Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They come.

The murmur grew in strength.

They come.

Dark, gray heads lifted themselves from where they had long slept amongst the ruins, waiting.

Always waiting.

Always hungry.

And now…

They come. 

They floated up, translucent hands lighting on the worn stone, masking its appearance, masking theirs, making it inviting for their new guests.

They come. 

But…

They were coming, they could sense it, five flickering forms of life ripe for the taking. 

One though was of particular interest as it was dripping with delicious sadness.

The most delectable taste of them all.

They come. 

It comes.

And now…

Mouths grinned wide, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.

They feast. 

xxx

“Lance, keep up,” Keith sounded from ahead and Lance jerked his head up and felt his cheeks heat as he realized he’d fallen several yards behind the other Paladins.

It hadn’t entirely been on accident though.

Normally Lance would love the idea of a quote unquote nature hike with his friends as they traversed this heavily forested planet in search of supplies, but right now…

Right now the only thing they wanted to talk about was that awful game of ‘garfle warfle snick.’ And Lance would admit there had been some funny moments and he was proud of Pidge and her insight that something more than the obvious was wrong and she’d tried to break them out of it, but…

But it hadn’t been funny or fun. Not to him.

Everyone had laughed at him, not with him.

They’d gotten angry when he couldn’t remember their allies names and he still didn’t know how he’d messed that up; he knew who Nyma and Ryner and everyone else was, but in that moment with the lights shining down and the counter on and the threat of being dumped in a pool of acid hanging over him…

He’d blanked.

And everyone, even Hunk, and his stomach clenched at that, had been upset with him. 

He hadn’t done it on purpose.

He hadn’t.

And then the host had called him stupid and the dumb one and after all this time…

Was that all he still really was?

The dumb Paladin?

And then Keith had said…

He’d picked Lance to escape, but unlike everyone else who had made their picks based on who they thought would have the best chance to both save the universe and the others…

He’d picked Lance so he wouldn’t drag the rest of them down while they concocted their own way to escape.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Lance knew he wasn’t the smartest, he’d never claimed to be, but…

But he wasn’t dumb.

Or he thought he wasn’t.

Apparently he was the only one who thought that. 

His head hung lower. 

Even Hunk hadn’t said anything to the contrary. He was up there laughing and reminiscing with the others while Lance fell further and further behind in more ways than one.

He wished he’d gotten to stay with the Lions and Kosmo.

Or even go with the other group — Shiro, Coran, Krolia and Romelle — because at least none of them had been on the gameshow and none of them had laughed at him.

But Keith had assigned the teams, no one had said anything against it, and Lance didn’t dare.

He’d sort of hoped maybe Hunk would at least walk with him towards the back when he noticed that Lance wasn’t participating — and he’d tried but his smiles and laughs felt so fake and his stomach was hurting and not from apparently not having eaten for two days while they were trapped in Bob’s world — but he’d gotten into a heated debate with Pidge about miniature golf of all things and something about velocity and clubs that in some way could have broken them out.

Maybe tonight when they made camp Hunk would talk to him then. Would see that Lance felt not just left out but felt…

Felt hurt.

Hunk had always been able to see that.

Just…

Not right now. 

And Lance didn’t want to say anything because it’d probably come off as clingy and insecure and if they laughed or made fun of him then…

His eyes stung and he hurriedly blinked.

He turned his attention back to the endless forest rising up around them, trees a dark gray, almost black, in bark and dark blue and green colored leaves that seemed to whisper when the wind blew through.

It was more than a little creepy, although after walking through it for going on three hours now he wasn’t jumping at the sounds anymore. Still, this would be the last planet Lance would have voted they land on but supplies were low (as always these days) and scans had shown it had breathable air and given the heavy vegetation some sort of water source. But said heavy vegetation was providing issues of travel as the Lions couldn’t maneuver through them, from the sky everything just looked liked an endless canopy, and there was also nowhere to land. They’d created one clearing with some well timed tail canon fire, but they certainly weren’t going to destroy the entire planet like that.

So they’d spit up with both teams agreeing to meet back at the Lions in approximately two days time with whatever they found and Kosmo would remain at the Lions and in an emergency he could teleport easily to both Keith and Krolia and then bring them all back together. 

Unfortunately, outside of discovering the tree leaves did not taste good whatsoever and the bark just as bitter they had yet to find actual food or water. 

Lance hoped they found something soon as the canteens they’d taken — both empty to refill and some to drink — were all nearly drained. The planet fortunately wasn’t very hot, pleasant, really, and the sun filtering in through the canopy provided adequate light.

There was no birdsong though, no rustling of animals, or anything.

Just…

Silence save for the wind.

Too silent.

Everyone had stopped talking.

Lance pulled his gaze from the the trees, heart ratcheting up that somehow they’d all disappeared, that something had happened, but they were all there, several yards once again ahead of him.

Stopped though.

And as Lance sped up, feet, near soundless in the fallen but not-dry leaves, he caught a faint twinkling light ahead and despite everything he felt his lips pulling up.

That had to be water.

And then that meant—

He stopped short, falling into line next to Pidge, breath catching as the sight came fully into view.

It wasn’t a lake.

It was a town.

A town that seemed to be made up of shimmering opalescent crystal-like marble blocks, laid out in a clearing and allowing the sunlight to reflect off every surface.

A literal light in the darkness of the forest.

It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

“Whoa,” Hunk breathed out.

“It is beautiful,” Allura said softer.

“Let’s see if anyone’s home,” Keith said, stepping forward to go down the hill towards it and just like that the spell was broken as everyone fell once more into line to navigate down. 

They passed through the front gates, wide open, and set in a wall of the same shimmering stones, revealing what had to be houses that opened into a courtyard further up, but not a single person.

“Um, hello?” Hunk called out. 

“Looks like it’s abandoned,” Pidge sighed. “Figures.”

“Let us look around,” Allura said. “Perhaps— oh!!”

She broke off with a shout and Lance whipped in the direction Allura had been facing.

Someone was there.

They nearly blended into the stone, half of Pidge’s height, with the same shimmering humanoid-shaped body and no apparent clothes.

There was also no apparent eyes set in a shiny, iridescent head, but there was a nub for a nose and what Lance could only assume was a mouth as it was pulled apart to reveal the only spot of black and flash of white teeth against the rest of the shimmering body.

And as Lance watched the figure was joined by another and another, all identical, and peeking out and around a doorway of one of the homes.

They reminded Lance of children, even of the Arusians, and he felt himself relax.

“Hello there,” Allura spread her hands. “I am—”

“Our new guests,” one of the figures said, voice a tinkling bell-like sound and stepping out into the open and spreading their arms to mimic Allura. “Welcome.”

“Welcome,” chimed in the two figures behind them.

“Welcome,” spoke a voice to the left and as Lance watched the aliens seemed to be everywhere now, peeking out of houses and filling the path and creating a shimmering, almost dizzying river of bodies around them.

“Welcome, welcome, all are welcome,” their voices rang out. “Welcome, guests.”

“We are most grateful for your warm welcome,” Allura said, sounding above the chiming voices. “Thank you.”

“Come, come,” they urged, gently starting to usher them towards where Lance had glimpsed the courtyard. “Come, rest. We welcome you. All are welcome. All are welcome.”

“Even the stupid one.”

Lance whirled around at the whisper, both darker and deeper in tone than the greetings, but only smiling, eyeless faces were visible behind him.

What had…?

Who had…?

No one else was reacting as though they’d heard anything, everyone smiling (even Keith) as the aliens brought them further into their town, constant calls of “welcome” and “rest” filling the air.

Had he imagined it?

He had to have.

Just…

Why would…?

Was he just thinking of the game show? That had to be it, but…

But he swear he’d heard— 

“Come, come,” a small hand pushed against Lance’s back and he took a stumbling step forward, shoved out of his thoughts as well. “Come and rest, guest.”

Lance cast one last look around — only bright, smiling faces — and then made his lips pull up one of their own.

Everything was fine.

He was imagining things, a bit on edge from the sudden crowding of eyeless aliens and their sort of both cute and eerie addresses, and everything was fine.

Absolutely fine.

“Thanks,” he smiled down and the nearest alien’s grin widened even more. “I’d love that.”

And as he walked through the sun-filled, shimmering streets, small rainbows bouncing and refracting off the aliens, Lance smiled wider, the sensation becoming more natural. 

Yes.

This was what he’d neede—

A sudden cold shiver down his spine had him halting in his tracks, breath catching.

What was…?

“Come, come,” more hands pushed at him, one landed inside his own and wrapped small fingers about his, and a face beamed up at him. “Come rest.”

And ignoring the cold shiver, the imagined whisper, and focusing on the bright aliens and their bright home, Lance followed them to do just that. 

Chapter Text

The aliens were called Jedliks.

And apparently they didn’t eat food, but instead absorbed sunshine to sustain themselves. However, they’d smiled, they did plant a garden because they enjoyed watching things grow and they invited the Paladins to help themselves to what it had to offer. 

They also invited them to their well — the water crystal clear and freezing cold (almost too cold, Lance shivered as he drank it) — and set them up in what they called a guest house piled high with blankets and pillows as the Jedliks did not use beds, and gave them a tour of their town, which was made entirely of the transparent, prismatic stones, that were mainly full of homes — and there was no set family structure as Jedliks were born of the sun and as such everyone was, in their minds, essentially one being, but also had a large building for communal gatherings.

They were beyond welcoming, just as they’d seemed.

But…

Something was prickling on Lance’s skin as they sat in the courtyard on raised stones, eating what Lance could closest say were roasted potatoes and seasoned with herbs also growing in the garden, with cups of cold water on hand with the Jedliks crowded amongst them.

Some of the Jedliks were listening attentively as Allura  explained to them what Voltron was as they had never heard of it, looking for all the world like children at story time, while Hunk was demonstrating how he’d cooked the potato and Pidge was showing others her glasses and Keith was showing them his luxite blade and drawing exclamations as he changed its form.

Everyone was so happy.

Everyone except Lance. 

He knew in large part why that was, the game show still hanging heavy, but he kept feeling a shiver up his spine.

He also kept listening for that voice he’d heard even though at this point he was pretty sure he’d imagined it, because of course even his own mind thought he was stupid too.

He wanted to ask Hunk if maybe he felt the weird shiver too, but Hunk was sitting all the way across the courtyard, sharing a large stone with Pidge, and it would be sort of awkward to get up and interrupt him.

In fact…

Lance looked around the gathering.

Keith and Allura were on separate stones but not even two feet apart from one another and only about six feet from Hunk and Pidge.

But Lance…

He was completely opposite, by himself.

He lowered his eyes back down to his half-eaten potato, that did taste good and he had been hungry, but…

But he wasn’t anymore.

And even though he was surrounded by Jedliks, one having pulled itself up next to him and matching Pidge’s cross-legged sit that had made Lance’s lips twitch up at how cute that was before his smile had fallen as it reminded him of his nephew and Dios how he missed him, he felt…

He felt alone.

Just like during the gameshow. 

Everyone else was together and he was…

Here.

By himself.

Hunk had given him his potato and Lance had scooched over on his rock — a large one — but Hunk hadn’t even given him a second glance as he politely stepped over and around the Jedliks back to Pidge.

The Jedliks at least were sitting by Lance.

For some reason that didn’t help. He normally loved interacting with other aliens, getting to know their culture and conversing with them (even if the Jedliks overall seemed more prone to listen but then he should be sharing stories and regaling them with their adventures) but tonight…

He couldn’t bring himself to do so.

It just made him feel worse.

Even Keith was being more social than Lance and that was wrong on so many levels.

“Eat, guest, eat,” a small hand landed atop Lance’s, startling him, and pushed his potato and up towards his mouth. “Guest not hungry?” they queried, tilting their head and even without eyes Lance had the feeling they were confused.

“Not really,” he admitted quietly.

He was tired though.

It was an almost pressing exhaustion that had been steadily building during the walk and now, sitting here in the quiet and oncoming twilight, it was hitting even harder. And honestly? Maybe the best thing he could do was go to bed. Mamá always said things looked better in the morning and he just wanted — needed — this day to be over. 

“I think I might go to bed, actually,” Lance tried to smile at the alien.

“Guest go to bed?” the question was loud, too loud, and Lance could feel every eye turn to him, conversation ceasing and he felt his cheeks heat at the sudden attention.

“You’re going to bed?” Pidge repeated. “ Now ? What are you, five?”

Lance tried not to wince at her words. 

She didn’t mean it like that, he told himself. She didn’t. She was just surprised because Lance, for all his love of naps, was the one who normally stayed up late outside of Pidge working on projects. 

“I’m really tired,” he admitted softly. 

“It has been a long day,” Keith said, coming to his defense and Lance shot a small, grateful smile in his direction, “although no one should be that tired from walking a few miles.”

Lance’s smile flickered.

What?

“Your endurance needs work,” Keith told him, eyes appraising. “I’ll have Shiro and Coran oversee extra training when we get back. We need everyone to be performing their best, Lance, and you clearly aren’t.”

Lance’s cheeks darkened and his eyes felt hot at the sudden almost attack out of nowhere.

The stinging grew as no one said anything to rebuttal Keith.

As though…

As though they all thought he needed more training.

Was…

Was he really that weak?

The stupid, dumb, weak Paladin?

“Okay,” he made himself whisper, unable to hold Keith’s gaze. 

“Good,” Keith said. 

Everyone else turned back to their own conversations and Lance sat there, feeling a strange sort of numbness taking over.

That…

That was it?

No one was going to say anything else? 

Not even Hunk?

“Guest go to sleep?” a Jedlik asked. 

“Yeah,” Lance whispered again. “I, I think I will.”

He rose unsteadily to his feet, the exhaustion making him dizzy.

