Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been a long night already. But now, as the wheelchair was pushed by the police officer as they followed behind the doctor to get to the proper floor, it felt even longer. There was no conversations taking place between anyone and the silence felt worse than earlier. The occupant in the chair actually preferred the chatter from before when he was being drilled as to why he was at the hospital, as dysphoria inducing as it was.

Once it was too much to bear, the patient began to cry as quietly as he could as to not bring attention to himself. Having his twin sister take him so late at night because he couldn't trust himself to drive was too much already. He tried to curl into himself, the hospital gown pulling tightly around his middle. Remembering that he'd been told he would get his clothes back once they had inspected his bag, he sat back in a normal position. Instead, he let his arms wrap around his stomach, trying to impart a little sense of security.

The elevator ride nearly made him vomit, the motion being just jarring enough for someone that typically took the stairs. Feeling someone touching him, he jumped a little in his seat. The officer was looking down at him with a sympathetic look and had rubbed the patient's arm in an attempt to comfort him. He threw the man a grateful smile, as pathetic as he was certain he looked. That expression was the look of someone who knew the main reason for his weak stomach.

“Here we are,” the doctor ahead of them announced softly. The patient wondered why his tone was so low and then he remembered he had already checked-in at the lobby incredibly late. He told himself time had passed faster than he thought and he would ask later what time it was. Sighing, he brought his gaze up to take in his surroundings for his temporary home for, what would likely be, the next week.

He was surprised to see as many lights on for the supposed late hour. It looked like staff was moving patients around to other rooms, as some appeared to have their belongings being carried as well. A couple lights in the hallway turned off, but he was brought to the room people had just come out of, a nurse having just finished changing the bedding to the one bed that had been only recently vacated.

Once fully in the room, they let him move from the wheelchair to whichever bed he wanted to take (he took the one with the new sheets, as it would be safer and warmer than the one by the window). The officer and doctor left him to his own devices, taking his belongings with them to see if anything was unsafe. There was a nightstand by each bed and a pair of desks against the opposite wall. Everything that could have been moved, with the exception of the desk chairs, was bolted down. The beds were no more than a wooden box made to fit a rather uncomfortable mattress. While the blankets themselves were warm and cozy, the pillows were stiff and seemed to be made out of plastic. The patient made a face as he squished and pushed at one of the pillows. He didn't expect to be in the lap of luxury, but this seemed to be a lot less than he anticipated and was pretty sure prison inmates had it better than this. As another wave of nausea hit, he knew his already unhappy back was going to feel a lot worse.

“Hello there,” said a female voice, trying to be quiet so she wouldn't startle him or wake anyone up. He had heard her footsteps before she had spoken, so he'd already known she was coming. She had curly, white hair down to her waist, dark skin, and bright, blue eyes. Despite her hair color, she was incredibly young. She offered out her hand for the patient to take, which he did shyly.

“Hi.” He sat down on his chosen bed and got as far from her as he could, positioning himself near the head of the bed while trying not to appear scared of her.

“I'm sure it's been a long night for you. Do you need anything before we start?”

“...no-...not right now...”

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind,” she replied with a smile as she brought over one of the chairs and sat gracefully in it. “My name is Allura.” She seemed to read his body language and stayed at the foot of the bed, not getting any closer. Looking at her clipboard full of notes and forms, she looked back up at the patient. “Can you tell me why you're here, Miss Re-”

There was a whimper from him before she could finish her question, clearly distressed by the address and near use of his legal name. As she took in more of her patient's appearance, her eyes widened as the gears in her brain made the connection. Making some circles and notes on the top form, the nurse tried again. “What name would you like me to use?”

“...Lance...please...”

“Okay, Mr. Lance.” Her voice seemed genuinely concerned and he felt his guard drop the tiniest bit. “Why are we here tonight?” She waited patiently as Lance took a deep breath to steel himself. “Take your time and only what you feel comfortable saying.”

“Just some repressed trauma bubbling to the surface. It's only gotten worse with recent events,” he added as an afterthought while gesturing to himself. “Been happening for a while but...no one in my family cares too much...” He brought his deep, ocean blue eyes up to meet hers, waiting for Allura to say anything. However, she was quiet as she allowed him the space to talk about what he needed. He then knew she was someone that, even if she didn't believe him, would at least help him with his struggles. “...it got really bad over the past few days and I...wanted to die...” Wrapping his arms around himself again, he smirked ruefully. “You can obviously see why I can't do that...but I was really close...” He looked out the window on the other side of the room, her gaze suddenly too intense. “I had one of my sisters bring me, because I think if I tried to drive on my own...I might have crashed on purpose...”

“Thank you for coming here. I'm sure it's not easy to ask for help, especially since it seems like you are used to having to take care of yourself...” She scooted the smallest bit closer without moving the chair and flipped her clipboard around to show him what she had. “I would like to go over these forms with you, if you don't mind? It's just your information so we know how to properly care for you while you're here.” He nodded as he let his legs dangle over the side of the bed, moving closer to be able to read better. She wanted to ask about his specific condition, but felt it best to leave it alone for now. The doctor would ask him about it later anyway, she was certain of that.

Going over the top sheet with him as she explained everything and answering any questions he might have had, she also went into HIPPA contracts and why everyone went by first names on their tags instead of last. Surnames were easier to track down in that respect and the psych ward had a higher level of protections deemed necessary. A small, genuine smile crossed his lips as he saw where she had made the circles; they were questions involving his identity. Next to the circles were exclamation marks, as well as a small note. It was in all caps, to show how important it was that the rest of staff knew this information.

DO NOT TREAT AS FEMALE

Filling in that he wanted to go by Lance, that his last name was fine, and that he was a trans male, he felt content with just that information. There was a few more medical forms to look over, then there was a menu for breakfast. She explained when meal times were and that the next round of sheets were typically given out every breakfast. Patients had every ability to turn down their meal if they weren't hungry, but the food would just get wasted because it had to be thrown out. He was only on one prescription drug, as temporary as it was. It had been thrown in his bag before he left his house, figuring he would need his own instead of assuming the hospital would have a regular supply of it. Wondering if there was any pain medication he could take for his back, knowing he would need it with the uncomfortable bed, he would ask Allura later what was safe for him to have.

After the last of the forms and signatures were taken care of, finding out it was well after 2am when he needed the time for when his signature had been written, another nurse came in to lock up his belongings. He had folded up his clothing, setting them on the shelving (except for his favorite jacket, which had been deemed unsafe due to the drawstring), and informed Lance that his wallet and phone was in the nurses' station in case it was needed. No cellphone use was permitted at all, unless needing to get a number off of it, then which you would make the call on the hospital phone. Asking if the temperature was okay (Lance asked for it to be turned up a little), the nurse gave him a small bin with hospital approved items; toothpaste, toothbrush, alcohol-free mouth wash, blue socks with the rubber grips on the bottom, deodorant, and a small box of tissues. Lance almost felt stupid having anticipated needing some of those things and putting them in his bag, only to be given something else.

While Allura went to drop his paperwork at the nurses' station, it gave Lance a quick moment to change out of the hospital gown and back into his regular clothing. He was a pro at the swiftness he took when changing clothing, though it was hindered for the time being. Allura came back and offered to help him with the socks. He accepted, but not without feeling embarrassed about it, and sat on the bed while she pulled them on his feet.

After finishing, she took him on a tour so he could get his bearings before bed. She went at a slower pace so he could keep up. Across from his quarters was the day room right next to the nurses' station. As they took a lap around the hall, she showed him where the therapy rooms were, as well as the psychiatrist and therapist's offices. Explaining that one nurse would make a lap around every 15 minutes to check on everyone, doors to the patient rooms had to stay open. There were seven rooms, five of them being able to have two occupants, while the other two rooms were single use for detox patients. She was about to ask if he had any questions, but his stomach growled.

“Oh dear, you must be starving with how late it is! Here...” Allura had him follow her to the occupational therapy room and went to the fridge tucked away in the corner. “Normally these would be for the nurses, but I think you need something than just the snacks we offer, given your situation. Do you like turkey?”

Taking him back to the day room, Lance sat down and demolished the sandwich he'd been given. It was as if Obatala had come down from the heavens and touched every component of his paltry meal. He watched as Allura showed him everything that was there. Puzzles, books, TV, pamphlets. The back counter was for the small snacks offered to the patients. Allura had been right when she said these snacks would not have filled him up, but he did make a mental note to grab some graham crackers and peanut butter before coming back to his room; she'd already given him two, small cartons of milk.

As he drank the first pint, Lance watched Allura make some changes to the whiteboard off to his left on the back wall. Erasing her own name, since her shift would be over shortly, she filled in names for the nurses and doctors that would be on the floor after everyone woke up. It seemed sparse to Lance. When he questioned her about it, she said that, because it was the weekend, there wasn't much going on for therapy options. Things would resume come Monday, but one of the therapists would still meet with him in the morning after breakfast. As he finished his food, Lance watched her continue making changes to the white board. There was a list of other names that he didn't realize were the other patients until his name was added to it.

