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Chapter Text

Another night, another vision of horror. Shiro woke in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling. This time the dream had skipped the jungle entirely and gone straight to the arena, where Shiro watched Lance die. Again. The scent still clung in his nostrils, sickly sweet and fetid, the rot of death. Shiro shivered.

He lay there, trying to calm himself. The Altean light fixtures glowed softly, providing a thin blue radiance in the room. He usually found it comforting. It was so very different from the lighting in his dreams, in his memories. But tonight... It wasn't enough. It hadn't been for a while.

Shiro sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. It had been a week since Lance woke from the healing pod, a week and a few days since they were rescued from the jungle lake. Everything had mostly settled down, the team falling back into their routine. Train, fight Galra, recover, repeat.

Everyone had been especially kind and tender to Lance (and to Shiro himself, when he thought about it), after the terror of near loss. But yesterday Lance had done something particularly Lance-like and obnoxious, and Pidge had yelled at him and smacked his arm. The whole crew had laughed, bright and uproarious and relieved, and Shiro had smiled in the background as he felt the sensation of settling. Everything was going back to the way it was supposed to be. Lance had laughed the loudest of all.

Everything was going back to normal. So why couldn't Shiro? But then, things hadn't been normal for him for a long, long time. Things might never be normal for him again. Or maybe... This was the new normal. Flashbacks, nightmares, the feeling of paralysis in his limbs, the stink of death in his nostrils. Maybe this was all he could expect from now on.

He blamed the jungle planet. The scent of the place, the relentless pressure, the terror of being chased by the creatures that had stolen a year of his life and left him broken and altered... It had all roused memories that Shiro firmly believed would have been better left buried. He'd had nightmares before that ordeal, of course, but they had usually been vague and amorphous. Now they were all too concrete. And too many of them, almost all of them, involved Lance.

No good. Shiro wasn't able to calm himself enough to go back to sleep. He wavered there for a moment, almost swaying where he sat. Then he swung his legs over to the floor and stood up. He palmed the door and padded into the hall, then stood there, blinking.

The Castle of Lions was huge, but everyone chose to sleep in the same residential hall. It made things easier, and Shiro knew he wasn't the only one who liked having everyone close. Allura and Coran's rooms were to Shiro's left. He went right. The first room was Keith's, and he stood there and listened at the door. Not that it helped. The walls and doors were almost soundproof. But if he stood there long enough, he could convince himself that he heard peaceful breathing. He could make himself believe that all was well.

Pidge's door was next, firmly in the middle of the row of pilots. Then Hunk's. Last was Lance's, and no matter how long Shiro stood there, he could not convince himself that he heard anything. But unlike some of the others, Lance never locked his door. Shiro hesitated with his hand hovering over the activation pad, but he already knew he was going to give in. He had every night so far since Lance had found him on the control deck and made it clear that he didn't mind.

The first time he'd done this, Lance had been wearing an eyemask and Pidge's headphones. That nightmare had been particularly horrible, and Shiro had been sweating and shaking. Just watching Lance sleep in his bed hadn't been enough to convince him, so he'd had to go and stand over him. Then he had reached out and laid a hand on Lance's chest to make sure he was breathing, and Lance had woken with a screech and pulled away from him, tearing off his headphones and mask in near terror. He had calmed down as soon as he saw who it was, but Shiro still felt bad about it.

Lance slept without the mask and headphones now. Shiro knew he was doing everything he could to make things as easy for Shiro as possible. He stood in the open doorway, watching Lance sleep. He could see the motion of his chest, slow and steady, up down. Lance's breath wasn't noisy now; it was almost silent. Shiro wasn't sure he liked it. It was too hard to tell what was going on.

Shiro tried to angle his body to block the light from the hall from hitting Lance's face, but it was already too late. Lance stirred and shifted where he lay, a sleepy mumble rising from his lips. Then he went still, and his eyes slid open, half-lidded in the dimness, staring into space. "Shiro?"

His voice was so tired. Shiro smiled and leaned against the doorway on one shoulder, his chest aching. This wasn't fair to Lance, but he couldn't help it. "Yeah, it's me."

"Mm, 'kay." Lance closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, then sat up. He yawned and rubbed his eye with one fist, then stuck his feet into the slippers on the floor next to his bed and shuffled over to where Shiro stood in the doorway. His eyes were barely open, but there was a sort of determination in his movements that was almost funny. "Okay, let's go."

"Lance, you don't have to..."

"Shurrup." Lance put both hands on Shiro's bicep and pushed. "Just turn around and walk, big guy."

Shiro huffed a silent laugh and let himself be pushed out of the doorway. As soon as he turned to walk back down the hall, Lance placed both hands in the middle of his back and continued to push, leaning on Shiro with some of his weight. His hands were warm through Shiro's thin night shirt, and Shiro felt himself calming down more and more as the contact continued.

Lance shoved Shiro all the way back to Shiro's bed, then stood there with his arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently on the floor, until Shiro crawled in and settled himself on his back, one side pressed against the wall. Lance raised his eyebrows, and Shiro lifted the covers for him. Lance rolled his eyes, now completely open, and poured himself into the bed next to him, kicking off his slippers as he went.

Lance curled up with his back pressed to Shiro's side, head pillowed on Shiro's arm. The Altean light fixtures dimmed when they were both in bed, technology sensing that sleep was at hand again. Or should be, anyway. This close, Shiro could feel the pulse of Lance's breath, calm and steady and smooth. He felt himself finally relaxing, body melting into the bed. He still felt wide awake, though. He probably wouldn't find sleep for half an hour or more. His arm was going to go numb with the pressure of Lance's head on it, as it had the last two nights. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry to keep doing this," Shiro murmured.

"Shut up," Lance said again, more clearly this time. "Hunk told me what you said when you got out of your healing pod. We're all brothers now, right? Well, brothers and a couple of sisters, and a weird uncle who is actually the only adult. Poor Coran."

Shiro smiled at the ceiling. "Still..."

"No." Lance sounded fully awake now. "If there's something I can do to help you, I want to do it. I don't care how many times it happens, or how long it takes before things get fixed for you. Or even if they never get fixed. Besides, it's not like I hate this." He yawned and snuggled his head into Shiro's arm. "Before I went to Garrison, I almost always shared a bed with a sibling or two. It was weird to stop doing that. I didn't like it. I've gotten used to sleeping alone since then, but..." He sighed. "Don't feel like you're burdening me, because you aren't."

Shiro sighed. "I still feel like I'm being selfish."

"That's because you're you," Lance said. "You... You're oldest in your family, right? You said you had a little brother and a little sister. I bet there's a gap between you and the next one, too, isn't there?"

Shiro grunted in agreement.

"So you grew up feeling responsible for the kids around you. Your mom and dad probably depended on you, and you liked being strong and reliable. Your little sibs probably soaked up everything you gave them and demanded more, and you loved giving them everything you had."

Shiro blinked. "That's very insightful, Lance."

"I'm an insightful guy." Lance yawned and settled his back more heavily against Shiro's side. "I get it. There's a reason why a lot of pilots are first-born or only children. But I'm a middle child, so I know what it means to be both a big brother and a little brother. I'm used to giving and taking, all up and down the ladder. This is not a big deal, okay? It's normal. Don't get uptight about it."

Shiro hummed. "You sure talk a lot when you're not struggling to breathe." And even sometimes when he was, if Shiro remembered correctly.

Lance snorted. "That's true. I'm still right."

Shiro made a non-committal noise.

Lance's voice was a little more sleepy now. "If this is gonna keep happening, though, we might as well make it easier for ourselves. What time do you go to bed? I'll just come then."

Shiro frowned. That was a bit too far. He still wanted to believe that he would be able to sleep through the night...or what counted to him as night...without bothering Lance every single time. Starting out together would be an admission that that probably wasn't going to happen. And no matter what Lance said, the kid needed his sleep. With some amusement, as well as a little pain, Shiro remembered how grumpy Lance had gotten every time he'd been forced to wake up on the planet against his will. It wouldn't be fair for Shiro to disturb him every single time his mind decided to mess with him. It happened far too often.

Oblivious to this, Lance rambled on, "Though, I mean, time is relative, right? It was nice of Allura and Coran to set up...Castle Mean Time, whatever you want to call it, to mimic Earth so we feel more at home. Though they said that they're used to adapting to whatever planet they're visiting so it's not a problem for them. But yeah, what time is it for you? We all have different routines we like to follow and I know that Pidge sometimes stays up all night long working on whatever and just sleeps in her lab..."

Shiro raised his eyebrows, startled out of his thoughts. "Does she?"

Lance went still. A guilty air stole over him. "Oops. That was supposed to be a secret."

Shiro released a small chuckle. "Trying not to get your little sister in trouble with the adults?"

"I'm no snitch," Lance said stalwartly. Then he fell silent. "...Except for when I'm half-asleep, apparently. Oh man, Pidge is gonna kill me."

Shiro made a mental note to talk to Pidge sometime soon. And to not mention that it was Lance's fault he knew. She might actually cause him harm. "Don't worry. I already forgot you mentioned it."

Lance made a skeptical noise. "Sure you did. But anyway. What time do you usually go to sleep?"

Shiro was sufficiently distracted by Pidge's secret to let slip his own. "About one in the morning."

"Wow, that is super late, I might have to set an alarm..." Lance trailed off and went still. Then he turned over where he lay to stare into Shiro's face, his eyes wide and accusing. "You told Allura the other day that you get up at five to work out."

Shiro stared determinedly at the ceiling. "Mm."

"Shiro!"

Shiro frowned, and Lance clapped his own hand over his mouth, then pulled it down and spoke in a ferocious whisper instead. "Shiro, you only get four hours of sleep a night?"

Shiro continued to frown.

"And I thought Keith only getting seven was bad, ay dios, what will I do with all of these idiots I'm living with now..." Lance trailed off into mutters, his forehead mightily wrinkled. "Don't you know what that does to your skin?"

"Lance." Shiro put a touch of warning into his voice, and Lance went silent.

He was quiet for a long moment, just staring into Shiro's armpit with his forehead wrinkled. Then he looked up and met Shiro's eyes. Shiro's eyes flickered to him, then away again. "It's because of the nightmares, isn't it."

It wasn't a question. Shiro frowned at the ceiling.

"You try to sleep as little as possible so you can avoid them." Lance slapped his own face and dragged his hand down it, fingers making furrows in his skin. "Sleep-deprivation is not the answer."

"I know," Shiro said frostily. "But it's the only one I've found."

Lance waved a hand. "Nope, nope, nope. This is unacceptable. We gotta fix this. You're gonna kill yourself."

"I'm fine," Shiro said. "I've been doing this since the beginning."

"Ugh." Lance lifted his head up a few inches and flopped it over face-down onto Shiro's chest. His voice was now muffled by Shiro. "Why are you being so difficult."

"Lance." Shiro's voice was much softer now. Having Lance's face pressed into his chest reminded him that this was not his enemy. It was his defacto little brother, and Shiro only had one response to a little brother pressing his face into his chest. He lifted his hand and started carding it through Lance's hair. "Don't worry so much about me. I'm okay."

Lance turned his head a little to groan at him. "No, you aren't."

Shiro heaved a deep sigh. Lance's head bobbed up and down with the movement. "You want to fix this, but you can't, kiddo. You can't fix me. Don't wear yourself out trying. You need your sleep, too. I feel bad enough that I kept waking you up this past week. If you try to do more... It's just gonna get worse."

"You don't know that." Lance's voice had taken on a stubborn cast. He was holding onto the front of Shiro's shirt, now, clenching the fabric in his fist. "You don't know what I can do until I try."

Shiro rubbed his fingers into Lance's scalp a little harder. "I'm not underestimating you. I just... I've been dealing with this for a while. Four hours works for me. Or it usually does. I function fine, and I only have a dream once in a while, and I can handle that when it happens. It's just... Been worse, since the jungle. But I'm sure that will get better soon. Don't wear yourself down for me. You need your eight hours."

"Not good enough," came Lance's muffled voice again his chest. Then he lifted himself up to look down on Shiro from a small height, his eyes fierce in the dimness. "Nope. I refuse to accept this. It's true that I like my eight hours, and you say you get along on four, but what if we split the difference? I want you to get more sleep, Shiro. So let's go for six. I'll come here at eleven, and you can still get up at five to work out and let me sleep in for a little longer. Because I'm not joining your workouts."

This was Lance's reasonable voice again. It made Shiro smile, just a little. He was so earnest. It was rather adorable. "You're not gonna get eight hours. I'm gonna keep waking you up. I don't want to do that."

Lance nodded as if he'd already known that. "Right. That's why I said six. I get that I won't get as much, but you'll get more, and that's what matters."

Shiro blinked. "Six each? That's what you're bargaining for?"

Lance nodded again. "Six each. We add my eight and your four and divide by two. That's fair, right?"

Shiro's face twisted in something like pain. No, that wasn't fair. That wasn't fair at all. It would mean that he would be depriving Lance, a growing kid, a teenager who craved sleep and coveted his rare chances to be lazy, on the off chance that it would help Shiro get just a little bit more rest, himself. That wasn't even close to fair.

But Lance was so serious. So earnest. If Shiro had adopted him as his little brother, Lance had adopted him right back. And he wanted to help so, so badly. It glowed in his face and shone in his eyes, and Shiro had very little resistance to that earnest, longing look, so big-eyed and sweet and caring and...and familial.

After a long moment of struggling, trying to refuse, trying to say no, Shiro finally blew out a gusty sigh and went limp. "Okay. We'll try it. We'll go for six."

Lance beamed like a sunrise. He lifted his hands in fists of triumph for a brief moment, then flopped down onto Shiro's arm again. "All right! This is a great plan, Shiro. It's the best plan. You'll see."

"Sure, kiddo." Shiro sighed and lifted a hand to card through his hair again. "Now go to sleep, please. Get as much as you can."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

Lance went still and silent, breathing easily. Shiro listened to him, felt his warmth at his side, and ignored the numb feeling in his arm. It was... Well. It was really nice. He understood why Lance had missed sharing a bed.

But he couldn't help the sense, deep and hidden and dark in his chest, that they were heading for a disaster.

Chapter Text

The lions hung in space above the asteroid belt as Shiro gave them final instructions.

"This is not a competition. You hear me, Lance, Keith? Don't race each other. If you move too hastily out here you could get knocked around and damage yourself or your lion. Just get through the asteroid belt as quickly or as slowly as you need to. The point of this exercise is to strengthen your bond with your lion, not to prove how cool you are."

The other paladins acknowledged him, Keith and Lance just a beat behind the others. Lance smirked and settled back in his chair, hands tightening on the controls. He would take his time and he would still beat Keith. Yeah. That was the plan.

"Listen to your commander," Coran said cheerfully over the comms. "And...go."

Lance helmet darkened. It didn't panic him the way it had the first time. He was already reaching out for Blue. Or maybe "sinking back" would be a better way to express it. Whenever he was in the cockpit, now, he was always aware of this sort of hum in the back of his mind, which he knew was the blue lion surrounding him, encompassing him, lifting him up, strong and present and ever ready to accept him. Blue's purr, he called it to himself.

As he fell into the connection, they flew toward the asteroid belt. The paladins split up, all choosing routes that looked good to them. Lance didn't pay much attention to where he entered, just let Blue lead him. He had really come to enjoy these exercises lately. He was seeing through Blue's eyes, feeling through her limbs, and it was awesome. He was a giant mechanical cat flying through space, and he felt strong and steady and in control.

He felt the pressure as Blue's feet landed on an asteroid, then leaped off. This deep into the connection, he didn't feel like a pilot moving controls, but like a creature moving with its own limbs. The reaction delay between his movements and Blue's response was non-existent. Blue was an extension of Lance, or maybe it was the other way around.

They shot a smaller asteroid ahead with an ice beam, just to watch it burst and shatter in beautiful, glittering shards that caught the light from the sun of this system. They flew through it, Lance laughing in glee. "Blue, you are the coolest," he proclaimed aloud. "And that's not just an ice pun."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, but try to keep the comms free in case of an emergency," came Shiro's voice, and Lance started guiltily.

"Oops, sorry. Got caught up in the moment."

"It's fine. Just try to keep some awareness of your surroundings."

Lance looked around, Blue's head swiveling in space. Keith and Shiro were both ahead of him on their paths through the asteroid belt, but for some reason it didn't bother him at this moment. Of course Keith was faster than Lance. It was just the way it was. And of course Shiro was concentrating deeply on the exercise and trying to get through it before everyone else. He wanted to keep an eye on the others as they made their way through the asteroids in case of any accidents.

Lance was having too much fun running around what was, for him and Blue, now just a giant playground. He reached out and turned off the comms so he wouldn't bother anyone else, then slipped back into Blue's eyes. "C'mon, kitty cat, let's go!"

They leaped and flew and cavorted. They touched down on asteroids and pushed off, looking behind them to watch them spin away, smashing and crashing into other lumps of rock. Lance whooped and hollered and yelled. He felt effervescent, floating above everything that could or would trouble him. "Blue, you're amazing!"

My pilot.

The voice was warm and deep and purring. Lance halted in shock, his heart in his throat. Blue settled her feet beneath her as they touched down on another asteroid, as Lance was suddenly unable to move.

"Blue?"

My pilot hears Lion.

Such satisfaction in the strange, alien voice. Lance felt his heart beating hard. In the cockpit, he lifted a hand to touch his chest, letting go of the controls for a moment. He was still looking out through Blue's eyes, though, still feeling through her sensors, her skin. He felt Blue's contentment and happiness at being able to communicate with him like this.

"I...I've never heard your voice before. I didn't know you could use words." The awe was overwhelming. Blue was speaking. Blue was speaking to him.

Flesh language is difficult. Lion took long to learn. Wish to talk to my pilot.

Wow, this was amazing. And kind of...adorable? It took Lance a moment to parse exactly what Blue was saying. So she referred to herself as "Lion" and to Lance as "my pilot." Okay. Why she had picked up "my" but not other personal pronouns Lance couldn't guess, but this was still incredible.

"This is... Wow, Blue, this is so great. You really are amazing!"

Blue purred harder, accepting the praise. My pilot would like to fly more?

"Oh. Oh, heck yeah. Let's go!"

They pushed off from the asteroid and leaped to the next one. It was even easier now. Lance barely noticed when they reached the end of the belt and flew out into open space, except to be a little sad that playtime was over.

Shiro and Keith were there waiting, as expected. Leader pilot is talking.

"Oh. Thanks, Blue." Lance turned the comms back on.

"...okay? Lance?" Shiro's voice, starting to sound worried.

"Sorry, Shiro. I turned off the comms so I wouldn't bother anyone with my yelling. I'm fine. No problems."

Shiro blew out a breath, noisy on the speaker. "Okay. I don't like you turning off the comms, though. Think maybe you could just try being quieter instead?"

"Um. No, probably not. Sorry, Shiro. It's just...really fun, flying with Blue."

"Ah." Fondness in Shiro's voice now. "Maybe the rest of us should just get used to it, then."

"I'd rather not." Keith's voice, strongly irritated.

Lance hid his smile with his hand, even though there was no one to see him. "So serious, Keithy-poo," he teased. "Maybe you should learn to have fun with your lion, too."

"I do have fun," Keith said. "Beating you through the asteroid belt was extremely fun."

Lance scowled. It really didn't matter—Shiro had said so, and Lance had believed him. Plus, just messing around with Blue had been way more fun than rushing through the asteroids to beat Keith would have been. He still didn't like Keith lording it over him, though.

Patience, my pilot. All is well.

Lance relaxed, leaning back into his chair. "Thanks," he murmured, hopefully low enough that the others wouldn't hear.

He didn't know why he wasn't telling them that he could hear Blue's voice now. Maybe just because it was...so cool? And it was just for him? His connection with his lion had always been good, from the very moment they found her in the cavern on Earth. But this felt like a new level, deeper and stronger and closer, and it made him feel great all the way through his spirit and body. He wanted to savor it for himself for a little while longer without the others picking over it and trying to analyze it.

"Hey," Shiro said, slightly scolding. "Speed doesn't matter. How's your bond with your lion, Keith?"

Keith sighed loudly. "It's fine. It's great. I'm getting a lot better at understanding the information through Red's eyes."

"Good. And you, Lance?"

"Awesome." Lance hoped they could hear his sincerity. He didn't want to elaborate on it, not right now. He looked over the asteroid belt with Blue's eyes. Hunk was almost through, and Pidge wasn't far behind. "In fact, Shiro, I was hoping... Could I stay out here a little while longer? I wanna go through the exercise again." He wanted to keep talking to Blue.

Shiro's voice was hesitant. "We were gonna have lunch next..."

"I'll get some when I get back," Lance said. "It's not hard to fix food goo."

"I'll save some paladin lunch for you," Coran said over the comms.

Lance shuddered. "Oh, please, anything but that."

Shiro chuckled. "Fine. You can stay out for a little while. Just a couple more passes through the belt, okay? We're doing image training this afternoon."

Lance whooped in joy and leaped out into space. "Thanks, Shiro!"

"And leave your comms..."

Lance had already switched them off. "All right, awesome. Let's go, Blue!"

They flew. Lance fell into it, even deeper than he had before. He could hear Blue speaking to him now, and it was the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced. She had the most fun suggestions for things to do, too, like which asteroids to shoot and which to push so they smashed each other. They found a larger asteroid and laid down a sheet of ice on it, then landed on the ice and slid all the way to the end before leaping off. Lance shrieked with laughter the entire way.

At last, though, it was time to fly back to the castle. Lance was panting with joy, little bubbles of laughter still bursting through him now and then. "That was so, so much fun, Blue. Thank you so much! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Blue's purr was deep and satisfied and almost smug. My pilot is happy.

"Very happy, thank you. That was incredible."

This is good. My pilot is often sad lately. Makes Lion sad, too.

Lance went still, the last of his laughter dying down inside him. "You...you could feel that?"

Yes. Since the planet with the lake, my pilot is often sad.

Of course. Of course Blue could tell. Their minds were connected at a very deep and profound level. She knew what he was thinking, at least his surface thoughts. Lance winced. His surface thoughts had...not been very pleasant, lately.

"I'm sorry, Blue. I didn't want to bother you with this."

Is not bother. Blue sounded indignant. My pilot belongs to Lion. Is right for Lion to care for my pilot. If my pilot is wounded, Lion must do something.

"That's why you learned to speak with words? So you could do something for me? Talk to me?"

Yes. That is why. Lion had other pilots in past. When past pilots were troubled, past pilots spoke to fellow pilots. But my pilot is not doing that. My pilot does not speak to leader pilot or red pilot or yellow pilot or green pilot.

"Hey, I speak to them all the time. Sometimes they just want me to shut up, I talk so much."

But my pilot does not speak of troubles.

An image flashed between them, and Lance gasped, hands rising before his face as if he could shove it away. He could not, of course, since it was within his own mind. His heart was beating much faster now, so fast that it seemed to want to beat out of his chest.

That Galra commander, Ragnak. Falling over dead with a hole in his head, right between his eyes. The hole Lance had put there.

Lance's hands were shaking. He tightened them around the controls, but he couldn't make it stop. "That...that's not a big deal. It was...it was something I had to do, so I did it."

Lion knows. Blue's voice rumbled with anger. Lion wishes Lion had killed that one. But Lion did not. My pilot did. The picture comes back to my pilot often. It fills my pilot's mind and makes my pilot feel sad and weak.

"It's not a big deal."

Is big deal. Is very big deal. My pilot is hurting. Big deal. Well, and now Blue sounded angry with him.

Lance swallowed. "It's okay. It's not that bad. The image... Yes, it does come back to my mind often. But only for a second. Less than a second, even. And then it passes. It's not as...it's not as bad as some people have it. I just need to get over it."

Blue was silent for a moment. My pilot is speaking of leader pilot.

Of course she knew about that, too. "How did you know?"

All lions talk to each other. Not in language my pilot would understand, but talk. Leader pilot is hurting, too. Black Lion does not like it. But leader pilot is getting help from my pilot. This is good. My pilot must ask for help, also.

"I can't...I can't do that, Blue." Lance had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Wait, you can...you can get into my mind, right? We have this deep, awesome connection... Can you just pull it out? Like...remove that image so it won't come back anymore?"

Talk between Lion and my pilot does not work that way. The picture is a wound that must be healed, not a piece of hardware to be removed. Still, a wonderful sense of peace and well-being began to flow between them. Lance sank into it, a sigh whispering from his lips. He felt Blue's immense power and strength cradling his mind, holding him close. It was the nicest thing he'd felt in a long time. For once, he didn't feel lonely at all. Not even a hint of it.

Her voice had gone deeper and softer, too. Lion can soothe my pilot. This, Lion will do. Lion cannot heal a wounded mind, but Lion can show my pilot how dear my pilot is to Lion.

"I...I can feel that. Thank you, Blue."

The castle loomed ahead of them. Lance watched it drawing near with regret. He didn't want this connection to end.

My pilot is young, the youngest pilot Lion has ever had. Past pilots were wiser, with more experience and more knowledge of how to treat wounds of both mind and body. So Lion will teach my pilot. My pilot must be whole and well. No other path is acceptable.

"I...I understand."

They were landing. Lance brought Blue into the hangar to rest. At some point Coran had undone the darkening on his helmet, but he hadn't noticed at the time. Now, he slowly withdrew from Blue, bringing his awareness back to his physical body. Wow, he was hungry.

Still, Blue's voice lingered. My pilot must ask for help.

"I'll think about it."

Hopefully Blue couldn't tell that he was lying, now that the connection was being withdrawn. Lance had already made up his mind.

Yeah, so he had a touch of PTSD. Lance knew what it was. He wasn't an idiot. The image that kept rising to his mind of Ragnak dead and falling, killed by Lance's hand... It was a flashback. And it was happening a lot.

But it had only been a little more than a week since it happened. Stuff like that faded with time. Lance just had to ride through it, that was all. Shiro needed him; his whole team needed him. Things were finally getting back to normal. The others were starting to laugh when he did something stupid instead of giving him worried looks, and that was how it was supposed to be.

He just had to hold out for a little while longer. Everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

Lance took his armor off during breaks now, at least the breast plate. Even when they were just stopping for ten minutes to hydrate. He was always very casual about it, but Hunk had noticed.

Today they were sitting in a corner, the two of them, while Allura and Shiro talked about the next exercise and Keith jogged around the perimeter, too restless to be still, and Pidge did something...Pidge-like. She had snuck some small device into the room while no one was looking and was fiddling with it whenever she got a chance. Hunk sat cross-legged on the floor, drinking his water from its pouch, while Lance settled next to him and started undoing the catches of his breast plate.

Hunk watched him. Lance didn't always do this. Before... Before the jungle planet, he left his armor on during breaks, just like everyone else did. It didn't really make sense to take it off; it was a lot of extra work, and he was going to have to put it back in a few minutes anyway. Hunk sucked his straw, slow and contemplative.

"Hey, Lance?"

Lance finished setting the plate aside and started stripping off his gloves, then looked up at Hunk, clear and guileless. "Yeah?"

"Is there a reason you've been taking off your armor during breaks lately?"

Lance gave an unconcerned shrug. "Not really. It's just...kind of restrictive, you know?" He took a deep breath in demonstration, grinning broadly.

Hunk frowned and shifted his own shoulders. No, he had never found the armor restrictive. Of course, there had been his initial doubt when presented with armor that was very obviously going to be much too small for his body, but when he started putting it on, the armor had molded to his form as if custom-made for it. Dressed in his armor, he felt strong and mighty and well-protected. He took a deep breath of his own, testing it out. Nope, not restrictive.

He shook his head distractedly and chose to change the subject, still looking into Lance's face. "You’ve got some bags under your eyes there, buddy."

Lance raised his eyebrows. "Do I?"

"Yeah." Hunk fidgeted and drank his water. This was not going the way he had hoped. Lance was being evasive, and Hunk knew him well enough to see what he was doing. If Lance wasn't in the mood for sharing, Hunk didn't want to push him, but...