A few Jedliks looked up at him as he began to slowly maneuver his way out of the throng, angling for the guest house.

No one else did.

No one wished him good night.

Lance silently slipped away.

The first tear fell as he stepped out of sight around one of the other houses.

By the time he reached the guest house he had a fist pressed to his mouth to hold in the sob and his vision was blurring no matter how fast he blinked.

Shaking hands took off his outer armor and he forced himself to stack it in a neat pile because he didn’t need someone to say he was making a mess or disrespecting the uniform, even though he was shivering violently and each piece of armor removed seemed to make it worse.

Maybe he was getting sick? That would explain why he felt so cold and tired and even lethargic now.

Or maybe he really was just that pathetic.

He selected two blankets and a pillow from the pile and pulled them to the far corner so no one would trip over him when they came in — the house being one square room — right beneath one of the windows where the stars were just starting to become visible as the sky darkened.

Lance didn’t see them for long though as he curled up in the blanket and pressed his face into the pillow to muffle the sob finally breaking free.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but…

But maybe he really was just the stupid Paladin.

And maybe…

Maybe Voltron would be better off without him.

That sickening thought accompanied with shivers and tear-stained cheeks followed him to a heavy, restless sleep.

xxx

Lance awoke feeling not particularly well-rested and his back was stiff, but he didn’t feel cold anymore and he chalked that up for a win. 

He very much needed positive things right now and he would take what he could get to start this day off on a better foot. Just like Mamá said, everything always looked better in the morn—

Lance froze from where he’d been sitting up from his blanket nest as he took in the rest of the room.

Everyone else was still sleeping.

On the other side of the room.

Together.

Hunk was stretched out on his back and Pidge was curled up next to him, her head resting on his stomach as her pillow. Allura was a peek of white hair in a pile of blankets even larger than Lance’s but her legs were clearly resting atop Keith’s — who was the most removed from the group but he was still there with them — and one of her hands had wrapped around one of Pidge’s ankles. 

Lance’s eyes stung again.

They’d all…

They hadn’t even…

Maybe, he argued with himself, they hadn’t wanted to wake him up. He clearly hadn’t heard them come in so he would have slept through any inquiry and they were just being nice since he clearly had been tired.

That had to be it.

It’s not like they excluded him or anything like an unwanted fifth wheel.

Not at all.

Lance finished pulling himself free of his blankets, although he kept one wrapped around his shoulders, and made for the door and the soft morning sunlight outside.

He took in a deep breath once he’d pulled the door shut nearly silently behind him, the air pleasantly cool in the early hour and slumped against it. 

“Guest awake?”

Lance barely swallowed down the scream as he flailed sideways and away from the Jedlik’s sudden, soundless appearance at his side.

“Y-yeah,” he gasped out, hand pressed over his racing heart. 

“Why guest not sleeping like other guests?”

The question came from his left where two more Jedliks were now standing, both of their heads cocked.

“I woke up a little earlier,” Lance explained. Which, at glance, seemed a weird question but considering how communal and connected the Jedlik’s seemed to be perhaps they all always woke up at exactly the same time. “Humans wake up at all different times,” he added.

A bunch of round heads all nodded in acknowledgement and Lance’s lips twitched into a smile.

“But why guest not sleep with other guests?” came another question.

Lance’s smile became a bit more strained.

But he knew why.

He did.

“Since they came in later they didn’t want to wake me up. It was… it was very nice of them.”

This time though the Jedlik’s did not nod.

Instead in scary synchronization all of their heads cocked to the right in question.

“But then why did guests sleep with large guest?” one asked, “when large guest went to bed before other guests?”

Lance’s eyes widened.

Hunk — that had to be who they were referring to —  had gone to bed before the others as well?

But… but they’d all…

And they’d left Lance alone.

Lance looked back at the closed door, where his friends — people he had considered practically a second family — all slept peacefully in a pile together behind it.

Without him.

They hadn’t included him.

They hadn’t…

They hadn’t wanted to.

But…

But why? 

He didn’t know.

“I don’t know.”

The admission was barely a whisper but it made him flinch even though he’d said it. 

“It’s because you’re weak.”

Lance whirled around as the voice from yesterday — deep and dark — sounded.

“Why would they want you?”

It came from in front of him and Lance spun around again, heart hammering.

What was this?

He was definitely hearing something.

He had to be hearing something.

“Guest okay?” that query was high pitched and bell-like and Lance tracked it to a Jedlik standing on his left.

“Do,” he swallowed, “do you hear that?”

Every head cocked sideways.

That would be a no.

Which meant that it…

It was in his head. 

Was…

Was he going crazy? 

Was he just tired and the game show was still lingering far too close to yet be a horrible memory?

Lance bit his lip and looked back once more at the door.

When… when everyone woke up, he’d ask. He was sure this was a simple misunderstanding, some detail he was missing. 

Because they were his friends and they cared about him and they’d want to set things right.

...right? 

Chapter Text

It took almost another hour for the others to wake up, time that Lance spent walking in circles around the courtyard, a trail of Jedliks trailing him like ducklings and imitating whatever he did with his hands.

It would have been adorable in any other circumstance.

But Lance spent that time both listening for the voice and craning his neck to the guest house and trying to figure out how exactly to broach the subject. He didn’t want to accuse anyone or come off as clingy or annoying, but…

But he felt hurt.

Really hurt.

But he pasted on a smile as they all — Pidge in the lead with her hair mused and glasses propped atop her head — entered the courtyard and called out as cheerful a “Good morning!” as he could manage.

“You didn’t make breakfast?” Pidge replied with, looking blearily at him.

“Um, no?” Lance tried to keep up his smile even as his stomach twisted because was no one going to say hello?. “I don’t know what these vegetables are and—”

“You could still have washed some up,” Hunk said, stepping into the garden and beginning to pick some large pink globes — berries or tomatoes or maybe something else entirely — and place them in his helmet he’d brought with. 

Lance’s smile slipped.

Pidge was always a bit of a grouch in the mornings, but Hunk?

“I’ll, I’ll go get some water then,” Lance said. “Just a s—”

“Don’t bother,” Keith said. “Already got it. Here, Hunk,” and he plunked a bucket down by Hunk’s knees. 

“Thanks, Keith.”

They all ignored Lance to begin picking various plants.

Lance shifted on his feet.

This…

This wasn’t how he saw the morning going.

Why was everyone being so…?

So dismissive?

What had he done wrong? He had to have done something to offend them. So, so even though he didn’t know what that was, he knew what he could do.

“I’m sorry.”

He barely heard himself.

No one looked up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said it louder and that at least garnered some reactions, even the Jedliks turning towards him. 

But his friends’ gazes weren’t kind or nice, let alone confused. Everyone looked…

They looked angry. 

And the Jedliks looked…

Lance wasn’t sure and it was hard to tell without them having eyes and eyebrows and all, but…

But in contrast they looked happy. 

And Lance didn’t understand what was going on at all.

Lance swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I, I don’t know what I did, but, but you all seem upset with me and—”

“God, Lance,” Pidge interrupted him, hands on her hips, “everything doesn’t always have to be about you.”

“I,” Lance floundered, “I didn’t say it was. I’m, I’m trying to apologize because—”

“We’ll be here all day if you try to do that and no one has that kind of time,” Keith cut in. 

Lance’s vision blurred.

What?

He, he was trying to apologize and they were...

“Lance,” Allura sounded and Lance turned to her hoping, praying, someone here wasn’t going to so…

So cruel. 

“Please,” she sighed, “I know it is difficult, but could you put forth some modicum of effort to represent what a Paladin of Voltron should be and not the version of it that you are currently portraying?”

Lance felt like he’d been slapped.

This was…

Why were…

Why were they all saying this?

What had he done? 

Was this still about the game show?

“What…” his voice shook, “what did I do wr-wrong?”

Pidge let out a scoffing sound. “The better question is, when have you done anything right?”

Lance flinched.

Pidge stared at him resolutely, all blurriness gone so that he couldn’t even try to explain her comments away by being tired. 

She…

She meant that.

“Your first clue,” Keith said and Lance pulled his gaze towards him, “is the fact you don’t know. Bob was right. You are the stupid one.”

Lance trembled and that cold shiver had returned, going down his back and pooling with ice in his stomach.

This…

This wasn’t…

This couldn’t be real.

He had to be dreaming somehow.

A press of his fingernails into his palm proved that wrong.

But this was wrong.

“Guys, this… this isn’t funny,” Lance tried, eyes darting around the group, because he had to be missing something. 

He had to be.

“No, it’s not,” Pidge agreed. “Because,” her lips pulled into an unkind smile, “the only joke here is you.”

Lance turned his attention to Hunk, who was staring at him with an impassive face. “Hunk, please, what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on, Lance,” Hunk sighed. “We’ve just all realized we have a problem.” His eyes narrowed. “You.”

“What are you saying?” Lance’s hands clenched into shaking fists at his sides. “Hunk, wh-what is—?”

“Garfle Warfle Snick was an enlightening experience,” Allura interrupted, “and it opened our eyes to many things. Namely that you, Lance, are not deserving of the title of Paladin of Voltron.”

It felt like someone had just stabbed him in the back.

“What?” Lance whispered. 

So, so this was about the gameshow? 

“You were a disappointment and failed at even the easiest of challenges,” Allura continued. “Someone like that, embarrassing Voltron in front of a supreme being like Bob, shames us all.”

Every word twisted the knife deeper.

Lance felt faint. 

He had to be dreaming. 

Allura would never say that.

Hunk would never say that. 

They were still talking.

“Bob was right to call you out,” Keith said. “We don’t need anyone as stupid as—”

“I’m not stupid,” Lance’s voice was high and clogged with tears and unbidden memories of bullying students and even cruel teachers making fun of him as he struggled to learn English, to understand the more complicated mathematics he needed to get into the Garrison, even Iverson’s biting words of how he was just a cargo pilot. 

And how Hunk had always told him they were wrong.

But, but now Hunk was...

He looked around the now blurry group, shaking his head. “I’m not st-stupid.”

“Aw, are you going to cry?” Pidge smirked. “What a big, stupid baby.”

Lance stood there, struggling not to do just that.

Something…

Something had to be wrong.

They weren’t acting right. They would never, ever, say those things to him.

Right?

Lance squashed the hesitation.

Of course not.

He knew his friends. And these people...

Something had happened to them. Bob had done something to them.

He…

He needed to get them help.

And clearly he wasn’t going to be enough to fix whatever this was. 

But he knew people who would be.

Lance shuddered out a breath, feeling the icy hold lessen the barest bit in the face of his plan. He would get Shiro, get Coran and Krolia and even Romelle, and all of them were smart (far, far smarter than him) and they would know how to fix whatever it was Bob had done. 

Lance blinked back his tears and straightened his back.

And without a word he turned on his heel and strode for the guest quarters to get his armor.

Or, well, he would have if Keith hadn’t stepped directly in front of his path.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“He’s running away,” Pidge called from behind and Lance tried his best to ignore her. “Just like a baby.”

Keith didn’t budge.

But as Lance met his eyes there was nothing kind in them. 

“I’m leaving,” Lance said, grateful when it came out without a single waver.

“Leaving?” Keith repeated. “You don’t have permission to leave.”

“I’m leaving,” Lance repeated evenly.

And he made to sidestep around Keith.

Keith’s hand clamped down painfully on Lance’s shoulder and he winced as that hurt.

“I said,” Keith’s eyes narrowed, “you don’t have permission to leave.”

“Keith, you’re hurting me,” Lance said quietly.

Keith’s grip tightened and he leaned forward, breath hot on Lance’s face.

“Good.”

Lance’s eyes widened. 

And then he wrenched his shoulder back, taking a stumbling step as well to put distance between the two of them.

And he became aware that Hunk was on his feet now too and Pidge had come forward and Allura was moving to Keith’s side.

They were surrounding him.

Lance’s pulse roared in his ears.

Did… did he have to fight them? 

Why were they doing this?

He looked beyond Keith and Allura towards the path out of town and his eyes widened.

There was another circle around the Paladins.

A circle of Jedliks.

And they…

They were all smiling.

Lance’s heart skipped a beat.

And, and maybe he was stupid because this wasn’t from Bob’s game show.

These aliens, they… they’d done something to his friends. 

He could feel it.

He could feel it as much as the cold shiver returning down his spine.

Had that… had that been his warning? Had he actually realized something was wrong and he’d ignored it?

Stupid. 

Maybe he really was. 

But, but right now his friends were in danger.

He was in danger.

Lance took a breath.

And he ran. 

He feinted left around Keith, ducked beneath Allura’s outstretched hand and charged towards the wall of Jedliks knowing he had more than enough speed and height to jump them. He didn’t relish going through the forest without armor but it was just trees and nothing was going to—

Lance let out a shout as something smashed into the back of his right leg and the entire limb buckled beneath him and sent him face first into the dirt.

Bucket, he placed as around the pain he felt a cold dampness. Hunk had thrown the bucket at him. 

He made to scramble to his feet, heart roaring in his ears, but hands clamped down on his shoulders from behind and a foot landed on his back and he was shoved and pinned back down.

A hand landed in his hair and he felt tears spring to his eyes as it was yanked and twisted and his head pulled uncomfortably back.

Allura looked down, a cruel smile he didn’t recognize hardening her features. 

“Ah-Allura,” he choked out, “Stop. This, this isn’t you.”

It couldn’t be.

“Oh, Lance,” she sighed, her hand only tightening. “You truly are an idiot. But do not worry. We shall educate you. And,” her smile widened, “pain and fear make excellent teachers.”

Chapter Text

These were not his friends. These were not his friends. These were not his friends.