• 401-A: Florona

• 401-B: Zethrid

• 402-A: Lance

• 402-B:

• 403-A: Luka

• 403-B: Rax

• 404: Takashi

• 405: Katie

• 406-A: Mitch

• 406-B: Lotor

• 407-A: Ina

• 407-B: Acxa

As he watched some of those names get moved from one slot to another, it finally dawned on him. The nurses had moved people around when he was first being admitted so he could have a room to himself. Apparently, they hadn't felt safe leaving him in his current condition with anyone he could have feasibly had as a roommate. He appreciated this concern, as he knew sometimes mental health patients could be unpredictable, as hinted at when Allura went over his forms for consent (they wouldn't force anything on a patient unless they were violent and needed to be restrained/sedated).

“Let's get you to bed,” Allura offered when she saw he was done with the sandwich once she was certain her edits were correct. Taking Lance back to his room, she quickly showed him the bathroom. It was pretty meager, like everything else. The door was open on the top and bottom and didn't have a real latch, the shower was merely that and looked like they didn't much care if someone bigger couldn't fit inside the hole in the wall, with a very basic toilet and sink. Atop the sink was a measly bar of soap and a couple washcloths. Towels had been set by his clothing on the shelves nearby.

“Anything else?” Lance shook his head while munching on his crackers in bed, thinking Allura had been pretty informative about everything. “A doctor was going to see you before bed, but it's getting extremely late and we want you to get some sleep before breakfast, if you want it. I'll inform the next shift that you came in late, so they'll be gentle when trying to wake you and not try to force you if you really can't get up. But the exception is just for tomorrow,” she added with a wink.

“Thank you,” Lance said after taking a swig of milk from the second pint to wash down his snack.

“You're welcome,” she replied with a smile. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” She brought up her clipboard and pulled something off the top. “I made a new band for you when I dropped off your paperwork. Let's get this on you, shall we?” With a confused tilt of his head, Lance held up his left arm for her to take off the old one and replace it on his wrist. His eyes glittered seeing his information and he sent her a grateful smile.

McClain, Lance R    M

E8451686    7/28/2296 (18 yrs)

9/21/2314

Curtis W Clark, M.D.

1484516897

Altea Hospital

Finally leaving him alone, Lance finished his snack, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then turned out the lights so he could attempt sleep. Trying to get comfortable was no easy task, as the pillows had no give and neither did the mattress. Allura had been kind enough to get him an extra blanket that had been warmed, as the heat had yet to really kick in and with the fall time came the dropped temps outside. Hoping to curb some of the back pain, he stuck one of his two pillows between his legs. Turning to face the wall, he rubbed comforting circles on his belly, feeling movement from within.

“...it's okay, buddy...” Lance whispered in the darkness of the room. “...daddy's getting help...”

Chapter Text

The pitiful amount of sleep he'd gotten still felt like wonders. However, it wasn't enough, as he was startled awake much sooner than he should have been. If memory served him correctly, Allura said breakfast was at 7am and it wasn't even 5. When learning of the time when signing his forms, Allura had looked at her watch. Lance had been facing the wall when he woke up and saw there was a digital clock on the shelf beside him, tucked safely behind a pane of Plexiglass in the highest cubbyhole.

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to focus on the noise that had roused him. Suddenly realizing what he thought he was hearing, he tucked himself against the nightstand while still sitting in bed and used his pillows as a shield, trying to keep himself and his baby safe. There was a lot of shouting; some sounding enraged, more sounding scared, and others seemed to be giving orders. It sounded like the nurses were dealing with a new patient that was giving them more than just a hard time.

At the moment he thought it was a patient, Lance's eyes snapped to the other end of the room. They were at maximum capacity, save for one, lone bed. Having already moved some people around so early when Lance had arrived, there was no way they would do it again when the sun was barely peeking above the horizon. His worst fears and assumptions were made real when the light snapped on and he winced at the suddenness of it all.

Not only were there nurses, but orderlies were accompanying them as well. Lance tried to make himself as small as possible as the crazed looking man was dragged into the room. Kicking and flailing, he demanded to be let go and Lance would have been shocked if he didn't wake up any of the other patients. The man seemed young, but Lance couldn't be certain with how unkempt and malnourished he appeared.

Hospital staff managed to get him to the bed by the window and the orderlies restrained him as a sedative was administered into his bicep. Not being released until the medicine took effect, they moved his body to, hopefully, be more comfortable while he was unconscious. He actually looked pretty peaceful when he wasn't prepared to fight the entire floor.

“Are you all right, Lance?” It took him a moment to react, still being in protective daddy mode. There was one actual doctor amongst the group and she was trying to get his attention. She was an elderly woman, whose features gave the impression of someone who could be stern and soft. “Mr. McClain?”

“Uh, yeah, no, I-uh...” He shook his head dismissively, as if to recalibrate himself. “I'm okay. Just a little shaken up.”

“We apologize for the kerfuffle, but there's nowhere to put him for now. Because he had to be sedated, we felt you'd be safe with him for now. I wish we had another empty bed so you wouldn't have to worry.”

“Oh! Nono, it's fine! I understand!” Lance was one to try to appease everyone around him, especially since he always seemed like a disappointment these days. Besides, he knew the circumstances were what they were.

“We'll see how he does after he wakes up and gets his papers signed. If we feel he's okay with you, then we'll let you make the call for a switch or not. However, if we feel he's not, then we'll get you situated with a different roommate regardless, either by moving him or you, whichever you prefer.” She watched him slowly come out from behind his makeshift armor. “I'm Dr. Ryner. Since it's been a rough night for you, would you like us to let you sleep in?”

The notion of not being woken up when he wouldn't even get three hours of sleep under his belt was tempting. “I appreciate the concern, ma'am. But this little man already went without a decent dinner last night,” he replied with a soft pat to his belly. Lance decided not to mention the sandwich Allura had given him from the nurses' stash, in case it might have gotten her in trouble. “I really should eat breakfast, at least to take my prenatal meds.” When Lance realized his parents wouldn't let him get an abortion, and that he was too far along to get one once he was of age, he decided to keep the baby if he was going through all the trouble. Once that choice had been made, he became quite responsible with his appointments and medication. There was enough kids in the system, and he'd found love for the baby at this point, but Lance really wished he could have stopped things from happening in the first place.

“Ah, yes, we did find those in your bag. Thank you for bringing them. We could have gotten you some, but this makes things much easier. You won't have access to them on your own, but we'll personally give you your dosage with your first meal of the day. I assume you'll try to rest between meals, then?” Lance gave her a tiny, tired nod. “This certainly can't be easy for you and I'm sorry you're even in this situation.”

“...thank you...I...” Lance gripped a pillow close to his body. “...I haven't had anyone say something like that to me...” No one had given him much sympathy through any of this, nor the things prior. Even his siblings were nonchalant about it, but were the only ones in the family accepting of his sexuality and identity. His sister that had driven him to the hospital seemed to be the only one that legitimately cared about the situation as a whole.

“I'm the one that was going to speak to you last night, but decided not to in favor of you getting more sleep. How about we talk at lunch instead of breakfast?” Another small nod, this time with an added smile. “Perfect. So we'll get you up for breakfast and your prenatal medication. We'll wake you for lunch and, regardless if you decide to eat or not, I'll speak with you then. After talking to me, you'll talk to Dr. Curtis. It's quite a bit later than he would normally talk to a patient, especially a new one, but I'm sure he'll understand once I explain the situation,” she finished as she pointed with her thumb to the black haired man in the bed behind her.

Lance was glad he'd taken the offer to speak to the doctor later. He was absolutely exhausted and could barely drag himself out of bed to pee when they first woke him up. Due to his inability to walk well from being so tired, his cereal and orange was brought to his room so he could eat at a desk instead of with the others. This was preferable to the Cuban as well, being a little jittery at the idea of being around a large group of people. Not right now, anyway.

Next to his tray were his pills; menus for lunch, dinner, and tomorrow's breakfast; a cheap marker to fill everything in; and a large, hospital cup with his name written on it, filled with fresh water. As he checked everything off between spoonfuls of Honey Nut Cheerios, he looked over his shoulder. His new roommate hadn't budged since coming in a few hours ago, the sedative still working its magic. Now that he was near the other bed, as both desks were closer to the window, he could make out his features a bit more. Oh yeah, he was definitely Lance's age or close to it. He was VERY young to be having the reaction he did at being brought in last night. The black hair was a disaster, being stuck up all over his head; it looked like it fell to his shoulders, but it was hard to tell with him laying down and his head facing away from Lance.

He was still in the hospital gown and Lance wondered how they even got him to change before being admitted to the fourth floor. Possibly hadn't expected to be in the psyche ward? The only thing they tried to do for him was the rubber gripped socks. Someone tried to get them on his feet so they wouldn't be cold. His were red instead of Lance's blue ones. Lance turned back around, took his pills and went back to his bed to sleep. The nurse was quiet as she took his tray and menus away.

“Okay, this has NO business tasting THIS good!” Lance moaned around his grilled cheese. When Dr. Ryner woke him up for lunch, he did decide to eat and she suggested he take it to her office while she ate hers as well. He was still hesitant to be around/seen by the other patients, so she took him the long way around and blocked the view from his side so they wouldn't see his bump. Lance had wanted comfort food, so had ordered a grilled cheese on rye with tomato soup. His cereal from before was obviously not something the kitchen could screw up, but he'd assumed hospital food would taste awful. Boy, was he wrong.