Well, maybe a little push was called for. "Are you having nightmares?" Hunk asked, blunt in the end.

Lance sat still and stared at Hunk, visibly startled. "Me? Nightmares? No." He sounded so unguardedly surprised by the question that Hunk relaxed a little, believing him. "Why would you think so?"

Hunk sighed and lowered his water pouch. "You just...you seem tired lately. And I know...the jungle planet was really rough on you. You sure nothing is bothering you from back then?"

Lance laughed and waved a hand airily. "Pssh. Nah, I'm fine." He went sober, meeting Hunk's eyes seriously. "Yeah, it was rough on my body. I never..." He shuddered. "I never wanna go through pain like that again." Without conscious thought, he raised a hand to his chest and pressed his palm lightly over his lungs. He drew another deep breath, staring into the distance. Hunk watched him with concern. So this was why he kept taking off his armor, even if he hadn't realized it himself.

"It was... Hunk, it was really bad. I hurt so bad, my whole body, every single second I was awake, and even when I was sleeping it wasn't great. Trying to breathe with my lungs filled up with infection like that... It hurt really bad. But I couldn't just...stop breathing. So I had bear it. As well as I could." He looked back into Hunk's eyes and lowered his hand. And he smiled. "But it's over now. I'm home, and the pod fixed me up. And even while I was down there, Shiro took really good care of me. He was... He was a rock. So, no, I'm not having nightmares. Okay? Don't worry about me, dude. Everything's good."

Hunk tilted his head, considering. After a moment, he nodded and looked away. Lance's open sharing of how much pain he'd suffered had convinced Hunk that he was being truthful about not having nightmares, too. Hunk's eye fell on Shiro, standing with his arms crossed as he and Allura talked. Hunk grinned and turned back to Lance, then gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "And hey, you got to spend time with your hero, huh?"

Lance grinned painfully. "Yeah. I mean, could have wished for better circumstances. But Shiro..." His eyes were sparkling now. "He was super amazing, Hunk. He was so strong and heroic and... And yeah, he took care of me. He was really, really...kind." His smiled, soft and warm. "Just...the best guy I could have been with for something like that. It was like having my big brother with me. And that's what he said we were. Brothers."

Hunk grinned. "Yeah, I know." He shoved Lance's shoulder again, and Lance fell back, huffing in laughter. "Lucky you."

He was truly, honestly happy for Lance. Even at Garrison, Lance had gotten homesick now and then. As his roommate and best friend, Hunk had been privy to pretty much all of Lance's ups and downs. But even when he was feeling the worst back then, Lance had always known that he would get to see his family on the next break. He would get all the hugs and kisses and cuddles he could stand, and he would come back to Garrison recharged and ready to take on the universe again.

Now, they had been recruited for a war in space, and they couldn't go home. Maybe not ever. The thing that had kept Lance going, the knowledge that he would see everyone he loved again soon, had been taken away with little or no hope of returning. Once Lance had absorbed this, he had been knocked reeling for quite a while. More than one night Hunk had spent sleeping on the floor in Lance's room, just so he wouldn't have to have the empty space all to himself.

Hunk hadn't minded. He missed his family, too, mom, dad, sister, grandma, uncles and cousins. And after all they'd been through together, Lance was already family to him.

Hunk was Lance's friend, and he knew that Lance considered him a brother. But Hunk couldn't fill every gap for him. They were such close buddies and fellow conspirators that neither of them could ever fill the role of older sibling for each other. And Lance had missed his older brothers and sisters almost as much as he missed his younger ones.

So thank God for Takashi Shirogane. Filling gaps seemed to be just...what he did. He had stepped in for Lance on that awful planet, and he seemed content to stay there. It really was the best outcome Hunk could have hoped for.

Now, Lance sat up again, grinning, his eyes bright. "Speaking of new space siblings…" He sucked down all of his water in one go, then tossed the pouch away. "I see a little sib over there that I need to go pick on. Been too long."

Hunk blinked. "Wait, what?"

Lance was already scrambling to his feet, pushing himself off the floor with one hand. Then he launched himself across the room, arms spread joyfully. "Piiiidddggeee!"

Pidge had been standing with her back to the room as she worked with the device in her hands. Now she looked back over her shoulder, eyes wide and shoulders hunched. "NO!"

Lance had already fallen on her, draping both arms over her shoulders and tipping his chin down on the top of her head as he dropped most of his weight on her from a bit of a height. "Pidge, lil buddy! Whatcha doin', huh? Tell me all about it!"

Pidge staggered forward on one foot as Lance's weight threw her off balance. "Ugh, get off me, you big galoot!"

"But, Pidge, my buddy, my pal, my little bitty tiny friend, I missed yooouuuu...."

"Ugh!"

Hunk laughed at the antics, his hands gripping his knees, mouth wide and unashamed. Lance had only tried this on Pidge once before, back at Galaxy Garrison when he was doing everything he could to try to make inroads with their new, strangely closed-off teammate. He told Hunk later, after Pidge had judo-thrown him over her shoulder into a wall, that he used to pull this on his little brothers and sisters all the time. "And they never reacted so badly," he had groused, stretching out his bruised shoulder while Hunk patted him gingerly on the back. "The heck is wrong with that kid?"

What would she do now? Throw him again? Shrug him off? Just put up with it? Hunk watched with interest, laughter still bubbling through his chest. They'd gotten a lot closer to Pidge after becoming paladins and learning her secrets, it was true, but her reactions could still be a tad unpredictable.

After a moment to absorb the shock, though, Pidge chose put-upon tolerance as the best route. She huffed out an indignant sigh and straightened up as much as she could with most of Lance's weight still draped over her. His knees were bent almost to the floor, the height difference between them was so large. "Lance, you're a jerk."

"I just wanna see what my little sis is doing," Lance said innocently. "Whatcha playin' with there in your hands, huh?"

"None of your business," Pidge retorted. She took a step forward as if to escape him, but Lance hung on. She was all but dragging him across the floor.

"Aww, c'mon, Pidge. Don't be like that. Is it a fun toy, huh? What does it do?"

"Ugh, just shut up! You're annoying!"

Lance laughed, bright and happy. Hunk grinned. It seemed counterintuitive, but Lance really was enjoying this interaction. By responding at all, even with annoyance, Pidge was giving Lance the reaction and attention he craved. Her big brother must have been a real sweetheart growing up, if she'd never had to deal with this kind of situation before. Lance could be a sweetheart sometimes, too, but other times he was...this.

Hunk looked around at the others and found Shiro and Allura watching with raised eyebrows, though a fond smile was playing on Shiro's lips. He could only imagine what face Coran was making up in the control room. Knowing him, he was probably collapsed on the floor, laughing his guts out. Across the room, Keith had stopped his exercising to gape at Lance and Pidge. His face was completely empty of comprehension.

Hunk's own smile faded. Now there was one that bothered him. Keith often looked confused when watching the sibling-like interactions between the other paladins. He accepted affection from Shiro without hesitation, almost seeming hungry for it. But he could barely manage a fist bump with Lance, and he frowned when Hunk patted his shoulder. Keith had obviously grown up an only child, from his startled reactions to casual touch, but had he never even seen other kids interacting? Had he never had friends at school, no one he hung out with? Hunk didn't understand it.

Too soon, it ended. "Okay, okay," Shiro called, stepping toward them with his hands out. "Break time's over, kids. Back to training."

Pidge and Lance both groaned, but moved to comply. Lance picked himself gently up off Pidge's shoulders, careful not to put too much pressure on her. She shrugged and moved away to stash the device she'd been playing with wherever she hid it between breaks.

Lance crossed the middle of the room back to Hunk and his discarded armor, which took him past Shiro. Shiro reached out and ruffled his hair, hard, grinning with his whole face. Lance shrugged against the roughness, one eye winking shut, and gave Shiro an impish smile as he pulled away.

Hunk happened to be still keeping an eye on Keith while that was happening, and he saw... Well. That was naked jealousy on Keith's face, and it wasn't hard to understand why it was there. Hunk frowned, his hands gripping his knees a little harder.

Shiro and Keith had never shared the reasons, but it was clear that the two of them had known each other before this whole debacle began. They seemed close, too, so their relationship must have been important to both of them. Hunk presumed that Shiro had mentored Keith at Garrison or something, both being top-talent pilots with bright futures, before Shiro went on the Kerberos mission. Or maybe it was something else. He didn't know the details, but it was obvious that Keith had some hero worship for Shiro, same as Lance did. Keith also felt protective of Shiro, willing to rush into any danger at the slightest hint that Shiro was in trouble.

And, well, Hunk understood that. Most of the time, Shiro was their rock, their hero, not just to Lance and Keith but to all of them. Those rare times when he faltered or faced more danger than he could handle, they all wanted to rush in and save him. Even Allura.

But Keith had another level, that was for sure. Keith had another level of just about everything. And now Lance and Shiro had gotten so close, so quickly. From the outside, it looked almost effortless. Hunk knew it hadn't been. He knew that both of them had suffered terribly on that planet, though in different ways. It was natural to grow closer in that sort of situation, especially since both Lance and Shiro were really awesome people who deserved to be close to other awesome people, as far as Hunk was concerned.

So yeah, Hunk understood why Keith was jealous. The one person in this ship, possibly in this entire universe, that he felt close to and comfortable with had suddenly gotten closer to someone else. A "someone else" who insisted on seeing Keith as a rival and competing with him at every turn, no less. Hunk sighed. This did not bode well.

The jealousy smoothed away from Keith's face quickly, returning to his former blank expression. When Shiro waved his arms for everyone to join him in the middle of the room for the start of the next exercise, Keith moved smoothly to obey.

Hunk picked himself up off the floor, too, sighing a bit. Lance stood beside him, still working on all the catches of his armor. Hunk reached out to help him. He pressed the breast plate firmly into place with one hand. Lance caught his breath, then gave Hunk a smile. "Thanks, man."

Hunk nodded easily. "Don't mention it." He looked back across the room to Keith, a frown tugging at his mouth.

Someone needed to do something about this. But he didn't know what should be done, or who should do it. He strongly suspected, though, that it wasn't him.

Chapter Text

"What is it with Coran sending us to planets that are supposed to be peaceful, and then they aren't?" Lance's voice was high in irritation, even as it juddered with their headlong run through the forest.

Pidge shook her head, but Shiro chuckled breathlessly. His hand was on her shoulder, urging her forward. Keith made an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. "I can't believe the natives thought they were statues."

Pidge looked back over her shoulder at the seemingly endless horde of Galra robots chasing them. Some of them still had the remnants of bird nests in their joints, and their metal surfaces were dull with dirt and weathering. "Apparently they've been standing still for centuries," she said. "Like...like the terracotta soldiers back on Earth... Why would the natives have thought they were active?"

"Still." Lance ducked as a laser blast shot by their heads. He had taken a hit to the back early on, which damaged his jetpack but didn't penetrate. They all had laser burns on their armor here and there, but so far no injuries. "They could have been a little more clear, like, that the statues are made of metal and painted purple."

"This is your fault!" Keith said, his voice just as high as Lance's and just as irritated. "You came up to us all starry-eyed, going, 'The chief's daughter told me about this neat thing in the forest, let's go check it out.' You didn't even ask her any questions, did you? You were just like, oh, something neat, let's go!"

"Well, you came with me!" Lance retorted. "So you're just as dumb as I am!"

"Guys, enough!" Shiro thundered. He pulled the group around another cluster of trees, trying to put some obstacles between them and the enemies coming up behind. "We all chose to come! Now we just have to get out of this."

Pidge laughed a touch hysterically. Yeah, she had chosen to come. Lance had said something about "robot statues," and her brain went on the fritz with excitement. Hunk had been the smart one, staying behind in the village with Allura while she kept schmoozing the chief. At least they knew those two members of the team were safe.

It had been fun, at first, finding that clearing in the forest packed almost shoulder to shoulder with "statues." They were enough off from the current models that none of them had registered them as an immediate threat, but the design was obviously Galra, and Pidge had been fascinated. The robots stood so close together that no trees had been able to grow between them, just native grasses and flowers. There were dozens and dozens of them, probably a hundred or two, but Pidge didn't take the time to count.

If their current predicament was anyone's fault, though, it was Pidge's. She was the one who immediately reached out to touch that purple metal plating, mouth agape and eyes sparkling. Then the indicator light on the robot's helmet came on, and then those of all the robots adjacent to that one, and then all those adjacent to those...

Yeah, they ran. Not much of a choice. There were far too many robots to fight with just the four of them, and at least the forest was thick enough to provide some cover for their flight. If they were lucky, maybe enough bracken and brambles had grown around some of the feet of the robots in that clearing to slow them down or even trap them. Judging by the trampling and shooting noises behind them, though, plenty had been able to break free.

"Okay, this isn't working." Lance was panting noisily, now, and the whites were visible all around his irises. He slowed his pace and looked around. The trees were getting thinner here, starting to be dispersed with some fields, but fortunately they had put a little distance between themselves and the horde. "We can't...we can't lead them back to the village, and we can't keep running aimlessly."

"Then what do you suggest, genius?" Keith asked, acid-sharp. "Do you have a better plan? If so, please enlighten us."

Lance flashed him a cocky smile. "Of course I have a better plan." He looked to Shiro, expression suddenly serious, and pointed ahead to a tree that stood off a little bit from the others in a plot of grass. "Shiro, a boost, please?"

Shiro raised his eyebrows, then nodded, comprehension dawning. His face went grim. "Got it."

Pidge didn't get it. But the four of them veered to reach the tree. Once there, Shiro bent over, then put his hands together and interlocked his fingers to make a step for Lance. Lance barely slowed down as he stepped into Shiro's hands, as if they had done this a hundred times, and Shiro straightened and practically launched Lance up to an overhanging branch. Lance's bayard was already in his hand, weapon forming as he found a foothold and lithely twisted himself up the rest of the way until he sat on the branch, cool as a cucumber, gun ready in his hands.

"All right," Lance said, "I've got this. The rest of you go find ambush points." He looked down at Pidge, frowning in concern. "Especially you, lil buddy."

Pidge made a face at him, but Shiro was already tugging her away. Of course she knew that without being told. Lance didn't have to spell everything out. Shiro led them on a divergent course, off into a thicker stand of trees.

"Are we really gonna take them all on ourselves?" Keith did not sound unhappy about this. He sounded pumped. His fingers were flexing, eager to grasp his sword, but he hadn't brought it out yet. It was a little clumsy to run with.

Shiro nodded. "You okay with that?"

Keith nodded back. "More than." He looked back at Lance in the tree. "Is he gonna be okay on his own, though?"

Shiro smiled, sharp and bright. "Yeah."

Pidge heard the robots coming, crashing through the forest. She panted, heart in her throat. Shiro pulled her down into a heavy patch of undergrowth, hand still on her shoulder. She was grateful for the touch through her armor, found it steadying. Keith crouched with them on one knee, but he was balanced on his toes, ready to leap out. His sword was now ready in his hand, shield flickering to life beside him.

Pidge brought her own weapon out. Shiro's arm began to glow. Lance's gun was already firing, and it had been for a while.

Shiro grimaced, lips pulling back from his teeth. Then the robots reached their position, and Keith jumped straight out of their nice little hiding place like it meant nothing to him at all. "Hey! Over here!" he roared, and Shiro made a high-pitched noise of distress. What a fantastic ambush.

They came. Pidge hissed through her teeth in challenge, and then she was fighting, too. The battle became a blur, green and purple and black and red. She continually found a hiding spot, then leaped out to strike at a robot when it was looking away. If they'd been flesh-and-blood creatures, she would have been hamstringing them, low to the ground and safe, then rushing away before they could react. As it was, she found vital spots quickly enough, even on the unfamiliar robot model.

Shiro was always next to her, left, right, forward or behind. When Pidge had a moment to spare to watch him, she was always amazed. He moved with a brutal efficiency that was fascinating to watch, like a highly polished martial art, tearing the robots apart with sheer force. No wonder he was Champion of the Galra arena. At the thought, Pidge shuddered and looked away. Shiro had never wanted these skills. She wondered if it sickened him to use them.

Keith ranged farther afield, but never that far. He seemed to want to stick close to Shiro and Pidge. When she wasn't annoyed by her teammates being protective of her, Pidge appreciated it. She could fight, but she was small, and the robots were big. Keith took out as many as possible before they got to her, Shiro watched her back, and Pidge did everything she could. She didn't get as much of a chance to observe Keith, since he was farther away and she mostly just glimpsed him in blurs of motion, red and white, but he seemed to be fighting more wildly and recklessly than usual.

Through it all, they heard Lance's gun firing, over and over and over. It never seemed to pause. The sound was like a steady beat over the entire battle, adding a sense of urgency and never-ending rush that Pidge couldn't shake. It sounded in her temples and in her head, boom boom boom, an endless avalanche of deadly music.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Pidge stood still, tense and ready, her bayard clenched in her fist. Shiro was ahead of her and to the right, looking around with sharp movements of his head. Farther away, Keith straightened from pinning the last robot to the ground and looked to Shiro for instructions. A bloody cut under his eye leaked bright red down his cheek, shocking against the green and brown surroundings.

Lance's gun was still firing. Shiro clenched his teeth. "Back."

A terse order, but they all understood. They had to pick their way over the undergrowth, the broken robots. Pidge counted ten, twenty, saw more parts and pieces she couldn't immediately group together into a coherent whole. They had destroyed a lot of robots.

How long had the battle lasted? It felt like forever, but Pidge knew that adrenal responses tended to make time distort. It had probably only been a few minutes, maybe ten. They could take apart a Galra fleet in half an hour or less, after all.

The firing of Lance's gun finally began to slow. As they left the thicker trees and jogged back toward where they'd left him, his shots came further and further apart. As soon as his tree was in sight, Pidge locked eyes on it, but she couldn't see Lance from this angle. She was peripherally aware that Shiro and Keith were still looking around, watching for any more robots, but she just wanted to make sure that Lance was okay. They could protect her if something popped up.

There he was, half hidden in the foliage. He was lying along the branch in a classic sniper stance, sighting down the barrel of his gun. As Pidge watched, he took one more shot, then sat up on the branch. By the time they reached him, he was leaning against the trunk, one leg hanging off the branch as he waited for them.

But even to get to Lance they had to pick their way through... Holy quiznak. A lot of dropped robots. Pidge had to look away from the tree in order to keep from tripping on her face. As it was, Shiro still put a hand under her elbow to prop her up when a robot arm she accidentally stepped on started to roll.

The area under where Lance was sitting was a graveyard pile of metal scrap. And when Pidge looked away toward where the robots had been coming from, the direction Lance had been aiming his gun at when she first spotted him, she saw plenty of dropped robots fallen all over the grassy fields. Thicker nearer to Lance, then thinner and thinner, until they disappeared into the forest beyond. Just how many robots had Lance destroyed?

Way more than the three of them. Put together. And they had been fighting like demons. It was a crazy realization to come to, but Pidge couldn't escape it. Lance had been firing his weapon non-stop since before Pidge and the others started fighting, and he'd kept it up until minutes after they were done. Had he dropped a robot with every single shot?

Shiro reached Lance's perch and climbed halfway up the pile of robots, then stood there with his arms crossed, grinning up at Lance with everything he had in him. "Hey, kiddo. Did you have any trouble?"

Lance smirked down at him, that stupid, cocky smile that Pidge usually hated the most of all of Lance's cheesy expressions. It was so smug and self-satisfied, and Lance almost never deserved to feel smug and self-satisfied. This time, though, she kind of had to give it to him. He'd earned it. Pidge sighed at her own thoughts, disgusted with herself.

"Nah," Lance said, swinging his leg off the branch so his heel knocked against the bark. His armor was littered with more laser burns, and he'd taken a graze to his forehead, though it looked lightly burned instead of bleeding. "Piece of cake."

Shiro laughed outright, then looked back to Keith and Pidge. Pride beamed from his face, so bright that Pidge had to squint against it. He didn't say anything, but it was obvious what he was thinking. Look at this guy. Can you believe this? He's amazing.

Pidge wrinkled up her nose. Lance wasn't amazing; he was annoying.

But... But sometimes, yeah, he could be a little amazing, too.

Shiro looked back to Lance. "You need a hand getting down?"

Lance opened his mouth to say something cocky and stupid, then closed it and gave Shiro a sheepish nod. "Uh, yeah. That would be good."

Movement caught the corner of Pidge's eye, and she looked over to see Keith turning away, his back to the scene at the tree. His hands were clenched into fists, so tight the knuckles were white, and his face... Pidge blinked and almost took a step back. Her upper body did sway a bit, as if trying to dodge an invisible blow. She'd never seen that look on Keith's face before.

Disgust? Anger? Fear? None of those words seemed strong enough. It almost looked like...hate.

But that couldn't be right. Pidge blinked and shook her head, then looked back to the tree in time to see Lance letting go of the branch and half-falling into Shiro's raised hands. They stumbled on the pile of robots, then slid their way down, holding on to each other around the shoulders. On solid ground, Lance abruptly slid out of Shiro's grip and fell on his butt. "Whoa. Head rush."

"Are you okay?" Shiro knelt beside him, both hands reaching out. "Did you get hit?"

Lance waved him off with one hand, blinking exaggeratedly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just...a little tired. That kind of shooting... Uh, it takes a lot of effort. I'm okay."

"All right. If you're sure." Shiro stood up and reached a hand down to help him up, but Pidge saw her moment to intervene.

She pushed her way through the robot-littered ground to Lance and knelt beside him, then pulled his arm over her shoulder. "C'mon, you big galoot. Let's get you back to the village."

Lance turned his head to give her a tired grin. "Aw, lil buddy. Didn't know you cared."

"Of course I care about you, you idiot." Pidge stood, dragging Lance up with her. He leaned on her a little, not too heavily. He was able to bear most of his own weight; that was good. "C'mon, we gotta go tell Hunk about how many robots you smashed."

Lance laughed, loud and delighted, and looked around at the field of destruction he'd caused. "I know, right? It's super amazing. I'm awesome at this."

Shiro followed behind them with a quiet huff of laughter. "We should also comb the forest and make sure there aren't any more of those robots. Or statues. Whatever."

"Yeah, 'f course," Lance said, though it wasn't clear that he'd even registered what Shiro said. Now that the adrenaline of the fight was fading, he looked completely done in. He had worked hard, Pidge had to admit. He could lean on her if he needed to. Not too hard, though. She was still kind of small, and he was a lanky dorkwad.

Keith fell in behind them, too. Pidge didn't turn her head to look at him. She wasn't sure what she would see on his face, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Surely she had been imagining it. Keith couldn't really have made that sort of expression just because Shiro looked proud of Lance. It had to be the come-down from the fight, that was all. Right?

Right. Had to be.

Chapter Text

The worst part about it was that Keith knew he was wrong. He was wrong, he was in the wrong, his feelings were wrong, his anger, his fear, his jealousy, his distrust, his sense of loss. Everything about him was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, in every sense of the word. He knew it, he knew it, but he couldn't control it. He couldn't control anything, and that felt the most wrong of all. It was Shiro who had taught him control in the first place, Shiro who taught him... And now Keith couldn't anymore. He couldn't.

The best he could do was try to hide it. Smooth out his face, blank his expression, tell himself and everyone else that the wrongness wasn't there. He was pretty sure he was successful, most of the time. Hunk had given him a funny look, once, as if he had noticed something...off. And he had looked sympathetic, which... Did not feel good. Keith didn't deserve sympathy, not for this. So he turned away, refused to look him in the eye, and avoided crossing paths with him for a while. Hunk seemed to forget that anything had happened, and that was for the best.

The only other thing that helped, and that just for a short time, was exercise. Keith had always monopolized the training deck during off-hours, but now it became almost obsessive. He fought the gladiator until his knees shook, shielded himself from remote fire until his arms ached, leaped and tumbled and fell until his head felt loose on his shoulders. Then he would take a shower, stumble to bed, and plunge headlong into blackness. At least he slept well, even if the number of hours wasn't Lance-approved.

As if Lance had any right to talk. Keith was aware of the changes in the guy (he was always aware of Lance now, on some level, and it made him grit his teeth and clench his fist but somehow he just couldn't stop seeing him all the time). Lance used to sleep like a baby every night, swaddled in his comforting accessories, and wake bright and shiny and disgustingly cheerful. Now, he looked disheveled more often than not. There were bags under his eyes. His reaction times were slower in training, and he spent more breaks sitting in the corner with Hunk.

And. And he fell asleep on Shiro's shoulder when the team was lounging on the couches at the end of the day, hanging out. It had been Lance's idea to start that tradition in the first place, to sit on the couches after dinner was done and cleared and just talk about stuff for a while. And now he fell asleep, and Shiro always let him. And Keith excused himself for the training deck.

One night, he was coming back from the training deck, ready to collapse, when he heard voices ahead of him in the hall. It was Shiro and Lance, and Keith instinctively softened his footsteps. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, didn't want... And then he stopped walking altogether, just listening to what they were saying.

Shiro's voice, soft and worried, "Is it getting worse? I really can't tell. It always seems...pretty awful."

Lance, tired but determined. "Nah. I think it's getting better, honest."

"I'm worried about you, kiddo. How long can you keep doing this?"

"As long as it takes, Shiro. C'mon. I'm fine." An attempt at cockiness. "I'm always fine."

Shiro huffed out a breath. "Lance."

A sigh. "Yeah, okay. Stupid to try to hide anything from you. I'm not having...um...the best time. It's harder than I thought it would be. Having my sleep broken up in so many chunks is rough, and sometimes it takes me a while to get back to sleep after a nightmare wakes me up. It's like my brain gets...restless. Can't settle down like I want it to." A hardening of his tone. "But we're making progress, really. I know we are. Just a little while longer, and things will get easier."

"Okay." Shiro's voice was low and gentle. "Then...it's about eleven. You ready?"

Lance yawned. "Yup. Let's go."

Keith came around the corner in time to watch Shiro's door slide all the way shut. His hand was tight at his side, clenched in a fist. He made himself let go.

So that was why.

He went to his room and fell into bed, but he couldn't sleep. He stared at the ceiling, slowly taking stock of everything that he'd noticed (couldn't help but notice) over the past few weeks. He inventoried it all in his mind and pored over every item of data, again and again.

Yes, it had started after the jungle planet. Of course. At first Lance had seemed fine, back to his normal self, if a bit jumpy about strange things. It had taken a while for the tiredness to start to show. And at the same time as Lance's reaction times had begun to slow, exhaustion building up in his body, Shiro had changed too.

It was more subtle with Shiro, because he was older and his body was more developed, so he didn't need as much sleep as a growing teenager. But something had definitely disrupted his schedule. Looking back, Keith could tell. Shiro was more tired, too. He yawned at breakfast now. His reaction times were still good in training, but he never wanted to spar with Keith in the evenings anymore. (And oh, yes, Keith remembered that little tidbit with stunning clarity. Eventually he had stopped asking.) His appetite might have changed, too. There were foods he was avoiding now, though Keith couldn't quite fit that puzzle piece into the whole.

It still added up. Shiro was sacrificing himself. Again. Keith's entire body felt coiled tight with distress. He turned on his side and curled up in a ball, staring sightlessly into the dark. He fell asleep at some point, but had no idea when.

This had to stop. Keith knew it wasn't his place to do anything, though. Shiro had made that clear. Keith had no right to intervene. Shiro was free to choose for himself who he wanted to associate with, who he wanted to fight with, to hang out with, to save, to... To everything. Shiro had that right. Keith...couldn't complain.

And that might have been the worst part of all. He wanted to complain. He wanted to scream and cry and beat his fists against the walls of the castle until someone heard him, until someone understood. But no one could and no one did and no one... There was no one.