It was the mantra Lance was internally repeating, each iteration somehow getting higher and shriller inside his head, as he silently watched them cluster in front of him, talking too quietly for him to hear, while Jedlik after Jedlik brought in tool after tool that they set on a small table brought into the guest house.

So far he’d definitely seen three knives, a hammer, two shovels and a pair of scissors.

The intention was clear.

He’d probably be sick if he a; had anything more than a couple bites of potato in his stomach and b; he wasn’t gagged.

Because Pidge had gagged him.

Gleefully, her nails scratching his cheek as she’d forced one of his own socks into his mouth and secured it by ripping the other and tying it around his head.

“I always wished I could shut you up,” she’d whispered. 

That was of course after they’d tied him up, hands bound uncomfortably above his head and secured to a hook on the wall and his feet tied together and secured with ropes layering across his legs and forcing himto nearly stand on tip-toe after he’d tried to kick out — he didn’t want to hurt them, but… but… — and the gag had come when Lance kept pleading with them to listen, that something was wrong and this wasn’t them, they weren’t acting like his friends and to please, please wake up. 

They hadn’t listened.

Lance didn’t know if they actually could hear him. 

And despite the torture tools being paraded in that was the scariest thing of all.

His friend were being controlled.

He wondered if they even know what they were doing. 

Maybe…

Maybe they were as much a prisoner in their own head as he was theirs. Or maybe they were blissfully unaware. Or maybe even it made sense to them, some warped reality the Jedliks had created that they believed in.

Lance wasn’t sure which option was worse.

They were all awful.

And he’d been so stupid and insecure that he hadn’t even thought to question any of it until it was too late.

Stupid stupid stupid. 

He gave another tug at his restraints, but the rope was holding tight and his wrists felt rubbed raw already through the underarmor and even if his legs weren’t tied down trying to move them meant all of his body weight dangled from his hands and the ropes only cut deeper.

But he had to do something. Anything.

His friends, they…

They were going to hurt him. 

And while Lance was admittedly quite terrified of how they planned to use those weapons on him, the knives weren’t what actually would cut the deepest. 

Words had power and even knowing that these weren’t his friends speaking them (or, at least, intentionally) he could still hear them. They were pulling from memories and thoughts and making every sentence uttered personal and even though he knew they weren’t saying those things…

They were still saying them.

And Lance was scared of what would happen when reality bled into nightmare from pain.

He was scared of what the end goal here was.

They… they wouldn’t actually kill him…

Would they?

Is, is that how whatever this thing was that was controlling them would be lifted? 

And why had the Jedliks targeted them? Why hadn’t they targeted Lance?

He answered that question bitterly.

Because despite how much he protested and didn’t want to believe it, compared to all of them… he was the stupid one, the dumb one, the worthless one. Keith hadn’t been entirely wrong when he’d picked for Lance to leave so everyone else could come up with a solution. 

But the question still he had was why? 

What did the Jedliks gain from this? 

He was missing something.

He was too stupid to figure it out.

A shiver shuddered through him and Lance’s head drooped, earlier exhaustion looming again as the panicked adrenaline began to fade.

But…

But wait. 

He’d thought the shiver meant a warning, some instinct he’d ignored.

But what if it was more than that?

He shivered again.

There had been that voice, that dark, menacing sounding one that had called him weak and— 

He startled as a small, prism, cold hand landed on his cheek.

It wasn’t just cold though.

It was so cold it burned. 

The Jedlik it belonged to giggled, the sound making Lance’s hair stand on end, and their smile widened.

“Guest is scared,” they whispered, leaning in closer. And Lance recoiled as a tongue — just as cold — licked his cheek. “Guest tastes delicious. ”

Lance’s eyes widened.

What?

What were they saying? 

They were going to eat him?

“Hey!” Keith sounded then and to Lance’s surprise the Jedlik shrank back, bowing their head. 

“Sorry, sorry,” they apologized. “No feasting yet. Just,” they took in a deep breath and Lance’s breath caught as another shiver wracked him, “tasting.”

“Well then,” Hunk stepped in line with Keith, “we should get started, yeah? A proper meal takes time to prepare after all.”

And saying so he brandished a knife.

“What do you think, Lance?” he asked as he approached, smile too wide. “Sliced? Diced? Maybe cubed?” 

The knife tip pressed into his throat and Lance fought not to swallow as he could already feel a sting and the sensation of a line of blood trickling down.

Not Hunk, he chanted to himself.

This wasn’t Hunk.

Hunk would never hurt him.

Except…

The knife moved down his throat, slipping beneath the high collar of his underarmor, cold blade flat against warm flesh. 

And then there was a ripping sound as Hunk dragged the blade upwards, splitting the shirt and Lance winced as the knife tip caught his collarbone. Allura was there then, hands grabbing at the shredded sides and tearing it further down his chest while Hunk was pulling him off the wall to hack away at the back of Lance’s shirt and armsleeves.

And Lance had been cold before but as they stripped away his shirt he was full on shivering and he didn’t think it was entirely from the air now on exposed flesh. 

The cruel gazes as his friends crowded around him were far colder, and try as hard as he could Lance could not find a fleck of warmth in any of them.

He still didn’t let himself look away.

Somewhere inside there were his friends. And, and he didn’t blame them. This wasn’t something they wanted to do either.

He knew that.

He couldn’t stop believing that, no matter what happened.

Lance lifted his chin up, all the strength he could project in it.

No fear.

Be strong.

Try… try to be worthy of the title of Paladin.

And despite the cooler air Lance felt a sudden tingle of warmth spread across his chest.

“He’s not scared,” Keith observed quietly. “Not like he was.”

“Well fuck,” Pidge swore.

Lance’s eyes widened.

Was… was that it?

Was that the missing piece?

Fear?

The Jedlik had said that too, that he was scared and then said that he tasted delicious. 

Was it not his body they wanted to eat but…

But his feelings? Specifically, it sounded like, fear? 

It couldn’t be that though (assuming that was even possible but Lance had seen a lot of strange alien races, who wasn’t to say one lived off of emotions? It was just as likely as their claim to live off of sunlight) because then why target him? Hunk in general was scared of more things, would be easier to intimidate, would be easier to draw a reaction of fear.

It was a part of it but not all of it. 

“Guys, look,” Hunk broke his train of thought, his lips pulling into a grin. “He’s trying to think.”

“Careful now, Lance,” Pidge reached up on tiptoes to pat his cheek. “Don’t try too hard. It’ll hurt you. And that honor is reserved for us.”

And she delivered a fist with her words right into Lance’s stomach.

He choked on the gasp, back striking the wall at the force, and his body instinctually tried to curl up although that action just dragged on his wrists and he went nowhere. 

She went to deliver another punch but to Lance’s surprise Keith caught her hand about the wrist, holding her back.

“Keith,” she struggled to pull free, “what the fuck?”

“He’s not scared,” Keith repeated. And his other hand shot out, squeezing Lance’s chin and lifting his head up from where it had dropped, sharp purple eyes tracing his face. “And that’s not going to make him so. Not yet, anyway. Hunk, is one of those armsleeves still intact?”

“Uh…” 

Lance could see Hunk bending down in his peripheral, unable to move his head in Keith’s grip, but he held out a tattered piece of black underarmor a moment later. 

Tattered, but still long and thick and it would make a perfect blindfold.

Lance hated the instant panic that froze his lungs and he hated more how it made Keith’s grin sharpen and Pidge let out a low snicker of amusement.

“Scared of the dark?” she teased. “Jeez, Lance, you are a little baby, aren’t you?”

No, Lance wanted to protest.

Not the dark (at least, not the dark so long as he wasn’t in a small space like a cryo pod sinking into the ground and no one could hear him screaming for help and Dios, did they know about that? Would they…?) on its own.

But not being able to see?

Of the unknown?

Lance tried to jerk his head back but Keith’s hold only tightened and Allura grabbed hold of his hair, twisting it back in her fingers as Hunk moved forward, cloth stretched out wide and drawing closer.

And then his world went dark. 

Hunk was not gentle with the knot either, tying it even tighter than Pidge had of the gag, and Lance felt tears sting his eyes between that and Allura’s continued pulling of his hair, but at least…

At least they couldn’t see them.

The thought really wasn’t comforting.

“Let him go,” Keith ordered and all hands moved away, leaving Lance hanging alone.

Alone.

The word thundered with his pulse in his head and a shiver went down his spine, colder than before.

“Alone.”

It took Lance a moment to realize that the word echoing in his mind had been spoken by Keith.

How…

How had he…?

“He’s never liked to be alone,” Hunk said. “He’s like an annoying shadow that won’t ever go away.”

“Super clingy,” Pidge agreed. “And always has to be the center of attention. Don’t you, Lance?” a pointed finger pressed bruisingly into his chest. “Well, you’ve got our attention now. Do you like it?”

And even though Lance had sort of expected it he still wasn’t ready as Pidge drove another first into his stomach and his gasp was swallowed by the gag. 

It didn’t hurt that much though.

The words, as he feared, hurt more.

But, but they weren’t true.

“Oh, they’re true,” Hunk said and Lance’s eyes widened behind the blindfold. “You’re so transparent it hurts. You think we haven’t talked about you before? About how you always have to be involved and how annoying it is? Because news flash,” and hot breath brushed his cheek, “no one likes spending time with you.”

That wasn’t true.

It wasn’t.

Hunk would never say that.

Hunk was his best friend, his brother.

This wasn’t right.

He couldn’t listen. 

“It’s one of the main reasons I went to the Blades,” Keith said. “I couldn’t stand you. Do you know how hard it was for me to try to sound like a leader when you came practically crying to me about your place on the team? It was so pathetic.”

“He did what?” Pidge sounded gleeful.

Lance flinched.

That, that had been private. 

“Yeah,” and he could practically see Keith’s smirk. “Like a little bitch, worried that since Shiro was back that there were too many Paladins and too few Lions and he would be asked to step down. And I almost told him the truth, that he was the weak link, but I decided I’d rather just be rid of him. Although clearly,” a hand clamped down on Lance’s shoulder, “not rid of him enough.”

“So we all got stuck with him instead. Gee, thanks for nothing, Keith,” Pidge moaned. 

“At least you are not the subject of his affections,” Allura sniffed and Lance’s heart skipped a beat.

What?

Allura knew that, that he—

“It almost makes me pity him,” she sighed. “As though I would ever find him attractive or his flirtations welcome. He is a stupid, weak, boy who shall never measure up to be anything.”

It…

It wasn’t true.

That wasn’t Allura talking.

Even, even if she didn’t return his feelings she would never be so cruel.

“You think I am lying?” Allura’s hand, cool and slender, cupped Lance’s cheek and he startled at the touch. “I speak truthfully, Lance. You are just too dumb to understand. Which is why,” her hold tightened, nails biting into his skin, “I believe it is time we move away from words and to action, which even someone like you might understand. Now the only question is where should we start? For you see,” she leaned forward, breath ghosting on his cheek, “there are so many ways to hurt a person, Lance. And I very much wish to hurt you.”

“Uh uh, I get first dibs,” Pidge sounded. “You’ve only had to put up with him for not even a year, Allura. I’ve had to deal with him for twice that and—”

“Then I get to go first,” Hunk interrupted, “because I’ve known him since we were kids and I’ve never been allowed to do this.” 

And a fist crashed into his side and Lance let out a muffled scream as he felt something crack beneath the blow and his brain faintly told him Hunk had just broken a rib.

“Oops,” Hunk said above the pounding of his pulse, not sounding apologetic at all. “Guess I don’t know my own strength. Let me try again.”

A second rib broke beneath his hand and even blindfolded Lance could see lights bursting in front of his eyes and there was the sudden, awful taste of bile dancing on the back of his tongue that he forcefully choked back down, eyes watering at the effort and the pain.

This…

This was...

What did they want?

How far would they go?

“Geez, Hunk, leave some for the rest of us,” Pidge groused.

“That one wasn’t my fault,” Hunk defended. “I held back. Lance is apparently just that weak. ”

“Fair,” Pidge laughed. 

Lance squeezed his eyes shut to contain the tears and wished he could close his ears.

He didn’t want to hear this.

It wasn’t true, it wasn’t, but…

“Lance, Lance, Lance,” he could picture Allura shaking her head as she chided him, “of course it is true. But you? You have been living a lie. You are no Paladin, no hero. You are nothing.” 

“Now that isn’t true,” Keith said, and Lance wanted to think it was a defense but last night at dinner had shown him that wasn’t likely to be the case.

But…

But what could be worse than nothing?

“Oh?”

“He’s nothing more than a cargo pilot.”

Lance flinched at the words, now an insult.

Cargo pilot.

Only in fighter class because Keith had been kicked out.

He hadn’t even earned it on his own merit.

Stupid. 

“A stupid cargo pilot,” Pidge added, as though she’d heard his thoughts.

Lance was faintly starting to think that somehow they could. 

“It’s why I added myself to his team after all; I picked the dumbest, stupidest one because all eyes would be on the pilot rather than me.”

“And he’s the reason I got stuck in cargo class,” Hunk said, scowl in his voice. 

No.

No, that wasn’t true. He and Hunk had wanted to be on the same team, to go to space together.

Unless…

Had, had he really held Hunk back?

Hunk was so much smarter after all and any team would have been lucky to have him. 

The sound of snapping fingers right by his ear had him flinching and his cheeks heated as he heard the amused chuckles at his reaction. 

“I’ve got it,” Pidge said. “I know the first thing we should do to make sure our message…” a knife tip landed on Lance’s chest, “really sinks in. Everyone,” he could hear her grin. “Grab a knife.”

Chapter Text

“—hold him still, Hunk,” Pidge’s voice was tight. “I don’t want to mess this up and these curves are hard.”

“I’m trying,” Hunk growled back and hands pressed even harder into the top of Lance’s shoulders, pinning him to the stone block they’d dragged him onto. 

