’s shoulder and into Keith. Keith reaches up to massage the water into Lance’s scalp. Lance’s eyes slip closed, and he groans softly. The noise bounces off the silver walls, and Keith smiles at him as they trade places easily, like they’ve been doing this for years. 

   As Lance rinses out Keith’s hair, Keith reaches for the black bottle of shampoo that was in Lance’s room. Lance seems to perk up as the smell of the sea and musk fills the shower, and he smiles at Keith as the shorter boy rubs it into his hair.

   Lance is still smiling at Keith. Soap slips between his fingers; he used too much. Keith chuckles softly when Lance spins them again, putting himself under the spray so he can wash Keith’s hair while Keith rinses his. Steam rises between their faces, and Keith snorts when Lance collects water in his mouth to spit at Keith. They trade places again, keeping each other in their gaze like they can’t bear to break it.

   Keith turns Lance away from him so Keith can access his back. His fingers trace the large circular scar on Lance’s back, and then the smaller, spell inflicted ones crossing it. Keith leans forwards to press hips lips against Lance’s spine, earning a shiver as he trails his touch over Lance’s shoulders and down his ribs. Keith gently rinses leftover suds away, and only after he’s kissed the entire span of Lance’s back does he let his sharpshooter turn back around. Lance matches Keith’s smile with one of his own, and Keith melts inside as Lance leans in close and kisses the numerous little scars on Keith’s hands and body.  

   When all of the soap has been washed away and their bodies feel clean, Lance tugs Keith partly out of the water stream and against the cool wall beside them, using his body to press him against the metal. Lance leans in slowly, and Keith's eyes slip closed as Lance kisses him.

   Keith runs his hands up Lance’s chest and over his shoulders as Lance’s hands move down to Keith’s waist and back, merely holding each other in place as they tilt their heads with soft, chaste kisses. Keith can feel Lance puffing air out through his nose against his cheek, and Keith can almost taste the ocean on Lance’s lips. He feels warm, and not just from Lance’s embrace and the water. 

   They kiss until Lance yawns widely in the middle of another kiss, prompting a little giggle fit from both of them. Keith shuts the water off, and they take their sweet time towelling each other off. Lance cracks jokes about Keith’s mullet, and Keith is so grateful to hear them again that he can’t even summon the brain power to shoot a comeback. 

   Lance borrows a pair of Keith’s boxer briefs and sweatpants, and Keith dresses in the same attire before crawling into bed. He slips his arms into Lance’s jacket before motioning for Lance to join him under the covers, which Lance accepts without hesitation or question. 

   They tussle with the blankets for a few minutes, finding their balance, and finally settle with them facing each other and pressing their faces into the others neck. They have one hand each that’s tangled together, and the other is wrapped around some body part. Their legs are locked so tightly, the only way you can tell whose is whose is because of the skin tone of their feet. Keith doesn't know where he ends and Lance starts, they're wound together so tightly, and just that idea reminds him of something Len'aay said-

   It falls into silence, and Keith is so tired, but he has to know-

   “Do you know about leikals?”

   Lance shifts. “I do.”

   “How?”

   “Those kids on Veliy 52 - Bepla and Frey - told me about them. Heh, when I was caught looking at you, actually.” Lance kisses the side of Keith's head, almost absently. Keith hides his smile in Lance's neck. “Why?”

   “Are you my leikal, Lance?”

   Keith’s voice sounds smaller than he wanted it to be, so small that it comes out as more of a breath than a whisper. He fears Lance didn’t hear him, but Lance only presses a smile into Keith’s shoulder and when he speaks, Keith can hear the tears before he feels them. 

   “Of course I am. I-“ Lance sniffles, but he continues strong, “-I love you, Keith. My leikal.”

   Keith grins wide, and burrows deeper into Lance’s warmth. His eyes are stinging. “My leikal...I love you, too.”

   The room falls quiet again, and neither of them make a move to start an actual conversation. Lance just keeps kissing him absently, and Keith takes up the movement of stroking Lance’s back, tracing over the edges of the large scar he first got in this war, protecting Coran from an explosion.

   Keith is so warm, and he whispers this thought into Lance’s bare skin, earning a snort and a soft kiss on his own neck before Lance yawns and tells him to shut up and go to bed, Keith. 

   And Keith does. He falls asleep to the scent and touch of Lance, pressed so close that Keith can feel his breaths entering his body in his chest, and leaving his body through his mouth. Keith can feel Lance breathing, because Lance is alive.

   He can breathe again.