This wasn't fair. Keith hadn't asked for the life he'd been given. He'd never asked for the only person who showed interest in him for more than six months to get captured by aliens and disappear for a year, then come back with wounds Keith couldn't comprehend. He'd never asked to be replaced by someone who was more sociable and more fun to be around and a better shot and...and even needier than Keith had ever been.

When Keith woke up, he felt just as crappy as he did when he fell asleep. Maybe even worse. But there was one clear thought in his mind: This wasn't Lance's fault. It was just who Shiro was, savior complex and all. Keith shouldn't blame Lance anymore, shouldn't be jealous of him, shouldn't...hate him.

He shouldn't, but he still did. He still did. Keith was a terrible person.

Still, he meant to say nothing when he passed Lance in the hall on the way to the bathrooms. He meant to just let him go, to keep everything to himself. That was the plan. Lance looked even more exhausted now than he had yesterday, leaning on the wall with one hand as he shuffled along in his slippers. It wasn't fair of Keith to despise him.

But as usual, Lance just had to go and open his big fat mouth.

"Hey there, Keith ol' buddy." Lance paused for a yawn halfway through, blinking at Keith sleepily. "You're looking rough this morning. Bad night?"

Keith froze, his entire body going stiff. He had almost made it. His foot was lifted, ready to take him on down the hall, away from this. Away from this entire crappy mess.

But no. He couldn't. Keith whirled around, a savage growl distorting his mouth, and stalked back toward Lance. "I look rough? I look rough? What about you, huh? What about Shiro?"

Lance blinked, shrinking a bit from this sudden assault as Keith advanced on him. "I...what? I dunno what you're talking about, man."

"Yes, you do. Yes you do!" Keith stood in front of him, his fists balled at his sides. "Did you think no one would notice? Did you think no one would care what you're doing? What you're doing to Shiro?"

Lance blinked again, slow and exaggerated. His face was completely empty of comprehension. "Me...? Doing...? ...To Shiro?" It was like his brain couldn't fit the words together.

Somehow that just made Keith even more angry. His hands rose, waving in front of his body, fingers spread in rage. "Yes! I can see it, even if no one else can. I know you're having a hard time, Lance, but you can't keep... You can't keep going to Shiro every night for help with your nightmares! It's wearing him out. He can't do it!"

"My..." Lance went still suddenly, understanding dawning. His wide, uncomprehending eyes reverted to their usual state, though he seemed completely awake now. His mouth set in grim line. "Oh. My nightmares. That's what this is about."

"Yes!" Keith tossed his arms outward from his body in exasperation. Finally, he was getting through. "I just don't get why you're going to Shiro every single night. Why not your buddy Hunk? Or Pidge? She barely sleeps anyway. And...even Coran cares about you. He'd probably make you whatever Alteans use for hot milk to help you sleep. And don't you have a crush on Allura? Everyone loves you. Anyone would help you. Why is it always Shiro?"

Lance blinked rapidly, taking this in. He turned so his back was to the wall, facing Keith's tirade. "Keith, you really don't get what's going on here."

"Yes, I do!" Keith's hands rose again, unable to be still. "You're taking advantage of him, you're taking advantage of...of what you went through down on the jungle planet that's making him feel obligated to you. You have to stop. You have to stop! It's...it's not fair of you to do this. What you're doing isn't fair!"

Lance had the temerity to laugh at this, bright and somehow sharp, his eyes wrinkling up. "Keith! Keith, please, you don't..."

"Just...stop!" Keith's hands flew out on their own. He didn't mean for it to happen. His palms landed flat on Lance's chest, and he pushed him to the wall and held him there. He didn't really know what he was doing. Just...trying to get through. Trying to make Lance understand.

Lance's breath hitched, and his eyes flew wide. Pressed against the wall, held there by Keith's weight leaning on him, he gasped, face paling. His hands rose, fluttering, and wrapped weakly around Keith's wrists.

"Keith..." His voice was barely audible, suddenly coming in a high-pitched wheeze. "Please... I can't breathe..."

Keith gasped and stood back, tearing his hands out of Lance's weak grip. Lance slid down the wall, still struggling for breath. It sounded terrible. It sounded broken. Lance curled up on himself, his hands pressed carefully to his chest. Tears were trickling from his eyes.

Keith's heart dropped like a stone. "Lance..." His voice was a mere breath. What was happening? He hadn't meant to push him that hard. "Lance, I'm sorry, I..." He reached out a hand, not sure why, not sure what he could do.

Lance shrank away, turtling up even harder. "Don't...don't touch me!"

Keith took a step back, his hands raised to show that he meant no harm. "I'm sorry, Lance, I didn't mean, I didn't..." His voice was a whimper, quiet and ashamed. A child. He sounded like a child. A child sorry for who he was, what he was, for what he had done even though he didn't understand why he should be sorry. But Keith understood. He knew very well why he should be sorry for this.

Lance pulled in deep breaths, as hard as he could, noisy and breathless. "Please, just... Just leave me alone."

Keith stood there, frozen on the floor. He had just assaulted Lance. A fellow paladin, a fellow pilot. His comrade in arms. He had assaulted him and...and now he was crying.

He'd gotten kicked out of Galaxy Garrison for much less than this.

"Should I..." Keith's voice was small. "Should I get Shiro?"

He was a terrible person. He was the worst. Lance didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of it.

Lance shook his head, slow and shaky. "No, no... Don't... Don't tell anyone."

"But, Lance, you... You need help." Keith took a tiny step toward him, barely an inch.

Lance turned his head to yell at him, his face red and twisted. "Leave me alone!"

Keith stepped back in shock. "Lance..."

"Just go!" Lance hid his face in his hands and curled up even tighter, the backs of his hands pressed to his raised knees. His voice lowered to a pained murmur. "Just go."

Keith stood there for a moment longer in indecision. Then he turned and ran. He ran like a coward.

He didn't tell Shiro. He didn't tell anyone.

He thought Lance would, though. Surely once he got over his crying jag, he would tell Shiro and Allura and Coran, the authority figures on this ship, that Keith had assaulted him. Keith fully expected to be censured, or at least scolded. He skipped breakfast, like the coward he was, afraid to face them so soon after that terrible scene in the hall.

But when he showed up for morning training, nothing happened. Shiro greeted him just like usual, all smiles and friendly shoulder pats. Coran and Allura barely glanced in his direction. Keith stared at Lance, eyebrows raised in confusion, but Lance just gave him his usual stupid-looking smile.

Lance looked normal. No trace of tears, no evidence of what had happened in the hall. He had cleaned himself up. Cleaned everything up.

He hadn't told anyone. Keith didn't know if he was glad or disappointed.

They trained. Just like usual. Nothing else happened.

Chapter Text

Lance was barely holding on. There were...too many pieces. Too much to manage. He'd never had the best organizational skills. At the most he could just get by. He'd gotten good grades in school by studying his brains out and then playing as hard as he could to unwind from the relentless pressure he put on himself to do well, to do better, to prove himself at every turn. But just because he got good grades didn't mean he knew where all of his textbooks were at any given moment. The best he could do was a general area guess—maybe on his desk, maybe on the floor beside his bed. So yeah, not the best at organizing his life.

And in the past few weeks, his life had gotten...messy. Something had happened on that jungle planet when he wasn't looking, when he was sick and out of it. Maybe when he'd taken that last shot, right before Blue burst out of the lake and covered him and let him finally, finally let go. At some point, something had broken. Something had shattered. And now there were pieces.

He didn't notice at first because there had always been pieces, at least a few of them. There was family Lance, friend Lance, student Lance, pilot Lance. He didn't show all aspects of himself to all people, but he always felt comfortable where he was. He was relatively sure that that was normal. And yes, sometimes he lied a little bit to keep up a fiction he didn't believe, but it never got out of hand.

He didn't think of it as putting up a front, more...speaking the truth into existence. If he believed that he was amazing at everything he did, eventually it would have to become reality, right? He had always believed in a sort of kindness of the world, partly because he grew up surrounded by so much familial love and partly because of his own optimistic outlook on life. He knew that not everything he said was true, but it would be someday, so that was all that mattered.

But after he put that hole in the Galra commander's head, something had changed in Lance's inner landscape. That belief in the kindness of the world just...dimmed. It had almost vanished by now. He held on to it with his fingernails, desperate to preserve some last vestige of the innocent optimism that used to shine from him like a miniature sun, but oh, it was hard. He wasn't innocent anymore. And it was hard to be optimistic.

There were more pieces to keep track of now. Pilot Lance was easy; he just flew with Blue and enjoyed being in space. Friend Lance wasn't terribly difficult; he just had to make sure that Hunk and Pidge didn't realize that he wasn't quite as okay as he said he was, and that wasn't hard because it was going to be true soon anyway. Teammate Lance was harder; he made jokes when he didn't really feel them, bragged and blustered even when it wasn't fun to do so anymore. He was the glue, wasn't he? If everyone was laughing, even laughing at him instead of with him, at least they were laughing together.

Student Lance came out for training; he still tried as hard as he could to improve himself, to compete, to make himself valuable. He knew his reaction times were slower now because of the exhaustion that never quite went away, but no one remarked on it. Even when Allura yelled at them all to move faster, to get into sync more, to be better and stronger and tougher, it didn't feel cruel. This was about survival, and Lance wanted to survive.

Family Lance was the Lance who was with Shiro. That one was maybe the easiest of all. It was easy to be the little brother again, to accept Shiro's hair ruffles and shoulder pats and sideways hugs, to nap on his shoulder in the evening and soothe him when the nightmares came deep in the lonely watches when everyone else was sleeping. It was good to be able to help, to feel useful and needed.

Shiro was right. The sleep deprivation had been keeping his nightmares at bay. When he started getting more sleep, they began to come more frequently. Two or three times a night, at least. Sometimes more. Lance was there, every single time.

When the nightmare was about Lance, it was easy to fix. Lance would just breathe a little harder, make sure Shiro could hear it, and tell him that he was okay, he was alive, everything was fine. Shiro would go still, make a pleased little hum, and fall back into slumber. Sometimes, if Lance caught them soon enough, he didn't even open his eyes.

Others were harder. Lance didn't always understand Shiro's sleepy mumbles, didn't always know what he was fighting when he started to thrash around. A couple of times he almost knocked Lance out of bed, but Lance was a fighter, too. He grabbed Shiro's hand, squished his face between his palms, kicked him in the shin. Whatever it took to shake him out of it. And then words, words, always Lance's best skill, a cascade of reassurance and comfort until Shiro calmed. Until his breathing evened and smoothed out, until he looked at Lance with coherence again. Until he closed his eyes and relaxed, and Lance finally let go, then rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding, waiting for his own body and brain to calm down, too.

That part was fine. It was hard work, but it was fine. It was worth it. Shiro was getting more sleep, even if Lance was getting less, and Lance could tell the difference. Shiro was stronger and steadier than ever in the daytime. He was the perfect leader, always there when anyone needed him, understanding and kind or firm and in control as the situation demanded. It was good for Shiro and it was good for the team, and therefore it was good for Lance, too.

But underneath all of those pieces of Lance there were also...others. The ones he denied. The ones he tried to hide. The ones that only Blue ever saw. Scared Lance. Traumatized Lance. Needy Lance.

Weak Lance. Fragile Lance. Lance who was afraid of not being able to breathe, Lance who kept seeing an image of a dead Galra commander falling in front of him with a hole in his head. Lance who was now nervous about being alone with Keith and fled the room like a coward when it even looked like they might be forced to interact again.

He had to repress those pieces of himself every single second of every day. It was a lot of work, and he was starting to get tired of it. He was starting to lose his conviction that everything would get better soon, that he just had to hold on for a little while longer. He'd been holding on for weeks now, and it hadn't gotten better yet. He didn't know when it would.

Then came a morning a few days after the confrontation with Keith. It was the alarm that woke Lance—it always was, now. Hunk had made the alarm for him out of some scrounged Altean tech, calibrating it for Castle Mean Time, and even set it with the correct date for home. The gentle but insistent bleeping filled the air for a couple of minutes before Lance forced his eyes open, then sat up in bed and rubbed his hand over his face. He reached out a sluggish hand for the alarm and turned it off as he picked it up, then sat there with the device in his lap, staring down at it.

It took a few seconds for the blurriness to clear from his vision, but when it did, he stared at the device in dismay, his heart frozen in his chest. The date in the corner of the screen...

Mariposa's wedding. She was his older sister, and his only full sister, not that it mattered. Lance loved all of his siblings equally, full, step, and half. But Mariposa... She was the most beautiful brown-skinned girl Lance knew, and he had always looked up to her. The last time he'd gone home all the talk had been wedding this and wedding that, what food to serve at the reception, what flowers to put in the bouquets...

She was the first of Lance's siblings to get married, and he'd been unreasonably excited about it. His brothers were obnoxious little twerps, running from the room screaming whenever any of the ladies started up the wedding talk, but Lance always stayed. He had opinions, and he was willing to share. Mariposa even asked if he would help with the bridesmaids' hair on the day of the wedding, "You know those braids you do for the little girls, the cute tiny ones that look like they were made by fairies, they'll look so nice along their temples..." and of course he had agreed, of course...

Lance's eyes were blurring again, and his hands were shaking. He set the alarm aside and swiped at his face, breathing hard, determined to push it down. The date... Stupid. He hadn't even noticed the day of. It was weeks ago now, weeks ago...

He'd missed it. He'd missed Mariposa's wedding. What else had he missed? Had Javier gotten engaged? He and his girlfriend had been getting serious, and there had been several holidays since Lance had been gone when Javier would have had a chance to propose. What grades did Jordan get at the end of the last term? Was he still at the top of his class? Did Laura get into the school she wanted? Lance couldn't even remember the name of it, now, some big music school out east, she was studying piano, she was going to be a concert pianist...

Lance closed his eyes and took a long, shaky breath. No. No, he couldn't think about this. It was too late, it was too late, thinking about it wasn't going to help, it wasn't going to make anything better...

He wanted to go home. He wanted home.

Lance pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the shower. He went through his morning routine in a numb daze, his mind a constant mantra of think about something else, think about something else, think about something else... Then there was a flash of Ragnak, and he gasped and caught himself with his hand against the wall.

What would Dad say? Would he be proud that Lance had held his hand steady, that he'd made the shot even while so sick that he could barely get any oxygen into his lungs? Or would he be sad that Lance had followed in his footsteps after all? Dad had been so happy when Lance had announced that he wanted to be a pilot and explore the solar system, and he'd always been Lance's strongest supporter and biggest fan as he pursued that goal. If Lance could see him again, if he could tell him everything that had happened to him, everything he'd done... What would Dad say?

Lance didn't know. He had no idea. And that was so much worse than knowing, one way or the other, if Dad would be happy and proud or sad and disappointed. Maybe he would have been better off as a cargo pilot. He never would have left Earth, never would have...

It was selfish to wish that. They needed him here. They needed him to help form Voltron, to hold the team together in between times. He had a job, an important job, defending the universe. He was protecting his family out here, really, even if they didn't know, even if they would never know...

It was a lot harder to repress Homesick Lance than he remembered.

But he managed. He put it away. It took him his entire morning routine and a little longer, enough that he was late for breakfast. But he did it. He pushed away all the pieces that he didn't want, all the pieces that were useless, and brought out Teammate Lance just in time to enter the dining room, where everyone else was already eating.

"Hey, guys!" Lance jogged over to the table, a big grin pasted on his face. "Sorry I'm late. Didja miss me?"

Pidge blew out a long, exasperated sigh. Her hair was distinctly tangled and her eyes were only half open. She'd probably stayed up too late working on some project again. "No one missed your annoying presence, Lance."

Lance laughed as he took his seat between Shiro and Hunk, but there was a prick in his heart. She didn't mean it; she was just irritated and sleepy. She'd often complained in the past about Lance being a "disgusting morning person" when she just wanted to eat her morning food goo in silence.

So Lance pouted at her, large and exaggerated. "Aw, Pidge. You don't have to be mean about it." He placed a hand over his chest, movements broad and dramatic. "It wounds me to the heart to hear such words from my precious little sister."

Pidge rolled her eyes and went back to focusing on her food. Hunk giggled, but Shiro smiled gently and patted Lance's shoulder. He looked to Coran and Allura. "What are the plans for today? We can go over them now that Lance is here."

Coran nodded eagerly and exchanged a glance with Allura, then looked back to Shiro. "Well, it's been about a week since you formed Voltron, so we were thinking we should do that. Do some bonding exercises with the lions, that sort of thing, make sure everything is still tip top. Sounds good?"

At the mention of forming Voltron, Keith's hands had gone still. He stared at his food, glaring at it as if it had personally offended him. Lance looked at him, then quickly away. He was glad Keith hadn't told anyone about his mini-breakdown in the hall, and everything seemed to have gone back to normal between them. It certainly had on Lance's end, anyway. But if Keith was still angry at him for that stupid assumption he'd made about just who was having the nightmares...

What if Keith's anger was too strong? What if...what if they couldn't trust each other enough to form Voltron? Lance's heart sank at the thought. He'd been trying to make sure everyone was getting along and not worrying about him or Shiro after the jungle planet, trying to make sure the team stayed together the way they should. If he'd managed to screw that up, despite all his best efforts...

Shiro nodded to Coran. "Yeah, that sounds good. It has been a while, and we need to be ready in case of an attack." He looked to the other paladins. "What do you guys think? Wanna form Voltron?" He smiled, his tone joking. He thought he already knew the answer. They were always ready to form Voltron.

Hunk and Pidge agreed readily, and Lance nodded. But Keith. Keith's hands clenched on the table beside his plate, and he looked up at Shiro, then to Lance. His eyes were hard, his mouth set in a scowl. "Yeah, we can do that. As long as Lance isn't too messed up."

Lance's mouth dropped open. "What... What are you talking about?"

Keith raised a hand and swept it through the air. "Oh, c'mon, Lance. You think no one's noticed? How tired you are all the time lately? How your hands shake when you think no one is looking? You're exhausted. There's no way you're up for something as mentally strenuous as forming Voltron."

Lance scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm always up for forming Voltron. I'm the best pilot on this team, you know."

Keith's fist slammed down on the table. "You are not. C'mon. No one here is buying your crap, not this time. Not even you."

Lance stared at him, his eyes burning. He didn't look around, didn't want to see the truth in everyone's eyes. Was it true? Did they all know? Could they all see just how thinly he was holding on, just how close he was to falling apart? His breath sped up, his heart beating faster.

Lance stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back from the table. His head was spinning, but he spread his stance, his hands clenched at his sides. "Shut up, Keith," he hissed through his teeth. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything."

"Yes, I do." Keith stood up, too, facing Lance across the table. "You're being selfish, Lance. You're bringing everyone down with you. Is that really what you want?"

"Me? Being selfish?" Everything was rising up, heat in his belly, in his heart. Lance's breath started to get more ragged. He laid a hand on his chest, very lightly, felt it pumping up and down. He couldn't...

Hunk was making motions with his hands, trying to calm him down. Shiro said something, too, and Allura's voice rose, sharp and scolding. Lance couldn't focus on their words, couldn't hear what they were saying. He stared at Keith, had eyes for nothing else, ears for nothing but his voice. His vision narrowed and all he could see was Keith's face, twisted in disdain. "Is... Is that really what you think?"

Keith nodded, quick and hard. "That's what I think. I think you're bad for this team, Lance. I think we would be better off if you stayed where you belong, back on Earth as a cargo pilot."

For a second, Lance couldn't breathe. He stood there, frozen. Everything rose up, and then it fell. All the pieces, all the broken bits of himself, everything claimed him at once. He felt it all, fear, pain, homesickness, grief, weakness, loss. He felt like a giant had grabbed him in its fist, shook him until he couldn't see straight, then dropped him from a height. He hit the ground, and he shattered.

He came back to himself, and there was Keith and the table laden with food between them. Lance picked up his plate. He was screaming. "Shut up!" He wanted to throw it at Keith, but he turned and threw it at the wall instead. He wanted the plate to shatter, but it didn't, space polymers too strong and tough. It just spattered food and fell to the ground with a clunk. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

His glass. Hunk's plate. Shiro's plate. Their glasses. He threw everything he could lay his hands on, nearly blind with rage and terror. Tears were running from his eyes, down his cheeks, and he could barely breathe, could barely feel his body. Everything hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much, and what if Keith was right?

"No, no, stop it, stop it!" There was nothing else to throw. Lance stood still and pressed his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut and just yelled. "Please, please, no! Stop! Make it stop!"

Stillness. Silence. Lance stood there, panting. His face was covered with tears and snot. His chest hurt so much that he was dizzy with it. He opened his eyes.

Everyone was staring at him. Shiro and Hunk had stood up from their chairs and moved back from the table, and they stood there, horror on their faces. Across the table, Keith and Pidge were wide-eyed and silent. Oh no. He'd lost it. In front of everyone, he'd...

Allura. Lance glanced over at her, saw her staring at him with shock and...disapproval. It had to be disapproval. Lance's chest heaved in agony. He'd lost it in front of the princess.

Shiro's lips moved. Lance couldn't hear him. Shiro took a step forward, his hand reaching out.

Lance turned on his heels and ran from the room as fast as his feet could take him.

Chapter Text

For a couple seconds after Lance fled the room, they all just stood there, listening to his footsteps pounding down the hall. Then Hunk broke free of his paralysis and ran for the door, his hands reaching out as if he could grab his buddy and bring him back just by trying. "Lance! Wait! Come back!"

Of course Lance didn't come back. He probably couldn't even hear him. At the door, Hunk paused and looked back at the others. They were all just sitting or standing exactly where they had been while Lance had been having his breakdown, staring blankly in shock. "Come on! We have to go after him!"

It was like he'd hit them with electricity. Everyone started, then began to move in a general stampede toward the door. All except Keith, who still stood on the other side of the table, his face blank, his eyes distant. "You too!" Hunk yelled at him. "You have to apologize! Right now!"

They couldn't wait. They couldn't let this stay the way it was. Not for one second longer. They'd already left it for far too long.

Keith moved. After a split second to make sure he was coming, Hunk turned and ran down the hall, the others at his heels. He couldn't hear Lance's footsteps anymore, but he knew where he was going. He saw Allura reaching out to one of the control panels and knew she was going to ask the ship to tell her where Lance was, but he shook his head and grabbed her sleeve, keeping her going.

"No need," he said, already a little breathless from his headlong rush. "I know where he is. He's already jumped on the zip line."

Her expression opened in comprehension, though she still looked pained. "The blue lion..."

Hunk nodded. "It's where he goes when he can't deal with something. C'mon. I know the way to the hangar, though it's gonna take longer than his way."

He found the right elevator and slapped his hand on the activation panel, then waited for the others to get in before he followed. Then he stood by the door, fidgeting and panting, waiting for the far-too-long trip to be over.

This was his fault. Tears stung Hunk's eyes, and he raised a hand and angrily dashed them away. "I should have done something," he whimpered. "I saw this coming. I saw this coming a long time ago. Why didn't I do something?"

A gentle hand landed on Hunk's shoulder, and he looked up into Shiro's face. Shiro looked almost as agonized as Hunk felt. "No," Shiro murmured. "Don't take this on yourself. I knew he was having a hard time but...I let myself believe that it wasn't as bad as it was. I was a fool."

Hunk shook his head. He reached out his hand and hooked it on Shiro's elbow, gripping tight. "No. No, man. You are...you are the least to blame for this. He loves you like crazy, and you love him back, and you have been so, so good for him in the past few weeks. I can see that. I saw it every day. You gave him back something he lost, a big brother to take care of him, and after seeing just how messed up things are for him... You were basically all that was keeping him going, until he just...couldn't anymore. I'm sure of that."

To his surprise, Shiro looked even more guilty. "You saw that, yes, but that wasn't all that was going on. I took care of him when I could, but... He was taking much more care of me."

Hunk's face twisted in confusion, but before he could ask what that meant, Coran cleared his throat. They all looked to him. He looked just as horrified as the rest of them, and there were tears in the corners of his eyes. "This...this isn't helping anything," he said shakily. "We all... We have all failed Lance rather spectacularly, I'm afraid. Especially..." He looked pained. "Especially me. It is my job to care for you paladins, to make sure that you are healthy and able to bear the weight of this terrible mission we are all on. And I didn't notice that Lance was suffering at all."

Allura reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, moving slowly and carefully, but he shook his head and she stopped. Coran drew a deep breath. "These recriminations are helping nothing. It doesn't matter who is the most to blame for letting the situation get this bad, or if any of us are. We must focus now on how to repair it, on how to reassure Lance that he is most definitely valued and wanted here, and we do not wish that he was still on Earth."

Keith had been standing in the back of the group, silent and pale. Now, he looked down at the floor. No one said anything to him.

Pidge made a tiny, distressed noise, and Hunk looked to her. Pidge's face was almost translucent, it was so white, and her expression was numb. "I told him he was annoying. I told him no one missed him."

Hunk made an attempt at a reassuring smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "He knew you didn't mean it. He knows you care about him, and you're just bad at showing it sometimes."

Pidge shook her head. "Still, I... I shouldn't have said that. When he said I wounded him to his heart...he wasn't joking."

Hunk's mouth twisted. He was glad she understood that now. Just wished they'd all caught on a little sooner. "We all... We all need to be a little kinder," he said.

Allura made a noise in the back of her throat, her arms folded and a confused pout on her lips. "I don't understand this," she said. "Lance has always been extremely confident of himself and his skills. When did that change?"

Hunk buried his hand in his hair and tugged it, the other hand still locked around Shiro's elbow. "Seriously?" His voice was high with incredulity. "You've known us for this long and you still haven't figured Lance out? It's not like he isn't completely transparent, like, all the time!"

She just stared at him. Hunk threw his hand into the air in exasperation. "It's an act, Princess! It's all an act! He knows it, and we know it. Everyone knows it! He doesn't expect anyone else to believe him, either. He's just trying to convince himself. If he can make himself believe, for just one second, that he's actually good at what he's trying to do, he can make it through another day."

Allura's eyes widened. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Hunk had no patience. He looked to Keith, too.

"Also, while I am sharing very obvious things that everyone should already know, Keith, you do not have to be jealous of Lance. He is not taking Shiro away from you. No one is. Shiro still cares about you just as much as he always has."

Hunk felt Shiro start beside him, but he was still looking at Keith. Keith had been staring at the floor. Now he backed up two steps, seeming dizzy, and leaned against the wall of the elevator and hid his face in his hands. He was shaking.

Before anyone else could say anything, the elevator arrived at the hangar floor. Hunk let go of Shiro's arm and stomped determinedly into the hall. He didn't look back to see if anyone was following him. They'd just better be all coming with him, that was all. They all needed to fix this.

In the hangar, he wasn't particularly surprised to see that Blue's particle barrier was activated. What was surprising, though, was that she was not in her typical idle pose, sitting on her haunches with her head lifted like she had been back in the cavern where they first found her. No, she was curled on the floor like an actual lion, head resting on paws, tail curved around her feet. Hunk almost expected to see Lance sheltered in the curve of her body, like a kitten with a housecat, but he wasn't there.

Allura made a noise of surprise at the sight, too. "Well, this is unusual." She moved to a control panel. "I'll lower the barrier and get the blue lion to open up so we can talk to Lance."

Before her hand touched the screen, though, it flashed in a big block of light. Allura stood back, gaping, as the current readout disappeared and something new appeared. Several large characters that Hunk didn't recognize occupied the screen, bold and blue. Coran raised his eyebrows.

"What is that?" Despite the situation, Pidge was utterly fascinated by this new technological development.

Allura glanced to her, then back to the screen, forehead creased in puzzlement. "It's an extremely ancient Altean alphabet, unused even when the Castle of Lions was built. I had no idea it even existed in our databanks."

"Did you study it?" Shiro asked urgently. "Do you know what it says?"

"I did, yes, but it's been a very long time." Allura reached a hand out to the screen as if she could read the letters by touching them, then lowered her hand. "It says... 'pilot hurt.' No. 'My pilot.' It says, 'My pilot is hurt.'"