Lance gave another useless jerk, tears staining the rock beneath him as much as his blood dripping from where they’d already cut into him, broken ribs aching and stabbing as his weight was pushed on top of them.

“H-Hunk,” he choked out, as they’d removed the gag as Allura said she wished to hear his pleas as she was holding down his legs and couldn’t see as the others could. “Pl-please. Por f-favor.”

Please stop.

This, this was…

This wasn’t something he could just, just forget.

They were carving words into his back because saying them aloud hadn’t been enough.

‘Stupid Cargo Pilot.’ 

They were, by his best guess, somewhere in the middle of ‘cargo’ now. 

He didn’t know if he was going to live through this — he still had no idea what this was, what the goal was, what they wanted — but, but if he did…

It would scar.

And, and every day he’d see it.

‘Stupid Cargo Pilot.’ 

“Shut up,” Hunk bit back. 

The knife dove back into his flesh — mid-back now — and Lance bit down on his tongue to hold in the choked scream as it just made them laugh and taunt him more.

He knew these weren’t his friends.

They couldn’t be his friends.

But whenever he tried to even think that they’d interrupt, tell him this was real, this was how they’d always felt, that he was a weak, worthless, stupid nobody that no one had ever liked. 

And with every utterance, with every cut, Lance could feel the words and pain sinking deeper.

The cold was a familiar presence now, accompanied with the earlier exhaustion and he knew, somehow, those things had to be linked but…

But he couldn’t think around the pain and the tiredness and the creeping fear and—

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Keith said, his hands twisted in Lance’s hair and keeping his head and neck down, “you’ve never been able to think.”

“You only made it into the Garrison because your sister pulled strings,” Hunk said, “and of course, me.”

“N-no,” Lance protested.

Not true.

He’d studied so so so hard and he’d worked for that spot and even if he’d been at the bottom of the acceptance list he’d made it on his own merit and it had been one of the biggest accomplishments of his life.

Until then he’d failed to get into the fighter pilot track.

“Because you’re stupid,” Hunk said.

Lance had stopped trying to figure out how the mind reading thing worked.

He wasn’t likely to figure it out anyway. He wasn’t smart enough.

The knife returned.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, even though that did nothing to prevent tears from leaking out and making their way past the blindfold and onto his cheeks.

It, it would be over soon.

And then…

Then…

He didn’t know.

“Okay,” Pidge sounded, the knife lifting away, “finished ‘cargo.’ ‘Pilot’ should be a lot easier.”

“Pidge,” Lance choked out her name. “Pidgeon—”

“Ugh, don’t call me that,” she cut him off. “I fucking hate that nickname. As though I want to be called a winged rat.”

“Better than ‘mullet,’” Keith shot back. 

“All of them are better than hermano,” Hunk returned. “Brother? Like I want to be related to someone as pathetic as him.”

Lance tried not to listen.

He tried to think of nothing they could use to twist, to mock him with.

His brain was coming up empty.

“Of course it is empty,” Allura laughed.

Lance desperately tried to focus on something. Anything.

The knife made its next cut.

Lance whimpered.

Hot blood that didn’t make him feel any less cold trickled down his back.

He began to count. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“Aww, look at him, he knows his numbers,” teased Pidge. “Hey, Lance, what’s the square root of sixteen?”

Lance ignored her.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

“I said,” Pidge stabbed the knife into his lower back and Lance’s concentration broke with his scream, “what,” she stabbed again, “is the square root,” another deep cut, “of sixteen?”

Lance’s brain froze.

“Answer me, Lance.”

Pidge twisted the knife.

“F-four,” Lance gasped out. 

“Good boy” her voice dripped with condescension. “Now, what’s eight to the fifth power?”

Fifth power?

Eight times eight was sixty-four and that times eight was…

Was…

Pidge made a new cut.

“Pl-please,” Lance whispered.

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t think.

“What’s the answer?”

Lance shook.

He didn’t know.

“Of course you don’t,” Pidge sneered. “Because you’re stupid. Tell you what,” she made another cut, “I’ll make these last ones hurt less if tell me how stupid you are. Go on. Say it.”

Tell them…

Tell them he was stupid?

But…

“Tick tick, dumbass,” Pidge said, tapping his back with the flat of the blade. “I’ve got three letters left and we can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

She was going to hurt him no matter what.

She was still going to write words into his back.

And, and if he said it aloud…

If he made those words, those thoughts real…

Then…

Pidge stabbed the blade down with such force Lance jerked free of Hunk’s grip with a short scream, still going nowhere from the other hands. 

“Hard way it is,” Pidge said, dragging the knife. “Can’t say I mind.”

And even though his world was dark behind the blindfold, Lance’s vision flared white as Pidge finished her message with even harder, crueler cuts than before.

And as she pulled the knife away — seconds? minutes? He couldn’t keep track — Lance knew that wasn’t going to be the end.

It couldn’t be.

He still didn’t know what they wanted. 

His body knew what it wanted though.

He’d gone limp, limbs heavy and leaden, and his eyes fluttered with exhaustion that was even more pressing than the pain.

Why did he feel so tired?

Why did he feel so cold? 

“Oh no no,” a hand roughly patted his cheek. “No sleeping yet, dumbass,” Pidge chided. “We’re nowhere close to done with you.”

“I know something that’ll wake him up,” Hunk said. 

And Lance could do nothing as the world made a sickening circle as he was lifted up, back crying out and he couldn’t hold in the moan, and slung over Hunk’s shoulder.

He couldn’t have tried to break free — unpinned save for Hunk’s arm holding him in place although his feet and hands were still bound — if he wanted to.

His body didn’t want to move.

“Oh!” Allura sounded surprised, tone almost innocent before she repeated it, darker. “Oh, Hunk. That is cruel. ”

“Cruel.”

“Cruel.”

“Cruel.”

The word was repeated by high, bell-like voices and Lance faintly realized they’d left the guest house and were now outside, Jedliks apparently sequestered around and waiting for them.

“Stupid guest,” they called out.

Hands — small and freezing — brushed against him as they passed.

“Hungry.”

“Guest so delicious.”

“Feast feast feast.”

Hunk continued to carry him, not stopping the Jedliks’ touches.

“Hold up,” Keith said. “It won’t be any fun if drowns.”

Lance’s brain froze.

Drowns?

What did that—

He let out a gasp as the bindings on his hands were cut and a moment later the ones on his ankles were removed as well. 

“Okay, now go,” Keith said and there was a dull, echoing, clanking noise. 

“One more sec,” Pidge said. “Gotta get the bucket out of there.”

Drown?

Bucket?

Echo?

Oh no.

Oh no.

“Oh yes,”  Hunk said, squeezing Lance’s legs. “Because I know how much you love cold, dark, small spaces, don’t you? And the water should wake you right up.”

“H-Hunk,” his hands twitched on Hunk’s back, trying to hook them in the fabric even though he knew it would do nothing.

But, but he couldn’t…

They were going to…

“D-don’t. Please. Pl-please.”

Not in there.

Please no.

This, this was worse than the cryo-pod.

“Hunk!” it came out a near shriek as he was bodily lifted, his feet landing on the rim and he frantically tried to lean back even as that made the wounds on his back flare with a new fire.

Around him the Jedliks and his friends laughed. 

“Guest terrified,” came the murmur.

“Guest scared.”

“Guest taste delicious.”

“In you go, hermano,” Hunk whispered. 

He shoved.

And with a choked scream Lance plummeted into the well. 

Chapter Text

The frigid water cut worse than Pidge’s knife.

Lance choked on the mouthful he inhaled as he went under and his back felt like it’d just been lit up with an icy fire. Fumbling hands both reached for the blindfold while sluggish feet instinctively kicked, trying to propel him back to where he thought the surface was.

He went headfirst into a wall.

Lance tore the blindfold off, blinking away spots from the impact and the darkness of the water, and angled himself for the barest glimmer above.

He popped to the surface with a heaving gasp, the air almost hurting more than the water as it stole past ravaged lungs, and he nearly went back under as leaden limbs tried to remember how to tread.

The darkness was all around him, the walls even closer — not even a foot on any side — and his heavy pants echoed back to him and it only made his heart race faster as it was too small, too dark, too cold.

He looked up towards the top where a cluster of four heads were peeking over the ede and even from the distance — at least twenty feet — he could see their grins against the bright backdrop. 

But there was light.

Lance tried to focus on that, on the fact he had air, he could breathe — even if it was painful to do so — and, and...

“How’s it going down there?” Pidge hollered, her voice reverberating off the narrow sides of the well.

“P-Pidge,” Lance both chattered and gasped. “Please.”

Please.

Please let him up.

Please don’t do this.

And then he was diving sideways, pressing himself to the far wall as something — the bucket, they’d thrown the bucket — was hurtling down and it hit the water with a hard splash that had Lance flinching. 

The bucket went beneath but the chain was still there and Lance wrapped a shaking hand around it, not daring to hope they were going to pull him up just like that, but…

But he needed them to.

What, whatever they would say to him, do to him, would be better than this.

It was so dark. 

And small. 

And cold. 

Please. Please, he needed— 

“Have fun,” Hunk called down. “Don’t drown now.”

There was a scratching sound of something being dragged.

And Lance’s heart stopped as he realized they were pulling a cover atop the well.

“No!” it came out a shriek as the light started to disappear, as the darkness closed in. “N-no! Hunk!”

The last sound he heard was their laughter and then a thud as the cover dropped completely on and he was left in pitch darkness.

“Hunk!” he screamed again.

Hunk Hunk Hunk echoed back to him, even louder than before in the now closed space.

Lance’s sob echoed too.

This couldn’t…

They couldn’t have...

“Pl-please,” that one was a whisper that didn’t go past him. “Please.”

No one answered.

Lance clung tighter to the chain, hand already starting to go numb from the coldness of the metal links, his shaking sending ripples and a quiet clanking that filled the space.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness as though that would make any of this less real. 

They, they couldn’t leave him down here forever, right? They’d get bored, eventually. He just…

Just had to hang on until then. 

He let out a choked sob at the terrible pun.

Dios, they’d…

They’d really…

And, and they knew he was scared and they’d…

The whimper that passed through his lips was no better than the sob.

He couldn’t seem to stop. 

He just…

Why were they doing this?

What had he done to them?

What did they want? 

He didn’t know.

He wasn’t smart enough to figure it out.

Stupid stupid stupid.

Stupid and weak. 

He had no strength to try to climb the chain — is that what he was supposed to do? Climb the slippery, wet chain in the dark with his back carved up and still bleeding? — and he couldn’t reach the bucket down below, his feet only striking water and a bit of chain.

Lance pressed his forehead against the cold links.

He just…

Just had to wait.

They’d let him out.

They…

They had to.

xxx

Lance couldn’t feel his feet.

His hands were a mix of ice and fire and he couldn’t make out individual fingers anymore; just clubs of flesh that he tried to keep around the chain because if he let go…

He would drown.

He’d tried floating on his back but the walls were too close and there wasn’t room.

It had made him panic anew and then it had skyrocketed as he’d lost track of the chain and he’d flailed around trying to find it, his echoing sobs accompanying his efforts.

His back had stopped hurting, at least.

It was the same icy numbness as the rest of him now.

Even his tears didn’t feel warm as they trickled down his cheeks. 

He was so cold. 

He…

He wanted to go home. 

He wanted his friends back.

He just…

Why was this…?

What did they want? 

xxx

He was so cold.

He was so tired. 

Lance’s barely there grip loosened.

His chin struck water.

He gasped and fumbled his way for the chain.

No.

No.

Just…

Just hold on.

Just a little longer.

xxx

He was so tired.

He kept holding on.

Even though…

Even though he wasn’t entirely sure what for.

xxx

He wasn’t scared anymore.

He was too exhausted to be scared.

He wasn’t sure if that was really a good thing, but— 

The light from above nearly blinded Lance as the cover was pulled back and even as he winced he turned his face into it because light. 

And…

And they’d come back for him.

“Hey, Lance!” Pidge shouted down. “Answer a question for me and we’ll pull you up.”

A, a question?

He could barely keep his eyes open, could barely think.

But, but he would try. He didn’t…

Didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

“You come up with eight to the fifth power yet?”

Lance’s head dropped and he felt more frozen tears prick at them.

No.

No he hadn’t.

And Pidge had to know that. 

And, and now…

“Pl-please.”

He didn’t even recognize his own voice, raspy and choked and barely audible to even himself.

Please.

Please let him out.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Keith’s head poked over the edge, “we’ll give you a different question that even someone like you should be able to answer.” Keith’s lips pulled back into a sharp smile. “Are you stupid?”

A tear trickled down his cheek.

If, if he answered that the way they wanted him to…

“Five seconds, Lance,” Hunk warned. “Otherwise…”

The cover moved partly over, cutting into the light.

Lance’s heart skipped. 

Not again.

But, but…

“Four,” Pidge counted down.

But maybe…

Maybe it was…

“Three…”

Maybe it was true.

He was stupid.

That had been proven time and again. 

So many times.

“Yes.”

He barely breathed out the word.

It tasted like bile. 

Another tear trickled down his cheek.

“Didn’t catch that,” Pidge said, although based on the smirk he could hear in her voice she had.

“Y-yes,” he said, louder.

“Say it,” Keith ordered. 

“I’m…” Lance swallowed.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m stupid.”

Something more than ribs broke in his chest at the declaration.

Even when the world had said that to him, he’d…

He’d never…

“Music to my ears,” Pidge grinned. “All right, cargo pilot, we’ll pull you up. Allura?”

And that must have been the cue as the chain in Lance’s numb grip began to slide.

And he couldn’t hold on.

The panic returned full force as the chain continued to go up and he remained in the water.

They were going to leave him here.