The timing had been perfect, as his new roommate was starting to stir as he was leaving their room. Dr. Ryner had one of the nurses go in to take care of him and get his paperwork started if he was coherent enough. If he was, he'd be talking to Dr. Curtis while Lance was out and would be back before Lance was done here. It had sounded like the man had been forced to come, so he had less freedom than some of the other patients, Lance included.

Most of the conversation was about his family's medical history. For the most part, everyone was in good health, physically and mentally. Not that the latter was ever really spoken about. It wasn't that they didn't believe in mental illnesses, they just had severe misunderstandings about what constituted as an illness. To them, he was sick in the head for “wanting to be a boy”. He also liked both men and women; they didn't take this news well either.

Since then, he was treated differently by the adults in his life, which was a huge shock for him, having grown up as the spoiled baby of the family, despite being a twin (born after his sister). Eventually, his parents had spread the news about him to the extended family and some of them had tried to “fix” him. It was how he had gotten into this mess. Due to the situation and distrust his family had for him now, he was truly alone in caring for his son. His parents were only letting him live at home until he could find a place and he was forced to look frequently, which wasn't easy (even without a baby coming) as a fresh 18-year-old. They wanted him out before the baby came.

But he wasn't telling Dr. Ryner any of that. Oh no. Where she was an actual medical doctor, Dr. Curtis was a psychiatrist. If Lance was going to unpack his baggage to only one person today, it would be the one trained to handle mental issues. She seemed to understand after her questions began to steer towards Lance himself.

“Now, Lance, I only ask these so we can properly take care of you here. We want to make you feel comfortable and any help you can give us in doing so is appreciated.” Lance nodded at her as they finished their meals. She had two cookies made by her granddaughter and shared one with him. “Have you had any gender confirmation surgeries? I know you're still young and you wouldn't have had anything done during your pregnancy, but anything prior to that?” He shook his head as he nibbled on the baked oatmeal. “Are you on any testosterone? Just to make sure any medication we need to give you doesn't have an adverse effect for anything lingering in your body, since you would have had to stop your injections because of the baby.” Lance sighed with another head shake, putting the cookie down as he suddenly wasn't hungry anymore, and began to stare at the floor. He missed her expression turn concerned and she jotted down what she needed to on his paperwork.

Dr. Curtis was a gentle, soft-spoken man with dark skin, dark hair, and sky blue eyes. He dressed in a comfortable manner, believing people were more open if he wasn't dressed like a doctor. Lance didn't unload everything, not that they had the time, but the end of his time with Dr. Ryner had plummeted his mood and he no longer felt like talking. When it didn't seem like much progress would be made today, Dr. Curtis told him they would talk every morning, or at least give Lance the space to talk if he wanted to.

Paying attention to the notes he'd received from both Dr. Ryner and Allura, he walked Lance back to his room, making sure no one else but staff could get a good look at him. Lance began to panic as a young woman pushing herself in a wheelchair rounded the corner, but they'd made it back to his room before she could see him well enough to notice anything off. Asking if he needed anything else, Dr. Curtis left him to his own devices after saying he looked forward to seeing him tomorrow.

Lance knew his roommate was up and about now, hearing the shower going as he passed by the bathroom on his way in. Exhausted, he couldn't bring himself to care if the man had another violent outburst and took it out on him. Lance would protect his baby, but he couldn't be bothered to preserve his own safety at the moment.

He would curl up under the blankets and cry himself to sleep. When dinner came and they tried to wake him, he refused to get up and stubbornly denied his meal. Lance would never actually meet his roommate that day, as the man had enough respect not to bother him. However, this meant the newcomer was unaware of anything about his roommate and both of them would have a very interesting second day. All the stranger knew was the whiteboard.

• 402-A: Lance

• 402-B: Keith

Chapter Text

The mental ward floor was quiet, save for the footsteps of the doctors and nurses every 15 minutes, checking on the patients after lights out. It was eerie for the newest charge, having been used to the hustle and bustle of the city so late at night. On the city streets, there never really was any sort of reprieve; there was always noise of some kind, whether it be cars going by his cardboard box or a club staying open later than usual. He was always on alert (you had to be at night), so the lack of sound had his senses even higher.

So, when a sudden sound came from the person on the other end of the room, he shot up out of fear. He couldn't see anything right away in the darkness of the room, the only light being in the hallway, far from their door. But the man sounded like he was fighting to breathe and that terrified him more than the silence ever would.

Throwing off his blankets, he bolted out of the door and over to the nurses' station. Trying to steady his heart, he spoke in a stuttered fashion as he attempted to get someone's attention. “R-room-m-mate! Ch-choking!” Several people went to his room and he followed quickly, seeing the light turn on.

“Lance! Can you hear me?!” the dark skinned doctor shouted, trying to get the Cuban to focus on him. “Keith, what happened?!”

“I don't know! He just started gasping without warning!” There was so much going on, he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He stood off to the side, heart hammering that he was watching someone die. This wasn't new; he'd seen people die before. Car accidents, gunshots, suicide. But this was a much more intimate setting and he didn't like the feelings that came with it. His roommate was clutching around his ribs painfully and couldn't catch his breath enough to scream or cry in agony, try as he might.

“Let me see his papers!” the blonde, pig-tailed nurse shouted, someone scurrying off to find them. Once they were in her hands, she looked them over with the speed of someone that had many years of reading quickly and efficiently in her down time. She was trying to find anything that could be medically wrong with him to have caused such a reaction. Getting to the part that said “no gender confirming surgeries”, she ran over as fast as she could to pull his shirt up and over his head. Finding this to be difficult, with how adamant he was about keeping his shirt on, she had the others help move his arms.

The newbie watched everything unfold before him as the blankets fell away from his roommate's body. Eyes widening in shock, he saw the pregnant belly before anything else. Before confusion could settle on his face, he saw it was shaped a little oddly near the top. That's when he noticed it.

“Get me scissors!” the nurse shouted as she tried to get him to calm down. “NOW!” Wrapped around his chest was several layers of medical tape and ACE bandages. One of the lower wraps had rolled down and, had done so in such a painful manner, he couldn't breathe properly. He had put them on so tightly that, now that it was so twisted, the only way to remove them was to cut them off. It had rolled down enough that it was cutting into where his belly began.

“Noooo,” Lance whined as he struggled to breathe, making a feeble attempt to push her hand away once someone had found a pair of scissors for her.

“All this pain and constriction is probably hurting your baby.” Whether it was true or not, it had the desired reaction. He looked up at her with suffering in his eyes. Her gaze was too intense, the purple contacts not helping, and he looked down for a moment to avoid it. Understanding came to his expression as he realized that she was also pregnant, just not as far along as he was. Looking back up at her as he told himself he could believe her because of this, he closed his eyes and the tears fell, nodding his consent.

Using one hand to cut the fabric, the nurse used the other to stroke his hair in the hopes to comfort him. Each careful cut seemed like eternity to Lance, feeling the dull metal side of the blade scrape against his upper back. As the bottom one sprang open, the nurse immediately gave the scissors away to another person on staff. Letting Lance lay against her as he sobbed, she balled up the ruined wrapping, feeling wet spots where his breasts had leaked milk from the pressure. The doctor took them away to be properly disposed. Being exposed as he was, Lance's roommate felt he was breaching his privacy. Uncertain if he could loiter in the hallway, he went into the shared bathroom and took a seat on the toilet.

“Can someone check the laundry room and see what we have in our largest sizes?” She knew they wouldn't have any maternity clothing, at least not for someone in their third trimester. But, even then, it would have been womens clothing and she knew he wouldn't want anything too feminine. The nurse hoped they had something in an XL or even XXL in mens just for something comfortable. With who knows how long he had his chest like that, Lance was going to have to let his body rest and a much larger shirt would, hopefully, hide his breasts from everyone else. She just had to find a solution for any extra leaking, since they definitely didn't carry any bras and would have defeated the purpose of a big shirt to conceal them.

About a half hour went by before anyone checked on him. “Keith? Are you all right?”

“Dr. Ryan!” he squeaked as he stood up from the toilet quickly. “I just-I-I didn't want to get in the way...” The doctor gave a small smile as he motioned for Keith to follow him. Taking the cue, he walked as silently as he could back into the main part of their room.

There was crying and sniffling still, but not as loudly as before. Lance's face was buried into a pillow, while the nurse finished up what she needed to do. A huge shirt was located for him, as well as a much smaller tank top. The bottom of the tank was rolled up and tucked under the breasts, being used as a makeshift bra. An actual bra, if they'd had one, would be too tight for Lance, whose chest was still red and raw from what Keith could see. Nurse Romelle was carefully layering squares of gauze over the tender nipples, hoping it would be enough coverage to not leak through the shirts and that the tank top would be just tight enough to keep them in place. Once she was done, she pulled the oversized shirt down and tried to calm him.

“Is sh-” Keith started, pinching his eyes shut. There's no way someone that acted like Lance did to his own body wanted to be a girl. Taking a deep breath, he tried again as he stepped forward. “Is he okay?”

“As okay as he can be,” the nurse replied softly, watching Lance's breathing even out as he tried to sleep. “Thankfully you're a light sleeper. His baby might have actually been in trouble with how tight that was. Even if not, at the very least, Lance himself would have suffered some damage.” Sighing, her expression turned concerned. “That is, if there's not damage from before he came here. Who knows how long he's had his chest like this without a break, especially with the pregnancy making them larger.” Peering at his face with one last stroke to Lance's hair, Nurse Romelle stood up. “He'll just need to have a physical examination daily to check for bodily trauma and if anything can be done to correct the issue.”