The screen flashed again, new characters appearing. Allura narrowed her eyes. "Now it says, 'Do not enter.' That at least is a little easier to read, since the grammar is more common."

Hunk stared back to the blue lion, his eyes so wide they hurt. "Blue...Blue is talking to us? With words? I didn't know that was possible."

Allura frowned. "It's not." She reached for the control panel again. "It must be Lance, somehow. Though why he would refer to himself in the third person, and as 'my pilot,' I cannot guess. He must be very upset. I'll get the door open." She got the readout open, then frowned even harder. "Well, that's very odd. This is saying that the controls are unoccupied. He's not using them."

She backed away from the panel and looked at the blue lion again. Hunk might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn that Blue had curled up even harder, shoulders shifting into a slightly more aggressive stance. Again, he thought of a cat with a kitten, standing against a threat. Was this really happening?

Allura moved back to the panel. It flashed again to the message that meant "Do not enter." Allura grit her teeth and pressed on, tapping away at the panel in an attempt to override it.

The screen flashed to a new character, just one that took up the entire screen in bold. Then Blue's tail twitched, and a laser bolt shot out. Hunk screamed and dove to the side, as did most of the others, but the bolt had gone nowhere near him. It had...it had hit the wall above Allura's head.

Allura stood there, frozen in shock. Had...had one of the lions just taken a pot shot at her?

"Allura," Shiro said shakily, once they had gathered themselves a little. "What does the screen say now?"

Allura blinked her way out of her state of paralysis and slowly, slowly turned her head to look at the screen. "It says 'No.'"

The screen flashed, and a new word appeared. "Now it says 'Leave.'"

"Okay." Hunk got it. He understood. This was enough. He started shoving the others toward the door. "Get out, get out! You guys have to leave, now. Blue does not want us here, and she is mad."

After a moment of resistance, the others let themselves be pushed. "Hunk," Pidge said, her voice high with distress. "Are we really gonna give up on Lance like this?"

"What? No!" His hand was on Pidge's shoulder. He gave her one last shove toward the door, then stood there in the hangar. "I'm gonna beg Blue to let me in. She'll have to listen, she... But the rest of you... You have to leave. Blue is mad."

"Hunk." Shiro stood there with his hand on the door. "This is dangerous."

"Let me do it!" Hunk yelled, his hands clenching into fists. Then he drew a deep breath and made himself relax, shoulders falling down. "Let me do this," he said again, more calmly. "Let me talk to my best friend."

He looked around, suddenly noticing something. "And hey, where is Keith? Did he come with us from the elevator?"

Shiro looked around, too, eyes wide. A complicated series of emotions passed over his face, and then he went grim. "I'll track him down. I'll talk to him." He nodded to the others. "Go back to the common rooms and wait. Hunk and I will deal with this."

Coran, Allura, and Pidge did not look happy with this arrangement. But they seemed to accept that there was nothing else they could do. They left with various degrees of reluctance, and Hunk was left alone in the hangar.

He turned back to the blue lion, moving slowly and carefully. She coiled there on the floor, giving the impression of an enormous reserve of power and anger held barely in check. Hunk took a deep breath, then fell to his knees.

"Blue." His hands clenched in front of him. "Please, Blue. I know...we don't deserve a second chance. But I'm begging you... Please let me see Lance. Your pilot. Let me see my friend. I just want to talk to him."

Her eyes flickered. It seemed somehow questioning to Hunk. He swallowed. "I want to apologize. I want to do anything I can to make him feel better, even if it's only a little bit. I want to give him a hug and make sure he knows how much I love him. Please, Blue. That's all I want. I know...you're connected to Lance's mind, right? Can you see me in his memories? Please, search them, and see if there has ever, ever been a time that I've intentionally hurt him. There hasn't, I swear. Please let me in so I can talk to him."

Blue was still for a moment longer. Hunk held his breath, silently begging. Then her mouth opened, and the particle barrier vanished into the air. Hunk jumped to his feet and ran for all he was worth.

He found Lance in the cockpit. He was not at the controls. He was lying on his side on the floor, curled up into a tight ball with his arms wrapped around his knees, his back to the wall, staring sightlessly into space. His eyes barely flickered when Hunk entered his vision. Hunk fell to his knees again beside him, his breath leaving him in a rush. "Lance."

Hunk wanted to cry. In all his time with Lance, through all the ups and downs and highs and lows, he'd never seen him like this. This was bad. It was so, so bad.

"Lance." Hunk swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Lance, I'm gonna get you up off the floor, okay? Let me know if you don't want me to, if you want to stay there."

Lance did nothing. Hunk got his hands under Lance's shoulders and levered him up off the cold floor so at least he could lean against the wall. Lance let himself be moved around, limp in Hunk's hands. Once he was upright, he let his knees fall down, but his arms stayed curled up against his abdomen as if to protect his chest. He still didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, just staring away into nothingness.

"Lance, I'm gonna hug you now, okay? I just...I really want to give you a hug. Let me know if I should stop." Hunk got his hands, then his arms around Lance's upper body and pulled him in close, as close as he dared. Lance's head fell on Hunk's shoulder, but his arms stayed curled up between them like a fragile barrier. Hunk didn't try to move them. He understood that Lance needed to protect his ability to breathe, even against something as non-threatening as a hug from his best friend.

They just stayed there for a while, breathing together. Hunk felt the warmth of wetness on his shoulder. Lance was crying. It was silent, no noise, no sobbing. Just tears.

"Lance," he murmured, barely able to force out the sound through the tightness in his throat, in his chest. "Lance, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I knew... I knew there was something wrong. I knew you were having a hard time. I knew Keith was on edge, that he was getting things wrong, but... I didn't do anything. Somehow I hoped... I dunno. I thought someone else would do something, or it would just pass. I was so stupid, Lance, and I am so sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt like this."

Lance's breath sped up, an edge of raggedness in it. He turned his hands, curled up between their bodies, and grabbed the fabric of Hunk's shirt in his fingers. Hunk was encouraged. Lance was responding to him. He dared to shift a little closer, ducking his head down against Lance's shoulder.

"I'm gonna make this up to you, Lance," he said, his voice stronger now. "We all are. Everyone else is sorry, too. We're all very, very sorry that we let this get so bad for you. We're gonna make it up to you. You're never gonna have to be alone again, I swear. You don't have to fight by yourself anymore."

Lance sniffled against Hunk's shoulder. His voice came, breathy and faint, almost inaudible. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Oh." Hunk's heart almost broke. His squeezed his eyes shut, tears trickling over and down. His hands clenched tighter around Lance's back. "Oh no, no. Lance, buddy, no. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You've been fighting by yourself for way too long, that's all. You just got tired, and no one came to relieve you, and you were alone and exhausted and you didn't have any options. That's on us, not on you. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I..." His voice broke on a sob. "I broke down in front of the princess."

Hunk almost laughed. He huffed out a breath and rocked Lance a little where they sat. "You broke down in front of everybody, dude. Everyone knows now. So there's no point in hiding anymore, okay? You don't have to try to keep your pain from us. You don't have to try to protect us from what's going on inside your head. We already know, and we're all here to help you, I swear."

Lance's fingers tightened in Hunk's shirt. His chest heaved in a silent sob. "Hunk." It was a whine, high and lonesome and lost. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, buddy." Hunk held him tight and rocked him, and he felt his tears, and he cried, too. "I missed you so, so much. But everything's gonna be okay now. We're gonna fix this, I swear, no matter what it takes. We're gonna fix this, and you'll never be alone again."

They stayed there, holding each other, for a long time.

Chapter Text

Keith wasn't in the red lion or the red lion's hangar. Nor was he in any of the common areas, nor his bedroom, nor even the control deck, where Shiro himself sometimes went to be alone and think. After checking that one, Shiro stood still in the hall for a little while, his mind churning. He was frustrated, not with Keith but with himself. Hunk had known exactly where to go as soon as his best friend got upset and ran away. Shiro should know Keith at least that well, but apparently he didn't. Where on the castle ship did Keith go when he wanted to escape the pressures of this life they'd all been thrown into?

Ah. The training deck. Shiro set off at a jog, eager to find him as soon possible. Keith had been left alone for far too long by now. He had a tendency to get worked up if given too much time to brood.

In the hallway on the training deck, he faltered again, not sure which room to try first. Keith spent the most time with the gladiator, but Shiro couldn't hear any sounds of fighting or anything that could lead him. He went still, pouring everything he had into observation, just like he had done back on that awful planet, and...

Well. There was a sound Shiro hadn't expected to hear. His head tilted to the side, his heart heavy in his chest. Somewhere, Keith was crying and trying to muffle himself, so all that came out were tiny little whimpers and breaths that floated through the air with no clear direction. Shiro turned around where he stood, searching, and...

There. The end of the hall. There was a series of alcoves where, back in the day, soldiers waiting their turn to use the training rooms could hang out and prepare. Coran had explained their purpose at one point, looking not a little wistful at the understanding that they would probably never be useful again. They had always looked nice and comfortable, though, each with two padded benches facing each other, almost like a restaurant booth without the table.

Shiro found Keith curled up in one of the alcoves almost at the very end of the hall. He was sitting in the corner of the bench farthest from the opening, his heels on the bench, face hidden in his hands as he tried to stifle himself. Shiro hated the way Keith cried, quiet, choking himself, desperate not to be heard. He'd tried to encourage him in the past, told him that it was okay to be messy and loud when you were hurting, but Keith had never quite understood. Keith had never quite understood a lot of things.

"Keith." Shiro kept his voice low and gentle. He had come prepared to scold and question, to demand answers for exactly why Keith had thought it was okay to say such cruel things to a fellow pilot, but he could see that that was unnecessary. Something else was called for here. He slid into the bench next to him, careful to leave a small distance between them. He didn't reach out, not yet. Shiro knew that Keith would startle and panic at an unexpected touch, especially when he was so emotionally overwrought, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Keith went still, frozen where he sat. Even the limited noise he'd been making stopped, as if he was holding his breath. Shiro's heart felt even heavier. Had Keith really thought that no one would come after him? More than that, he'd been stifling himself like this even when he thought he was completely alone, and would remain so?

Slowly, achingly slow and reluctant, Keith dragged his hands down his face and stared at Shiro over his fingers. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and his hair hung about his face in strands. He was a mess. "Shiro?"

A whisper, still unsure. Shiro nodded, a lump rising in his throat. "I'm here, kiddo. I came to talk to you."

"Shiro." The word was a sob. Keith's eyes filled with tears. He lowered his hands, revealing the agonized expression that twisted his mouth and scrunched up his cheeks. "I didn't mean to hurt him again. I didn't mean to! I didn't want to, I..."

Shiro's heart squeezed. Again? What was Keith talking about? Questions could wait, though. He was reaching out now, slow, careful to make sure Keith saw him coming. He wrapped his hand around Keith's shoulder and gave a little tug, gentle and controlled. Keith resisted for a bare second, his face twisting up even harder, and then he collapsed against him.

Shiro dragged him in, as close as he could. Keith hid his face under Shiro's chin, strong arms wrapping around Shiro's waist, whipcord tight. He was muffling his cries again, but this time it was against Shiro, not himself. Shiro sat there and endured. He accepted everything Keith had, accepted the mess and the heartache and the tears and the mistakes. He had tried to tell Keith this before, many times, but actions spoke louder than words, especially to someone who had been told so many lies.

Eventually, the hurricane began to slow. Keith's sobs began to lose power, and he leaned on Shiro more heavily. Even his arms loosened and slid down Shiro's sides. Shiro continued to hold him as firmly as ever, his face ducked down into Keith's messy, sweaty hair.

"Okay," he said finally, steadily, when it seemed like Keith was as calm as he was going to get, at least for now. "Talk to me."

Keith turned his head and drew in a moist, hitching breath. "I didn't mean to hurt him again."

"You said that." Shiro petted his hair. "What did you mean?"

Keith's fingers clenched in Shiro's shirt. "It's twice now. The first time was an accident, it really was, and... And the second time was too! Except..." His voice lowered to a pained murmur. "I did mean it. I didn't plan to say it though, I just..."

"You wanted Lance to not be here," Shiro said, trying to fill in some of the gaps. "You wanted him to not be here, so you said we'd be better off if he was back on Earth."

"Yes." Keith released a tiny, miserable sob. "I know it's not true. He's important. He's a good pilot. Everyone loves him. Y...you..."

Keith's breath halted. He couldn't say the rest. Shiro pressed him a little tighter. "Yes, I've gotten to be very close to Lance recently, and he's very important to me. I don't want to lose him, and I don't want him to be anywhere else but here, with us. But you're important to me, too, Keith. You never stopped being important. I'm sorry I didn't make sure you knew that. I forgot..." Shiro drew a painful breath. "I forgot how many people have gone away from you. I never meant to be one of them."

This wasn't quite fair. Keith's fist tightened in his shirt, tugging hard. "But you were!" His voice lowered again right away. "But you were. And then you came back, and then..."

Shiro sighed. "And then you felt like I was leaving you again, right in front of your eyes. I'm so sorry, Keith. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

First, though, they all really needed to make it up to Lance.

Shiro blew out a breath and closed his eyes. It would be so much kinder if he could just sit here and reconnect with Keith, but they had other business to deal with. "Tell me about the first time you hurt Lance."

Keith swallowed thickly. "I swear it was an accident."

"Just tell me what happened, kid."

Keith was silent for just a few seconds longer. "I...I pushed him."

Shiro blinked. "You pushed him?"

"Against a wall. We were talking. Arguing. And I...got upset. I couldn't...hold it in. I didn't mean to do it! I pushed him against the wall, and, and my hands were on his chest, and all of a sudden he got really pale and scared and said he couldn't breathe. I let go right away, but he... He slid down the wall, and his breathing was...bad. And. And he was crying. I didn't mean to push him that hard!" Keith's voice lowered almost to a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt him. But I did."

Shiro felt cold all over. He was sure Keith was telling the truth. He probably hadn't pushed Lance very hard at all. Even at his most troubled and out-of-control, Keith had never been a violent or hurtful person. Unknowingly, Keith had managed to attack Lance at his most vulnerable point. It must have been an enormous shock to both of them.

It really had been an accident. But this was just more proof that Lance was having problems that he'd been hiding, whether from everyone or from himself. They had a lot of work to do with that boy. A lot of work.

Keith was still talking. "After that I told myself, I promised myself..." He pulled in a harsh breath, just this side of a sob. "I wanted to believe that I wouldn't hurt him again. I told myself I wouldn't. But... But then I did! Not even a week later. I'm a horrible person."

"Oh, Keith." Shiro sighed and ran his fingers through Keith's hair, combing through the tangles as gently as he could. "You're not a horrible person because of one mistake, or even two or three. Or a dozen. Why did you hurt Lance? Can you answer that?"

"Because I'm a horrible person."

"No." Shiro put a touch of rebuke in his voice, and Keith went still, chastened. "Tell me why. Were you angry? Were you scared?"

Keith was sullenly quiet for a moment. He hated these conversations. But he knew Shiro wouldn't leave him alone until he answered. "Yes. Both."

"Why were you angry at Lance?"

"Because..." Keith blew out a breath. "Because he's such a great guy, I guess."

Shiro raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected that. "You think Lance is a great guy?"

"Yeah. He's...he's smart, and he's good at talking. And he's fun. He makes people smile. Everyone loves him."

Shiro blinked. This was the second time that phrase had come up. "And why were you scared?"

Keith was even more reluctant to answer that one. "Because..."

Shiro nudged him.

Keith blew out an exasperated sigh. "Hunk already said. In the elevator."

Shiro took pity on him. "You thought he was taking your place. You thought that because I consider Lance to be my little brother now, that you weren't anymore."

Keith turned his face to hide against Shiro again. He nodded.

This was too important to say to the air. Shiro needed to see Keith face to face. He put his hands on Keith's shoulders and gently urged him to sit back. Keith disengaged reluctantly, a fretful whine escaping his lips. After a moment, though, he sat there facing Shiro, large, dark eyes blinking wearily. His face was red and streaked with tear tracks, and creased from the seams on Shiro's shirt where his cheek had been pressed.

Shiro smiled, his heart aching. "Listen, Keith. You will always, always be my little brother. I told you then, didn't I? That was not a part-time gig. It was not a one-time thing. This is for life. I know it's hard for you to believe, because lots of people told you the same thing. That you weren't just another foster kid, and they wanted to adopt you. You weren't just another student. You weren't just a face in the crowd. And they all went away in the end."

Tears again. Of course. But Keith faced him stalwartly and didn't look away. Shiro drew a breath and kept going.

"But I'm not them. I am not them. You belong to me. You are my family, and you always will be. It doesn't matter how many other brothers and sisters and uncles and cousins and everything else I might gain over the years. You will always, always be there, too. No matter what. If someone tries to take me away from you, I will fight until I get back. Even when I'm not next to you, I'm still thinking about you and hoping that you're okay. Nothing will ever change that. Do you believe me?"

Keith stared into his face for a long, long moment. Then he nodded. His chin was wobbling.

Shiro pulled him into another hug. "All right. Good enough."

Keith sniffled on his shoulder. "Will you spar with me again?" he asked in a small voice.

Shiro huffed out something like a laugh, though he felt like his heart might shatter into pieces. He remembered sitting on the couches after dinner and saying no, weighed down by Lance's head on his shoulder and the weariness in his own bones. He'd always meant to say yes again eventually, it was just that he was so tired... And then Keith had stopped asking, and Shiro hadn't thought to go ask himself. Stupid. So stupid.

"Of course," he said. "Maybe not today, though. We have...things to deal with."

Keith nodded, then slowly pulled back out of Shiro's arms again, staring down at his hands twisting in his lap. "Are...are you gonna discipline me for hurting Lance?"

Shiro hesitated. He didn't want to. Keith had clearly been through enough, and none of the typical civilian or military punishments that he could think of seemed appropriate in this situation. Keith wouldn't consider push-ups a punishment, they were already all on bland rations (though food goo certainly beat MREs, no matter how boring it got), they had no wages to cut, and confining Keith, to his room or elsewhere, would only do more harm than good. Not only to Keith, but to the team. They needed to spend time together now more than ever. Bonding now wasn't just an optional activity that Lance could push them all into—it was necessary for survival. Especially with the recent rifts.

But Keith snuck a look at him, at once dreading and hopeful, and Shiro sighed. He knew that Keith hadn't experienced a lot of stability in his life until he went to Galaxy Garrison, with its strict schedule and code of conduct. He needed that stability now. And for something this serious, they honestly should have some kind of disciplinary measures. By Keith's own admission, he had assaulted a fellow pilot, even though it had been done more out of confusion and fear than malice. That could not be allowed to slide.

"I don't know," he said at last, reluctantly. "When everything has settled down a bit, I can ask Allura to chew you out for a while. I'll tell her to make it blistering and go for at least two thousand ticks. It might be good stress-relief for her, too. How does that sound?"

Keith gave him a skeptical look. Shiro smiled. "We'll see if we think more is necessary after that. You might not survive."

Keith nodded and looked down. Shiro went serious again. "One thing, though... You truly do have to give Lance an apology. A formal one. And informal. And whatever else we have to do. You really..." He sighed. "I know you didn't mean to, and you feel bad about it, but you really, really hurt him, kiddo. Even if he hadn't already been on the edge from...unresolved issues, what you said still would have been cruel and uncalled-for."

Keith nodded again, his head hanging low, then looked up Shiro. "Could I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Are...are Lance's nightmares getting better, like he thinks they are?"

Shiro blinked. "Lance's nightmares?"

Keith looked away, shame-faced, and picked at his nails. "I heard you talking in the hall one night. Um. Sorry for eavesdropping. You said you were worried about him and asked how long he could keep going, and he said he was fine, it was getting better, he was sure of it. But... Lance doesn't seem like he's getting better. He seems more tired than ever."

Shiro was silent, stunned. The depth of the misunderstanding here took his breath away. No wonder Keith had thought Lance was taking his place. He thought that Shiro had been comforting Lance after nightmares every single night. For more than a month.

"Keith, that's not..."

Keith sighed and wrapped his arms around his chest. "I'm sorry. I know it's not my business. I shouldn't have pried."

Shiro considered this for a long moment, then shook his head. "No, actually... I think you're wrong. It's your business. It's everyone's business. It's the team's business." He set his mouth and looked away at the wall, his stomach churning. "Something that affects one affects us all. We have to share everything from now on. No more secrets. No more hiding what we're going through because we want to protect everyone else from our pain."

Keith was staring at him, eyes wide. Shiro looked back and gave him a smile. "I'll tell you all about it. But... Let's go back to the others now, all right? I want everyone to know. And we need to talk to Lance, too, if Hunk has managed to coax him away from Blue. We'll share everything we need to all at once."

Keith nodded. Shiro stood, sighing, and stretched out his aching arms, then reached a hand out for Keith. Keith took it, and Shiro pulled him up, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

They walked out into the hall together, back to the life and the family that waited for them.

Chapter Text

Pidge was bored. And restless. And unhappy. She just...felt yucky inside. It was the worst. People were so complicated. Why couldn't they be like computers? Why couldn't she just read the code and figure things out? Then she would know what to say and not say, what to do and not do. She could fix things. She could... Do something. Anything. Quiznak, this was boring.

She had helped Coran clean up the mess in the dining room, put away all the uneaten food, stack the dishes in the washer. Then they went back to the lounge where Allura was pacing, unable to be still. She and Coran had immediately started up a conversation while Pidge went and flopped down on her back on a sofa and stared up at the ceiling. She tried to listen to what they were saying, but all of the words seemed to slip out of her head as soon as they said them. She just...didn't care. About any of it.

She was pretty sure that she would usually find the conversation fascinating. They were talking about the lions and the paladins of old and how deep their bonds could go. Apparently there were...different levels? And maybe Lance was...deeper than they'd expected? But they had never heard of any of the lions using words to communicate, and they were super flummoxed over it, and yeah, usually Pidge would be interested. But she wasn't.

She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be with her friends who were hurting, even if she couldn't do much for them. Even if all she could do was just sit there and be with them. She had seen Keith's face in the elevator and knew that he was pretty messed up, but Shiro was going after him and Shiro was amazing, so he would probably be okay. And even if he wasn't... Well, Keith kind of deserved to feel bad for a while, after what he'd said. Pidge frowned at the ceiling, knowing that her feelings were unfair—she had hurt Lance with her words, too, though not as badly—but she couldn't help it. A fierce, judgemental part of her spirit just wanted Keith to suffer. For a while.

Pidge really wanted to be with Hunk and Lance. Why wouldn't the blue lion let her in? She just wanted to help. Unless maybe...Blue could see Lance's memories? So she knew what Pidge had said to Lance? Ugh. Pidge rolled over and curled up on her side, staring miserably at the floor. It really, really sucked to be judged by a giant ancient magical robot lion, but maybe she couldn't really blame Blue for not wanting Pidge to come in. That had been a horrible thing to say, now that Pidge was reflecting on it, unable to think of much else.

Yeah, Lance could be annoying. Everyone knew it, even Lance himself. But that didn't mean no one wanted him around or missed him when he was gone. That was...that was the opposite of the truth. Pidge couldn't help but remember the jungle planet and how desperate all of them had been to get Lance and Shiro back home to them. Even while she was hacking the Galra comm ship, working so fast her fingers shook and her eyes ached, she kept expecting Lance to come up behind her and poke her shoulder and ask her what she was doing in that overbearing, intrusive way of his.

Mealtimes were too quiet. She wanted to hear Lance making jokes, even the inappropriate ones that made Shiro go, "Lance." No one laughed during those meals, the mood too heavy to lighten, though Hunk and Coran had tried a couple of times. Toward the end, none of them had even eaten together anymore, just grabbed food when they could and went back to their work.

And it wasn't like she had just missed Lance for what he could do, either. She hadn't just missed fighting beside him in their lions, or listening to his stupid comments, or watching him play around with Hunk and Keith. She had missed...Lance. For who he was. Irritating, energetic, occasionally charming, often sweet, sometimes clingy. Just... Lance. She'd missed him.

But what if... What if she was going to have to keep missing him? Unwanted tears rose up in Pidge's eyes. She reached up and swiped them away with her index finger and thumb. She was irritated at herself for having these thoughts, but she couldn't make them go away. The way he had screamed and cried after Keith said those things, those terrible lies...

It wasn't Keith he had been yelling at. It started that way, but in the end, he'd just been standing in the middle of the room with his hands pressed over his ears, screaming at nothing to make it stop. Make it stop. Was he yelling at himself? The thoughts in his head? What was going on in there? It must be so, so painful to make him break down like that. It must be awful and horrendous and just...overwhelming. How long had he been dealing with it all alone? Ever since the planet? But that was...that was such a long time ago. It made Pidge ache to think about it.

How could Lance come back from something like that? It had been so...shattering. He had sounded broken, like there was a part of his being, his self, that had suddenly quit working. Pidge wanted to fix it so badly that her fingers twitched with need, but how could she? People weren't computers. Lance didn't have a code that she could read and figure out and tweak to her satisfaction. If she could, maybe she would dial down the annoying and push up the sweet levels, just a little...

But no. That wouldn't be Lance. And she wanted him back.

There was a scuff at the door, and Pidge popped up from the circle of sunken couches like a prairie dog from a hole. Hunk stood there, looking done in. He was carrying Lance piggyback style, hands under his thighs, Lance's arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Lance's head was down, face hidden against Hunk's shoulder, so all Pidge could see was a thatch of brown hair. But he was here. He was here. That was all that mattered.

Pidge leaped out of the couch circle and pelted for the door, Coran and Allura not far behind her. Coran was making distressed noises, of course. "Is he hurt? Did he fall and twist his ankle? Should we go to the infirmary?"

Hunk shook his head, slow and weary, and Pidge managed a smile, even as she pushed herself over to Hunk's side and reached up to place a hand on Lance's back. "It's okay, Coran," she said, taking it on herself to explain. "It's just something that Hunk and Lance do sometimes."

"Do they?" Allura sounded flabbergasted. She had certainly been absorbing a lot of revelations about her paladins and the lions in the last couple of hours.

Hunk sighed and started making his way toward the couches, and Pidge kept pace with him, leaving her hand on Lance's back. She nodded to Allura. "Yeah, they did it all the time back at Garrison. Whenever Lance was feeling down or homesick. Or he just wanted a piggyback ride. It's like...socially acceptable public cuddling, I think."

Hunk's mouth twisted, but he didn't disagree. He made his way down into the circle of couches, taking the long way around by the steps, and bent down with his back to one of the middle couches. Lance clenched his hands tighter around Hunk's body for a moment, then reluctantly slid off. He fell loosely against the cushions, his eyes half open.

Pidge stayed beside them every step of the way, and once Lance was sitting she immediately snuggled up to his side and threw an arm around his front. She was disappointed, but not surprised, when Lance didn't respond. He just sat there, limp and exhausted. His body seemed too cool to the touch, though he wasn't shivering.

Hunk straightened and turned to look at them, still frowning. "He's a little shocky," he told Pidge quietly. "I'm going to go get a blanket from his room. You'll stay with him?"

Pidge nodded. She had no intentions of going anywhere.

Hunk sighed and turned away. Coran and Allura stood outside the circle of couches, looking worried and awkward. Allura wrung her hands together in front of her. "Perhaps...something hot to drink?"

Hunk brightened, just a little. "Yeah. That would...that would be good. Thank you, Princess."

She smiled. "I have just the thing."

They walked away together. Near the door, they paused, and Hunk started to say something, voice low. Pidge strained her ears and caught the words.

"Princess, he's...um... He's embarrassed. About...breaking down in front of you. If you could...?"

"Oh." Once again, Allura sounded surprised. But this time she sounded sad, too. "I understand. I'll try."

"Thank you." They went their separate ways.

Pidge rolled her head up to look into Lance's face, but he gave no indication that he'd heard anything. He was just staring away at nothing. It was...disconcerting to see his normally expressive face so blank.