They were going to leave him and he was going to drown and please, lease let him out let him out let him—

Something clunked against his foot and Lance remembered now that at the end of the chain was a bucket.

He frantically — and the others laughed and no doubt the spectacle he made — tried to jam a foot into the bucket and wrap the rest of his body around the chain.

And a second later he was going up. 

He was about halfway up, shaking and trembling, and swaying precariously, when the momentum stopped.

And then he was falling. 

Lance’s scream was swallowed by his heart leaping into his throat as he descended before he stopped with a jerk that had him careening into one of the well walls and his back was lit up with fire as it took the full impact.

“Oops,” Allura sounded from above. “My hand slipped.”

Her hand “slipped” three times more before Lance finally cleared the top of the well.

He didn’t even care about the pain the hands caused as they landed on him to pull him out of the bucket and onto solid ground, where he laid there, completely unbound, shuddering and shaking and trying not to cry as his “friends” crowded about him.

Even with his eyes closed he could feel their sneers. 

And…

And something else was there.

High pitched laughter and giggles that sounded like bells.

Lance had almost forgotten about the Jedliks.

And somehow, with that reminder, despite the fact he was no longer submerged in freezing water and in the bright sunshine instead of the dark…

He felt colder than ever before.

“Look at him,” Pidge toed him with her boot. “Pathetic.”

“Bring him back to the guest house,” Keith ordered. “It’s time,” Lance could hear his grin, “for the feast to begin.”

Chapter Text

Lance begged them to stop.

They didn’t stop.

They stabbed knives into his arms and legs.

They poured water over his face just until he was about to black out.

They ripped off his finger nails.

They kicked and punched and pinched and prodded.

And they laughed. 

Someone was always laughing.

The cruel, amused giggle of Allura.

The harsh bark of laughter of Hunk.

The sneering snicker of Pidge.

The cold, violent laugh of Keith.

And the bell-like chiming of the Jedliks.

And the laughs and pain were accompanied by cruel words.

Pathetic, they whispered to him.

Weak.

Stupid.

Useless.

Cargo pilot.

And they…

Maybe they…

They were right.

He hurt.

Everything hurt.

Moving and breathing and he was so cold even though sometimes he felt hot (too hot) and so tired and he felt there was nothing to make him feel better.

Except…

Except when they told him to say he was stupid they stopped hurting him, just for a little bit.

One time, when he’d been in tears and repeating he was stupid and useless over and over between gasping sobs Allura had even let him have a blanket for a while. 

He stopped caring about what they wanted.

Why they were doing this.

He didn’t have the energy.

He no longer had the strength.

He just…

He wanted the pain to stop. 

He needed the pain to stop. 

And so…

He was stupid.

A stupid cargo pilot.

And that’s all he would ever be.

xxx

“They should have been back by now.”

Shiro paced another circle around the clearing, glancing at the path he’d watched the other group go down two and a half days ago, as though they’d appear through the trees.

Nothing.

His group had returned nearly three hours ago and had spent most of that time sorting their collected food items to distribute based upon what the others found and then gratefully collapsing on the ground after near non-stop hiking and foraging save for when they set up camp and although Shiro had steadily been gaining more strength back he still wasn’t where he used to be.

But that had been hours ago and while the sun had not yet set it would start to do so in a few hours and the others should have been back. 

Coran had reported when they arrived that there were no notable heat signatures to indicate lifeforms and so it was highly unlikely they had been attacked by an animal. And even if they had, all five of them were more than competent fighters and if someone had been injured they would have come back towards the Lions. 

The lake Shiro’s group had found had been large, yes, and even without a prosthetic to weigh him down Shiro had still resisted going near it as swimming with one arm would be challenging. But he had no fear of the team drowning as he knew Lance and Hunk were both excellent swimmers and they wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.

But there was a prickle of wrongness as the hour grew later and they didn’t show.

“I concur, Number One,” Coran said, rising from where he’d been crouched next to the campfire that felt a bit too hot right now but Shiro knew would be welcome later in the evening. “And I would suggest we go look for them. Perhaps they found so much for our food stores they are struggling to get it back in a timely manner.”

Even as Coran said that Shiro could hear the note of concern behind the upbeat words and it sent a shiver down his spine. Coran being worried was definite cause for concern.

But until evidence proved otherwise, Shiro would remain optimistic.

“I shall go with you,” Krolia said. “Romelle, stay with Kosmo in case they return in our absence. Kosmo,” the wolf pricked his ears, “find me if they do.”

The wolf gave a soft wuff that despite the circumstances made Shiro’s lips quirk up. 

And at least, Shiro sighed with relief, they had a clear path to follow thanks to marks no doubt Keith had carved into trees. 

He’d been tired before, looking forward to a quiet evening around the campfire and seeing what Hunk could do with the vegetables and roots they’d found that while edible didn’t taste all that good (and Coran’s attempts were… well, attempts was a good word), but the worry was giving him a burst of energy and adrenaline and he found himself in a loping jog as they moved through the trees and leading the small group. 

Something spurred him to go faster and he listened to it. 

He didn’t want to give into the negative thought but he could feel it the further they went.

Something was wrong.

Something was really wrong. 

And as they reached a crest in a small hill and the trees cleared to reveal a small town below Shiro felt that same prickle and he knew, he knew, that answers lay there. 

“Let’s go,” he said quietly.

He let Krolia take the lead, sword drawn at her side and Coran with a staff, while Shiro felt adequately unarmed with only an Altean blaster, but, well…

His gaze drifted to his missing arm, underarmor shirt neatly pinned at the stump and hiding the metal port left behind. He didn’t regret being rid of the prosthetic and all that it signified, but… but it did leave him both literally and figuratively unarmed (and he’d yet to share a version of that pun yet but he was waiting for the right moment to really try to show Keith he didn’t have to tiptoe around it) and right now he really, really wished he had it.

They entered the town — ruins, really, made of dark gray stone, clearly weather-worn and crumbling — silently, only the barest press of footsteps giving them away on the gravel path.

A flash of red in the corner of Shiro’s eye passing behind one of the crumbling homes had him whirling, gun whining to life. 

Keith looked back at him, clearly just as surprised, a sword in each hand.

“Shiro,” Keith breathed bayard disappearing in a burst of pixels and luxite shrinking back into a knife as Shiro lowered his gun. 

Thank God.

Keith was okay.

“Keith!” Krolia sounded, having backtracked. 

“Mom!” Keith sounded so relieved and Shiro’s heart lurched.

Something was wrong.

“Number Four, lad,” Coran appeared at Shiro’s side. “Where are the others?”

“Pidge, Allura and Hunk are all here, in town,” Keith said. He swallowed. “We’re looking for Lance. He went missing last night and we don’t know where he went.”

Shiro’s blood ran cold.

“What?” Coran asked, sounding as breathless as Shiro felt. 

“There’s something… strange about this place,” Keith said, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably and Shiro wondered if that was the prickle he felt. Keith had always been attuned to his instincts and if he felt something… then something was there.  “We weren’t going to stay, but we found an overgrown garden and a well that still has water and we’ve been harvesting it to bring back. Lance went to bed early last night and when we got to our campsite he wasn’t there, but his armor was. We’ve been looking all day, but…”

But they hadn’t found him. 

“Where have you looked?” Krolia asked. 

“I just finished sweeping this section of houses,” Keith gestured behind him, “and we’ve done the whole town square. Allura’s looking north and Pidge and Hunk… they’re looking in the well, although…”

Shiro’s stomach clenched again.

If Lance had fallen down the well and he wasn’t floating at the surface then it was unlikely they’d ever find him if he had.

But what would compel Lance to jump down a well? 

Shiro shivered again.

“Has anyone searched outside of town yet?” Coran asked.

Keith shook his head. “We were concentrating our search in here. But, if you think he might have gone that way…”

“I shall check the perimeter at once,” Coran said. 

“I’ll go the other way and we’ll meet in the middle,” Krolia volunteered. 

“I’ll help search in town,” Shiro said. 

Based on what Keith had said of the town and the feeling he was having, he had the gut instinct that Lance in here, somewhere. But there could only be so many places to look and it worried Shiro that no one had yet found any trace of him. 

“This way,” Keith gestured him towards a set of houses opposite them. “I’ll go let Pidge and Hunk know you’re here and I’ll come back to this section to look.”

“Sounds good,” Shiro agreed. 

He entered the first house on the block Keith had gestured to, and it only took a quick glance to reveal there was nothing there except dust and broken rocks from the crumbling walls. Shiro still took a cursory walk around, examining the structure just in case.

Nothing.

He exited and peeked into the next one.

Nothing.

Something was prickling at him as he entered the third dwelling, revealing the same.

This…

This was too easy.

Even with the number of homes there was no way the others wouldn’t have searched the entire town in under an hour and the fact no one had left to search outside of it or gone to get help...

That didn’t feel right.

Something here wasn’t right. 

And while he knew that Keith tended to go off alone, if one of their group had gone missing then they should be sticking in sets of two, just in case something was lurking unseen in the rubble. But it couldn’t have been an attack if Lance had had the time to leave behind his armor.

Another shiver went down Shiro’s spine. 

Had some sort of spirit been involved? He couldn’t rule out such a thing, given all he’d seen up in space. Had it taken Lance away?

But even that wouldn’t explain Keith’s decisions in how to search for Lance.

Shiro exited the third house but rather than going on to the fourth he cut silently back across the road from where he’d seen Keith and began to pick his way behind those homes, using them as cover, inwards towards the town. 

And as he moved further in, despite the warm sunshine above, he felt…

He felt cold.

It was growing colder.

Something told him to turn back.

And he knew that he was on the right track. 

He pushed forward, letting his own instincts guide him.

And the worst of the chill led him to a house, no different than any other, but…

Shiro’s grip tightened on his gun.

And he pushed open the door.

The immediate sharp tang of blood was overwhelming, followed by the sickly sweet scent of bile and Shiro’s eyes watered.

Even through the sudden blur he could make out that this house was not empty.

“Lance,” he barely breathed out the boy’s name, staring with horror at the still form.

Lance wasn’t restrained, but Shiro didn’t think that made any difference, as the boy’s body was broken — limbs bent the wrong way, blood and gashes and open wounds all over his flesh, cheeks flushed with fever even while his body trembled and shook with chills.

What had…?

Who had…?

There was only one logical answer, but…

But that wasn’t logical at all.

In any case, right now, what was important was getting Lance out of here. 

Everything else could wait.

Shiro holstered his gun — and the lack of a second arm was really, really starting to become not just a hinderance but a liability — and sank to his knees next to Lance, reaching out a shaking hand to press to the boy’s cheek, one of the only places of untouched flesh (unless Shiro counted the tear tracks stained into his skin).

Lance recoiled with a whimper, shrinking against the wall behind him.

“Lance,” Shiro repeated his name, all he seemed capable of. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.

None of this was okay.

Lance whimpered again and his eyes scrunched even tighter closed.

And then… 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” he choked out, like a mantra, a prayer, “‘m stupid, ‘m stupid, so st-stupid.”

Shiro apparently hadn’t been horrified enough.

“Lance, buddy,” he whispered. “It’s, it’s Shiro.”

“‘m stupid, a st-stupid cargo p-pilot.”

He fell silent with a ragged sob and Shiro was too scared to speak or touch him again because…

Because what was…

What was this?

What the hell had happened?

“You weren’t supposed to find him.”

Shiro’s whirled around in his pivot, nearly unbalancing.

Keith stood in the doorway.

But Shiro didn’t recognize him.

He’d never seen Keith look so…

So cruel, his eyes narrowed with amusement, his lips curled back in an unkind smile. 

This wasn’t Keith.

This couldn’t be Keith. 

It was confirmed as Keith spoke, even though it had to be Keith.

Shiro faintly wondered if his guess about spirits being involved was right.

“We had planned on the large guest being the next, but,” Keith sighed, “plans change. And the feast must continue. After, that is, we dispatch of those uninvited. They are not our guests.”

He drew both of his swords.

Shiro slowly rose to his feet.

“Keith,” he kept his voice even, looking for a shred of the young man he called his brother.

Nothing.

There wasn’t even anger lurking in those sharp purple orbs.

There was only hate. 

Shiro swallowed and spread his hand, trying to signify no threat because he knew right now he was absolutely no match for Keith and he had to think of some other way, something to get him to stand down. 

Just for now.

Just until he could figure out what to do.

 “I don’t want to fight you,” he said quietly.

“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” Keith immediately retorted. “You weren’t invited.”

That term again. Invited. Uninvited. Guests. A feast, like a party? 

“Then I’ll leave,” Shiro said.

And he was not imagining it as Keith’s eyes widened ever so.

“I’ll just go,” Shiro said. “No need to make a scene and ruin the… feast.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed.

“That isn’t like you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Shiro shot back. 

And that was true.

There was a lot Shiro didn’t even remember about himself; memories of Champion now lost even more in the muddle of the flashes of being trapped in the Astral Plane and the phantom whisps from the clone that had once taken his place on the team. 

But he could use that.

He had to use that because physical strength was not going to help right now.

“I survived the Arena for a year, Keith,” Shiro said. “I didn’t do that by being nice.”

Some of the suspicion cleared away. 

Shiro pressed, truth mixed with lies and hopefully convincing to whatever this was that had Keith’s face and memories but nothing else.

“You think Krolia cares about any of the others here? No. All she cares about is you. And me? You’re my brother, Keith. Just... let me go, let me lead your mom and Coran away. And, and whatever you’re feasting on… just leave Keith alone. Don’t hurt him and you can do what you want with the rest.”

Keith’s grin widened.

“Uninvited guest smart,” he said, and the words sounded almost…

Childish. 

“Uninvited guest knows that scar face guest is not right. Uninvited guest,” Keith’s eyes narrowed, “is dangerous.” 