Keith knew trans people, mostly disowned teens that had been kicked out by their families, but he was still fuzzy on certain details. “But I thought binding was safe?”

“Not like that and, most likely, not while pregnant without top surgery,” Dr. Ryan piped in. “There are compression vests that exist specifically for concealing breasts. They are MUCH safer than what happened here, though I'm uncertain if those can be used in his case. Things like this happen when the person lives in a home where they aren't accepted and don't have access to what they need to stay safe.”

Keith couldn't even imagine the broken headspace his roommate was currently in. However, as he saw how protectively he had his arm around his belly, he smiled knowing that there was something keeping Lance grounded. Keith hoped the man could get the help he was seeking during his stay here.

Lance was quiet when everyone was woken up for breakfast. Wanting to make sure he ate, not just for his meds but from the situation earlier and that he didn't eat last night, they were persistent in making him get up. He ate with Dr. Curtis and didn't speak much again, if only because of his frayed nerves; Lance had actually meant to talk today.

After returning to his room, not really caring much at this point if anyone saw him, a new doctor gave him his physical exam. Lance only spoke when he needed to, his poor body still screaming at being released from the tightly wound medical wrappings. He hissed at how sensitive his body was, the pregnancy having amplified the feeling. The entire thing was uncomfortable, but Lance pushed through it for the sake of his unborn son, hoping getting as much care as he could would help the baby in the long run.

Ginger mustache twitching, the doctor said there might be some tissue damage, but it would be hard to tell with the surface still being so angry. He hoped a little relief from the constraints for the day would make it easier to assess tomorrow. Wagging his finger at Lance, he reminded him that his body would change to accommodate the growing baby. Even someone that had top surgery, depending on which type they had done, might experience some swelling as the milk came in. Lance wasn't sure if he had ever wanted to be pregnant, but he was almost glad he hadn't had anything done yet; if his body was going to rebel anyway, might at well make it easier on him to care for his child.

After being alone for a bit, curled up with a book he found in the day room when everyone else was busy and, as such, wouldn't stop and talk to him, he smelled something that made his mouth water. About to shut his book (crime solving Siamese cats – there were a few more in the series here at the hospital), he heard someone clear their throat. Lance looked up to see his roommate with a tray in each hand.

“Hungry?” he asked with a hesitant quirk of the corner of his mouth. “Mr.-” he peeked at the ticket next to the food, “Chicken Chow Mein?”

“That'd be me,” Lance chuckled. “Famished AND pregnancy cravings for Asian food!” Wiggling the fingers of his extended hands, he was given his lunch tray and sniffed deeply once the cover was removed from the plate.

“Want some company?” Lance peered up at him for a moment. “The nurses said that you haven't eaten with anyone yet. I don't mind either way, but I can stick around if you'd like?” The Cuban knew an olive branch when he saw one. This was their first time interacting and the newbie probably knew his arrival was less than stellar last night while everyone had been sleeping. Plus, Lance had to admit, he was getting a little lonely. He nodded with a soft smile. “My name's Keith,” he said as he set his own tray on the closer of the two desks.

“I'm Lance.” Keith did a little wave and took a chair after debating sitting on the floor. Lance watched him uncover his own lunch and start digging in like he hadn't eaten a good meal in months. Given how loosely his clothes hung on him due to his small frame, he was willing to believe it. “A chimichanga? Wow, okay Deadpool.” Keith laughed so hard water shot through his nose.

They ate in silence for a bit, neither certain what to talk about. It's not like the regular, small talk could be used in their situation and both boys had no idea what topics were off limits. Still, Lance was worried. Not that he came here to make friends, but he knew he needed more support than he was getting outside of the hospital. Obviously, there wasn't much at home, since even most of his siblings didn't believe his accusations. But in general? He didn't have many friends in the first place. Thankfully, school had been in an open minded area (he had just graduated this past June and, mercifully, Lance's bump wasn't showing much under his gown), so it didn't stem from being trans. Lance was just kind of an odd duck and didn't mesh well with most. He could count his closest friends on one hand. So, as long as his roommate was not a jerk about the trans thing, regardless of how well they actually got along, it was a start. Maybe he could make connections here.

“Does...um...does this weird you out at all?” Lance gestured to his belly when he got Keith's attention. Mouth full of food, Keith swallowed and took a moment to think about what he wanted to say as he sipped his water. He wasn't great with words, never had been, but wanted to be honest with his roommate.

“Seahorses.”

“Excuse me?” Lance blinked, confused as to how his predicament was cause for bringing up the marine animal.

“You know how they reproduce, yeah?”

“Of course, everyone does. That still doesn-” That's when it clicked, but Keith explained anyway.

“The males are the ones that have the babies. But that doesn't make them female, or even less male in general.” He went to take another huge bite of his food, but not before Lance caught the small, genuine smile on Keith's face. The Cuban smiled back, though a bit wider, as he realized he would be okay with Keith.

Chapter Text

Lance was not looking forward to group therapy. He'd come in so late Saturday night, and with very little to tell him what was happening in the outside world, that he'd forgotten it was already Monday. Thinking it was still Sunday, Lance thought he had more time to prepare himself to meet the other patients. He wasn't ready and he wasn't willing.

However, it had been pointed out to him by Nurse Romelle that there was only so much help they could give him if he didn't participate. There was a lot of insight he could gain by being involved with group activities. She also stated that, in a last ditch effort to get him to cooperate, just because one does group therapy doesn't mean interacting with everyone involved. All it boiled down to was one therapist seeing multiple people at once instead of one at a time. Not all the patients could or would share their trauma. There was only so much time and they had a full house. He could just be present and that would be enough.

Lance relented just before her shift ended, to her delight. Before clocking out, she promised he would like this first bout of group therapy and that she hoped it would get him more open to other sessions. He didn't even bother to try telling her it wasn't about sharing his pain; it was people having to SEE him. Now he was even more self conscious, despite their best efforts to camouflage his breasts.

But it did make it better that he wouldn't be forced to talk about things. They might not piece together that being a pregnant, trans man was not the biggest reason he was there, nor that being pregnant was tied to his trauma. He was certain pregnant people had been here before in which the pregnancy had nothing to do with why they were admitted. In addition, if Romelle said this might help him be more likely to attend group therapy in the future, then maybe today wasn't going to be so bad.

Knowing he had some issues getting around, Keith stood by Lance's bed and eyed him sympathetically. “Want me to wait?”

“Nah, man,” Lance replied with a small shake of his head. “I need to motivate on my own. You head on without me.” Keith nodded and hesitated for a moment before leaving. Lance steeled himself before gingerly getting off his bed, rubbing his belly with one hand as he sighed. “Welp,” he started as he looked down at his rounded abdomen, “better late than never.”

Taking his time to get to the day room, both hands on his lower back as he tried to rub a knot out, it took a moment for anyone to realize he was there. Lance expected everyone to be sitting at a table all together. However, they were all spread around; some sitting at tables, others on the floor, and more in chairs by the wall. He wondered what was going on; if there was some sort of activity that didn't require them to all be huddled in one place.

Lance knew the floor was full. Even if no one had told him, he wasn't dumb enough to have not noticed the patient list on the white board his first night. Unless someone had been released between now and then, he was aware the only free spot had been taken by Keith. But it was one thing to be aware of it and another to actually see all the people. He scanned the room, looking for a familiar face, whether it be his roommate or someone on staff.

The first thing he noticed was how different everyone looked. All shapes and sizes, ages and ethnicities. He wasn't sure what he expected everyone to look like, but this was not it. Some of them looked like they shouldn't be there, while others made him think...ah, yep, that tracks…He finally located Keith, the boy with his back against the floor, and that's when Lance realized what was happening.

Today's group therapy was not with a human counselor. Keith was cuddling with a large dog, his muzzle resting on his chest, facial markings looking like stars the way the white speckles contrasted with the black base. Looking around for more detail, Lance found even more animals. Including the one with Keith, there were three dogs and two cats, though he wasn't sure if there were more he wasn't seeing. Not everyone was actively interacting with a therapy animal and some of them had more than one person they were working with. Two men, looking like war vets, were tucked in a corner by the pantry with a small, white dog. A woman with long, red hair sat in a wheelchair, an orange cat with blue eyes in her lap as she gave him chin scritches. The black cat with the white stripes was with three people, the extremely muscular woman in the group surprisingly cooing over him the most. A scruffy, brown dog was licking the hand of the freckled, blonde girl seated at one of the smaller tables.

There was a loud laugh by the wall and Lance whipped his head around, startled. In one of the reading chairs was a teenager, giggling as a sleek, grey cat rubbed against their neck, walking along the back of the chair and the person's shoulders.

“Beezer! Stop! That tickles!” As Lance watched, trying to process an identity for this person, they looked up, honey brown gaze locking with ocean blue. A look of realization crossed their face after giving him a once-over and a soft smile replaced it. Leaning over after pulling the cat into their lap, they patted the neighboring chair. “Hey, wanna join me? Beezer's a cuddler.”

Lance returned the smile and slowly waddled his way over, carefully taking a seat next to the teenager. He groaned as he leaned back, the chair being more comfortable than its appearance would suggest. Watching as the teen grabbed their hospital cup and started sucking water out with the straw, Lance reached out to let the cat sniff his hand. Receiving a soft head bonk, Beezer would not actually get up from the kid's lap.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the Cuban chuckled.