No. It was scary.

Pidge shivered and wrapped her arm farther around him, tightening her fingers against his opposite side. She tucked her head into the dip between his shoulder and arm and closed her eyes. "Lance," she whispered. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it." Tears were welling up again. She sniffed, forcing them back. "I always miss you when you're not around. I miss you so much, Lance. Please don't stay away from me. I'm sorry."

For a long moment, Pidge was afraid nothing would happen. But then Lance lifted his arm, slow and sluggish, and put it around her shoulders. Pidge huffed out a breath of relief and squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears escape.

She balled up her fist and bounced it against him, very gently, before wrapping her arm tight around him again. "Don't scare me like that, you jerk. Don't go away from me." Her voice lowered to a mutter and she hid her face against the side of his chest. "I'm sick of people going away."

His arm tightened, pulling her snug against him. Pidge breathed out and let herself be held. Usually, she would fight it. She had fought Lance long and hard, trying not to get too close, trying not to care. But it was too late now, and she was tired of fighting.

Hunk returned, not with one blanket but with an armful. Plus a couple of pillows. He must have raided both his room and Lance's. He laid one blanket over their laps, and Pidge tugged Lance forward so he could wrap one around their backs, as well, tucking both Pidge and Lance into a little coccoon. Hunk moved off toward the kitchen, muttering something about how Lance hadn't eaten and he needed energy to deal with this. Coran sat across from them, quietly observing.

Allura came back with a steaming cup cradled in her hands. It smelled wonderful, fragrant and flowery with just a hint of fruit. Pidge watched her approach silently, saw Lance watching too, his eyes just a little more open. Allura sat down on the couch on Lance's other side, angled to face him, and offered a gentle smile. "Are you thirsty, Lance? I thought you might like to try this drink."

Lance eyed the cup in her hands but made no move to take it. "What is it?" Pidge asked, curious despite herself.

Allura's smile went a touch sad. "Junaberry blossom tea. There's very little of it left in the universe, I'm afraid, but my father always swore that there was nothing better for soothing a weary soul."

Pidge caught her breath. This was an incredibly precious gift. She looked up at Lance's face, saw a little bit of light back in his eyes. He was aware of the significance, too.

His free hand reached out of the blanket coccoon, slow, slightly trembling. Pidge resisted the urge to help him. Allura placed the cup gently in his hand, without hesitation, trusting him to handle it. Lance brought the cup to his face and breathed deep of the sweet fragrance, then took a sip.

"Thank you, Princess." It was almost inaudible. His hand lowered to his blanket-covered lap, cradling the cup against his palm.

Allura smiled. She lifted her hand and patted the top of his head, very gently, running her slender fingers through his hair. Lance let his head rest against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He looked so tired and worn that Pidge wanted to cry. Again.

She could feel him relaxing, though, against both the sofa and her. His body didn't feel as cool and limp. He was coming back to himself, slowly but surely. But he was so, so tired.

Still, Pidge felt herself relaxing, too. This wasn't the worst. It reminded her, a little bit, of making blanket forts with her brother on rainy days in the summer. They would hide out under the dining table and drink hot cocoa and pretend that they were space explorers on an alien planet. Pidge would bring all of her stuffed animals to hang out with them, and Matt would make up stories with them as the characters and move them around to entertain her, shoving them gently into her face as she giggled and shied away.

At this moment, curled up against Lance's side in their own tiny little blanket fort, it wasn't a sad memory for Pidge. It was lovely and comforting, maybe just a touch bittersweet. She was going to get Matt back someday, she was sure of it. But in the meantime, she had Lance. And Hunk and Shiro and Coran and Allura. It wasn't the worst.

Then there were more voices in the hall, soft but audible. Shiro and Keith. They were back. Pidge didn't raise her head to look at them, preferring to scrunch up next to Lance, ducking into the blanket to hide. Lance had tensed up, too, though he didn't otherwise move. She heard Hunk's voice, too, so he must have come back from the kitchen, but Pidge didn't care.

Pidge's heart was beating fast. She didn't want to see them. Didn't want to see Keith. It wasn't fair, but she couldn't help how she felt. Lance was hurt so, so bad, and it was Keith's fault. Even if it wasn't really, even if this had been building up for a long time and only burst out now in response to a prod that wouldn't have been nearly so harmful in other circumstances, it was still Keith's fault. Pidge hid her face against Lance's side and scowled, her arm tight around his middle, fingers digging in as if to drag him closer. Drag him closer and keep him safe.

Despite her wishes, though, Shiro and Keith's footsteps came closer and closer. They moved around the ring of couches until the two of them were standing at the steps. Lance was so tense that he was shivering all over, and Pidge gripped him as hard as she could.

Then Shiro cleared his throat, an implicit request for attention, and Pidge could not refuse. She opened her eyes and poked her head out of the blankets to look at him. Shiro and Keith were standing at the bottom of the steps, Shiro's arm around Keith's shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Keith looked...awful. He had been crying. A lot. And he hadn't even tried to clean up. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks were crusty with dried tears, and his hair was all over the place. For just a second, Pidge's cold, cold heart throbbed in sympathy. She had wanted Keith to suffer, and it looked like he had. Keith saw her looking and met her eyes for a bare second, then looked away, pale face flushing red.

Shiro tightened his arm around Keith's shoulders and looked around at them all. He looked like he was in pain, too, his smile too small, too tight. "Hello, everyone," he said. "We need to talk."

Chapter Text

Keith couldn't look anyone in the eye. He kept sneaking little glances, then looking away immediately. It felt awful. The guilt was eating him up inside, like a wild animal gnawing on his organs. His stomach felt cramped, his breath too short. Hunk's face was disappointed and resigned, Allura was grim and pinched, and even Coran looked serious and unhappy. Pidge was worse than all of them put together—she was peeking out at Keith from a hole in the blankets that covered her and Lance like a gremlin from a cave, and her eyes were burning. Keith was pretty sure that he had just gained an enemy for life.

But worst of all... Worst of all was Lance. He didn't look angry or sad or disappointed. He looked tense and...scared. He was shrinking back into the blankets and cushions around him as if he wanted to hide there, and his arm was wrapped tightly around Pidge, much too much like a frightened child with a teddy bear. It made Keith's chest feel loose and wobbly, like his heart had turned to jello. He'd never meant to hurt Lance, not like this, and he certainly had never wanted to make him scared of him. That was... That was just the worst.

Keith felt like a monster.

Shiro saw where he was looking and let out a short sigh. "Pidge. Stop trying to kill Keith your mind."

Pidge looked offended. "I'm not trying to kill him. I don't want Keith to die. I just want him to suffer a little. For what he did to Lance."

Keith looked down. His hands clenched in the fabric over his stomach. He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Shockingly, Shiro chuckled, soft and a little sad. "Well, you can lay off now. I promise you, he's suffered. More than a little, even. He feels very, very bad." He nudged Keith, and Keith reluctantly looked up at his face.

Shiro raised his eyebrows, and Keith remembered what they had discussed in the hall. Formal apology first, informal apology later. They needed to get this done before they could move on.

Keith swallowed and gave him a little nod, then looked back to the group. His hands twisted in his shirt. The steps for a formal apology swirled around in his head. He'd done it more than once; surely he'd be able to handle this one little thing. It was the least he could do.

Express remorse, accept responsibility, offer to make amends, promise better behavior in the future. Don't make excuses. Be sincere. Do it, Keith. Just do it.

Keith opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Shiro squeezed his shoulder. Keith sucked in a breath and tried again.

"I...I'm sorry." His voice sounded awful, scratchy and broken. He scrunched up his face and tried again. "My actions were inexcusable. And I didn't just hurt Lance, I hurt the whole group." He looked around at everyone, tried to meet each set of eyes at least for a moment. Then he had to look down at the floor. Time to come clean.

"And...and this wasn't the first time." He looked up and tried to find something to focus on. Hunk, sitting straight across from Keith on the most central sofa, looked the least like he wanted to tear Keith a new one. So Keith stared into his face, not daring to blink. "A few days ago, in the hallway, I... Lance and I were talking. Well, I was yelling. And I...I lost control of myself. I pushed him against the wall." Just for a moment, he wanted to say. It was an accident, he wanted to say. I didn't mean to hurt him, he wanted to say.

No. Don't make excuses. Hunk's face was utterly dismayed, almost heartbroken, but Keith still had to tell him. "I knew it was wrong. I knew it was wrong, and I still did it. Lance went pale and said he couldn't breathe, and when I let go he fell to the floor. I hurt him. I'm sorry." He looked into Lance's face for the first time since beginning his confession. Lance stared back at him almost without comprehension, his face blank and eyes wide.

Keith felt his face screwing up again and deliberately smoothed it out. "I'm sorry, Lance. I hurt you, and I'm so, so sorry. I wish you had told someone then. I wanted you to. But when you didn't, I should have told someone myself. Maybe then..." He gulped and pressed his hands against his stomach, trying to calm the churning in his gut. It didn't help. "Maybe if I had told someone, today wouldn't have happened. That would have been better, because... What I did today was so, so much worse than just pushing you against a wall."

The tears came again. Keith let them. "What I did today was so, so wrong, and I am more sorry than I can ever tell you. I knew it was wrong, I knew it, and I still did it. Everything I said was wrong, and I knew it was wrong while I was saying it. You aren't selfish. You aren't bringing us down. You aren't bad for this team. You're...you're fantastic for this team. You're wonderful. We're so, so lucky to have you here with us. And...and we wouldn't be better off if you were still on Earth. It's completely the opposite. You've saved us all more than once, you've saved me more than once, and I never, never should have said something so cruel and hurtful and...and untrue. Just completely and utterly false in every way. Not to you, and not to anybody."

Lance was still staring at him, seeming completely confused. Keith didn't know what else to do. He spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. "I know there's not much I can do to make up for this, but please, Lance... If there's anything I can do, anything at all, any way that I can show you how sorry I am and make this better for you, please, please tell me. I'll do whatever it takes to fix this. Just...anything. Anything at all."

Lance blinked. Keith finally broke eye contact with him and looked around at the larger group. "I know it doesn't mean much right now, while everyone is still hurting because of what I did, but I promise that I'll do everything I can to prevent this happening in the future. I..." He caught a breath, felt his face reddening. "I'll talk to someone when I start feeling scared and angry, so I won't lose control of myself. I'll...I'll find a healthy way to work out my emotions instead of letting them take me over the way I did today and a few days ago."

He looked up at Shiro. Shiro gave him an encouraging nod. "Shiro...Shiro's gonna help me. He says...we're never gonna let it get this bad again." Keith looked down at the floor, then back to the group again. He couldn't meet anyone's eyes, so he picked a spot sort of in the middle of the couches and fixated on it. "I hope you believe me. I hope...I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, even if not right away."

That was it. That was all the steps. Keith felt dizzy. Shiro squeezed his shoulder. There was silence.

It was Hunk who broke it, bless him. "Aw, Keith..." He stood up from the sofa and came over. "I forgive you, buddy. I can't speak for Lance or the others, but for myself... Of course I forgive you." Big arms scooped Keith up in a gigantic hug, pinning his arms to his sides, and he was pressed to Hunk's heart so hard that he lost his breath once again. Keith stiffened for just a second, then relaxed.

Hunk put him down, and Keith rubbed his hands over his face. Shiro patted his shoulder with a sigh, then addressed the larger group. "There's more we have to talk about. A lot more."

There were several serious nods. Shiro nudged Keith over to the couches, and they both moved there and sat down. Keith found himself next to Coran. He dared to look up into his face for a moment and saw Coran giving him a sympathetic look. "Good job, paladin," he said softly, pitched only for Keith's ears. "That was very brave."

Keith looked back down at the floor, half bent over with his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands again, unable to look at anyone. Something nudged his arm, and he peeked through his fingers. Coran was holding out a handkerchief. Because of course Coran carried a handkerchief. Keith hesitated, then took it and scrubbed at his face. Everything felt gross and sticky and hard-used, as usual after a long, disgusting cry. One reason he tried to avoid them as much as possible.

But there was also a feeling of...emptiness in his stomach. A good emptiness, like something bad had been emptied out. The wild animal of guilt was still there, but it was much smaller, and it didn't seem to be chewing him quite so hard anymore. Maybe...maybe he could do this. Maybe things would be okay. Eventually.

Keith glanced through his bangs and saw Lance across from him, looking pale and confused. Pidge was plastered against his side, looking up into his face and pouting. "Lance," she stage-whispered. "Drink your tea. It's getting cold."

Lance blinked, then lifted the cup in his hand and took a slow sip. It seemed to help. He sat a little straighter and looked across the circle, though he didn't look at Keith. He was focusing on Shiro.

As was everyone else. Keith sat up, too, and turned sideways to watch him. Shiro was sitting straight, almost in a military posture, his hands on his knees. His face was pained, and he was clearly working up to something.

"Keith's actions were definitely inexcusable," he said, "and that apology was necessary. But there were several factors that led up to the events of today, and we need to deal with all of them." He looked across the circle at Lance, then sighed. "Lance, kiddo, are you feeling a little better?"

Lance blinked. "Um." His voice was very soft, a little thready. "...Yes?"

Shiro shook his head. "We'll come back to you. Just drink your tea and let Pidge cuddle you. But we definitely have things we need to discuss. Neither of us are completely blameless for today." He looked around at the group. "So we'll start with me, then."

Keith blinked and caught his breath. This sounded like the prelude to a confession, but he had absolutely no idea what Shiro might be confessing to. Then Shiro turned to him and gave him a small, sad smile. "Keith. You thought Lance has been having nightmares every night, and I've been helping him with them."

Keith's eyes widened. "Um. Yes?"

Shiro looked around at the others. "Did anyone else also think that?"

Silence. Then Hunk slowly, sheepishly raised his hand. "I, uh... I knew he wasn't getting enough sleep. And I figured you were still taking care of him, like you did on the planet. But I didn't think that they were happening every night, no." He looked horrified at the thought.

Pidge stuck up one finger from her blanket hole. "I thought there were nightmares. Didn't think it was every night. Didn't think you had anything to do with them."

Allura and Coran just looked utterly dismayed and out of the loop. They hadn't realized anything was wrong at all. Keith couldn't blame them. Shiro and Lance had both done everything they could to be as normal as possible during the day, and Allura and Coran didn't know them as well as the other humans did.

Shiro sighed. "Well, then, I need to apologize too, for deceiving you all. I might have meant it for the best, but part of it was also selfishness on my part. I wanted to be strong and in-control for the team, like the black paladin is supposed to be, and so I let the weight of all of my problems fall on one person." He looked across the circle again. "Lance. I'm so sorry. I should not have let this continue as long as it did, nor even start on the path we took at all. I knew from the beginning that it was going to be dangerous and overwhelming for you, and I should not have let you bear it. You were so eager and so excited to be helpful that I let you, but I shouldn't have. It's my job to be responsible and look out for you as well as myself, and I failed. I failed both of us."

Partway through this speech, Lance's face crumpled up. He looked like he wanted to cry, but he didn't have the energy for it. Pidge squeezed him harder, her expression twisting up in confusion and distress.

"Shiro..." Allura sounded almost scared now. "What are you talking about? What is this secret the two of you have been keeping?"

"The nightmares." Shiro looked back to Keith again, as if he meant to tell the truth particularly to him, before everyone else. "They weren't Lance's. They were mine."

For a moment, Keith couldn't quite take it in. He felt like his brain short-circuited. Then Shiro offered another smile, small and pained and apologetic, and Keith caught his breath.

He sat up straight, staring at Shiro with wide eyes. "Wait...you...?"

Shiro nodded.

"You...you've been having nightmares. Every night. Since the jungle planet."

Shiro nodded.

"And... Lance..." Keith turned his head to stare at him, still not sure he believed it. Lance looked even more like he wanted to cry.

"Lance has been helping me," Shiro said gently. He put a hand on Keith's shoulder, holding him carefully. "Mostly because...a lot of the nightmares were about him. I kept..." He drew a shaky breath. "I kept seeing him...dead. Or...a prisoner with me, at the Galra arena. Worse things. I wouldn't be able to believe they weren't true unless I saw him in person, watched him breathing, listened to his voice." A hint of humor touched his voice. "I think Lance got tired of me waking him up every night. So he suggested that we just...cut it off at the pass." Coran and Allura looked confused at the metaphor, so he modified it. "Make a pre-emptive strike. He decided to just start the night with me, instead of having to move to my room halfway through every time. He also decided that I should start getting more sleep. Insisted on it, actually."

Hunk blinked rapidly. "Okay, that's kind of normal for Lance. He's always on everyone to get more sleep. But why was this so imperative?"

Shiro grimaced. "Well, I was only getting four hours a night."

Everyone except Lance and Pidge exploded at that. "Shiro, that is..." "Holy Quiznak, you cannot..." "Young man, I really must protest..." And Keith just kind of...punched him. Lightly. It was a reaction of pure shock.

Shiro grimaced even harder and rubbed his side where Keith's fist had landed. "I know, I know." He lifted his other hand and patted the air in a calming gesture, and the others slowly subsided. "Lance didn't like it either. I'd been doing it because it... It kept my nightmares to a minimum. Before the jungle planet screwed everything up. I told him that getting more sleep was going to make it worse, and I was right. But Lance was sure that he could handle it. That he could handle all of them. And he did. For a while." He looked across to Lance and gave him a sad little smile. "You were so good, soldier. For such a very...very long time. But you got tired, and who could blame you? You just needed someone to relieve you, that's all. And I should have made sure it happened. When you're feeling a little more like yourself, I hope you can forgive me."

Hunk was standing now, his face drawn with concern, fists clenched in front of him. "Shiro, you have to... We have to..."

"I know." Shiro waved at him. "Sit down, Hunk. I know. Since Lance has been helping me, I've been getting more sleep, even though I've been having more nightmares, too. He did...he did such a good job of getting me back to sleep every time, so quickly that sometimes I didn't even realize I'd had a nightmare. I would just surface for a moment, hear his voice, and go right back under. It was..." He drew a breath. "It was really nice. And yes, since I've been getting more sleep, I can tell a difference. I'm stronger and steadier, and even my mind has felt more whole. It was very important, and I'm incredibly grateful to Lance for everything he's done for me."

He looked across at Lance. Keith looked too. Lance didn't look as much like he wanted to cry now, but more like he just didn't know what to do or how to feel. Keith could relate.

Shiro looked around the group. "So, yes. I want to keep doing that. I want to keep getting as much sleep as possible. But I don't want... I can't continue to rely only on Lance. It's too much for him, and as we all know, after today, he's having his own problems that need to be dealt with."

Hunk sat back down again, mollified. He was muttering something about "schedules" and "monitors" and "everyone," so Keith knew that his engineer brain was already working away at the problem. But Shiro was still focused on Lance.

"Buddy?" he asked, and his voice was so incredibly gentle that Keith's fist squeezed in his lap and his heart seized in his chest. He had only heard this soft, tender tone from Shiro once, and that had been in very, very dire circumstances.

Lance blinked, long and slow, and looked back at Shiro. His bottom lip was trembling, but he seemed more aware and awake now. His face wasn't as pale, either, and even Pidge had backed off a little from her tight grip on him.

"Are you ready to talk now? You look like you're feeling better. You finished the tea?"

Lance nodded and swallowed, then looked to Allura. "It was really good," he said softly.

She smiled. "You're very welcome, paladin."

Lance looked back to Shiro and drew a careful breath. "Yes. I'm ready."

Shiro nodded, and Keith braced himself.

They weren't done yet.

Chapter Text

Lance wasn't quite following the plot. Everything felt muted and a little distant. He was aware of Pidge cuddling against his side like his own personal space heater, and he was deeply touched by the princess's gift (the tea was delicious; it reminded him of hibiscus), but a lot of what the others were saying passed right over his head. Nothing quite made sense. It was close, he could feel it, like a hazy world just barely out of reach that he kept stretching for and couldn't quite touch.

Though his body was sluggish and not as responsive as it usually was, he was pretty sure this wasn't a physical problem. It felt like his brain was numb, like his mind had been struck so forcefully and violently that all sensation had been cut off by the blow. It reminded him of the jungle planet. He didn't remember having a seizure, not really, but he remembered the slow, painful way he'd come back to his senses afterward. It was like his entire self was a computer undergoing a hard reboot. Sensations and abilities came back online one at a time, and there was a jarring, terrifying sense of disjointedness while some things were working and others weren't.

The feeling faded, slowly, bit by bit. He knew he was in the lounge next to the dining room, now, had a vague memory of Hunk carrying him. He was wrapped in blankets, lying limp against the cushions, and he was warmer now. Pidge was helping with that. Allura still sat next to him, occasionally running her fingers through his hair. It felt so nice that it made Lance want to cry. Again. But he was too tired. It was like he had just...run out of emotions for the time being.

People had apologized to him. Keith. Shiro. It hadn't made a lot of sense. Lance had tried to listen, tried to understand what they were saying. He wasn't sure...had he done something wrong? Shiro was saying that he shouldn't have depended on him, that he shouldn't have... At least, Lance was pretty sure that was what he said. And Keith had said something about Lance being fantastic and wonderful, but that couldn't possibly be true. No way. He'd heard that wrong; he must have. It was so frustrating not being able to trust what his senses were telling him.

Lance gave his cup back to the princess and folded his hand against his stomach. He was tired, with a kind of bone-deep, aching exhaustion that he didn't know how to deal with. He didn't think eight hours of sleep would fix it. He didn't know what would.

Shiro asked him if he was ready to talk now, and Lance said yes. He still didn't quite know what Shiro wanted from him, but he would do his best to respond to his leader. He couldn't look at Keith across the circle, couldn't make his eyes stay there, so he tried to focus on Shiro's face.

Shiro watched him carefully for a moment, then looked to Allura. "Princess, could I...?"

"Of course." She stood up, and the two of them traded places. Shiro was now sitting next to Lance, turned on the couch to face him. He was smiling, soft and kind and gentle. Lance blinked at him, still not sure what was going on.

"Lance, we need to talk about what happened in the dining room."

Lance caught his breath. His hand rose and pressed tenderly against his chest. Oh, that was right; he'd lost control and thrown a fit like a toddler. He felt cold all of a sudden, shivering harder than he had before. Pidge pressed herself into his side, and he tightened his arm around her shoulders. "I...I'm sorry..."

Shiro shook his head, looking somehow even sadder. "Not what I meant. You don't need to apologize for having an emotional breakdown. It had been coming for a long time, and we're all aware of that. The signs were obvious. Plenty of us should have done something to help you before it got to that point, and I'm one of them. I should apologize to you, not you to me."

Lance swallowed. "O...okay..." He could barely hear himself. What was happening? He didn't understand.

"What I meant is that we need to talk about what you said. When you were yelling, when you were letting out all of the pain and heartache that's been building up in you for such a long, long time. You said, 'Stop. Make it stop.' Do you remember that?"

Lance nodded, not a little hesitantly. He remembered yelling. Remembered the desperate need to make the tempest of terror and agony and rage in his chest subside so he could breathe again. He had no doubt that he had said something like that, though he couldn't remember the exact words he'd used.

Shiro watched his face. "Do you know what you were saying that to? What did you want so badly to stop?"

Lance thought about it, then tapped his fingers against his chest. "This. In here. I wanted it to stop."

"What you were feeling?"

Lance nodded. He was so tired.

"What were you feeling?"

Lance blinked at him. "A lot."

Shiro smiled. "What feeling was the strongest?"

Lance had to think about it. His eyes drifted away from Shiro for a moment. He felt a hand on his shoulder, above where Pidge was pressed. The hand was big and strong and warm. Hunk, offering all the support he could.

He looked back to Shiro. His voice was a bare whisper. "I was scared."

Shiro nodded. He looked sad, but not surprised. "What were you scared of?"

Lance blinked. Wasn't it obvious? "I..."

Shiro took pity on him. "Were you afraid that what Keith said was true?"

Lance nodded. He couldn't speak. Hunk squeezed his shoulder, and someone gasped in pain. It might have been Coran.

Allura's voice, quiet and sad. "Shiro, how did you know?"

Shiro looked away from Lance to tell her. "On the planet. Lance and I had a conversation. He asked me..." He pulled in a breath, his face twisting. "He asked me to leave him behind. He was in bad shape, and the Galra were after us, and he wanted me to get away. He said... He thinks he's the least important. Hunk and Pidge are geniuses, and Keith's a brilliant pilot, and I'm the indispensable leader. But he's...just...Lance. He thinks he's replaceable."

He looked back to Lance, his eyes hard and bright, though he still spoke to the princess. "I told him that's not true. I told him how important he is, how much we all need him, every single day. But I guess I didn't quite manage to convince him. And today, when Keith said those things, and with him being exhausted and run down from helping me and the other things he's been suffering lately..." Shiro sighed. "It was too much. It was all too much."

Shiro watched Lance steadily for a moment, then started to reach toward his body. Lance felt his breath catch, his throat tightening. Shiro paused, his hand hovering in the air.

"That's right," he said softly. "You don't like anyone touching your chest right now, do you?" He offered a smile, sad and gentle, and spread his fingers to show that he meant no harm. "It was your hand. I just wanted to hold your hand. Would that be okay?"

Lance considered. He felt dizzy. What was happening here? After a moment, he nodded. He lifted his hand off his chest and reached back to Shiro.

"Thank you." Shiro folded Lance's hand in his, holding it warm and close, palm to palm. Then he brought his other hand over and wrapped it around the back of Lance's hand as well. A lump rose in Lance's throat, though he didn't know why. Both felt warm and kind and supportive, the metal hand and the flesh hand. He wasn't sure he deserved this.

"Lance." Shiro's voice was quiet and firm and utterly, utterly serious. "What Keith said earlier is not true. He told you so when he apologized, and the rest of us will tell you, too, as many times as we have to. You are not replaceable. Not even remotely. You are immensely valuable, right where you are. You are wanted. I know you miss Earth and your family and everything you left behind, and that makes my heart ache, it truly does. But I don't want you to be there, even so. Maybe it's selfish of me, of us, but we want you here. We need you here, and I can't be sorry for that, I can't. We can't do this without you. I can't do this without you. Please, please believe me."

Lance stared. That blankness was back, that numbness and distance. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to respond. He breathed, and his chest hitched, and it hurt. Everything hurt. What was he supposed to do? He didn't understand.

"Lance?" Shiro squeezed his hand, pressing it between his palms. "Do you believe me? Please, answer me. Even if it's no. I need to know what you're thinking right now."

"I..." Lance pulled in a breath, his chest shaking. He felt even dizzier. His head lay limp against the cushions behind him, and he rocked it from side to side. "I don't, I..." Why couldn't he believe? He wanted to. Lance closed his eyes. Something wet trailed down his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked at Shiro again. "There's too many...pieces..."

Shiro looked even more concerned, his face bent in worry. "What do you mean, Lance?"

Lance's breath sped up. It was starting to hurt. "I can't...keep track..."

Who was he supposed to be? He didn't know at the moment. Friend Lance, Family Lance, Teammate Lance? Shiro was all of those, needed all of those, and Lance couldn't tell which one was most important at the moment. He didn't know which one Shiro wanted to see.

He couldn't keep track, and he couldn't keep the other pieces repressed anymore. They'd gotten too strong, demanding their turn, and now they were at the forefront and he couldn't push them away. He had no strength to do it, everything drained by that breakdown, that emotional storm that had taken it all away from him. He was Weak Lance, Fragile Lance, Scared Lance, Traumatized Lance. He couldn't keep control. There were too many pieces.

He tore his hand out of Shiro's grip, then sat up and doubled over, letting go of Pidge at the same time. His breath was rough and ragged, tearing at his lungs and wheezing in his throat. He pressed both hands to his chest. It hurt. It hurt. He couldn't breathe.

Hands on his shoulders, and he startled at the touch, then was furious at himself for being so weak, so out of control. Why couldn't he control this? He needed to, he needed... He sobbed, breathless, helpless, panicking. A hand on his back. A voice in his ear. Hunk, low and calm and soothing, though he sounded close to tears, himself.