“No, no,” Shiro raised his hand up. “Not dangerous. Not at all. Just… just trying to protect Keith. That’s it. That’s all. But if you don’t let me go… Krolia and Coran will come and they will stop your feast.”

“No stop feast,” Keith scowled. 

And he lowered his swords. 

Shiro didn’t yet dare breathe even as he lowered his hand.

Resting it atop the blaster.

“Uninvited guest go,” Keith said, jerking his head at the door. “Take others aw—”

Shiro took the shot.

It was far from accurate, shooting from his hip through the holster, but it smashed into Keith’s right thigh where no armor covered and the entire limb collapsed as while it was a stunner it still hurt, Keith choking on a scream — and even here, even now, he kept his pain quiet and that hurt almost as much as shooting him did.

Shiro yanked the gun free and fired second shot — it was a stunner, it was a stunner, he had it on repeat — into Keith’s head.

He collapsed.

Shiro pivoted back to Lance, holstering the gun and bending down in one fell swoop.

“Sorry, buddy,” he apologized, roughly grabbing one of Lance’s arms to drag him up and awkwardly throw him over his shoulder, clamping a hand down over Lance’s back and trying to ignore the sensation of blood beneath his fingers.

God.

God, this was...

Lance whimpered but otherwise this time remained quiet and Shiro sent a silent prayer.

“Hold on,” he whispered.

And he ran. 

Chapter Text

Shiro didn’t just run.

He sprinted, Lance bouncing uncomfortably and no doubt painfully for him on Shiro’s back.

He had no other option because if the others caught him, attacked him…

He couldn’t fight back.

And as he rushed for the front of town he heard screams of his name.

But not from any enraged Paladins that may have seen him or from Keith — who should at least be out for a few minutes. 

From…

Coran?

And the fact Coran was using his name, not the number moniker, was terrifying in its own right, if Coran didn’t already sound panicked.

“Shiro!” he screamed, waving his arms from where he and Krolia were standing just outside the wall. “Hurry! Hurry, lad, hurry!”

And behind him now he could hear something else.

A…

A howl. 

A howl of pure rage. 

Shiro lowered his head and somehow ran faster.

He blew past the wall, stumbling on the uneven ground outside of it, and would have fallen had hands not landed upon his stump and at his back, helping steady him before going to pull Lance away and Shiro had no plans to protest as both Coran and Krolia were far more equipped to carry him.

“Oh, Alaraan,” Coran whispered, horrified, and Shiro understood exactly how he felt.

But no.

No he didn’t.

Because as he turned to look at Lance, slumped against Coran — unconscious now, and thank God, he had to be in so much pain — he got his first look at the bloodied back.

‘Stupid cargo pilot’ was carved into it.

Shiro’s stomach turned over. 

“What…?”

He didn’t even recognize his own voice.

“Look,” Krolia said, her voice hard, and Shiro realized she was looking beyond them and towards town.

Shiro slowly angled his head.

And he froze.

Because pressed up against the wall but not beyond it were…

Were ghouls. 

It was the only thing Shiro could think of to describe them — a grayish-black mass of large, gaping mouths with teeth and no eyes and distorted arms and hands but no feet — and they were the ones responsible for the eerie howl.

And behind them…

Keith — and he should not be conscious yet — Allura, Hunk and Pidge, pure hate etched into their faces. 

“I will explain later,” Coran said, Lance now cradled in his arms and looking so small and Shiro’s heart twisted. “Time is of the essence for everyone. Shiro, with me; we’re returning to the Lions. Krolia, you are certain?”

“I’ll drag them out kicking and screaming,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “Just send Kosmo and Romelle.”

“Righty-o,” Coran said, the joviality seeming forced in a way Shiro had never heard. “I’ll leave you to it then. Shiro, lad, let’s go.”

If the race in search of the others had seemed long, this one felt even more so, and it wasn’t even due to the now painful press of exhaustion and burning in Shiro’s legs and stitch in his side.

He didn’t dare stop or slow down.

All he had to do was look at Lance, still passed out, and his too pale face beneath the flush, the way he trembled even now, and how even unconscious he still looked so scared, to force himself to keep moving. 

He was still beyond grateful to stumble into the clearing and Romelle shot straight up with a sharp cry of alarm and Kosmo stood, tail erect.

“Coran, Shiro,” her gaze between their faces and Lance. “What has—?”

“Go to Krolia,” Coran told her. “She’ll explain. And,” he swallowed, “prepare to fight.”

Romelle paled but nodded. 

“Quiznack,” she swore beneath her breath as she grabbed hold of Kosmo’s fur.

A sharp pop and the scent of ozone later and they were gone.

“Shiro, fetch a blanket,” Coran said, “lay it out as best you can. And then heat the kettle, but not too hot.”

“Right,” Shiro said, moving towards where they had gathered blankets earlier in anticipation of spending the night outside in the fresh air with the company of the campfire.

It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Even the sun was barely starting to set, as though time had frozen on the horror show of the afternoon.

‘As best he can’ was a fairly accurate statement as Shiro couldn’t flip it with only one arm and his legs were starting to wobble beneath him where crouching down would mean he was not getting up. It was enough though and Coran gently lowered Lance to it, a soft murmur passing his lips as Lance twitched and let out a moan, and Shiro both set the kettle next to the rocks to heat and brought over the other half of the canteen he’d filled it with after taking a gulp himself. 

“Sit with him,” Coran said, straightening up. “I need to fetch the medical kit.”

Shiro didn’t sit so much as he collapsed with a thud as his legs decided they’d had enough and he would not be standing any more today at Lance’s side. He kept his eyes trained on the boy’s face rather than his back, and so he could easily see between the setting sun and the fire the flickering beneath Lance’s eyelids.

He was waking up. 

Shiro maintained his distance as last time touching Lance, even a gentle one, had scared him, as had words.

So Shiro began to hum. 

Something to let know Lance that someone was there and, hopefully, that someone meant him no harm, and maybe the fire — pleasantly warm in the cool air — would be soothing after the frigid cold.

His stomach twisted at who had hurt Lance and he tried not to focus on that. He knew there was an explanation, a reason, and that there was no way Keith and the others had purposefully done… done this to Lance. And when they came back to themselves, realized what had happened…

That would be an entirely different nightmare. 

Right now though Lance had to come first as while he didn’t appear to be in any mortal danger — the wounds were bloody and raw but nothing appeared too deep, at least where it would be fatal — he was the main victim, the one who had suffered the most. 

And Shiro only prayed they hadn’t been too late. He knew well how, how quickly cruel words and intentions could dig in. He may not remember a lot of his time in the Arena but certain words, certain movements, could still trigger a reaction — fight or flight or sometimes even a frozen panic — and that had been with people he’d known were bad, were cruel, hurting him.

Lance… Lance had been hurt by his friends. People he’d trusted. And despite the words carved into Lance’s back Shiro knew that Lance was far, far from stupid. He’d have known something was wrong. But… but that didn’t change that they had happened, that Lance, right now, associated those names and faces and even touches with pain and fear.

And Shiro’s heart broke just a little more.

He saw the moment Lance fully awoke; a small, sharp gasp that he quickly tried to muffle, his body going tense and rigid in preparation for further pain.

Shiro made himself keep humming and not do anything else.

Lance trembled.

Shiro kept humming. 

As the seconds ticked by Lance slowly, slowly began to untense at the absence of new pain, turning his face slightly towards where he could no doubt feel the gentle heat of the campfire.

And then a pair of dark eyes slowly peeked open.

The fear and pain in even the half-gaze had Shiro’s heart breaking even further.

Shiro kept humming but otherwise did not draw attention to himself as Lance’s gaze was focused on the campfire, on the dancing flames and tongues of heat.

He shivered again.

And that seemed to break the spell as he sucked in another little gasp followed by a whimper and his eyes squeezed back shut. 

Shiro kept humming, resisting every instinct to reach out. Lance needed to be the one to do so, to welcome touch and words. 

Not even a minute later Lance cracked his eyes open again, but this time they angled sideways away from the fire and towards the source of noise.

They widened.

Shiro mustered up the best smile he could. 

Lance’s lips parted, disbelief and fear still clear but behind that Shiro could see it.

Hope.

And it gave him the same.

Lance wasn’t lost to them. They hadn’t been too late. 

“Sh-Shiro?”

It was barely a word, more of a rasp, but Shiro heard it loud and clear.

“Right here, Lance,” he said softly. “You’re safe,” he said even quieter but firmer. “You’re safe, buddy.”

“Wh-where—?” Lance went to shift his head and broke off with a moan, immediately stilling and eyes squeezing back shut, trembling again. 

“You’re safe,” Shiro repeated. “You’re, you’re with me and Coran. You’re…” he swallowed. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.”

And Lance heard the words.

He could hear Shiro’s sincerity.

But…

But…

The others they’d, they’d tricked him too. They’d pretend to be kind only to throw it back in his face, to hurt him even more, and it didn’t matter how much he pleaded, how much he begged, how stupid he said he was, they always hurt him more.

But…

His brow furrowed.

Shiro…

Shiro hadn’t been there.

He hadn’t… he hadn’t hurt Lance. Then. Now. 

He hadn’t even touched Lance yet, sitting near him but not too close.

And, and there was a fire here; gentle and warm.

There hadn’t been a fire there.

Even more telling was he could feel the breeze, the sensation of being outside.

They hadn’t let him outside since the well.

So was this…

Was this real? 

Was Shiro really…?

He peeked his eyes back open and Shiro’s countenance — worried but soft and kind and gentle and Shiro — stared back at him.

Lance’s vision blurred.

This…

This was real. 

Footsteps sounded and Lance tensed, eyes flicking towards the sound.

Pidge with a knife?

Hunk with his fists?

It was Coran, frozen still, with a silver briefcase in hand.

A med kit.

“Lance,” he murmured, not moving from where he’d stopped. 

“C-Coran,” Lance choked out.

“Oh, my boy.”

Coran was kneeling by him within a few steps, steps quick but movements measured and slow and clearly trying not to startle him.

It made Lance’s throat grow tight.

He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? 

Just, just like they’d said.

A tear trickled down his cheek and he closed his eyes.

And that had been the wrong decision as he recoiled as a cloth — damp and warm — descended on his back.

It hurt. 

Coran was hurting him.

Maybe…

Maybe this wasn’t real after all.

“Please,” he whispered. “‘m sorry. ‘m s-sorry. I…”

The cloth immediately withdrew.

“Oh, Lance,” Coran’s voice was heavy with tears. “Oh, my boy. I am the one who is sorry. I am so sorry, Lance.”

Coran was…

Apologizing?

They never apologized. Unless it was backhanded; they were sorry they knew him, they were sorry he was so stupid, they were sorry the universe had had to deal with him as a Paladin.

The humming started up again.

Nothing and no one else touched him.

Lance dared to open his eyes again. 

Coran and Shiro were still there, guilt painted on Coran’s face like stupidity was on Lance’s.

He blinked.

They remained.

Real? 

“We’re real, buddy,” Shiro said gently and Lance froze.

Had he said that aloud?

Or, or were they reading his mind too?

They had been able to do that.

He, he didn’t know.

He just…

Just…

A low sob worked its way out of his throat and he curled up, no one stopping him, even though that made him hurt too. 

“This isn’t going to work,” he heard Coran say quietly and he tensed.

What were they saying?

What were they going to do to him?

He shivered and tried to hold in the next breathy sob.

“What do we do?” Shiro responded with just as softly.

“I do not know,” Coran said and he sounded so sad. “I do not have any sedatives to make him comfortable, and right now, after what he has gone through compounded with the fever… reality is very hard to discern. We absolutely do not want to cause him undue stress, but he does need treatment and prolonging it will only make his fever worse.”

They fell quiet, only the soft popping of flames and Lance’s heavy breaths sounding in the clearing.

No one touched him.

No one hurt him.

But…

But he did hurt. A lot.

Everything hurt.

And, and it sounded like they wanted to help.

But…

“Lance?” Shiro spoke gently. “Buddy, can you look at me?”

Lance obeyed the order.

Request.

He, he wasn’t sure.

Shiro smiled at him, all though it wavered. 

“Can we try something?” he asked. “I promise, we can stop as soon as you say so. Okay?”

Shiro, so far, had given him no reason to distrust him.

This seemed real.

Lance gave a very tentative nod.

Shiro let out a soft sigh of relief.

Thank God.

All they needed was an opening. He’d seen that Lance wanted to trust them, wanted this to be real. 

They had to make him believe that was so.

“I want you to hold my hand,” Shiro slowly, carefully, placed his a few inches away from Lance’s left hand, lying limp at his side. “Can we try that?”

Because he’d seen how tactile Lance was, even if Shiro was bitterly forced to acknowledge that he had never really gone out of his way to get to know Lance, to offer him positive encouragement via such a method that he clearly craved, and he hoped letting Lance control the touch would help with the next part.

Lance’s fingers twitched. Shiro moved his hand a little closer.

And a shaking hand — missing three nails, Shiro’s stomach flipped — curled around Shiro’s fingers.

“Good job, buddy,” Shiro murmured. “Now, Coran… Coran is going to start treating some of your wounds. And, and if it hurts a little just squeeze my hand and I can share some of that hurt. But if it hurts too much or you want him to stop, let go of my hand and we’ll stop. Can we try that?”

Lance gave a tiny nod.

“You’re being very brave,” Shiro told him, gently rubbing his thumb across Lance’s knuckles. 

Lance squeezed his eyes shut and gave a small shake of his head.

Denial.

‘Stupid cargo pilot,’ stared up at Shiro.

Lance’s panicked, terrified, desperate repetitions of “I‘m stupid,” echoed in his head.