“What can I say? I'm a joy to be around,” they replied with a snort. They offered out their hand while still holding the cup with the other.

“I'm Lance,” he said as he took the offered appendage.

“Pidge. Nice to meet you.” Lance made a face as he realized that name was not on the board with everyone else. Looking down, he saw the name 'Katie' written on the cup. As she turned away from him to continue petting the cat, Lance's expression turned to one of brief horror.

... SHE'S one of the detox patients!?...wait...He cleared his throat and schooled his countenance. “Um...I don't want to assume...so...what are your pronouns?”

She smiled at the courtesy, one that wasn't often awarded to her. “Meh.”

“Meh?” Lance cocked an eyebrow.

“I just kinda...don't care? Call me what you want, as long as you aren't being an ass about it.” Those honey brown eyes found him again. “But I do lean more into they/them; Pidge is just a nickname though.” Their eyes suddenly became overcast and the cheerful demeanor seemed to vanish on the spot. Lance scarcely believed it to be the same person sitting in front of him. He watched Pidge bring their knees up and snuggle their face into Beezer. Not another word was spoken by the teenager. Lance was concerned and was about to ask what was wrong. But he felt a weight settle on his knee and he turned to look at what it might have been.

Sitting next to him was an enormous St. Bernard, looking up at him with soulful eyes and her muzzle lay on his leg. Lazily making a soft 'boof', the dog pushed forward and pressed her nose to his tummy. It was gentle, but with enough pressure to make his baby squirm. Giving an affectionate huff, Lance pet the dog with one hand and tried to calm his son with the other. Her tail wagged slightly as one of the baby's kicks pushed against her snout.

“Aaaawwwww, did you make a friend, Laika?” said a voice that didn't sound familiar to Lance. Looking up, there was a large, dark-skinned man headed his way. “She's somehow better suited with pregnant patients. No clue why. But I knew what was up without meeting you when it was requested she get brought in.” He took the last chair available on the opposite side of Lance and held out his hand. “Dr. Hunk. I'm the occupational therapist here.”

Lance took his hand to shake it and saw the wedding band that was a match to one of the women. “Oh! You're Nurse Romelle's husband?”

“That I am!” He chuckled while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “We've got a wee one ourselves coming just after New Year's. Kinda why I came over to see you; I'm more than qualified to handle your situation. How are you holding up?”

“...I...” Lance wasn't sure how to answer that, especially with everything that had happened after admitting himself. He'd barely gotten a break between Keith's noisy arrival, trying to process his own trauma, and his binding betraying him. Considering he'd only been there for one, full day, it was hard to have an answer that sounded halfway decent in his mind.

He was about to reply when there was a commotion on the other end of the room. Hunk stood up as Pidge jolted in their seat. Laika swung her head over to the noise before getting up and placing herself in front of Lance, almost as if to protect him. Beezer shot off into one of the smaller carriers.

“Kosmo! Down!” someone shouted. The speckled dog was pulling on the back of Keith's shirt as he was getting in the face of one of the war vets. On the floor still was the other man, clutching Bae Bae as the shouting triggered a panic attack that the dog tried to quell. The buff woman was on the defensive, keeping her little group behind her as the male amongst the trio held the black, scraggly Kova against his chest like a lifeline. A rough-and-tumble looking, older teen boy had pulled the woman in the wheelchair out of the line of fire, Baku seeming to not care about the chaos and still snoozing on her lap. As her fluffy, brown fur flew around her, Olia tried to herd the other people away from what was happening.

“What right do you have to say that?!” Keith screamed.

“I defended our country and I have every right to my opinion, just as you have the right to not agree with me.”

“It's NOT an opinion when you deny people their identity! Who gives a FUCK if you served when you can't respect the citizens you protected?!” Lance could imagine Keith as a cat, hackles raised and tail bristling. “I sure as hell don't!”

“You mean to tell me this makes sense to you?”

“Mitch, stop it,” one of the nurses called out, trying to diffuse the situation.

“I don't care,” he turned to look at the man on the ground, then over to the slim woman who was now holding Kova, then the large woman guarding her, before looking at Keith again with a knowing stare, “if you are gay or trans or whatever.” Without looking, he swept his hand over to the corner where Pidge and Lance sat. “But you can't have it both ways!” Lance's stomach dropped. “How do you kids say it these days? Pick a lane and stay in it!” Pidge got up out of their chair and was about to march over, but Hunk placed a beefy arm in front of them, preventing Pidge from going farther. “You can't want to be one gender and do the opposite and you CERTAINLY can't swing between the two!”

It happened so fast, no one had the opportunity to stop them before it escalated. With a furious cry of rage, Keith launched himself at Mitch, fists swinging. Unfortunately, due to being trained in hand-to-hand combat, Mitch knew how to defend himself and strike back. Keith, due to weighing next to nothing, was easily held back by Nurse Allura. Mitch, however, had quite a bit of bulk to him and Dr. Hunk was needed to restrain him. The larger woman was cheering at the fight and it looked like no one in the room had agreed with the veteran's stance, but a couple looked upset that Keith had turned it physical.

“People like you are why people like me end up on the street!” Keith screamed, struggling against the orderlies that had come to assist. He was taken back to the bedroom, continuing to yell. As the room finally became quiet after Allura forced Mitch back to his own room, most of the group decided they had enough excitement for one day. Almost everyone was pairing off, no doubt to Lance they were roommates.

The large woman gestured gently to the woman in the wheelchair if she wanted to go (after a handler took Baku back), while the punky, teenage boy went to the girl with the long, crimson hair and they went off quietly. Meanwhile, the freckled girl started to leave after petting Olia for a moment, the slim woman following after passing off Kova to the male in her little group. Pidge had sat back in their chair, biting their bottom lip but not saying a word. Being Mitch's roommate, the man now holding Kova told Allura he didn't want to go back to his room, not while Mitch was still awake. He instead sat with the veteran that was still on the floor with Bae Bae. By process of elimination, Lance figured out that the other veteran was the second detox patient. Lance himself stayed a moment with Laika to calm himself down, her huge face snuffling against his cheek and neck. Another one of her 'boof's and another tummy touch with her nose, Lance felt eased enough to not need her company.

Just like high school, Keith was the one that got in the most trouble, despite Mitch being the one to relentlessly provoke him. Lance walked in to see him restrained on the bed. As Keith pulled on his bonds, Lance knew he would be stuck here for longer than the default. Never mind that the boy was forced to come here and would have likely been made to stay the entire week anyway. Lance, as an adult that came of his own accord, had the freedom to leave whenever he wanted. However, knowing how bad his situation was, he was willing to get the educated opinion of the medical team before signing any dispatch papers.

Lance eyed the group with a sigh. “Let me guess; Mitch isn't going to get this treatment, is he?”

“Mr. Kogane is the one that swung first. Everything Mr. Iverson did after that was self defense.” Not being held to the same rules as the rest of the floor, as they weren't designated for this place only, the orderlies used last names like they would have anywhere else in the hospital.

“That's such a load of bullshit!” Keith spat, but immediately felt bad when Lance flinched. Allura came in to assess the situation. “Did none of you even hear what he was saying? He was actively making some of the others feel disrespected! Was legit verbally attacking some of us!”

“Lance,” Nurse Allura began softly, “we've deemed Keith to be unsafe around you in your current condition. It's up to you if you'd rather have him leave or you swap rooms with someone else.” She watched the Cuban as he stepped around her to look at the man strapped to the bed. Keith had stopped struggling when their eyes met, turning away with a sigh of defeat.

Lance's eyes hardened as he looked at the floor. “I choose neither.”

“Pardon?” Even Keith had snapped his head back over, shocked. He knew he had anger issues and expected Lance to protect his baby.

“I said neither!” Lance turned to glare at the nurse. “Were all of you BLIND to what happened in there?!” Taking a small step forward, Lance balled his fists at his sides. “He's not a danger to me, so there's no reason for either of us to change rooms. Keith was defending everyone in that room Mitch was trash talking and, it just so happens, I was one of the people he was shitting on!”

“Mr. McClain, we really must ins-”

“Let him go,” he said simply, cutting off the bigger of the two orderlies. When they both stared at him blankly, he grew irate. “I didn't fucking stutter! He's not going to hurt me, so why is he even restrained?!” Allura stepped slightly ahead of Lance, nodding at the two men to listen. They relented and released Keith, the man rubbing at his wrists but otherwise didn't try to make a move off the bed. Turning to the nurse, he gave a relieved smile. “I appreciate it, Allura.” She smiled back at him with a nod, truthfully hoping Lance was right.

“You sure about this? I'm...not exactly the safest person. You seemed to get along with that small kid? I'm not detox, but maybe I could room alone and they could stay with you...”

Lance shook his head, a soft smile growing slowly as he spoke. “You defended us back there. Defended me. I haven’t had that before...never even had people fake it or lie to me later.” Lance truthfully never needed to be protected in school. It really was a welcoming place for him to be. Safer than his own home. “You knew you'd get in trouble too. So why would I think you would put your hands on me? Hell, even now you're trying to seclude yourself because you're worried.”