"Lance, buddy. You can breathe. You can breathe. Just calm down. It's okay, everything's fine. Just take a moment and feel your body. You can breathe. There's no more pneumonia. No one's putting pressure on your lungs. The air is good here. It even smells nice. Calm down. Slow down, buddy. C'mon, you can do it. You're okay. You're okay. Everything's okay."

"Hunk, I'm scared." His voice was high, broken. Hunk's hand rubbed over his back.

"It's okay to be scared, buddy. You've been through some really scary stuff. But you're home now. You're safe now and everyone's here with you, and everything's gonna be okay. Just slow down and breathe."

He breathed. He breathed. Bit by bit, breath by breath, everything began to slow down. The pain and pressure in his lungs... That was his heart, beating too fast against his rib cage, nothing else. He was fine, he was fine, everything was fine.

He straightened, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry." His voice was a bare squeak, pushed out through a tight throat and aching lips. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Big hands held him up, pulled him back. He was leaning on Hunk now, his back against his big buddy's side. Hunk's hand rubbed up and down his arm, slow and steady and predictable as a tide. "It's okay, Lance. It's okay. Don't apologize. You're fine. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Shiro still sat facing him, his face drawn in dismay. Beyond him, Keith's face was utterly white, as if he had seen something unexpected and terrifying. Lance couldn't see where Pidge went, but then he felt her hand in his hair, combing through it with her fingernails. She had climbed out of the sunken couch and was sitting behind his head, and she was petting him just like Hunk was. Lance closed his eyes.

"I've never...had a panic attack before..." he said in a small voice.

"It's okay," Hunk said. "First time for everything."

Lance choked on a laugh, then went still, just breathing. Shiro moved closer to him on the couch, until his knee pressed against Lance's. Lance reached his hand out, and Shiro took it again. He heard Allura's voice, tense with worry, muttering about how this was worse than some self-confidence issues, and Coran hushed her.

Lance huffed with something like laughter again, though it wasn't funny at all. More tears slid out of his closed eyelids. He was so tired, and everyone was being so ridiculously kind to him, and he still didn't really understand what was happening.

Shiro pressed his hand. "Lance." His voice was low and cautious. "Do you know what that was?"

Lance wanted to nod, but he still felt dizzy. "Yeah." He let his eyes slide open, just a bit, so he could look in Shiro's face. "It was a panic attack. I have PTSD."

It felt strange to say the words so calmly, so flatly. But also oddly...good. It was good to have a shape to put to things, especially something so overwhelming and frightening.

Shiro nodded. "I have PTSD, too."

Lance pushed out a breathless little chuckle and relaxed into Hunk's side. "Yeah, but yours is worse. A lot worse. Mine is piddly. It's stupid." He closed his eyes. More tears. He was so tired. "I was supposed to just get over it," he muttered. "I thought I would just get over it."

Shiro sighed. He sounded disappointed. It made Lance's heart squeeze in his chest, but he didn't have the energy to respond. "Lance." But his voice was so, so soft and so, so kind. "I told you that first night, didn't I? When you told me about your nightmare? Your feelings aren't stupid. They're never stupid."

"Wait." Hunk sounded confused. His hand found a spot on Lance's arm and pressed there. "Lance has been having nightmares, too? I thought..." He blew out a big, gusty sigh. "Didn't we just clear this up?"

"He had at least one." Shiro pressed his hand. "Lance? Have you had others?"

Lance didn't want to say anything. But even this far away from Blue, he swore he could still hear her voice, lingering in his mind. My pilot must ask for help. She was darn pushy, for a giant mechanical magic space lion.

Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked at Shiro. "Not...nightmares. Not since the first night. But... I can't forget... I can't forget Ragnak. The image keeps...coming back. Every now and then." He thought about it, then modified that. "Pretty often."

Shiro looked pained. "Lance, that's called a flashback. You've been having flashbacks?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "I know what they are." His voice sounded peevish to his own ears. "I'm not an idiot. I just...I thought I would get over it. And then I didn't, and I didn't, and it got worse, and... I'm sorry." By the end he was crying again, just a big rush of weary, embarrassed tears. Ugh, these mood swings were awful. He just wanted it all to stop.

Shiro turned Lance's hand over in his and started rubbing calming circles on his palm with his thumb. "Okay. Okay, I get it. You thought you could handle it. You thought you could handle everything. For someone with such low self-esteem, you sure can be ridiculously overconfident, sometimes."

Lance snorted wetly. It was true. He couldn't argue with his fearless leader.

Shiro looked into his face very seriously. "This is what I meant when I said you weren't completely blameless, earlier. You can't hide these things from us, Lance. I don't want you to apologize anymore, and I don't want you to feel guilty about breaking down today. But I do want you to understand. We're all in this together, as perhaps no military unit in the history of the universe has ever been. In the old days the paladins of Voltron had a whole castle of support staff, but we just have each other. We have to take care of our teammates, and that means taking care of ourselves. And that means we have to do things that might make us a little uncomfortable at first. Like talking about our feelings."

He looked around at the others, too, Hunk, Pidge, Keith, even Coran and Allura. "What happens to one of us affects all of us. If we didn't know that before, we certainly do now. Maybe we should all be thanking Lance for making that lesson very, very clear today."

Shiro looked back to Lance's face and gave him a soft, wide smile, affection and remorse shining in his eyes in equal measure. "And yes, I'm including myself in that. I shouldn't have hid my problems, either. I know you were a little out of it, earlier, so maybe you didn't hear me when I apologized to the group. And to you. I'll repeat everything I said to you later to make sure you understand. For now I'll just say that I'm sorry, Lance. I should not have put everything on your shoulders. Things are going to change now, and they're going to be better. I promise."

Lance gulped down his tears and nodded, small but sincere. He was so tired now that Shiro's voice seemed to be fading in and out, but he got it. He had been wrong about his ability to handle this, wrong about a lot of things, but it was going to be okay because Shiro knew now and he was going to take over.

Shiro stopped rubbing circles in Lance's palm and just pressed his thumb in the middle. He was still looking seriously into Lance's face. "This isn't finished. We have a lot more we need to talk about. I need to know what you meant when you said there were too many pieces and you couldn't keep track of them. And I know I haven't convinced you yet that you are wanted and valuable and needed here. We'll all work on that later. But for now, you look like you're barely keeping your eyes open. How does a nap sound?"

Lance blew out a breath in relief. His eyes were almost shut now. "Sounds great."

Shiro chuckled. "Do you want to go to your room or just stay here?"

Lance opened his eyes wide, feeling a jolt of panic at the thought of going back to his lonely, empty room when he felt this shattered and fragile. Shiro caught his breath, eyes widening, and squeezed his hand. "Okay. I get it." He looked at Hunk over Lance's shoulder. "Big guy?"

Hunk nodded, the side of his chin brushing Lance's hair. "No problem." He folded his arms over Lance's abdomen, carefully away from his chest, and Lance relaxed against him again. Hunk huffed a sigh and muttered something about "gotta feed him too, geez," but Lance's eyes were already drooping and he wasn't paying attention.

He'd been holding on to the last shreds of his awareness because Shiro had been talking to him and it had seemed important. Now, with this permission, it was easy to let go. Someone covered him with a blanket, and someone else blotted his tears away with a handkerchief, and someone else ran their fingers through his hair once again, and that was all he knew. Sleep seized him like a wave, big and dark and driving him deep into tropical waters, warm and comforting and home. And he was gone.

Chapter Text

Lance fell asleep so quickly that it was frankly a little astonishing that he'd managed to stay awake for as long as he had. The rest of them sat there in silence for a few long moments, just watching him. It was a relief to see him peaceful and relaxed after all the pain and fear and confusion that had clutched him for the last few hours.

Lance's head was sheltered in the dip between Hunk's arm and chest, face turned toward his buddy, chin ducked down into the blanket Allura had tucked around him. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his face was still pale and spotty with tear tracks despite Coran's attentions with his second handkerchief. (Coran always carried two handkerchiefs in case both he and someone else needed one.) But he seemed comfortable here, held safe and warm in his best friend's arms, and that was enough for now.

Once it was clear that he was asleep and would stay that way for some time, Shiro shakily stood up and excused himself from the group, then went out into the hall. Coran considered going after him, but thought he should give him a few moments to gather himself. Shiro had been working very hard for quite a long time, and he needed support, too. First, though, Coran had to make sure the other paladins would be all right. So he stayed where he sat, still observing them.

Hunk continued staring down at Lance for a little while longer after Shiro left, though he probably couldn't see much of his face from that angle. Then he abruptly let out a breath and let his head fall backward, landing on the floor above the sunken couch. Pidge made a loud tsk noise and climbed down into the couches from her perch behind Lance's head. She grabbed one of the pillows Hunk had fetched from the bedrooms what seemed hours ago, then reached up and poked Hunk's cheek.

Hunk opened one eye to look at her. She raised her eyebrows, and he lifted his head up off the floor. Pidge stuffed the pillow behind his head, and Hunk huffed a little in appreciation and slumped down on the couch so it could support him better. He closed his eyes again, relaxing where he sat. Pidge watched him with narrow eyes for a moment, then seemed satisfied. She crept over to Lance's other side and insinuated herself under the blanket. She picked up Lance's limp arm and tugged it around her neck, then settled her head on his shoulder. And she closed her eyes, too. Apparently all three of them were going to have a nap now.

Coran wanted to go fetch a recording device and set it up, just so he could capture this. The Earthlings were... Well. It had been a long time since Coran had had children around, a long time since even Allura had been a little one. But this very much reminded him of that. They were all so tired and so sweet and so lovely together, and Coran wanted to remember this moment, despite the pain that had led to it.

They were adorable, basically. Really, really adorable. Quiznak, Coran hadn't seen anything this adorable literally in millennia.

Coran heard a small, muffled noise of pain, and looked over to his left. Oh, there was another human here, too. Keith sat still on the sofa next to Coran, his hands clenching the cushions on either side of his knees. His face was...pained. Coran frowned, trying to read his expression. Perhaps that was...longing? Keith was staring at the three across the circle from him, all of them so weary and hurt, yet pleased with each other's company.

Coran's heart ached. He lifted a hand and rested it on Keith's shoulder, as gently he could. Keith still startled at the touch, just a bit, but he turned to look at Coran.

"Are you all right, paladin?" Coran asked, softly so as not to disturb the other three. He already knew the answer, but he thought it might do some good for Keith to voice it.

Keith's hands clenched even tighter in the cushions, and his head hung low. He couldn't meet Coran's eyes. "I'm...okay," he muttered.

Allura met Coran’s eyes over Keith’s bowed back. She frowned, and Coran nodded, then focused on Keith.

"I thought we were going to dispense with dishonesty from now on." He tried to say it as gently as possible, but he knew the words would still sting a little.

Keith stiffened guiltily, then slowly raised his head to look into Coran's eyes again. "Oh. Yeah."

Coran raised his eyebrows.

Keith glanced away, then lifted a hand to rub over his face. He was looking at Hunk and Lance and Pidge again, though he spoke to Coran. "I feel...bad. I feel like I don't deserve to be here. I feel like...like I can never apologize enough. Like I'll never be able to make up for what I did." He raised a hand and pressed it over his chest so hard that his fingers trembled. "It feels heavy. It feels dark. I don't know what to do with it."

Coran's heart gave a sympathetic throb. He opened his mouth to respond, though he didn't know quite what he was going to say that might assuage this, but he was interrupted. Hunk's voice, low and sleepy. "Hey."

They looked over at him. Hunk's eyes were barely open, his head still limp on the pillow behind him. He let go of Lance with one arm, the one opposite Pidge, and lifted it out from the blanket that covered the three of them. "Keith. C'mere. You're tired too, right?"

Keith hesitated, his body so tense that Coran could feel it in him. Then he abruptly relaxed, stood up, and moved over to Hunk. "Yeah." His voice was soft, embarrassed, but also intensely grateful. "I'm really tired."

Hunk yawned. "Then join the sleepover pile, dude. We're gonna nap now and it's gonna be awesome."

He wiggled his fingers, and Keith sat down next to him, inside the circle of Hunk's arm. Hunk wrapped his hand around Keith's shoulder and tugged him in. Keith fell against Hunk's chest with a small, muffled grunt, then went limp. His eyes were already drooping. This morning had been rough on him, too.

Coran smiled, though he was aching. This was even more adorable. He wasn't sure what to do with himself.

Well... The one blanket wasn't enough. Pidge had tugged it over to cover herself better, which was already threatening to expose Hunk, let alone Keith, who was entirely outside its protection. Coran stood and picked up the blanket that had gotten tossed on the floor during Lance’s panic attack, then smoothed it over Keith and Hunk, overlapping the blanket already there. Keith sat forward a little to let him tuck it behind his shoulders and side, then slid back, his eyes barely open.

Coran touched his forehead with two fingers. It was a gesture of Altean blessing that the humans wouldn't recognize, but he still felt compelled to do it. Keith's eyes closed all the way, and he went totally limp against Hunk's bulk. Coran smiled at the four of them, then went to check on their leader.

He trusted Allura to look after the younger paladins. Maybe she would have the same thought about fetching a recording device. Hmm. The mice might be able to bring one. That would make it easier.

Coran found Shiro sitting on a bench in the hall, bent over himself with his head in his hands. He looked just as exhausted as the other paladins now napping in the lounge. Coran stood still and watched him for a moment, then went to the bench and sat next to him. He made sure to make enough noise that Shiro would hear him coming. Once he was settled on the bench, and once Shiro's body language shifted to acknowledge his presence, Coran put an arm around his back.

"Good job, paladin," he said softly. "You kept yourself together for them. You were strong and kind and understanding, and you said everything that needed to be said. You can relax now."

Shiro did. Just a little. He bent over even farther into himself, resting his elbows on his legs. He shook, slowly, gently, then harder. There were probably tears, too, but Coran didn't see them.

Coran rubbed his back. "I hope you're not blaming yourself for what happened today," he said conversationally. "You said to Lance that there were several of us who should have seen the signs of how much he was struggling and done something to help him, and that's true. Looking back, I can see that this has been coming for quite some time. But that does not mean that the responsibility falls solely on your shoulders. Or at all."

Shiro stilled at that, gathering himself. He rubbed his hands over his face, then let them dangle between his knees. He remained bent over, staring at the floor. "Yes, it does," he said softly. "I'm at least partially responsible. I knew more than anyone else that he was suffering. We went through that ordeal together, after all. I knew he'd had that one nightmare, though he never told me about the flashbacks. I knew he was exhausting himself for my sake, and I knew it was unsustainable. I should have seen that he was still struggling with self-doubt, even after I told him how important he was to the team, to me, down on the planet. There were..." He drew in a slow, shaky breath. "I had many opportunities to notice what was happening to him, and I didn't."

Coran hummed thoughtfully and continued to rub his back. "That's fundamentally true, but it's not a complete picture of the facts. Lance has been suffering in silence, that is unfortunately true. But at the same time, you were too. Lance would no doubt argue that your suffering has been even greater than his for this entire time. While I cannot make such judgements between you two, and they would be useless anyway, I can certainly see that you have both been undergoing a great deal of stress. I should have seen that both of you were wounded, but I saw neither. Therefore, the majority of the blame for today rests on me."

Shiro grunted in displeasure. "This is the argument from the elevator again. You said then that it was useless to assign blame. It isn't going to help anything."

"I did, yes. Yet you are continuing to assign blame to yourself. That needs to stop."

Shiro sighed and said nothing. Coran leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "You and Lance are both wounded, though the wounds are psychic rather than physical. But consider if it had been the other way around. If you had a broken arm and were bleeding out from the gut, would you feel that it was your responsibility to stanch the wounds of the soldier beside you? Especially if, as in this case, there were several other people standing nearby who should have seen the bleeding and treated you both?"

Shiro tilted his head, considering this. Coran smiled sadly. After a long moment, Shiro straightened up and looked at Coran. His eyes were red and his face was drawn, but he seemed to have regained some clarity. "What are we going to do now?"

Ah, good. He was done ruminating on the past and was choosing to look forward instead. That was the right attitude to take.

Coran pressed his hand against his back, as strong and supportive as he could. "Everything we can."

Shiro nodded and drew in a shaky breath. "Yes, but... What? I'm...I'm not a counselor, Coran. I'm not a therapist. I tried to pay attention to the psych classes at Galaxy Garrison, but that doesn't mean I'm qualified to deal with this. And neither is Lance, of course. We both know... We know what the problem is. We have PTSD, to varying degrees, and no, I don't care at all whose is worse or which is more severe. That doesn't matter in the slightest. We both have PTSD, but neither of us knows what to do about it. What we've been trying obviously isn't enough."

Shiro laughed, a little bitterly. "My strategy of keeping myself sleep deprived was pretty idiotic, actually. I can see that now that I've been getting enough sleep to look at things a little more objectively. And Lance's idea that he would just...'get over it' if he waited long enough..." He snorted. "Yeah, that didn't work out either."

Coran frowned. "It might help if you can tell me exactly what PTSD is. I'm not familiar with that term."

"Oh." Shiro looked forward. He folded his arms over his chest, and a full-body shiver rocked his frame. "It... It stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I guess maybe it's a human disease. Disorder. Whatever. It's...it's what happens when a human has been through a horrible experience that alters their mind. We learn... Um. It's called maladaptive behavior? I think? I can't remember the psych classes that well, after everything. They're things the brain learns to do to protect itself from a dangerous situation, and then after the dangerous situation passes, the behaviors continue even though they're not needed anymore."

Coran nodded thoughtfully. "So... Lance's need to protect his chest from being touched. He was unable to breathe well in a very dangerous and terrifying situation, so now his mind interprets any impediment to breathing, no matter how slight, as being terrifying and dangerous."

Shiro nodded. "Yeah. That's a good example. That one actually might the easiest one to deal with, though. We just have to, very slowly and carefully, prove to Lance's mind that being touched on the chest is no longer dangerous. It's called, um, exposure therapy. I remember that one."

"I see."

"But, but I don't know what to do about the rest." Shiro looked at Coran, eyes wide and close to panic. "When he talked about having 'pieces...' That could be something really, really bad, Coran. Way worse than PTSD. I have no idea how to help with that one."

"All right, all right. Calm down, Shiro." Coran wrapped his arm around Shiro's back again, pressing his hand to his opposite shoulder. "Let's not worry about that just yet, all right? We don't know yet what Lance meant when he said that. He was very frightened and confused, and he wasn't making much sense to himself, let alone to us. We'll deal with it when we know more."

Slowly, Shiro calmed, his shoulders lowering from the tight hunch they had leaped into. He leaned into Coran's side, just a little, a sigh slipping out of his lips. "Okay. That's...probably wise."

Coran nodded sagely. "Of course it is."

"And the rest? I...I still don't know what to do about flashbacks. Or nightmares. Or amnesia. Or...this terrible, crippling self-doubt Lance has been dealing with."

"We'll figure it out," Coran said with a confidence he didn't quite feel. He squeezed Shiro's shoulders. "You're right in that neither of us are qualified to deal with this, unfortunately. I don't understand human psychology, I'm coming to understand. If nothing else, today has certainly taught me that. The paladins of old did have to occasionally handle what we called...well, ‘battle fatigue’ might be the closest translation. It did not seem to be as severe as what you and Lance are suffering, or perhaps Altean brains are simply wired differently. But the castle databanks are full of a lot of very strange and obscure information, so who knows what I might be able to find out if I dig deep enough."

Shiro leaned a little harder into Coran's side. "All right." He seemed to find the idea of Coran doing research almost comically reassuring. Coran smiled, though his heart ached. This paladin...he was young, too. Not quite as young as the others, but still very, very young.

Coran lifted his other hand and ruffled Shiro's hair, messing it thoroughly. "In any case, we're in better shape now that we're talking openly about the problems you are facing. No more secrets. Haven't we all said that, many more times than once? The more we talk about our troubles, the more we share them, the lighter they become. Sometimes they even disappear altogether. I don't expect that to happen in this case, of course. The burdens you and Lance have been carrying are much, much too heavy to lift in a single day. But we will continue to discuss them, and we will continue to seek understanding until we find it. That I can promise you with total confidence."

"Okay." That seemed to be the last push Shiro needed. He blew out a slow sigh and rested his head on Coran's shoulder. Coran wrapped his other arm around his front and hugged him close to his side for a long moment. As long as he dared.

Eventually, though, Shiro blinked and straightened. "I want to go check on the others."

"Of course."

Shiro stood up from the bench, swaying like an old man on weary legs. Coran stood with him and put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. They walked together to the lounge.

It was a start.

Chapter Text

"Hunk." The voice was small, embarrassed. Hunk was warm and comfy. Maybe a little too warm and comfy. But he liked being asleep and he wanted to stay there, so he frowned, eyelids refusing to open.

"Hunk." Again the small voice, just above a whisper. "I gotta pee, Hunk."

Lance. Hunk's eyes popped open. He was...wow. Really warm. Too warm. Four teenagers under a blanket was maybe a little much. His face felt hot and dry, and his eyes were sticky. He blinked it away and looked down at Lance, who was staring up at him from his shoulder, red-faced, his mouth in a straight line.

"Hey, buddy," Hunk said, his voice slurring.

Lance shoved against Hunk's body with his own, a kind of helpless gesture of entrapment. "Hunk." Still barely above a whisper. "I can't move and I gotta pee. Help me out."

"Oh. Okay. Sure." Hunk sat forward. He felt a massive shift of limbs and bodies. Keith's head slumped back behind his shoulder, limp and deadweight. Hunk heard something that sounded like a cross between a snort and snore. It was surprisingly delicate. His other arm was wrapped up in Pidge, who had slumped over into Lance's lap in her sleep and was now curled up like a puppy and tangled in both his and Lance's limbs. Hunk carefully, gently extricated his arm, sliding it out from under Pidge and around Lance's back. "Okay. You get Pidge, I'll get Keith."

Lance's eyes flicked over to where Keith was hidden on the other side of Hunk's body, faintly alarmed, as if he hadn't known he was there. But he didn't say anything. Hunk twisted his body as he moved forward and got his hands under Keith's head and side to support him, then slowly slid off the couch, laying Keith down as he went. Beside him, Lance did something very similar with Pidge, with the expertise of having many small siblings fall asleep on him over the course of many years.

By the time they both stood, their teammates were laid out on the couch, heads almost touching, still covered with a blanket each. Where did the other blanket come from? Hunk didn't remember it. Pidge muttered in her sleep and curled up tighter, her hands tucked under her cheek, but Keith barely twitched. Hunk allowed himself a smile. He kind of wanted to get a camera. Did the Alteans even have cameras?

"Everything all right?" Coran, voice pitched low. Hunk turned and faced him. Coran was sitting on the couch across from them, cross-legged and at ease. A flat tablet-like device was in his hands, one of the ones that connected to the castle systems. Lance looked over at him, too, blinking.

"Bathroom break," Hunk explained, a hand on Lance's shoulder. He looked around. Shiro was sprawled out on one of the middle couches, mouth agape, hands folded over his chest. Sleeping? Really? Hunk didn't know if he'd ever seen Shiro sleep. Ever. His eyebrows rose.

Lance saw where he was looking and caught his breath, his face suddenly awash with worry. Coran waved a hand gently to draw their attention, and they looked back at him. Coran was smiling behind his mustache. "No worries, I'm on watch. No nightmares so far."

Hunk felt Lance slump under his hand. Hunk smiled back at Coran, grateful for the reassurance. "What are you up to, man?"

Coran waved the tablet cheerfully. "Reading. The castle databanks have all sorts of interesting information in them. And Allura went to keep an eye on the control deck. All clear so far. We can take a little longer to relax and recover."

Hunk blew out a sigh in relief, though he didn't miss the way that Lance looked away, face mired in guilt. He tightened his hand on his shoulder. "Bathroom?"

Lance nodded. He slipped out from under Hunk's hand and started to move away, but then paused, looking back at Hunk, his face suddenly uncertain. Hunk smiled and followed. Of course he was coming with. Lance didn't have to ask.

It was nice to have Lance being more expressive again. He'd been so...blank. For such a long time. It had been nerve-wracking, especially for Hunk, who was used to being able to read his buddy at all times.

They were still moving around the couches when Hunk's stomach growled. He groaned and put a hand over his belly. He had no idea how long it had been since breakfast, but it was definitely time for lunch. And Lance hadn't even eaten yet. That needed to be fixed. In the doorway, he looked back to Coran. "When we're done, I'm gonna make food for everyone, okay? Let people know."

Coran gave him a grin and a thumb's up, a human gesture he had taken an enthusiastic liking to. Hunk gave him a thumb's up back and followed Lance into the hall. Lance was waiting for him. Again. Hunk gave him a small smile and hurried to catch up.

Lance wasn't usually so...clingy. But Hunk couldn't blame him. At all. What happened in the dining room this morning... Hunk had never seen anything like it. Not from Lance, not from anybody. He'd always known that Lance was a lot more sensitive than he wanted anyone to know, that he hid how tender his heart was by making a lot of jokes and acting bigger than he was. But Hunk had never imagined seeing him just...shatter like that. It had been heartbreaking. And a little terrifying.

And Lance was a social person. He needed support, needed connection to other people. Hunk had always been happy to provide that, happy to take it back from Lance as well. They both came from families and cultures where emotions flowed and affection was given freely, and it was uncomfortable to attend a military institute where everyone and everything was so straight-laced and regimented. Nothing had changed between them once they ended up in space as fellow pilots of a giant robot, either. If anything, they held together even tighter. Today was unusual, but it wasn't out of bounds.

Hunk didn't ask Lance how he was feeling. He was pretty sure Lance wouldn't answer. And he was also pretty sure that he already knew. He caught up with him, kept pace. Slowed down when Lance's footsteps did. Lance was still exhausted by everything. No problem. Hunk would stick with him.

They did their business in silence. By the end, Lance was dragging even more. In the hallway, Hunk silently turned his back to him and held out his arms. Lance climbed up on his back, a weary, grateful sigh puffing out, and let his head flop gently down on Hunk's shoulder, arms warm around his neck. Hunk walked, holding him maybe a little more tightly than usual. He could feel Lance breathing, slow and steady, and was glad that he didn't feel constricted by this.

In the kitchen, he set Lance on the counter. Lance slid off willingly enough, then sat cross-legged, his hands in his lap, shoulders slumping, and watched Hunk move around the space. No food goo, Hunk had decided. Everyone needed a hot meal. Something hearty and comforting.

Their stock of fresh food from the jungle planet was running low, but Hunk had no compunctions about digging into it, not today. He had discovered that the purple tubers he'd used for the papas fritas could be cooked, dried, and pounded into a dampish flour that, when sprinkled evenly in a pan and cooked to a light brown, turned into fairly decent tortillas. The tuber might be more like cassava than potato, then. But whatever, it worked. Hunk got a flat portable heating device, a pan, a spatula, and a good-sized container of the tuber flour, then brought them over to Lance.

Lance understood without being told. He turned himself to face the heating device Hunk set next to him on the counter, then started making tortillas, moving slowly and carefully. Each time he sprinkled the flour, he sat there with spatula in hand, watching intently for the right time to turn. Meanwhile, Hunk started on the eggs. He only needed a couple. Those eggs were huge. Even bigger than ostrich, probably. They had a nice, mild flavor, too, though nothing ever tasted quite like a chicken egg. He got his own heating device and pan, grateful that the castle didn't skimp on equipment.

Next, a half dozen tins of Altean...protein. Hunk didn't know quite what it was, but it didn't taste bad. When Coran had first told him about the storerooms on the bottom deck of the castle, Hunk had been thrilled. And also fascinated by the preservation technology that kept food good for ten thousand years, of course. But then, the castle had kept Coran and Allura preserved for ten thousand years, so protein tins were probably a piece of cake. Hunk sliced the meat-like stuff up into bite-sized pieces and added them to the egg scramble, being generous with the seasonings. It was just too bad the protein was such an unappetizing dark gray color, but the tortilla would hide that.