“You are,” Shiro refuted. “You’re very brave, Lance. And, and strong. And kind and compassionate and smart and absolutely not stupid.”

Lance’s breath hitched.

“He’s right, lad,” Coran said, angling to Lance’s other side armed with the kettle of warm water, a towel, and a swathe of bandages and antiseptics and salves. “You are all of those things and so many more. An excellent sharpshooter. A skilled pilot. A Paladin of Voltron. And,” Coran’s throat bobbed, “someone I would be proud to call my son.”

Another tear trickled down Lance’s cheek and his lip wobbled.

Shiro’s own eyes felt a little hot. 

“I’m going to start now,” Coran said. “I shall be gentle, but I know it will still hurt. If it hurts too much though, you just tell us, all right?”

“...kay,” Lance whispered, eyes still shut tight.

“Good lad. Here I go.”

Lance stiffened, a whimper accompanying it, as Coran brought the damp towel down to begin to wipe away the blood, and his fingers tightened around Shiro’s.

He didn’t pull away.

He didn’t fall into those terrible, desperate pleas.

And he didn’t ask them to stop.

“You’re doing great, Lance,” Shiro murmured, continuing to make small circles with his thumb. 

He went back to quietly humming as Coran worked, Lance’s hand loosening and tightening as the process continued, but he never once tried to withdraw. 

“Shiro,” Coran’s low tones summoned him and he met the man’s jeweled eyes across Lance.

There was a new pain etched into his face from before.

“It will scar.”

He didn’t need to say anything else to make that statement any more horrific.

The words carved into Lance’s back…

They would become permanent. 

“Is there anything…?” Shiro trailed off as Coran gave a shake of his head.

Shiro’s heart dropped just as a sharp pop sounded in the clearing and it had Lance jerking from the exhausted half-doze he’d fallen into and Shiro’s eyes widened as not just Kosmo and Romelle appeared but Allura had accompanied them.

And Lance…

He let out a high keen of unadulterated fear, hand pulling free of Shiro’s as he tried to also shift backwards, running into Coran’s knees, and it choked off into a moan that only grew in intensity as Allura stepped towards them.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” he babbled, pupils pinpricked and trained on Allura. “‘m sorry for being st-stupid, ‘m—”

“Allura!” Coran’s tone was sharp with both reprimand and fear. “You cannot—”

“I know!” and Shiro had never heard her sound like that.

So scared, so pained, so guilty.

And as much as that hurt to hear, it filled Shiro with relief.

Because this was Allura. Not whatever she had been before.

“‘m a st-stupid cargo pilot—”

“I know,” she repeated, voice cracking over the sound of Lance’s litany. “But please. Please, I can help. His back… please, I can heal it.”

Shiro’s breath caught.

That’s right.

Allura had healing powers. If she could restore Shiro’s soul to a body then she could surely erase the words carved into Lance.

Well.

Physically.

Shiro knew scars ran so so much deeper than the physical wound.

“Please,” she choked out, at the same time of Lance’s terrified whisper of the same.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sor—”

Lance cut off mid-word with an unnerving silence and Shiro whipped his head away from Allura to where Coran had his hands pressed to Lance’s neck.

A pressure point.

He’d knocked Lance out. 

“Quickly,” Coran said, brow pinched and looking both guilty and relieved at his actions. 

Allura practically sprinted to them, falling on her knees with a clack of armor.

“I am so sorry,” she choked out, eyes only for Lance even though he could not hear her, tears dripping from her own. “Lance, I am so s-sorry.”

Her hands glowed pink.

And she pressed them to Lance’s back.

He didn’t so much as twitch.

Shiro watched, fascinated despite the circumstances, as beneath the pink glow spreading across Lance’s back jagged flesh was sealing itself back together, angry red giving way to dark brown and then, slowly, settling on Lance’s tan complexion.

‘Stupid’ faded first.

‘Cargo’ followed it.

‘Pilot’ began to fade but halfway through the color process, the word on a dark brown line, Allura let out a soft sound and Shiro jerked his gaze from Lance’s back to her face, which had gone pale with sweat beading and trickling with tears down her cheeks. 

“I…” she swayed. “I…”

And only Coran’s quick reflexes caught her as she toppled sideways in a dead faint.

Chapter Text

The word ‘Pilot’ remained.

It was faint, Coran said it may fade fully with the cryo-pod now given the boost Allura’s healing had given it, but…

But it may remain.

They’d handle it if and when it happened, Shiro decided. And, if any word had to have remained…

At least that one wasn’t like the others. It was true. Lance was a pilot, a damn good one, and while Shiro prayed the pod took it away because the way it had come about was not a memory Lance needed, it could have been worse.

So much worse. 

Following Allura’s healing that while treating the wounds on Lance’s back had not addressed any of the other grievous injuries, Coran had carried Lance to the cryo-pod, located in the Black Lion’s cargo bay. 

It would be about eight hours, Coran said, as the pod wasn’t fully charged. He also quietly told Shiro that he had a sneaking suspicion that Lance had a fear of the small space and it would be best upon it finishing to retrieve and remove him from within it’s sight immediately.

And even though the pod would heal the wounds it could not combat the fever and that would need time and rest.

And that meant…

It meant keeping Lance away from the others, as right now they would only be a detriment to his healing.

Everyone had been arriving back to camp in spurts via Kosmo, who had left upon dropping Romelle and Allura off, but Krolia had kept them all sequestered on the edge and away from Lance as Coran bundled him into his arms, still fortunately unconscious for the time being.

Shiro had not gone to them, not yet, but Hunk had been openly crying, sitting in a collapsed pile on the ground, Pidge looking just as shell-shocked next to him and letting herself be squeezed in his arms, while Keith had taken an abrupt sit where Kosmo had gone to him, curled up at his side, head on Keith’s leg, and Keith had buried his face in the fur and had not yet come up for air.

Shiro wasn’t sure his heart could ever be put back together.

It felt so broken.

Everything felt broken. 

Lance was now safely ensconced in the pod and Coran had told Shiro he had it calibrated to his tablet in case there were issues but right now…

Right now it was time they all talked.

He and Coran exited to find everyone now gathered about the campfire, blankets thrown over shoulders and Krolia was passing out mugs of no doubt some sort of tea as she and Shiro along with Coran had bonded over their love of such, Allura now awake again and leaning against Romelle for support, her face still pale but her eyes were steady.

Hunk staggered to his feet, blanket falling away, as he saw them approaching, even from here his cheeks and eyes blotchy. “Is, is Lance—?”

“He will be in a cryo-pod for the next eight varga,” Coran cut in smoothly, “where he will make a full physical recovery, barring the signs of fever and sickness that will be addressed after.”

Hunk flinched at the response and Coran’s tone gentled.

“Sit down, Hunk,” he gestured. “We have much to discuss because Lance will need all of us to heal.”

And Coran began to speak.

Shiro was used to Coran’s tales of grand epics, of humorous incidents, and legends and stories of old.

He’d never heard Coran tell a horror story before, but this could be none other.

He painted a picture of a long-thought extinct race called Jedliks, which had the ability to take on any form as well as manipulate their surroundings, with the caveat that all had to be identical as they were a hive mind and operated as one and that, as the Jedliks true form did not have them, they could not possess eyes. They did not need eyes to see though, as they did not see in the normal sense.

They instead saw emotions.

And they fed upon them.

The more negative emotions gave them the greatest strength and, Coran had paused, swallowing, for them to have targeted Lance as they had rather than the group as a whole meant that Lance had to have been projecting and feeling some very negative emotions.

The Paladins had all looked guilty at that and Hunk had started crying again, arms wrapped about himself in a hug.

The gameshow, Pidge had whispered, filling in answers Coran hadn’t had. The game show host had targeted Lance, called him stupid and dumb, and then all of them… they’d all teased him about it and…

She’d glanced to Keith who looked absolutely horrified and paler than his countenance should be. But Coran had not pressed for answers and Keith had not provided them and they had moved on although Shiro had a feeling that Keith and Lance were going to have to talk about that at some point if Lance was going to move forward.

The Jedliks would have strengthened themselves by siphoning off the emotions being given off and the stronger they got the more power they gained, which allowed them to both take over others and to skim their thoughts through their emotions. Mind reading, essentially, Coran said, rooted in feelings and particularly those designed to hurt, which were then shared through the hive mind so everyone was of the same consciousness and knew of every thought and emotion from the linked victims. And they would use those abilities to create further negative emotions, feasting on them until they had drained the body of life. And then, if possible, they would begin again on another host, oftentimes using the horror of what the taken over body had done to fuel the negative emotions anew. For the host victim, while not conscious per se while doing the acts, would retain full memory of events once the Jeklid inhabiting them had vacated so they could start feasting again.

Which meant that for the entire two days not a single one of them, save Lance, had even known anything was wrong as it would have been a blind haze of nothingness — like sleeping with no dreams — and it was nothing they should feel guilty of, Coran had said that point firmly but Shiro knew such a truth would not be so easy to accept.

They’d hurt Lance. They’d tortured him, with both their actions and their words, and it was not something they nor Lance would ever forget.

Shiro too understood now, what it was Keith, or the Jedlik controlling him, had said. Hunk had been their next target; they’d have released him from their hold after they’d killed Lance and Hunk would have been easy pickings for them.

It was horrifying.

The one advantage aliens had to the Jedliks, Coran said quietly, is they could not move outside of a confined space that their hive was centered upon until they had stolen life, and even then it was for a short time. But that was time enough for these Jedliks to move the bodies of their victims to a mass grave behind the town, which is what Coran and Krolia had stumbled upon; a pit full of skeletal and decayed remains. 

And to the only way to remove a Jedlik from its host was to either kill the host or to remove the host’s body from the center of the hive where the Jedlik would be forcibly expelled.

And so Krolia, Romelle and Kosmo had done so; fighting and overpowering and dragging the Paladins out one by one, with fortunately only minor cuts and scrapes to show for their efforts (and a few doses of well placed stun shots).

And now here they were.

“What do we do?” Pidge whispered, hands white-knuckled on her cup.

“I cannot entirely say,” Coran admitted. “I believe Lance, in his heart, knows that the actions committed upon him were not done by his friends. But they were still done by your hands, by your voices. His deepest fears were no doubt exposed, manipulated, and used to hurt him in every way possible.”

“We locked him in the w-well,” Hunk choked out, voice high with tears. “In the well. He’s, he’s scared of the d-dark and c-cold and small spaces and we, we…”

He broke off into a sob in which no amount of comfort could heal.

But…

But Shiro had to try.

He stood up, legs at least cooperating now, and looked out at the assembled group, every face miserable and guilty.

“You did,” he said quietly. “You locked him in a well. You carved words into his back,” Pidge violently flinched. “You called him stupid. You mocked him. You hurt him. But,” Shiro raised his hand up, “none of you did that. You know that. And Lance… Lance does too.”

To his surprise Keith was the one that shook his head.

“We did hurt him though,” he said quietly. He swallowed. “I hurt him. On Garfle Warfle Snick. And what we said and did there… no alien was controlling us then, Shiro.”

“So you made a mistake,” Shiro said, holding Keith’s gaze. “Now you fix it.”

“How?” Keith whispered and Shiro was both alarmed and relieved to see the flash of tears forming in Keith’s eyes.

“You talk to Lance,” Shiro said. “You’re honest with him. You apologize and you listen and you’re there for him, in whatever capacity he needs.”

Keith gave a jerking nod of his head. They both knew it wouldn’t be so easy but having any type of action plan, something to focus on, had always been best for Keith.

“That said,” Coran interjected quietly, “I am going to insist that none of you are present until Lance’s fever has broken and he is in a more stable physical condition. Shiro and I shall care for him in that interim and I ask that all of you,” his gaze lingered the longest on Hunk, “respect that.”

A series of nods bobbed about the campfire.

“Good. Then I am also going to insist that everyone retire early for I think we are all very much in need of a good night’s sleep following the events of today.”

“I’ll stand guard,” Krolia volunteered, meeting Shiro’s gaze as tonight had technically been his watch night. “Get some rest,” she said, more gently, and while Shiro wasn’t sure how he was supposed to sleep his body was crying out for it and he nodded, grateful. 

“I shall remain up as well,” Coran said, tapping his datapad. “Shiro, I shall wake you for later.”

Shiro nodded his understanding.

It seemed unanimous that everyone was spending the night together around the campfire, although it was nowhere close to the evening Shiro had envisioned. He picked up a blanket and tucked a pillow under his arm and made his way towards where Keith had curled up, Kosmo lying at his side, and eased himself down with a not entirely exaggerated groan. 

Keith lifted his head up, revealing red-rimmed eyes.

Shiro held out his one arm in invitation.

Keith didn’t even hesitate, all the indication Shiro needed that things were still absolutely not okay. 

“It’s going to be all right,” he murmured, gently rocking them both.

He looked past the top of Keith’s head where Pidge and Hunk were both watching him and he mustered up a smile. “It will,” he promised. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of Keith’s head.

“It will,” he repeated.

It had to be.

Chapter Text

“N-no,” Lance weakly pushed at Shiro’s hand, trying to dab the boy’s sweaty forehead with a damp cool cloth. “Pl-please.”

“Shh, buddy, shh, it’s okay,” Shiro murmured, withdrawing for the moment as he knew not to push. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Lance just whimpered, eyes squeezed shut tight.

His fever had grown higher since he’d come out of the pod; just shy of one hundred and three by Coran’s calculations.

Not surprising, Coran had murmured, as Lance’s body had experienced severe trauma and shock and while the wounds had healed any infection they’d created had remained behind in the form of the fever and chills. It was important to keep his body cool, but not cold, and hydrated, and let the fever run its course.