“...I don't make friends easily...hard to trust in my neck of the woods and, sometimes, my temper doesn't go over well with others...so thank you...”

“...no...thank you, Keith...”

Chapter Text

Lance woke up, shockingly, on his own that morning. Popping his back with a groan, he shuffled over to the window to look outside, feeling around to make sure he didn't bump into anything. Without even looking at the clock, he could tell it probably wasn't even 6am yet; sky still dark and the sun hardly appearing on the horizon. Always a late riser, he was kind of surprised to be up before the nurses would even be serving breakfast, especially after what happened yesterday.

Feeling a harder kick than usual, Lance's breath hitched. Making shushing sounds as he rubbed circles into his belly, he heard movement and turned when he heard his roommate moan. Given that Keith had gone through more physically yesterday, Lance was even more stunned that the scrappy guy was awake as well.

“Did I wake you?” Head shake number one. “You good, buddy?” Hesitation, then head shake number two. Walking over to the occupied bed, he gingerly grasped a fold of the blanket covering Keith's face and lifted it up like a claw machine game. “Quite the shiner, damn,” he grimaced as he saw the bruise that had bloomed on Keith's cheek, the fair skin making it look so much worse than it was. However, the room was dark and he was certain it would look more stark once the sun was up. “Nothing can be done, can it?”

“I struck first,” Keith said groggily as he slowly sat up. “Regardless of the provocation, they'd all say it was self defense on Mitch's part.” He followed this up with a shrug. “And they aren't wrong. Besides, it's not like he broke my jaw or anything. I've had worse.” Grabbing his shoulder, he stretched out the sore muscle. “If anything, it's the restraints that have me messed up, for as short as they had me in them.”

“Wanna use the shower first then?” Lance put one hand on his hip and pointed in the direction of the bathroom with his thumb on the other. “The heat will probably do wonders for your back that these shitty mattresses won't fix,” he chuckled.

“I'm used to waking up early, but I take EONS to be fully functioning. You can go first; I might use it after breakfast.” Even with the room so dark, Keith's eyes naturally adjusted, as if he was back out on the streets he called home. He saw a vaguely worried expression on Lance's face. Parroting Lance's question from earlier, he stood up. “You good, buddy?”

“I can't see super well. Like, my eyesight is fine on the regular, but it's too dark.” The light bulb went off immediately; this place was STRICT with lights out. With the exception of using your own bathroom, everything had to stay off until the day started at 7am. Not even a lamp for reading. Keith offered his hand out, not thinking Lance would take it, but figured it was worth a try.

He almost didn't and the old Lance might have brushed him off entirely. But he was trying to learn to rely on people, because he otherwise had very little support and things were harder than he thought they would be while being pregnant. He was more worried about tripping and hurting his son than his own safety. Instead of holding his hand, he hooked elbows with Keith and let the man guide him to the bathroom. Perceptive of the specific reason for privacy, Keith was already gone before Lance could say anything, even as a joke.

Breakfast came and went, Lance sitting in Dr. Curtis's office. He actually made an effort to talk about everything and, while not quite speaking much in general, it was the most detail anyone had gotten from him since his sister parked the car Saturday night. Lance made a mental note to call her at some point today, since she regularly had Tuesdays off from work.

Curtis smiled softly when their time was up, saying he was proud of Lance for opening up so much. This struck a cord with Lance and he went silent again. No one ever told him they were proud of him. Even before all this went down and the family hated him, he was passed over for his more talented and/or successful siblings...I'm nothing special...

Chapter Text

• 401-A:

• 401-B: Zethrid

• 402-A: Lance

• 402-B: Keith

• 403-A:

• 403-B: Rax

• 404: Takashi

• 405: Katie

• 406-A:

• 406-B: Lotor

• 407-A: Ina

• 407-B: Acxa

“Fuck, am I glad he's gone!” Zethrid shouted. She was with her usual grouping, Acxa sitting next to her and Lotor positioned across the table. Despite only currently conversing with her clique, the hulking woman was just always loud and everyone heard her, not that they disagreed.

There was, however, a pinch of sadness in her expression. Out of her trio, Acxa was the only one that still had a roommate; the freckled blonde was curled in a chair with a book, tucked away from everyone. Lotor didn't mind in the slightest to be rid of Mitch and he wondered if the staff would be willing to allow him and Zethrid to be roommates. However, he was also wanting to milk having the room to himself for as long as possible.

Mitch, as a voluntary admittance, was able to be dispatched whenever he wanted and he chose while everyone was sleeping last night. Ina briefly mentioned earlier that she was filling her water cup when she heard him say to the nurses that he didn't want to be around a bunch of “enablers”, but it wasn't of interest to her, so she didn't stick around. She'd only even brought it up because he was the topic of discussion.

However, he wasn't the only one to leave. Florona and Luka left as well and Lance had a front row seat for that, having been on the phone with his twin sister after breakfast. He thought hearing Rachel's voice would lift his spirits, but it didn't do much. Maybe it was because he wasn't telling her everything that happened so she wouldn't worry or that he was just too in the dumps at the moment to feel better, but she promised to call later in the week, now that she had the proper number to contact him.

Florona, being physically disabled, didn't feel safe at the ward anymore, under the impression there might be another patient that acted like Mitch. They didn't arrive together, but they left together, as Luka was pretty well on her way out as well. She didn't enjoy how staff handled this situation and didn't want to stick around for anything else. Since Florona would be reliant on someone to pick her up, Luka graciously offered to take her home, as Luka had driven herself and her vehicle was still on the premises.

Rax considered leaving as well, but he knew getting help was more important to him, so he stayed. Possible combinations of moving people around was floating amongst the staff, the only wildcard being Katie, since they were a minor. Takashi wasn't taking well to his detox treatment and needed to continue to use the other, single patient room. Any combination of the hotheads (Keith, Rax, and Zethrid) together was deemed incompatible. Lance, Lotor, and Ina were pretty easygoing, but they knew the expecting parent would see through staff trying to “save him” from Keith. Acxa just, frankly, didn't care and would be the easiest to move if needed. They decided to not worry about it until an issue came up, either because a detox room was needed or a new patient wouldn't work with any of the currently open roommates.

The first actual therapy session began, with Dr. Hunk heading the activity. They were all seated at the large, oblong table in the room Allura had taken Lance to his first night. Their therapist went around with crayons and a sheet of paper for all of them. Lance learned quickly that literally ANYTHING that could be deemed dangerous was not permitted; pencils and pens were too sharp. It had spurred a random conversation with Lotor yesterday, the older man saying their meager plastic and wax they were allowed could still be a weapon in the wrong hands. Lance agreed, but told him with a laugh to be careful who he said that around.

“Firstly, I know a lot of you are only truly meeting just now, so why don't we go around and introduce ourselves? I'll go first!” He cleared his throat as he sat down at the table. “My name is Hunk and I REALLY love baking!” He was beaming as he turned to his left and gestured for the patient to start and go around the table until coming back to him.

“Ina. 21. Reading.” As quickly as her attention had been given, it was gone again.

“I'm Lotor and I enjoy strategic board games.”

“Rax.” He gave a dismissive wave to everyone with no further information.

“...uh...” Man, did he wish he could have been on testosterone, because his voice sounded way too feminine to his own ears now that he actually had to speak up to everyone in an otherwise quiet room. “My name is Lance. I'm 18 and love swimming.”

“...” After a bit more silence, Acxa gently tapped the muscular arm next to her. Snapping out of his dissociative state, he thanked her quietly. “Sorry. Takashi and I like knitting.”

“Acxa. I'm 23 and I was a gymnast.”

“Katie, but you can call me Pidge. 15 years old and I absolutely LOVE computers.”

“Zethrid, 24, drummer.” She wasn't one for small talk, but it seemed she was trying to at least be quieter than usual.

“I'm Keith and I like to paint.” This was a little surprising to a few people in the room. Lance caught his gaze and Keith gave him a look that he couldn't quite identify. It was some branch of sadness, though not necessarily pity.

“Wonderful! Great job, everyone!” Placing his hands on the table, Hunk leaned forward. “I gave everyone a worksheet and a writing utensil. Please look over it, fill it out, and please don't hesitate to ask me any questions.” He got back up and went to get a drink from the staff fridge. “Sometimes it helps to actually think of your future to give yourself hope. So this sheet will, hopefully, help you think of some goals to push toward, while looking at your past as well.”

Zethrid, gleefully, tore hers up, because she thought it was a pointless activity, both Lotor and Acxa rolling their eyes. Rax actually gave it the old college try, but grew frustrated and pushed the sheet and crayon away. Ina and Pidge had their sheets filled out pretty quickly, though Pidge did seem to have a storm brewing in their eyes. Both Keith and Takashi struggled a little, but still managed to fill it out.

While giving more time for people to do their worksheet, a small group struck up a conversation with their therapist abut religion, in which Hunk apologized that so much of the hospital had pamphlets and imagery only for Christianity. The rest of the participants (Lotor, Keith, and Acxa) reassured him it was no trouble and that's just how it was. This turned into a fun discussion about the stars and astrology, Hunk mentioning he was a Capricorn. In having the talk at all, this caused Rax, Zethrid, and Ina to look either disgusted or appalled, resulting in the three of them getting up and leaving.

“Their loss,” Pidge shrugged, not really caring about someone's faith, as long as they weren't being a jerk about it. They shared a knowing look with Takashi, the older man wearing a rueful smile. He knew very well that sentiment.