The first few tortillas were done, so Hunk snagged one as a tester. The egg mixture was still a little runny, but he scooped up some drier chunks from the edge of his pan and rolled them in the tortilla, tucking in the ends with expert speed. Then he gave it to Lance. "Be my guinea pig, dude."

Lance barely glanced away from his pan as Hunk slapped the hefty burrito into his hand. He took a big bite, then looked up at Hunk and nodded, eyebrows rising in surprise and pleasure. "'Sgood," he mumbled around his full mouth, a little corner of purple tortilla poking out between his lips. He sucked it back and chewed harder, making loud noises that might have been obnoxious to some people, but were not to Hunk.

Hunk sighed in satisfaction. "Like spam and eggs back home."

Lance tilted his head. "Needs more salt, then."

Hunk took his advice. Plenty more salt went into the pan. They worked in companionable silence, Lance making the tortillas and Hunk filling them. Slowly, small piles of finished burritos began to grow on the floating plates Hunk had set out to bear the fruits of their labors.

Toward the end, Hunk looked up at Lance and saw that the set of his shoulders was more relaxed now. His face was a little dreamy, though he remained intent on his tortillas. He didn't look as nervous, no longer confused and panicked by the things others were telling him that he just couldn't understand no matter how hard he tried. But there was still a sadness there, a brokenness that made Hunk hurt, deep down in his stomach and his heart.

"What are you thinking about, dude?" he dared to ask.

Lance sighed and rested his chin on his fist, the one not holding the spatula, his elbow propped on his knee. "I missed Mariposa's wedding."

Hunk's heart sank. He'd totally forgotten. But wait. He blinked, trying to remember the date. Lance had been talking about it for ages back at Garrison, he'd been so excited, he'd... "Oh, dude," Hunk said, as he realized. "I'm so sorry."

Weeks ago. It was already weeks ago.

Lance nodded, still staring fixedly at his pan. "I totally forgot about it, too. Didn't even remember, I..." The hand holding the spatula was shaking. He set it down and wrapped his hand around his knee.

Hunk did some calculations in his head. "I think you might have been on the jungle planet. Or in the cryo-replenisher afterward."

"Yeah. I..." Lance's hand tightened around his knee. His voice was so, so sad. "Am I starting to forget them, Hunk? Am I starting..."

"Oh, Lance." Hunk abandoned his station and went straight to him. The counter was high enough that, even slumping the way he was, Lance was slightly taller than him like this. Hunk wrapped his arms around his middle and pressed his face into the side of Lance's shoulder. "Dude, no," he said, his voice a little muffled. "No, dude, of course not. You were just distracted, because..." He laughed, a little wetly. "That whole time was just a mess, dude, you know that. No wonder you forgot. But I know... I know your family didn't forget you. I know they were thinking about you the whole time, and wondering where you were, and hoping you were okay and happy. I've met your family, remember? They're crazy, and they love you like crazy, and there's no way that any of them forgot about you, not for a second."

Slowly, gently, Lance tilted his head until the side of his face rested against the top of Hunk's head. He sniffled, not loudly. He was still too tired to make a big fuss, even about something that must be tearing him up inside. "Do you think Mariposa saved some cake for me?"

Hunk laughed again and squeezed him harder. "I know she did. I know she did, dude. It's wrapped in a thousand layers of plastic wrap in the back of her freezer, waiting for you to come home. And if anyone dares to even think about touching it she'll yell her head off and tell them, 'That's for Lance! Don't you dare!' You know it, dude. You know it."

He could feel Lance's smile stretching his cheek, slow and reluctant, but there. It was there.

The last tortilla burned. Neither of them cared.

Chapter Text

Keith woke up with the strong feeling that someone was staring at him. It was one of his most hated sensations. Before he woke fully, he squeezed his eyes stubbornly shut and tried to duck his head under the blanket that covered him to hide from it, but the sensation of being watched didn't go away. Eventually he woke up enough to realize where he was: on a couch in the lounge, not in his room. No wonder he felt like someone was looking at him. Someone probably was. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He tried to hold out, tried to resist the urge to escape, but he didn't last long. After a few tense seconds hiding under the blanket, eyes squeezed tight, he abruptly gave up. He exploded out of the blanket, all but launching it away from himself, and turned to where the sensation of being watched was coming from. He was already yelling, just on reflex. "Just what do you..."

He stopped, frozen where he sat, eyes going wide. It was Pidge. She was kneeling on the couch, sideways and facing toward him, her hands on her knees. Staring. She was staring at him. Her own blanket was puddled around her, and her face was oddly calm. How long had she been watching him sleep? Like...maybe a long time? Keith's hand clenched against his stomach, and his chest felt oddly constricted.

Pidge slowly raised her head to look at him. She blinked solemnly behind her glasses, face curiously blank. Keith couldn't read her at all. She was giving him heart palpitations. What did she want?

"Um..." Keith squirmed backward, looking around for help. No good. Shiro was asleep, which Keith didn't want to disturb, and Coran was engrossed in reading something, though Keith could swear that the sneaky dude was watching them out of the corner of his eye. Everyone else was gone. He looked back to Pidge, feeling wary and pinned by her gaze. "Can...can I...help you?"

Pidge tilted her head, her expression studious. She lifted her hand and pointed at her upper lip. "You got some dried snot there, buddy."

Keith glanced down, as if he would be able to see his own upper lip, then lifted a fist and scrubbed under his nose with the back of his hand. "Yeah?" he said, automatically defensive. "I was crying. Like, a lot. What's your point?"

Pidge squinted at him. "Your face still looks kind of puffy, too."

Keith had no idea where this was going. But she wasn't attacking him at the moment, and didn't even seem particularly like she wanted him to die a horrible death. His shoulders slumped and he leaned sideways against the back of the sofa, doing his best to meet her gaze. "Yeah. I cried. A lot." He didn't know what else to say.

"You really feel bad about hurting Lance?"

Oh. Keith's shoulders slumped, and he leaned more heavily against the sofa. "Yeah. Really, really..." He drew a breath, felt it shake in his lungs and rattle in his throat. Just thinking about this morning made him want to cry again. Poking at the guilt made it rouse up like an animal, small and wild, with very sharp teeth. "Really bad."

Pidge watched him steadily for a moment longer, than nodded and looked away. "Okay. I forgive you."

Keith stared, not sure he'd heard that right. "...What?"

Pidge looked back to him, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "You asked all of us to forgive you, right? Even if we couldn't do it right away? Well, I've thought about it, and I forgive you."

"Oh." Keith went limp. Relief swept through him, so sudden and overwhelming that it dizzied him. "Really?"

Pidge nodded. "Really."

"Thank you." Keith closed his eyes and rested his head against the floor above the sofa. He felt wrung out, emptied.

"You still gotta earn Lance's forgiveness, though," Pidge said solemnly. "Hunk forgave you right away, and I'm sure Shiro and Coran and Allura have, too, even though they haven't said so in words. But you're gonna have to work for it if you want Lance to forgive you."

Keith opened his eyes and looked at her. "I know," he said softly. "I'll do whatever it takes." He glanced away, hands wringing together in front of him. "Do you... Uh. Do you have any ideas?"

Pidge's eyebrows rose. "You're asking me for advice on interpersonal relationships? You must be truly desperate."

Keith's face scrunched up in confusion. "Well, you know Lance, right? You were friends and teammates back at Galaxy Garrison. You must have some idea of how I can make it up to him."

But it was Pidge's turn to look guilty and distant, suddenly unable to meet Keith's eyes. "Yeah, we were teammates," she muttered, eyes on the floor. "Not very good teammates, but..." She looked back to Keith, a determined set to her jaw. "We were friends, that's true. Hunk and Lance didn't know me very well, mostly because I wouldn't let them get to know me, but they... They kept trying. They wouldn't let me not be friends with them, and believe me, I tried. I tried to shut them out. Neither of them would stand for it. If I had given back, just a little... Well. It probably wouldn't have changed anything. But my teammates would have been happier."

Keith watched her wordlessly. He hadn't expected to find regret here, but Pidge definitely had it. Maybe they weren't so different, after all.

Pidge sighed and settled down on her butt on the sofa, staring across the circle. "That's the thing you gotta understand about Hunk and Lance. Hunk is kind of a scaredy-cat, or at least he used to be, before he leveled up as the yellow paladin. He probably still gets scared about all kinds of things and just pushes it down now so it won't stop him from doing his job. And Lance can definitely be crazy annoying like, twenty-four seven. He does it on purpose just to get a rise out of people, most of the time. He likes it when everyone is energetic and reacting and...paying attention to him, I guess. But they're both really nice guys, when you get down to it. They both just want to be friends and make everyone happy, though in different ways."

Keith nodded slowly. He sort of got what Pidge was trying to tell him, but not really. "So...to make it up to Lance...I should..." He trailed off. Yeah, he had no idea what was supposed to come next in that sentence.

Pidge sighed and looked up at him with weary eyes. "You could start by acknowledging him."

Keith blinked. "Of course I acknowledge him. I can't help but acknowledge him. He's usually, you know, totally in my face all the time." Except for today, of course. Except for when he looked at Keith with fear in his eyes. Keith pressed his hand over his chest, his lips tight. This hurt, and he wasn't completely sure he understood why.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah, that's you reacting when he forces you to react. But have you ever just...I don't know...told him he did a good job at something? That's, like, the easiest way into Lance's heart. Just tell him he did good. Or...have you ever acted like his attempts to compete with you are actually worthwhile, that you have to work hard to beat him, and you don't feel total contempt for him even trying to best you at something? Because, I mean, it's not like I log every single one of your interactions with each other, but I don't remember that happening."

Keith was appalled. "Con...contempt? I don't have contempt for Lance, I just..."

"No, you just blow him off every time he tries to start something up with you." Pidge rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not saying Lance is a perfect person. Quiznak knows he isn't. (Coran, don't snort at the way I use quiznak.) But when he calls you his rival, it's not because he hates you or wants to be enemies. It's because he thinks you're really good at the things he wants to be good at, and he wants you to acknowledge that he's good at them, too, and that you have to fight to keep up with him. Every time you blow him off, you're...you're telling him that he's terrible at those things and you don't even want to compete with him because it's not worth your time. Because he's not worth your time. Because he's not worthy to compete with the great Keith Kogane."

"That's...that's not what I meant..." Keith said weakly. Even as he said it, he wasn't sure it was true. Did he think that Lance wasn't worthy to compete with him? It was true that Lance wasn't the best pilot in the universe, but he definitely had some skills, despite how clumsy and reckless he could be at times. He had learned to fly Blue in just a few minutes, after all, and he'd fought a Galra ship before most of them even knew what the Galra were.

Not to mention how good he was at shooting, and coming up with plans, and talking, and making everyone laugh, and... Keith's hand clenched over his stomach. Maybe Pidge had a point. Maybe he had blown Lance off over every skill that Keith felt was in his own wheelhouse because he didn't even want to acknowledge that Lance could compete with him. That he might be good at those things, too. Because Lance was already so good at so many other things, things that Keith had never been able to grasp no matter how hard he tried, things he'd given up on long ago. If Lance was good at Keith's things, too, then what was left for Keith?

Quite without meaning to, Keith had become a very small and petty creature, crouching over the small pile of possessions he believed were his and crying, Mine! These are mine! He remembered the disbelief and confusion on Lance's face when Keith had tried to tell him that he was good for the team. That he was fantastic, even wonderful. Lance hadn't believed a word of it. And why should he, when Keith had been telling him the opposite from the very moment they met in that shelter at Shiro's crash site?

"Oh." It was a gasp of pain. He looked at Pidge with wide eyes. "Oh. I did. I did. Have... Pidge. Have I been hurting Lance this entire time?"

Pidge looked at him grimly, her face still tired, eyes ringed with red. "Maybe. I think so." She shrugged. "I tried to tell you, dude. Not an expert in interpersonal relationships, here. But I spent a lot of time today thinking about Lance and what went wrong for him, so... Maybe. I'm not saying it's all your fault, or even that most of it is. But you contributed. We all did, in one way or another, knowing or unknowing."

Keith gulped and looked away.

PIdge's voice softened. "I did too. I hurt him, too, in large and small ways, ever since we met. I think that might be the majority of human interaction, honestly, hurting each other and then trying to make up for it. Ordinarily it probably wouldn't mean that much. We all learn to understand each other, to see past the constant mistakes to what we really mean. But little things build up, and when you have a crack in your system, something powerful and overwhelming that happens to you and shakes everything up, like Lance's ordeal on that jungle planet..." She shrugged. "At some point it gets to be too much. The system overloads, and it breaks down. Then you have to restart, go back to the beginning, and try again."

Keith sat still, trying to take this in. It was a lot to absorb at once. "Okay," he said after a long moment, slow and a little shaky. "That's...that's a plan for the future then. Acknowledge him. Don't blow him off. Accept his rivalry, even though I think it's kind of stupid. But... What can I do today, Pidge? There's gotta be... There's gotta be something we can do right now."

Pidge was silent, her hand clenching in the blanket bunched up next to her on the sofa. Then she came to a decision. She stood up, then reached over and snagged Keith's wrist. "Come with me."

He was confused, but he went. Pidge marched him back to the bedrooms, where she slapped the activation panel for Allura's room. It resisted, blinking red, but she blew out an exasperated sigh, opened a panel, pinched one wire, and the door slid open. "C'mon. Allura has the poofiest pillows."

She walked into the room like she belonged there. Keith hesitated at the door, wide-eyed and a little frantic. Were they really going to intrude on the princess's private chambers? What were they even doing here? Halfway across the floor, Pidge turned and waved a hand at him impatiently. "Come on. There's too much for me to carry by myself."

He hesitated, swaying at the door, then overcame inertia and scampered across to join her. "What are we doing here?" he hissed, voice instinctively low, but Pidge just grinned at him.

"Nothing bad, I promise." And she was... She was gathering up the pillows and blankets from Allura's bed and piling them in Keith's arms.

Keith stood there, flabbergasted. "What the..."

"Just shut up and carry the stuff." Midway through the operation, Allura's mice scurried out from wherever they hid during the day and swarmed up Keith's body to perch on the pillows in his arms. He stared at them, going a little cross-eyed because they were so small and so close to his face. They seemed...excited? Happy? Did they know what Pidge was doing? Because Keith didn't.

"Okay, that about does it." Pidge's arms were full now, too. She headed back toward the door, kicking Keith in the shin as she passed him to get him moving. He followed, a bit clumsy and awkward now with his arms piled high with stuff.

She led him back to the lounge, where Coran casually glanced up from his tablet to welcome them back. He didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Ah, excellent idea, paladins. That will make things much more comfortable."

Keith gaped at him. Why had he caught on when Keith still didn't understand what was happening? Coran was an alien. But Pidge marched on, undeterred. She circled to the steps, walked down to the middle of the sunken couches, and then dumped her armload. "Keith, what are you waiting for? Drop it off. We gotta go back."

Keith obeyed, hurrying to catch up. He set his armful down much more gently so as not to harm the mice, who swarmed into the pile of blankets and pillows between the couches as soon he lowered them to the floor. "Go back? Why?"

"There are other rooms with more stuff, dummy." Pidge paused long enough to look at Coran. "Hey, are there storage rooms with more? I think we can get enough from the bedrooms, but just in case."

Coran hummed and pulled on one side of his mustache in thought. "There are, of course, but let me think. Ah. I know the best place." He started to stand up so he could join their quest, then glanced at Shiro and settled down again. "Almost forgot. I'm on watch."

Pidge nodded. "Just give me directions."

He did. Pidge waved for Keith to follow, and off they trotted. They made several more trips, carrying more pillows and blankets and as many other fluffy, comfortable items as Pidge could find, before the penny finally dropped for Keith.

"You...you want us to build a nest in the lounge?" he finally asked, just to confirm his suspicions. "And then, what... Have a sleepover?" Hunk had called it a 'sleepover pile' when he'd invited Keith to nap with them, but Keith had thought he was joking. This couldn't really be what Pidge was planning as something they could do for Lance, could she?

Pidge shrugged. "Nest, blanket fort, just a big pile of bedding. Whatever we can manage." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "We could probably rig up some cables and drape blankets over them. Altean rooms are made to be modified endlessly, so there are probably connection points in the walls and ceilings. I'll ask Coran next time we get back."

"You can't be serious."

Pidge gave him an offended look. "Of course I'm serious. Altean architecture is surprisingly versatile."

Keith halted, his fists clenched at his side. "No, I mean about...having a sleepover."

She paused, too, and turned to face him. "Yes. I'm serious. This is the best thing we can do right now."

"But..." Keith's fists opened and closed. "You want us to...do our nails and talk about boys?"

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Why not? You might like getting your nails done. But actually I was thinking it would be good to make sure Lance is as comfortable as possible before we start really digging around in his head and trying to fix what's wrong."

Keith gaped at her. "And you think a big pile of blankets is the way to do that?"

"Keith..." Pidge sighed and rubbed her forehead. "You really... You really are an only child, aren't you? You didn't grow up with any siblings?"

Keith frowned. What did that have to do anything? "Foster siblings. Occasionally. None that stuck."

She was still for a moment, staring at him. Her face was suddenly...sad. "Okay. We'll talk about that later. But as someone who did grow up with a sibling... Trust me on this one, okay? Blanket forts, blanket nests, these are things kids do together. Lance has a huge family with lots of little siblings, so I know for a fact that this is something he used to do, even if it's been years since the last time. You make yourself a little place in the larger house, just for you and your buddies, and you hang out and laugh and talk and play games, and the world doesn't seem so big and scary when you're in there. It's warm and nice and close, and everything feels good. Lance feels...lost, right now. We need to bring him home."

Keith closed his eyes and swallowed, then looked at Pidge again. "That all sounds...really great. I...I hope you're right. But I can't... I don't think Lance will want me to be so close to him. I don't think I should join you."

"Ah." Pidge nodded thoughtfully. "You mean how he seemed scared of you, right?"

Keith bit his lip. He nodded.

"Well, that's the thing we gotta fix first, then." Pidge took his arm and dragged him down the hall, in the direction they'd been going before he halted them with his doubts. "You'll just have to talk to him. Apologize, hug it out, beg on your knees, whatever you gotta do. How are we ever gonna form Voltron again if we can't even hang out in a blanket fort?"

Keith had to concede the point. He helped Pidge carry one more load of blankets and pillows, head spinning with thoughts and questions on how he was ever going to fix this. He didn't know what it would take, had no idea at all how to start. But he was determined to try.

When they got back to the lounge, Hunk and Lance had already returned. Keith halted, staring. Lance didn't meet his eyes.

Just what exactly was he supposed to do now?

Chapter Text

Pidge dumped her last armload indiscriminately on the floor and bolted for the couches. "Hunk! You big, beautiful man, you made burritos?"

Hunk and Lance both turned to face her, sitting in the middle of the sunken area that had now become a blanket pit, perched on the giant pile of bedding Keith and Pidge had hauled in. Hunk smiled, broad and satisfied, surrounded by floating plates of purple burritos. Lance frowned, though, crossing his lips with his index finger, and tipped a nod toward the sofa where Shiro was still asleep. Pidge immediately softened her steps, but she didn't slow her headlong rush toward the food.

Shiro didn't stir, and the smell of the food hadn't woken him, either. Wow. He must be really, really exhausted. How long had he been sleep-depriving himself, anyway?

Pidge rolled herself carefully down into the blanket pit, not bothering with the steps, and perched next to Hunk and Lance and the food. She grabbed a burrito in both fists. Her stomach was going crazy. "Holy quiznak, this smells amazing." She took one bite, and her eyes nearly rolled out of her head in ecstasy. "They're breakfast burritos, too? Hunk. You are a miracle."

He beamed at her. "Lance helped with the tortillas."

"Well, they're awesome." Not quite like home, but close enough. Pidge chowed down, fully enjoying every bite.

Lance smiled in response, soft and small. He was sitting cross-legged, his shoulders slumped and eyes still tired, eating his way slowly through a burrito of his own. He kept pausing to feed little nibbles to Allura's mice, who were scampering around on his knee and the blankets next to him. They kept pressing against his fingers when he reached down to them like tiny cats rubbing themselves on a favored human. Pidge was not jealous. Nope. Definitely not.

Their fur must be...super soft though.

It was weird to see Lance so subdued. He didn't boast and brag about how great he was at making tortillas, didn't throw his arms around and get into Pidge's face, didn't even sit back and preen with that stupid smug smile of his. He just sat there, distracted and distant, quietly pleased by the praise but barely reacting to it. It was weird. Pidge didn't like it.

Pidge looked up at Coran, still seated on the sofa looking down at them with fondness shining from his face. "Aren't you gonna eat, Coran? If you've never had a breakfast burrito, you are seriously missing out."

Coran grinned. "No worries. I'll eat when Allura joins us. She's on her way."

And that just left... Pidge looked back toward the doorway, moving her head slowly and deliberately. Yep. Keith was still standing just inside the room, his arms full of blankets and pillows. Staring at them. Petrified.

Pidge couldn't believe that he was making her do this. She glared at Keith, trying to drag him in with her eyes, but he just stood there, tense and almost panicked. Pidge blew out an irritated sigh and turned to Hunk. "Hold my burrito."

He raised his eyebrows, but let her drop her uneaten burrito into his palm. The other, half-eaten one she continued to stuff into her face as she climbed out of the blanket pit and stalked over to Keith. She pushed the last bite into her mouth just before she reached him, then stood there, chewing furiously, and glared at him.

Keith raised his eyebrows and swayed gently backward as if he could escape her. Yeah, right. Pidge dug through the blankets hanging over his arm to find his wrist, then seized it and pulled. His body was so stiff, and Pidge pulled so hard and fast, that most of his load immediately dropped out of his grip. He retained one pillow, swinging from his other fist. It was blue and pink and shaped like a starfish, and Pidge somehow found that stunningly appropriate.

She dragged him over to the couches and stalked around the circle, ignoring Coran's amused look, Hunk's raised eyebrows, and Lance's expression of alarm. At the steps leading down into the blanket pit, she let go of Keith's wrist and spun around behind him, then shoved his back, hard. He dropped to his knees in the pile with a faint gasp, face to face with Lance. Lance, who sat there, frozen, staring in shock. He was far, far too pale.

It was hard to tell which one was more terrified, honestly. If it wasn't infuriating, and also kind of ridiculously sad, Pidge might have found it funny. As it was, all she could was bend down behind Keith, her hands on her hips, and growl in his ear. "Now talk to him, you idiot."

Her job done, Pidge moved back to Hunk, who was midway between the two idiots. She plopped down next to him and accepted her burrito from Hunk's open hand. And she took the biggest bite she could fit in her mouth and sat there, chewing.

Keith was staring at her, his face paper white. Pidge scowled at him, then tipped her head toward Lance. His eyes followed the movement, then flipped back to her. Pidge looked at Lance. He was sitting very, very still, watching Keith with enormous eyes. Two of the mice had climbed up to his shoulder and were leaning against his neck as if to offer moral support. The other two were tangled in his fingers, resting on the blanket beside him. His other hand held his forgotten burrito.

He was wary and tense, almost unbearably so, but at least he was looking at Keith. He hadn't been able to do that earlier. Pidge wondered what had changed.

She looked back to Keith and blinked, slow and deliberate. Talk. To. Him, she mouthed with huge, exaggerated movements. How were they going to form Voltron if they couldn't even sit together on a huge pile of blankets?

Keith seemed to get the point. He looked back to Lance, hugging his starfish pillow in front of his stomach. "Um."

Lance blinked.

Keith tried again. "I apologized earlier, but I don't know if you heard it, so... I'm sorry."

He sounded sorry. He sounded like he was about to start crying again. His face twisted up in pain, and Pidge, looking between them, saw Lance's eyes go liquid with sympathy. Well. This might be easier than they had assumed. Lance was a huge softie, deep down. Or not that deep down, really.

"I..." Keith drew a shaky breath. "I messed up. Really bad. And I know it. I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. More sorry than I really have words for. I want to make it up to you, and I'll do basically anything you want me to do to prove that to you, but... Could you please stop looking so scared of me? Please? It's...it's really messing me up, man."

Lance's forehead wrinkled, a frown pursing his lips. "I..." Lance's voice was shaky, too. He barely sounded like himself. "I'm not scared of you."

It sounded kind of like his usual bravado. But not really at all. Lance was lying, and everyone knew it. Pidge glanced up at Hunk and saw the pain on his face. They were all rapidly losing their appetites, which was a shame. This was awful.

Keith held still for several long moments. His tongue licked nervously across his lips. Pidge sat shoulder to shoulder with Hunk, feeling his tension. They both wanted to intervene, but knew they shouldn't. This was between Lance and Keith. They had to work it out, somehow, someway. But it was hard to sit here, watching it. Pidge's eyes flicked to Coran, saw him rigid as a statue, staring without blinking.

Keith moved, and Pidge's eyes went back to him. He was setting the starfish pillow aside, slowly and carefully. Removing his self-made barrier. Then he leaned forward on his knees, propping himself up on one hand in the blankets while the other stretched toward Lance. "If... If you're not scared of me, could I...?"

Lance's breath hitched in his chest. But he sat there, unmoving. Pidge looked into his face, saw the anguish twisting his expression. And the shame. He was so, so ashamed of his reactions. He knew it was irrational, knew he shouldn't be afraid of his teammate, his comrade in arms. But he couldn't help it, and he was almost as ashamed of his helplessness as he was of his fear. So he held himself still in terrible, terrified silence as Keith inched nearer to him.

"Please." It was a whisper. Keith stretched his fingers out, splayed in the air, reaching closer and closer to Lance. Lance's breathing was getting worse, faster, more ragged, but he sat there. Keith touched his knee.

Just one finger. Then two. He looked up into Lance's face, gauging his reaction. "Lance." Barely above a whisper. "Please. I won't hurt you."

Pidge remembered what she had told Keith. Apologize. Hug it out. Beg on your knees. This was closer to the last one than the other two. Lance stared down at Keith, his face almost unreadable. Tears stood in his eyes. He had dropped his food, clenching that hand beside him in the blankets instead. Then he nodded. Short, jerky, almost desperate. Giving permission to keep going.

Keith scooted closer. Straightened up on his knees, so he was almost facing Lance again. All four fingers on Lance's knee, now. Then his palm. "I won't hurt you," he said again, a little louder. "I know it's hard to believe. I hurt you twice. Both times, I...I somehow I managed to hit your weakest point, exactly where it hurts the most. I wounded you. I made you break down. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. But I won't hurt you again, Lance. I swear it. I swear it on my life. I won't hurt you."

Lance's breath was fast and hard now. Not as bad as it had been right before he had that panic attack earlier, but getting there. Keith sat very, very still, just letting his hand rest on Lance's knee. He made no other move, doing everything he could to let Lance get used to this. To adjust, to fit this into his perception of the world, to accept a reality where being touched by Keith, being almost nose to nose with him, was not painful or threatening.

Lance's breath jerked in his chest, and Pidge felt Hunk twitch. His hand lifted, longing to reach out, but then he halted. Lance stared into Keith's face, his eyes wide, his mouth drawn into a grimace of fear and indecision. Then he closed his eyes. Slowly, slowly, his expression smoothed out. The heaving of his chest began to calm. His head tilted to the side as if he was listening to something no one else could hear.

The impression of...something...was so strong that it was almost eerie. An inaudible voice, something beyond perception, a presence that only Lance could feel and interact with. Goosebumps shivered to life on the backs of Pidge's arms, and she instinctively pressed herself into Hunk's side. He put his arm around her and tugged her in, though his eyes never wavered from the scene in front of them.

The wrinkles on Lance's forehead disappeared, little by little. His breathing became more measured and controlled, though there was still an edge of raggedness to it that put Pidge's teeth on edge. Then he nodded. His eyes slipped open, and he looked straight into Keith's face again.