Unfortunately, there was no reasoning with Lance right now and nothing seemed to comfort him, although he did quiet some when Shiro hummed or even sang softly and he’d stilled from the worst of his shivers and trembles when Coran gently pet his hair, a clearly familiar gesture as Lance had for the first time leaned towards the touch instead of away.

A father and son indeed. 

But if there was one piece of good news to all of this…

The last word had faded. There was the barest remnant of curve of the ‘P’ in ‘Pilot,’ and the cross line of the ‘t’ but otherwise the pod had finished healing what Allura had started. 

Coran had looked as relieved as Shiro had felt, murmuring a soft, “Thank Alaraan,” when they’d made the discovery as Coran had dressed Lance — throwing out the remnants of his underarmor that remained and informing Shiro they’d send Kosmo to retrieve the actual Paladin armor left behind later — in soft teal infirmary garb that he’d had the foresight to grab a few copies of from the castle. 

It didn’t make everything better, didn’t erase what had happened, but…

But it was a good sign, Shiro felt, for healing and moving forward.

They’d moved Lance to his makeshift chambers in the Red Lion where he would both have privacy and hopefully the setting — full of quilts and pillows even if he was only being allowed a sheet right now — would be comforting. 

Shiro brought the cloth up again and Lance flinched away.

“‘m sorry, I, I’m st—”

“You’re not stupid,” Shiro interrupted him, just as he did every time as he refused to let those words pass Lance’s lips ever again. “You’re so brave, Lance. And strong and kind and… and you’re going to get through this.” 

He tried the cloth again and that time, while Lance shivered, he remained still, and Shiro carefully pushed it beneath damp bangs, smoothing it down.

He began to hum.

And he waited and prayed that they all did.

xxx

Lance’s fever broke by Shiro’s best guess around mid-afternoon the next day.

Shiro had never felt both so grateful and so exhausted. Coran had gently told him he should try to get some sleep of his own, but Shiro had refused to leave Lance’s beside.

And so that was how he found himself waking up with a stiff neck, an aching back and legs that were all pins and needles from where he’d fallen asleep slumped over Lance’s bed, and all of that was forgotten and pushed aside as Lance let out another unintelligible mumble that had awoken Shiro in the first place, eyes flickering beneath his lids, as he woke up from his own exhausted fever-free sleep. 

Dark ocean eyes slowly blinked open, hazy with sleep but otherwise clear of confusion and pain, and they drifted sideways.

Lance froze, eyes widening, as they landed on Shiro.

“Good morning,” Shiro said quietly.

“Shiro?” Lance’s voice was a rasp. “What are—?”

He broke himself off with a choked inhale, jolting to a sit and nearly tipping over with the sudden vertigo, pulse roaring in his ears.

What was…?

This was…?

He was…?

“—ance, buddy, hey,” Shiro called his attention, a just as gentle hand landing on Lance’s upper arm, not tight but grounding. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I promise. You’re safe.”

Lance could barely hear him, gaze darting about as his brain slowly filtered in that he was in the bedroom compartment of the Red Lion.

Not in the guest house.

Not tied up.

Not…

Not hurt.

Lance glanced down at himself, Altean infirmary garb covering him, but his arms were bare and clear of injuries and there was no pain.

Except…

He craned his head backwards but his back was of course covered too by the shirt and oh Dios had that been real had they—

“The words are gone,” Shiro said, voice quiet but firm and Lance whirled his head back around. 

Shiro’s words percolated.

So they…

They had been there.

And that meant that nightmare…

It had been real. 

His friends had...

“They’re gone,” Shiro repeated. “And,” charcoal eyes bored into Lance’s, “they were never true. You are not stupid, Lance.”

Lance winced.

So Shiro had seen.

He knew.

He knew how stupid Lance had been, how pathetic and—

“Lance,” Shiro’s hand squeezed his shoulder, “buddy, listen to me. You are not stupid. You’re brave. And strong. And smart and compassionate and kind and you,” his hand squeezed again, “are the furthest thing from a quote stupid cargo pilot. And even if you were a cargo pilot that is nothing to be ashamed of. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Lance.”

“But,” Lance’s voice didn’t even sound like his, high and breathy and his throat felt tight, “but I… I a-am.”

Everyone had said he was stupid. 

Everyone always had.

Even Hunk had…

But…

But that…

That wasn’t right.

Was it?

“You’re not,” Shiro refuted firmly. His voice gentled. “I know things are probably a little… a little confusing right now. Do you remember what happened?”

Lance gave a small nod.

He did.

But…

“Was that,” he swallowed, “was that r-real?”

Or had it been a nightmare?

Shiro’s expression pinched.

And Lance had his answer.

But...

But that couldn’t be right either.

“You were hurt,” he said quietly, “but the people who hurt you… they were not your friends, Lance. And you know that. Right here,” his hand shifted from Lance’s shoulder to his chest, pressing gently down against his heart. 

Lance’s breath caught. 

So they…

They really hadn’t…?

“I’ll let Coran explain the details about the Jedliks if you want him to,” Shiro said. “But the short version is...” he inhaled. “A bunch of evil aliens that feed on negative emotions took control of the others, read both their minds and yours, and used those memories and knowledge to hurt you so they could feast on your feelings.”

Shiro said it with a completely straight face despite the fact it was all said in one breath and it sounded absolutely insane, but…

But…

But it made so much sense. 

“Did… did they…?

“Did they know what they were doing?” Shiro filled in and Lance gave a tiny bob of his head, stomach clenching. 

If, if they had and they hadn’t… hadn’t tried to stop it…

“They didn’t know or remember anything until we pulled them out of town,” Shiro said gently. “They had no idea what was happening. They never, ever, wanted to hurt you, Lance. But,” Shiro’s voice went softer, “they know they did. Both then and… and even before. With the game show.”

Lance stiffened.

What?

They, they did?

“That’s for all of you to talk about,” Shiro said, “and I’ll let them explain themselves. But they know they hurt you, Lance. And they want to make amends. But all of that is up to you and when you feel ready to see them. I know—”

“Now.”’

Lance felt his cheeks heat at the fact he’d just interrupted Shiro, but…

But he wanted — needed — to see his friends now because if he didn’t, if he put this off, it would just make that fear fester and grow and he’d feel even more sick and scared and he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to be afraid of them.

Even though…

He shivered.

What if…?

Shiro though only smiled at him, soft and gentle and…

And proud. 

“You are an incredible young man, Lance,” Shiro said and Lance felt his cheeks heat even more.

What? Shiro thought…?

Shiro just smiled and squeezed his shoulder and left shortly thereafter, announcing he’d send everyone in as Lance was supposed to stay in bed as his body was still recovering from the sickness. Lance spent those minutes draining a water pouch left at his bedside and wrapping one of his quilts about his shoulders and drawing comfort from the scratchy yarn, and trying to settle his stomach.

It was as Shiro said, as he’d told himself from the beginning.

The people that had hurt him weren’t his friends.

His friends would never hurt him like that.

And, and they’d realized their words from the game show had and they felt bad about that too.

And—

Lance’s breath hitched at the soft knock on the open doorframe and Hunk’s head poking around it a moment later.

“No one likes spending time with you.”

“Brother? Like I want to be related to someone as pathetic as him.”

His hands tightened in the folds of the quilt.

“Um, hey,” Hunk’s smile was wavering. “Can… can we come in?”

Lance made himself give a mute nod.

Hunk slowly entered, followed by Pidge, her hands clasped together at her front and entire body shaking.

“I’ve always wanted to shut you up.”

“Tick tick, dumbass.”

Allura came next, her steps light but slow and hesitant.

“He is a stupid, weak, boy who shall never measure up to be anything.”

“At least you are not the subject of his affections.”

Lance felt his cheeks heat.

She knew.

She knew how he felt about her and Dios, that…

That had been private. 

And then Keith entered, shoulders curled in, eyes downcast, and not even attempting to meet Lance’s eyes. 

“He’s nothing more than a cargo pilot.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’ve never been able to think.”

They all crowded in, hovering by the door rather than approaching the bed.

Lance was both relieved and hurt by the distance and it made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

“So, um,” Hunk shuffled his feet. “We…”

“We’re sorry,” Pidge blurted out, taking a step forward and then freezing as Lance, to his own horror, pulled back. Pidge’s eyes sparked with tears. “We’re so s-sorry,” she repeated. 

“We hurt you,” Allura said quietly, and her gaze was steady on Lance, “in so very many ways. And while our actions and words were not our own, that does not excuse them, nor does it excuse our earlier treatment towards you. You were hurting, Lance, and we did not — could not — see what we had done. And I am truly sorry for the harm we have caused. I know an apology cannot fix such on its own, but… but I hope it can be a step forward.”

Lance gave a tiny nod of his head, but he said nothing else.

He didn’t know what to say.

He knew their actions hadn’t been their own with the Jedliks, he knew they’d never, ever, wanted to hurt him like they had. He couldn’t hold that against them because their positions could have so easily been reversed if the Jedliks had targeted someone else. What had happened there… it was terrifying. It was no doubt going to give him nightmares. But he’d known, all along, that those people were not his friends. Just because they looked and sounded like them and knew things about him did not make them his friends. 

He didn’t, couldn’t, blame them for what happened in that town.

But before, with the game show…

They had hurt him.

He knew they hadn’t meant it. He knew they felt bad and were going to do better.

But…

But still. 

They had done so. And none of them had even realized they’d done so.

That almost hurt more.

And as if waiting for that very second, Keith spoke.

“You’re not stupid, Lance,” Keith said quietly. He looked up from his feet, sharp gaze meeting Lance’s head on.  “If anyone here is… then I am. I, I didn’t think before I spoke. I didn’t realize how much…” he trailed off. Swallowed. His hands curled into fists at his sides and Lance tried not to shrink back as Keith wasn’t going to hit him with them. “I fucked up, okay? I really fucked up and I hurt you and I should never have said that because that’s not true. You are smart, Lance. You’re smart and kind and,” Keith’s cheeks were taking on a pink tinge, “and that’s why I picked you to escape from the game show.”

He took a shaky breath. “You are the one who I would pick to leave, but not for the reasons I said. I just…” his cheeks darkened further. “I don’t… I’m not always good with words. And, and I fucked that up because I was embarrassed, but,” he took a breath. “You should know the truth. Of why I picked you.”

His gaze bored into Lance’s, no deceit in them and Lance forced himself to hold that intense gaze. “You called me the future but you were wrong. You’re the future, Lance. You bring people together. You are the one who has the best chance to unite the universe in this fight. That’s why I picked you. And,” he swallowed,, “no matter what I said and how I’ve been acting… you are my friend. And I’m sorry I haven’t been treating you like one.”

Lance’s eyes stung at both the declaration and the apology.

Keith really…

Really wanted to actually be his friend? He hadn’t meant what he’d said?

He didn’t think he was stupid?

“And you’re my brother,” Hunk said into the quiet pause. “Always and forever, hermano.” 

“And I love my nickname,” Pidge said. Her lips quirked up. “Tailor.”

Lance’s eyes stung more.

“And I,” Allura paused and licked her lips, unusually nervous for her.

Lance’s heart thumped.

He knew she knew now and not the way he’d ever wanted her to find out. Not yet, not now, not when he knew she was still coming to terms with all that had happened.

But…

“You are dear to me, Lance,” Allura said quietly. “And you very much hold a place in my heart.” She met his gaze full on. “No matter what the future holds… that shall always remain true.”

Lance let out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t a yes.

It wasn’t a no.

And right now… 

Right now it was more than enough.

He nodded again. “Um,” his own voice was scratchy and high and he still didn’t entirely know what to say. “Are… are we… are we oh-okay now?”

“How do you feel?” Hunk asked instead.

Lance gave a small shrug.

He wasn’t sure.

They’d apologized, they’d acknowledged their mistakes, they’d made sure he knew that the names they’d used in mockery were actually ones they treasured and they’d reaffirmed how much they really did love him.

But…

They were still all the way over there, together.

And he was over here, alone.

“How would you feel about a hug?” Hunk gently offered, as though knowing exactly what Lance was thinking.

But it wasn’t like before, where his mind was literally being read. This was just Hunk, just knowing what Lance needed because they were brothers, because he loved him, and because Hunk wanted to help him and he knew how much Lance loved hugs and how safe they made him feel.

He nodded.

Yes.

Please. 

He needed a kind touch, something to overwrite the last memories he had of what they had done. He needed to feel safe. He needed to feel safe with them. 

Hunk moved over first, slow and steady, and he eased himself onto the bed next to Lance.

Lance trembled but didn’t pull away.

Hunk wasn’t going to hurt him.

He wasn’t.

Hunk slowly lifted one of his arms up and carefully, gently, wrapped it around Lance’s back.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

Lance gave a tight nod.

There were no fists hitting his ribs, no hands shoving him from behind.

Just…

Just Hunk.

Warm and steady and safe.

Pidge came over next, paused, and then clambered onto the bed and shifted in between Lance and the wall.

It was almost too much, but…

But if she hadn’t, if Pidge had been reserved where she never was before…

Lance let out another breath as her arms latched around him.

Okay.

This was all okay.

Allura sat down next to Hunk and wrapped one of her arms about Pidge’s back and squeezed her other one in beneath Hunk’s chest to also wrap around Lance, her hair tickling his chin. Keith came last, his hands the lightest as he remained standing but they settled on Lance’s shoulders and gently squeezed.

No touch was painful, no grip too tight, no bruises left behind.

Lance shuddered out another breath.

And his entire body, held tense, went limp.

Everything was going to be all right. He knew sometimes things wouldn’t be, but…

But he knew, no matter what, that his friends loved him. 

He knew they didn’t want to hurt him.

He knew he wasn’t stupid.

And he knew without a doubt that he was safe and loved and nothing — not even cosmic beings or game shows or aliens — would ever change that.