Once it was time to share, Hunk let everyone go in whatever order, sharing as much or as little they wanted. Lotor didn't want to share with the group, but asked to speak to Hunk after the session was over for a more one-on-one discussion. Hunk was happy to and took his sheet to look over later. Keith went first, followed by Acxa. After the slim woman finished, it was quiet while everyone waited for someone else to go.

“...why don't they love me?...”

A few heads whipped to the voice. Had someone started sharing in that moment, they would have missed it because of how soft it had been. Pidge and Lotor had the widest eyes. Keith was smart enough to have started putting the pieces together since yesterday morning, but it didn't make it any easier to digest.

Everyone was so focused on the activity (or left the room), no one had noticed Lance hadn't even touched his paper or crayon. There really wasn't anything for him to write or think about. His past was so much pain and his future was only more struggling, nearing homelessness with a newborn, which rounded back to his past and trauma. This had sent him down a spiral, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“...why doesn't my family love me?...” Keith, having his own little unit that he cared for back on the streets, had his Mother Hen instincts kick in. While he was the first to move, he was not the first to make it to Lance. Having been sitting right next to him, Takashi put an arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him just the smallest bit closer and hoping to help calm him.

The group tried to be supportive in their own way, but still huddled, Hunk surprised at this group of strangers being so compassionate. Keith had turned Lance's chair a little and was trying to get him to focus and breathe. Pidge sat on the floor, hugging his legs while they shook, hoping to help him feel grounded. The pair being a bit more reserved, Lotor merely laid a hand on his arm and Acxa was holding Lance's hand, his grip so tight that he might have hurt himself without her aid.

Eventually, Lance felt okay enough to get up and leave. Everyone relinquished their hold on him and Keith helped him out of his chair, figuring he'd just go back to the room with Lance and keep an eye on him. Sure, the doctors and nurses could handle that well enough and would probably prefer he let them do their job since it didn't concern him.

But Lance had protected him yesterday. It wasn't something very many people did for him and Lance had gained his respect as a result, especially since it had been against an authority figure for their situation. Keith also held him in high regard for simply being a pregnant trans man. That couldn't have been an easy decision, regardless of how it happened (though Keith certainly had his thoughts, especially now). There was no way he would not at least try to do something if he could.

And he thought he had it all taken care of. Until Lance went down in the hallway, Keith tucking and rolling in a way to keep Lance's belly safe. Rax saw it all happen and ran to get help.

Chapter Text

Keith's bleary eyes opened and looked at the clock. 6:38am; early, but not so early that he was too well ahead of when the day would start on their floor of the hospital. Inhaling deeply through his nose as he got up and stretched, he turned to try to catch a glimpse of the rising sun.

Instead, he was greeted with the first rays of dawn hitting Lance's body and face as he sat in the window. Keith was by no means a quiet riser, which only meant that the Cuban was off in his own little world. His hands cradled his belly, thumbs gently stroking below the crest. Tear tracks could be seen on his cheeks as he stared out the double paned and metal barred window.

Keith, still riding off of yesterday's horror of watching Lance pass out and not waking up at all before Keith couldn't stay awake anymore, tried to dial back his fear and approach the expecting parent gently. Ever so slowly, he took up the space across from Lance in the window, tucking his legs closer to his body to give the other man some room if he wasn't up for company. He knew, at the very least, Lance was aware enough to know he was there, as the taller man shifted a bit to give Keith a little more berth as well.

“Hey,” Keith started softly. Lance sighed and turned his body towards Keith, though didn't bring his gaze up, preferring to stare at his distended abdomen. His thumbs still hadn't stopped their ministrations, Keith watching the tiniest bit of movement from under the fabric of Lance's shirt. “How are you feeling?”

It took a moment for Lance to respond, uncertain how to phrase his question. “During group therapy yesterday, you gave me this...look.” Finally moving his head, Lance made eye contact. “But you didn't treat me any differently. What was that about?”

Keith brought up a hand to scrape his jagged nails along the back of his neck, nervous. “I suppose I had a...hunch of sorts with that little bit of info you gave the room last night and the thought of it made me sad and mad for you.” He quirked a half smile, hoping to get Lance to laugh. “Smad.” The slight huff of air he got from the other man was worth the bad joke.

“I only said so much though. My name, my favorite hobby and my age-oh.” As soon as he said it, Lance understood and he was actually surprised Keith was so perceptive. Blue eyes lowered in shame.

“Totally tell me to fuck off, because I know it's not my business.” Keith looked out the window, thinking Lance might feel more at ease if he didn't feel like he was being scrutinized. “I thought maybe life was just difficult and that you still lived at home. Shit sucks out there, so I wouldn't have blamed you.” He watched Lance out of his peripheral, the other man biting his lower lip. “When are you due?” Lance looked too far along to be just starting out, but Keith knew he could be wrong between the potential for multiples and that everyone carries differently.

“...November...” came the hesitant whisper. Keith tried not to physically balk at the notion that Lance only had a little over a month left, assuming everything stayed on course.

“And uh...” He licked his lips, not sure he wanted to know now, but he started this. “...how long have you been 18?” Lance, turning away from Keith, held out his left arm for Keith to look at his medical band, as if not saying it made it less true…I was right...He HATED that his hunch had been correct, but also that Lance hadn't even been a legal adult for two, whole months.

The silence grew as Lance's tears showed up again. Keith was able to put everything together based on the little things he'd seen and heard since the night Lance nearly suffocated. He knew he wasn't a brilliant mind, but he wasn't an idiot. Moving his own body a bit, he quietly offered his right arm to Lance. The Cuban looked at him, confused. Keith waggled his hand a little until Lance noticed the matching wristband. He trusted Lance and he had a feeling that it was mutual. No one is ever looking for friends in a place like this, but those connections would be helpful to those that would allow them to shape.

Kogane, Keith A    M

E8451687    10/23/2295 (18 yrs)

9/21/2314

Curtis W Clark, M.D.

1484516912

Altea Hospital

“I knew you had to be close to my age, but oof,” Lance said through his sniffles. “To answer your earlier question,” he started as he stood up, all the lights outside of their room turning on or getting brighter. “I'm emotionally exhausted, but that's par for the course. Until something happens, that's my default.” Grabbing his day clothes and some towels, Lance made his way to the bathroom to shower. “Either I somehow manage to find somewhere to go before I'm a dad or little man here makes his appearance before I can and I'm homeless.”

Keith had to grip his knees to avoid attempting to put a hole in the wall.

Chapter Text

After lunch was another group therapy session, this time led by Dr. Curtis. Unlike the days prior to last night's event, Lance couldn't shake Keith off him. Not that he was necessarily trying to, but he'd gotten used to Keith asking if he wanted help and leaving without argument after Lance turned him down. This time? He wasn't asked and a stormy hazel gaze was fixed on him as they walked to the room. Lance figured the shorter man was worried after he'd passed out.

As they passed the day room, Lance noticed more blank spaces on the whiteboard, as well as some movement, but was too far away to see what the changes actually were. But he couldn't have been more relieved that more people were gone as they entered the room they were using for therapy today. It was small, with the furniture taking up so much space that it was almost TOO intimate. Not everyone had arrived yet, but he also wasn't sure if everyone still on the floor was participating in any capacity.

While he was preoccupied with taking in his surroundings, he felt a weight gently collide with him. Pidge, having been worried about him all night and not getting an update to his condition, had been an anxiety-ridden mess until they saw him walk through the door. Being mindful of his pregnant belly, Pidge squeezed him tightly with the arm around his back and barely there with the arm around his front, creating this unbalanced hug that honestly didn't feel satisfying.

“You good?” Lance asked, gently patting their head, which Pidge shook. “Would you feel better if you could give a proper hug?” He was met with enthusiastic nodding, Pidge's face still hidden in his side. With a soft chuckle, Lance went to the empty, mauve, chenille couch by the door. They sat together, where Pidge embraced him in a tight grip around his shoulders. With their face still muffled against the Cuban, Lance could barely make out some of the words: not, losing, family, again.

Content that his roommate was with someone, Keith took the window seat on the black, leather couch, a space between himself and Lotor. The pair nodded at each other, Keith realizing Lotor was watching Lance too. He sort of noticed this with some of the others since the incident with Mitch, almost an unspoken camaraderie between them all: theoretically, regardless of actual due date, Lance could go into labor at any time with all the added stress.

Dr. Curtis, having been the first in the room, was seated in the lone, umber, office chair by the metal desk opposite Keith and Lotor. He had the chair against the wall behind him, hands tented as he waited to start. Takashi walked in, scanned the room, and asked to take the last open spot on the couch with Pidge and Lance. He was a broad man, but it only worked because Pidge was so small and Lance was still skinny width-wise. Taking the end, Lance felt protected being sandwiched between them and Keith noticed his demeanor change with that relief.

Acxa strolled in not long after. She looked in Lotor's direction and contemplated sitting between him and Keith. They were all slim, so it wasn't a matter of having enough space; she just wasn't terribly comfortable in anyone's bubble that wasn't Lotor. Deciding against it, she took the royal blue Chesterfield and pulled her legs under her once she was seated. A Philodendron in a moss colored pot sat between the chair and leather couch.

Rax came in, but only so far. He stopped dead before he could see everyone, but it was enough to see how claustrophobic the room was, Acxa, Lotor, Keith, Curtis, and part of Takashi's left side. Throwing up his hands in defeat with a frustrated growl, he left to go sulk in the day room with the television on.

Curtis made marks on his clipboard, taking attendance by putting a check by everyone but Rax, whose name got circled instead. Moving the paper to the back so he had a blank sheet for any notes he needed for this session, he cleared his throat. “Hello everyone! Since we don't have anyone new here, and everyone attended yesterday's group therapy, we can skip introductions to make things a bit smoother.” Wheeling his chair closer to his patients, his sky blue eyes scanned the people around him. “This session is merely just to talk about yourselves. The hope is that you feel safe enough to discuss why you're here. People are more similar than they realize, but it's also to show you that people care. As a note, no one is forced to share anything they don't want, if anything at all; you can simply observe if you'd rather not talk.”

After waiting a bit for someone to take the floor, Takashi went first. “I had strict, Japanese parents as a kid, so coming out wasn't great for me. In fact, they disowned me. Went into the military with the hopes in making them proud, though I knew deep down that they no longer cared about me.” Taking a deep breath, Lance's hand on his shoulder, he continued.

“I met someone while in the service and thought he was amazing. But things went downhill very quickly after we moved in together. Living together happened so fast, because I thought that the chemistry was real. But Adam was so abusive, in every aspect except sexual, that I turned to alcohol as an escape.” Takashi brought his ashy hazel gaze to his clasped hands in his lap. “The booze eventually wasn't enough and I nearly ODed. Adam has a way of making me feel worthless, so I didn't think anyone would miss me if I was gone...”

“Awful parents here as well,” Lotor softly chimed in, raising his hand to speak. “I had addict parents and I was born addicted myself. They eventually got clean, but treated me worse as time went on.” He leaned forward, interlaced fingers in front of his face. “I had to be perfect, but each of them wanted different things for me, so I couldn't please them both. There was no winning.” Dropping his hands, his back hit the cushions behind him as he closed his eyes. “They didn't quite disown me. Rather, they just...left...”

“Sometimes there is something broken in someone and it makes them react differently than the human body is supposed to,” Curtis started. “Drugs will hinder that even more. In reality, we're nothing but animals and, as such, we're wired to care for our young. However, it sounds like your parents, even after recovering from addiction, still had those parts of their brains cut off. I'm truly sorry they couldn't see that something was wrong and got the help they needed to care for you properly. It sounds as if they wanted you to be what they couldn't.”

“It just makes it harder for me to form bonds with people,” Lotor replied, pulling his knees near his face. “Because I continue to worry if people will keep leaving me behind...” After a few moments, someone's breath hitched, a sign they would begin to speak. Before any words came, Acxa unfolded herself from her perch, got up, and left. Being this vulnerable was too much for her and she knew that Lotor knew he could seek her out later. Curtis, after finishing writing down the thought he had, flipped to the back page to put another check mark by Takashi and Lotor's names, while circling Acxa's. He waited for the next person to speak and put another check by that name as well.

“Parents were honestly amazing.” Lance perked up, realizing Keith was talking. “They both passed away in a nasty accident. Unfortunately, I didn't have any other family and went into the foster system.” He turned to look out the window, not able to look at the others. “I was always a little...rough...But losing them made it worse. Every family that fostered me or looked into potentially adopting me were terrible.” He sighed, turning more into the wall, his back facing everyone in the room. “I was always a problem child. But, even on my best behavior, it was always my fault, because they didn't want the gay kid either.” There was silence for a moment, Curtis thinking he was done, before he spoke again, so much quieter than before. “I haven't had a 'family' ever since. Just the posse I have out on the city streets, if you can count that.”

“Family is who we choose, Keith,” Curtis replied. “We can pick those we share our lives with, just as much as we can sever ties with those that share our blood. Whoever it is that's out there with you and makes you feel cared for – that's family.” Keith turned to look at the therapist, the tiniest of smiles on his face.

Takashi smiled a bit somberly, watching Pidge get up and sit with Keith for comfort, when he felt a hard squeeze on his bicep. Looking over, he noticed Lance shaking and biting his lower lip. At some point during the session, he'd grabbed a throw pillow to hold in front of him, almost like a shield. Takashi carefully moved Lance's hand and held it in his own. Lance looked up at him, Takashi's grip gentle and his eyes kind.

“...been bisexual and trans for as long as I can remember...just didn't have the right words and knowledge for it, ya know?...” Lance took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out before he continued. “My folks were pretty irate. They talked about how they had to mourn the 'loss of their daughter', despite already having a fair few girls,” he said, using air quotes. “All the adultier adults continue to deadname and misgender me, and they think I can 'be fixed'. My siblings though? Pretty great...mostly anyway...” His eyes became downcast. “Accepting me through finding myself and becoming who I am. But why I'm here?” He gestured slightly to his belly. “Most of them don't believe me and think I'm just trying to get people wrongly in trouble...only my twin sister doesn't think I'm a liar...Rachel is the only one that has my back...”

Chapter Text

Lance woke up to the sounds of the lights outside his room clicking on. He stretched with a groan and sat up slowly. Looking over, Keith was still dead to the world. Lance had an inkling that Keith wasn't terribly great with crowds and being so vulnerable, so decided to give him space, unless otherwise sought out.

Deciding that today was just NOT the day, Lance skipped showering and would brush his teeth after breakfast. There was something about this Thursday that he could feel was going to be off for most, if not all, of them on the floor. Making the choice to just stay in his pajamas all day, Lance shuffled out to the day room, thinking he'd feel better eating breakfast with other people instead of by himself or just with Keith.

• 401-A: Lotor

• 401-B: Acxa

• 402-A: Lance

• 402-B: Keith

• 403-A:

• 403-B: Rax

• 404: Takashi

• 405:

• 406-A: Katie

• 406-B:

• 407-A:

• 407-B:

Lance was glad to see some movement with the patients, and even happier to see Pidge wasn't in a detox room anymore. He'd noted since he'd met the two of them that Acxa and Lotor got along swimmingly, so either they'd asked to be roommates or the hospital staff had noted the same and had thought the move would be good for both of them. Lance only hoped the nurses didn't try to force him and Keith apart like they had on Monday; he'd fight again if he had to. It also meant there was an empty space for anyone new that wanted to be alone but didn't need a detox room. For as much as the solitary time would have been nice, Lance was finding he didn't regret getting stuck with Keith.

About to sit down at the group table, he saw Pidge out of the corner of his eye. Pushing the chair back in, he waddled over to the tiny table and took the only other seat available. Pidge appeared to be disassociating and didn't notice Lance for several moments. He was gentle when trying to gain their attention, not wanting to startle them by being too loud or sudden.

“You good?” Pidge's eyes weren't surprised or much of anything when they came back to consciousness. He watched the slow shake of the teenager's head.

“...that night...it still haunts me...” After briefly looking at Lance, they stared back out into the room. “...I can't shake the nightmares...so much bloo-” A breath caught in their throat and they couldn't continue. Lance's hunch about today had been right and he knew he'd be trying to spend more time with Pidge.

“I'm proud of you, bro,” Rachel said on the other end of the phone. “Sounds like you made some unexpected friends. Wish I could meet them when I pick you up.”

“Yeah,” Lance replied with a soft smile, “I did. There's part of me that's kinda sad to leave...”

“I'm also thrilled you're opening up there.”

“It's actually making me feel a bit better. Not so much the actual talking, but the people here being so supportive. The other patients, I mean; I'd have expected it from the doctors.” Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he was quiet for a few beats. “I think I'll be okay to leave soon.” He knew he'd only get a week maximum, so his fingers were crossed to be able to leave tonight after lights out or tomorrow morning.

“I can take you home Saturday after I'm done with work, if that's okay?” Lance made a disappointed noise. “I wish I could do it sooner, but I also know you'd rather not deal with our siblings just to get home faster. Plus, we both know mom and dad would just leave you stranded there...” Lance didn't have to say anything, because he knew she was right.

A week it was. So much for that plan.

Chapter Text

I was hoping to not use a chapter slot for an update, but here we are lol

This is both a good and bad update in one swoop, depending on the side of the coin you're looking at. I was going to add just a little blip at the end of the next chapter, but I wasn't sure when I'd have a new chapter up. That's because I can only make myself work on this story when I'm dealing with my PTSD, as it puts me in Lance's headspace. I can more effectively use that as a muse and can focus.

However, I'm in the process of moving. My mental health, in regards to my depression, had gotten so bad. But there's a light now of being able to move home, which means being closer to my stronger support system. Just the planning alone has done wonders for my mental stability, holy crap (my current therapist sees the change too)!

This means taking care of myself and putting myself first, despite people in charge at my job location being pissed I'm leaving. But, having a healthier headspace means longer to wait between chapters. I DO plan on finishing this, as I have plans for the future regarding this, but there's a chance this will take a little longer to finish now. That being said, that's assuming being closer to better support will mean less "flares", so to speak - of course, who knows what will happen until I'm actually out there.

So this update is to say the story (and soon all writing in general) will be on a hiatus until I get settled in a new home. There was never a writing/posting schedule for this story, but chapters will resume once I get to that point. If I find that I actually AM having less bad days, then I will just force myself to finish this without the proper muse.

Thanks for the support, everyone!