"Okay."

It was Keith's turn to stare in disbelief. He sat back on his heels, his hand falling away from Lance's knee. "Really?" A bewildered murmur, as if he couldn't grasp the fact that he had somehow succeeded, despite all odds.

Lance hesitated, then nodded again. A couple of tears escaped, leaking down his face. He made no attempt to deny them. He folded his arms defensively over his chest, though, leaning away as his shoulders slumped. "You...you promise, right?" His breath hitched one more time.

Keith nodded eagerly, almost frantically. "Yeah. Yeah, I promise, Lance. If I ever even...make you think I might, you have my permission to punch me in the face."

Lance huffed out something like a laugh. "Don't think I won't."

It was so similar to the Lance they all knew that Keith's shoulders finally slumped in relief. He relaxed where he knelt, face opening into a genuine smile. "Okay."

Lance looked around for the rest of his burrito, but it had vanished. As had the tiny furry creatures that had been comforting him during the confrontation. "Aw, man. I think the mice took off with my food."

The side of Keith's mouth twisted upward. "That's what you get for feeding them, man."

Lance shook his head and rubbed at his face with the heels of his hands, a reluctant smile peeking out. It was small, but it was real, and it was astonishingly lovely. Pidge leaned her head hard into Hunk's shoulder, her heart aching. Was that really all it took? It was almost unbelievable.

Keith still sat there, watching him intently, his lips pinched together. He was obviously working up to something. Then he started to reach out again, with both hands this time. He moved slowly, but he was moving. "Lance, could I...?"

Lance looked up, eyes widening. "What...?"

"Please, just..." Keith's hands reached him. One on a shoulder, the other wrapping gently behind Lance's head. "Can I... Would it be okay?"

Hug it out, Pidge had said. Keith was following her advice to the letter.

Lance stiffened for a moment, eyes round in an instant of surprise and near-panic. Then he relaxed, face twisting up. "Okay." His hands rose between their bodies, forming a barrier, but Keith didn't seem to mind. He pulled him in, guiding Lance's head down to rest on his shoulder, his other arm reaching across his upper back.

He didn't try to pull Lance in close, didn't try to force a connection Lance couldn't bear right now, and not only because he couldn't stand to have his chest constricted. The only points of contact were the hand on the back of Lance's head, buried in his hair, and the arm wrapped around his shoulders. Lance kept his arms between them, hands lightly resting on Keith's chest. Pidge didn't doubt that he would shove Keith away the instant the hold became uncomfortable for him, violently if necessary.

But he didn't. They stayed there for a few long moments, breathing together. Keith closed his eyes, too, allowing his own tears to escape. Then, before Lance could pull away himself, Keith let go and sat back, releasing him gently.

Lance kept his head down for a second, wiping at his face with his hands. Then he looked up, and he was smiling. It was tremulous, but it was there. "Never... Never would have thought the great Keith Kogane would want to hug little ol' me."

Keith smiled, but Pidge could see that the choice of words stung him. "I... I never would have thought so, either," Keith said, voice a bit rough. "But, uh... Things change, I guess."

Lance nodded and looked away. Pidge frowned. They still had a lot more work to do.

Then Allura arrived, and Hunk gave Lance another burrito, and Pidge and Hunk started to seriously discuss how they were going to make a blanket fort happen, and Coran brightened up and added suggestions, and the moment passed.

But Pidge didn't forget.

Chapter Text

Something had changed. Lance could feel it. There had been a...shift.

Perhaps it wasn't that surprising. Everything was changing. All of the pieces had broken loose and were currently swirling around, and he couldn't pin anything down. He found himself flailing in his own mind, searching for solid ground, something to depend on, and there was nothing. He was lost, adrift. Emotions swept over him like a sudden storm, and he had nothing to hold on to in order to keep himself steady in the maelstrom. Hunk had provided an oasis for a time, a calm center where Lance could hold still and feel himself as he currently was, but when they rejoined the others, that had disappeared again.

Perhaps the constant shifting, the constant changing, was why Blue had been able to glide in through the cracks. At some point, Lance had just...realized that she was there. That she had been there for quite some time. Her presence in his mind was solid, firm, steady. She was a bulwark, a rock of Gibraltar in the middle of the shifting sands his mind had become. So he latched on, desperate, white-knuckled, and she accepted his need with calm strength and unwavering acceptance.

It had happened when Keith approached him and apologized and promised that he wouldn't hurt Lance again. Lance had been completely overwhelmed, both with confusion and unreasoning fear as well as shame at himself for feeling that way. It had felt awful, being so completely unable to control himself.

He knew intellectually that Keith wouldn't hurt him, that he hadn't meant to even at the time, and anyway it was only because Lance was so weak and useless that Keith's little jabs had done so much damage in the first place. Who panicked and burst into tears because someone gave their chest a little shove? Who had an emotional breakdown because someone told them they weren't wanted? Only a fragile, worthless idiot like Lance, that was who. It wasn't Keith's fault, not really. Lance ought to be able to get over something so minor, but he couldn't. His rational mind had no control anymore. All he had were his feelings, and the majority of those were fear and pain.

And so because Lance was a weak, worthless idiot, Keith had had to inch his way toward him as if he was a wild animal cornered against a wall, talk in that soft, quiet voice, and promise that he wouldn't hurt him again. Like Lance was an abused puppy who needed to be soothed with gentle words and soft hands. It was so...embarrassing. So shameful. And it still wasn't enough. He was still afraid. He still couldn't accept what Keith was telling him, still couldn't believe that it really wouldn't happen again. When Keith had touched him, ever so gently and softly and carefully, Lance had almost crawled out of his skin with terror. Only by holding himself rigidly still had he been able to bear it.

Then he'd felt her. Blue. She was there, an almost physical presence in his mind. He felt her like a warm wall pressing against his back, offering support. Warmth and strength and a deep, soothing purr, that was Blue. It was as if she had transformed herself into a flesh-and-blood lion and come into the room and sat down behind him, giving him something to lean on.

So he did. He closed his eyes, and he latched on to Blue with every ounce of strength he had. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'm so so scared. That was all he could express, with or without words, over and over.

Lion is here with my pilot, Blue replied, and there was immense pride in her voice. Pride in herself for reaching him, and pride in Lance for allowing it. Their connection must have gotten even deeper and stronger at some point, though Lance hadn't noticed. He was far away from the hangar, half the ship away up in the common rooms. He’d never talked to her from this distance before. And yet she was here. Lion is here, and Lion will stay. All is well. All will be well.

Lance panted, harsh in his lungs. Blue, I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm so weak and I'm so scared.

Blue purred, pressing against him with all but physical weight. My pilot must breathe. There is air here. My pilot is strong. A wound is not forever. My pilot will heal. This weakness will pass. All is well, and all will be well. Lion is with my pilot.

He believed her. How could he not? She was everything, surrounding him, proud and confident and strong. She believed in him, and there was no way that she could be wrong, and so Lance had no option but to believe in himself. Even just slightly. Even just the tiniest bit.

His breath began to calm, slowly, bit by bit. But still he trembled, trapped in the flood of his fear and uncertainty. Blue, I don't know what to do. He says he won't hurt me again. How can I believe him? I'm so scared.

Again that press, that warmth and strength, curling around him and cradling his mind. Red pilot did a terrible deed. And there was anger, a deep rumbling growl that echoed through Lance's mind. Then it gentled. But still. Red pilot is a paladin of Voltron. Red lion feels red pilot's regret. It is real. If my pilot cannot trust my pilot's senses, my pilot must trust in the lions. Lions know their pilots. Red pilot is sorry and does not wish to harm my pilot again.

That made sense in a way that Lance could grasp. If he couldn't trust himself, couldn't trust his own ability to gauge Keith's sincerity, he could instead trust Blue, and through her, Red as well. If Blue said something, then it had to be true. Lance could not imagine a world in which that wasn't so.

Also. Again that growl, low and rumbling. If red pilot harms my pilot again, Lion will not endure it.

Lance almost wanted to smile at that, but he couldn't quite yet. You would tear through the castle to get to me, Blue? Even through all these metal walls?

A steady, confident purr. Nothing would stand in Lion's way if my pilot needed Lion.

He felt Keith's touch on his knee. It no longer seemed to burn him through his jeans. Keith was sorry. The lions said so.

And Keith's face...he had been in so much pain. Lance had seen that, even if he hadn't been able to believe his own sight at the time. If there was anything Lance could do to alleviate that, he wanted to. And it was such a simple request, after all. He just had to accept Keith's apology.

So he did. He opened his eyes and looked into Keith's face, and he said, "Okay."

The hug had been...awkward. But it hadn't hurt. Keith's hand on the back of Lance's head and his arm around his shoulders had been warm and firm, but not painful. Lance closed his eyes against Keith's shoulder and breathed, allowing himself to be held. He pressed his palms lightly to Keith's chest and felt his breath, too, trembling and hesitant.

Keith didn't like hugs, Lance knew that. But he had offered this one because he thought Lance needed it, because he thought it was necessary to heal the rift between them. So Lance accepted it in the spirit it was given, as a peace offering and an attempt to bridge the gap they both felt was there. Still, he was grateful when Keith let him go.

After that, the others' attention wavered from him, and the situation became easier to bear. Pidge and Hunk fell into a deep discussion about the proper way to build a blanket fort, and Coran joined in too. There was talk about suitable foundations and lining the walls of the sunken couch area with pillows so everyone could lean comfortably and also something about...cables? And...perhaps using the floating plates as supplemental supports? Whatever. Lance knew engineer Hunk and inventor Pidge and technology expert Coran would work it out.

Keith started eating burritos, and Allura joined them for food, too. The mice even came back, begging more scraps from Lance, and he shook his head and scolded them for stealing his last burrito, but he still fed them more. There was plenty. He and Hunk had cooked enough for twenty people, never mind seven plus a few little mice.

Blue remained a steady presence at the back of his mind, not pushing for his attention, just letting him know she was there if he needed her. He appreciated it. He couldn't trust himself, couldn't tell what he should be doing or who he was supposed to be, but he could trust Blue. He could depend on his lion.

Then came a sound that Lance recognized. It shivered up his back and pulled his attention like a desperate call, though it was soft, almost inaudible, and no one else seemed to hear it. It was Shiro, the beginning of a whimper sounding in his throat, low and choked. Lance was moving before he could second guess himself.

He knew he was needed. He knew this was his job. He remembered Shiro trying to tell him something about this, something about how Lance shouldn't have been doing this as much as he had, but Lance still knew. He didn't know which piece he was supposed to be presenting to the world right now, but all of him wanted to do this. All of him wanted to be the person who could do this for Shiro.

"L... Lan..." Shiro's face was twisting up in pain, even in sleep, his shoulders tensing, hands clenching into fists. Lance knew what to do. He sat on the couch next to Shiro and lifted his head into his lap, then bent over him, stroking his hair.

He called his name, soft and low. "Shiro. It's okay. I'm here."

How many nights had he done this? Lance didn't know. But this was familiar, and it was right, and it was good. A few nights, toward the beginning when he was first adjusting to getting more than four hours of sleep on a regular basis, Shiro's nightmares became really bad. They came every half hour or so, it seemed like. So Lance started sitting against the wall with Shiro's head in his lap. He was able to doze, his head nodding to his chest, but every time Shiro stirred he was immediately aware and could soothe him. It was exhausting, but it had worked. And anyway, it had settled down. Lance had only had to do that a few times.

"Lance..." Shiro's face was twisting, his entire body trembling. This must be a really frightening dream. Was he seeing Lance dead again? Watching him being torn apart in the arena? Lance hated that he was the one causing Shiro so much pain. It was his responsibility to fix it. He bent closer to his face, digging his hand harder into his hair.

"Shiro, I'm here. I'm okay. Nothing bad is happening to me. It's just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Shiro shivered and tossed his head, grimacing. Lance took his face his hands, pressing his cheeks with his palms. He was almost nose to nose with him now, saw nothing but Shiro, felt nothing but the fear and pain rolling through him. "Shiro." He made his voice stronger, as strong as he could. "Shiro. It's okay. It's just a dream. Wake up now. You need to wake up."

Finally, Shiro went still. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to open, then did. He lay there in Lance's lap, staring up at him, his eyes huge and unseeing at first. Slowly, they cleared, and he looked at Lance with comprehension. The tension drained out of his body, bit by bit, until he lay limp and wrung out on the sofa.

"Lance." Relief in his voice. "You're okay."

Lance nodded solemnly. "I'm always okay."

Shiro laughed, his cheeks stretching against Lance's palms. There were tears in his eyes. "Liar."

Lance was confused. He frowned at Shiro and pressed his face harder. "I'm alive. I'm not a prisoner of the Galra. I'm not rotting in the jungle or at the arena. I'm not being tortured by the druids. I'm not lost in space or burnt up or drowned in a lake or dead of pneumonia or shot by robots. Is that all of the things you've seen in your dreams, or was there a new one this time?"

Shiro reached up and touched his face, slowly, wonderingly. Making sure Lance was there. His hand pressed over the side of Lance's head, and Lance leaned into the touch as he had done many times before. "I dreamed that you were hurting, suffering deep agony in your spirit and mind. You were surrounded by your friends and teammates, your family, and no one saw. I dreamed that you cried and screamed in terrible, terrible pain, and the rest of us stood there and watched. I dreamed that you believed horrible lies about yourself, and when we told you the truth, you couldn't believe us, because the lies were just too strong, and you had believed them for far too long."

Shiro's thumb stroked over Lance's cheek, slow and gentle. Lance closed his eyes, swaying where he sat. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what he was supposed to do, what was expected of him. Maybe he could just...sit here. Maybe he could just be. As he was, what he was. Shiro didn't seem to be expecting anything else.

"Lance?" Shiro's voice was infinitely soft, infinitely tender. "Was that a dream?"

Lance shook his head, his eyes still closed. Shiro's face was warm against his hands, and his hand was warm against his head. "No," he whispered. "That happened. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong." Shiro's hand moved to the back of Lance's head, fingers carding into his hair, a little like what Keith had done. But this wasn't uncomfortable, wasn't unfamiliar, and Lance didn't have to brace himself to bear it. Shiro lifted himself up off Lance's lap, his other elbow braced on the sofa, and pulled him closer until their foreheads touched.

Lance exhaled, slow and soft, and relaxed. Everything was okay. Shiro let him go, and he straightened, eyes slowly blinking open, blurry and a little dazed. Shiro sat up next to him, moving slowly and gently as he pulled himself out of Lance's grip. He put an arm around Lance's shoulders, and Lance leaned into his side.

Everyone was looking at them. They had all watched, all seen the little routine Lance had gone through many times to soothe Shiro's nightmares. Lance didn't have it in him to be embarrassed. It was what he'd needed to do, so he'd done it. Shiro didn't seem embarrassed, so why should he?

Or maybe it was Blue, steady and strong in the back of his mind, that kept him from feeling shame at such an intimate display. She was proud of Lance, proud of them both, and her warmth flowed over him like a tropical wave. My pilot is strong and kind, Blue said. There is no shame here.

Still, having everyone stare at them was a little uncomfortable. Lance saw confusion on Keith's face, softness on Hunk and Pidge. Understanding in Coran. Pain in Allura.

Then Hunk glanced away and shook his head. He cleared his throat and looked back to them. "Hey, Shiro. Want a breakfast burrito? We got plenty. More lukewarm now than hot, but still good."

Shiro chuckled. "Thank you. That would be great."

Pidge broke out of her stare, too. She started placing pillows and cushions against the base of the couches, pulling Keith along to help her. Coran and Allura glanced at each other, then found something to talk about that had nothing to do with anything that Lance understood. Hunk pushed a floating plate over to Shiro, then climbed out of the blanket pit to go seek materials elsewhere.

Lance blew out a breath in relief and relaxed against Shiro's side. He kind of felt like he should be helping build the blanket fort, but he was tired, and Shiro was comfy. Shiro's arm tightened around his shoulders, so maybe he wanted him to stay here, anyway. It was probably okay, then, if he was doing it for Shiro.

Yes, my pilot should rest, Blue said, pleased with this development. Leader pilot will care for my pilot. This is good.

Lance yawned. He felt like he'd been spending a lot of time resting today, and he was still exhausted and wrung out. Maybe he should do some work, too.

Talking is work, Blue argued. Healing is work. My pilot is badly wounded, so the talking and healing will take a long time. Rest is needed. Rest now. Leader pilot will ask more questions soon.

Lance wrinkled up his nose, but he had already figured that was the case. Now that Shiro was awake, he was going to remember what he'd said earlier about how they still had more to talk about. He was going to ask about the pieces, and Lance had no idea at all how he was going to explain that. He wasn't even sure that he understood it himself. He had really messed up, letting that little detail slip, but it was too late to go back.

Lion will help, Blue said stalwartly.

Lance smiled to himself. No offense, Blue, but you're not so great at talking, yourself.

Blue purr-growled, deep and low and amused. My pilot is a brat.

Sure, sure. Still true, though.

Blue chuffed at him. If she had had a physical form, she would have cuffed his head, affectionately but still strong enough to knock him back. My pilot and Lion will work together to find understanding.

Lance rolled his eyes, his face half-hidden against Shiro's side so no one would see. Sure, Blue. Whatever you say.

But he was smiling. He had an ally now. He wasn't alone, not even inside his own head. And right now, his head was a pretty scary place. He was really glad Blue was with him.

Lion is with my pilot, Blue said softly. Lion will not leave.

Chapter Text

Lance was dozing against him, and Shiro was as comfortable and content as he'd been all day long. Ever since the blow up at breakfast, this was what he had been wanting. Just to be able to sit next to Lance and make sure he was breathing okay. There had been a lot of distractions, a lot of impediments and obstacles, but finally, finally he was where he wanted to be.

Shiro was sitting on the sofa, still, cross-legged with his legs pulled up to make room for the builders working around him. Lance's legs were drawn up, too, knees raised in front of his body and feet tucked together, but he was leaning bonelessly into Shiro's side, limp and heavy with his head drooping on Shiro's chest. Shiro kept his arm wrapped around him, occasionally glancing down at the mop of messy brown hair resting beneath his chin. He couldn't see Lance's face, but he could hear his breathing, slow and regular, so he knew he was resting well. Asleep or just drowsing, either way was fine. Lance was worn out, and he needed to gather his energy while he could. They had a lot more work to do, and Shiro was determined to get through it as soon as possible. They couldn't wait much longer.

It was fun to watch everyone working on the blanket fort, though. As soon as he'd woken up from his nap and seen the huge pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the room, Shiro had immediately grasped what was going on. And he was delighted and grateful. He wasn't sure whose idea it had been originally, but he wouldn't have been surprised if it was Pidge or Hunk, or both of them together. They were the most enthusiastic and had the most spirited discussions about the project, though Coran wasn't far behind. Keith was confused but willing, and Allura was amused and gracious in her attempts to help.

Shiro hadn't even bothered offering to lend a hand. The others obviously had it all well in hand, and it was more important for him to sit here. With Lance. Definitely. Everyone else had made their agreement with him obvious, as well. Lance needed to rest, and Shiro needed to make sure it happened.

And anyway, Shiro just...didn't want to move.

But it was fine. Hunk went and fetched a box of cables from some storage room, and when he got back he and Coran did something mysterious with the walls. Then they started hooking up cables and stringing them across the space. The first pattern was basically a hexagon a couple feet above and inside the sunken couch area. Then Coran worked a panel on the far wall, and there were mysterious rumblings in the ceiling. A structure lowered down like a chandelier, right in the center of the space, and Hunk and Pidge fixed cables to that, too, then strung them out to the walls in what looked to Shiro's non-technical eyes kind of like a starburst.

Meanwhile, Keith and Allura were draping blankets above the couches, one end on the hexagon pattern of cables and the other end pulled beyond the couches to the floor, creating a partial roof. Shiro slumped down on the sofa to give them room to pull blankets behind his head and tugged Lance down with him. When the starburst was ready, the five all worked together to cover that with blankets, too, enclosing the space.

Then Coran said something about weights to hold down the edges of the blankets on the floor, as well as perhaps clips to attach them to the cables for reasons of "structural integrity." He and Pidge left again to fetch more materials. Then Allura made a noise that sounded very much like "Eureka!" in Altean and hurried out, too, which left just Hunk and Keith fussing over the positions of each individual blanket, making sure there was just enough overlap but not too much.

In no time at all, Shiro was inside of a tent-like blanket fort that had been built around him while he sat there. It was kind of the shape of a circus tent, but with only one point. A small circus tent, then. It felt both cozy and spacious, dim and warm and cave-like. He might have imagined it, but Lance seemed to relax against him even more as soon as the light was obscured. Shiro remembered the jungle planet and how Lance had complained about wanting to "sleep in" just a little longer, and he smiled. His heart ached, but he smiled.

Pidge and Coran returned, and the two of them plus Hunk and Keith went about making sure the blanket fort was structurally sound. Shiro heard various thumps and mutterings as they worked, but everything seemed to be proceeding well as far as he could tell. Then Allura came back, too. She hurried down the steps, where the construction crew had left the opening to the blanket fort. She was beaming, and her hands were full of...blue fireflies?

Shiro blinked at her. Allura lifted her hands, her face brilliant with happiness. The myriad of tiny lights in her hands glowed and lit her face in a silvery sheen. "Look, Shiro! Magnetic blossom lights! I can affix them to the cables inside the structure so we’ll have light to see by."

Blossom lights? Shiro opened his mouth to protest that, actually, having a blanket fort be kind of dark was part of the point, but she was already working. She started in the middle of the tent and moved outward, stooping beneath one cable at a time and sticking several lights to it a few inches apart before moving on.

Once they were up, though, separated from each other by a small space, the lights didn't seem quite so bright. They reminded Shiro of Christmas lights, small and silvery-blue, pretty without being strong enough to make Shiro squint at them. He relaxed and pulled Lance a bit closer.

"They're lovely, princess. Thank you for thinking of them."

She gave him a pleased grin, then continued to work. There were a lot of very tiny lights. When she finished, Shiro could see why they were called blossom lights. Each spread a small, gentle glow with a brilliant spot of light in the center, like tiny flowers hanging in the dark. Meanwhile, the others finished their work outside the fort, then trundled in one at a time, gaping around at the completed fort. Hunk, last one in, turned around at the steps and undid a clip, and a blanket fell over the remaining opening and left just a sliver of outside light.

The fort was tall enough that Pidge could stand straight with her head brushing the roof, though everyone else would have to stoop. Having the roof end above the sofas meant that there was plenty of storage space for anything anyone wanted to bring in, but the bases of the sofas were all lined with layers of pillows so there were a plethora of comfy places to sit. And despite all the blankets that had gone into making the roof, there were still lots on the floor to snuggle into.

"Best blanket fort ever," Pidge said in an awed whisper. Keith looked no less overcome, his eyes wide and mouth open as he stared around. Coran grinned almost as brightly as Allura.

Hunk nudged Keith and Pidge's shoulders. "Shoes off, shoes off! Blanket fort is sacrosanct. Also no farting, and no pillow fights unless everyone wants one. There's not enough space to have a demilitarized zone where someone can stay out of it. And when you leave to use the bathroom or get food or anything, be careful not to trip on the cables. The fort looks great from the inside, but outside it's kind of a mess."

Everyone who hadn't already (Allura and Coran, humorously enough), took off their footgear and stored it on the steps. Shiro pulled off his own shoes one-handed and tossed them to Hunk, who took care of them without a word, then turned to Lance. He didn't want to wake him up, but Hunk was right. No shoes inside the blanket fort.

Lance was already stirring. He mumbled incoherently against Shiro's chest, then lifted his head and sat upright. His head hit the blanket roof, and he slumped down next to Shiro and blinked around, befuddled and amazed. "Wow." His voice was a little rough and sleepy, but still appreciative. "This looks incredible. Whoever had this idea is a genius."

Pidge beamed at him. She was sitting in the middle of the blanket pile with her knees pulled up and her arms resting on them, sock-covered toes wiggling in the blankets. Hunk crawled over and made grabby hands at Lance's feet, and Lance took off his shoes and gave them to him. Shiro wondered if Lance and Hunk had made blanket forts together before. He wouldn't be surprised if they had. Coran and Allura had found comfortable places to lounge, too.

Keith, unsurprisingly, seemed the most ill-at-ease in their new environment. Still, he was frowning at Lance as if he wasn't following proper protocol. "Come down and sit," he said, gesturing at the pillows he and Pidge had worked so carefully to place. One particular pile looked especially soft and luxurious. Shiro was pretty sure that most of the pillows there had come from Allura's room. Keith pointed at it and stared at Lance. "Here. You should sit here."

Lance looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then at the pillows. He seemed to recognize them, too. He looked at Allura, expression worried, but she smiled and nodded. "It's all right, Lance. Come and sit with us."

Lance looked at Shiro. Shiro smiled. "You want me to come with you?"

Lance nodded. He didn't even seem embarrassed about it, just tired. And vulnerable. Good lord, the kid's face was so vulnerable. All of his ability to hide, all of his layers and layers of masks and walls and cocky, self-aggrandizing behaviors had been stripped away by the events of the day. Now it was just Lance looking at him, lost and anxious and just this side of clingy.

Shiro felt a small, warm pressure against his side and looked down to find Lance's hand clenched in his shirt, almost hidden in the press between their two bodies. Okay, make that literally clingy. Shiro gave him a smile. It wasn't like he minded. He had a strong urge to just pick Lance up in his arms and carry him, he wanted so badly to keep him close. The nightmare still pressed against his mind, heavy as a stone. Nightmares, more like. So many of them. Would they never stop? "Of course I'll sit with you," he said softly. "No need to ask. I wanted to, anyway."

Lance nodded, small and relieved. They moved down into the fort proper, after Lance reluctantly let go of Shiro's shirt. Shiro kept a hand on his back as they moved for his own reassurance as much as Lance's. They settled down in the luxurious pile of pillows, which felt a lot like sinking into a cloud. Lance curled up against Shiro's side again with his knees drawn up and his head on his shoulder, and Shiro wrapped his arm around him and held him close.

Everyone else settled, too. Keith ended up sitting next to Coran and Allura on the opposite side of the circle from Shiro and Lance, while Hunk wallowed in a pile of bedding at the back of the fort, humming happily. Pidge lay on her stomach in the middle of the blankets and played finger tag with three of the mice. The last mouse, the chubby yellow one, climbed up on Lance's shoulder and curled into a little puffball against his neck. Lance lifted his hand and pet him with one finger, slow and gentle.

Shiro sighed and tilted his head so his cheek rested on Lance's hair. He needed to ask the questions now, but he didn't want to. He just wanted to rest. He didn't want to be the one to have to make Lance uncomfortable and scared again, to prod at the internal wounds that caused him such horrendous pain and heartache. It was shameful, but he didn't want to be the leader, not right now.

But they had to talk about it. They had to. Not only were Lance's issues causing him immense pain, but worst-case scenario, they could be dangerous. To the group, possibly, if he blacked out and lost track of himself at a critical moment, but more importantly, to Lance himself. These "pieces..." What were they? They needed to know. Shiro needed to know.

Not to mention that fact that there was no possible way they could form Voltron while an essential team member was so shattered, so fragile and frightened and vulnerable. Coran and Allura hadn't said a word about it, but Shiro knew that the problem was high on their minds. They had to fix this as soon as possible, because a broken Lance was a broken team, and that left them all vulnerable. It was too cold, too pragmatic, and Shiro didn't want to think about it that way. He wanted to fix this for Lance's sake alone, because Lance was important and wanted and indescribably precious to Shiro. But that wasn't the only matter at stake. This was about defending the universe.

Right now, Shiro didn't want to defend the universe. He just wanted to defend Lance. He was terribly frustrated with the universe for not letting him.

"Um." Lance's voice, soft and hesitant. Everyone went still and silent, listening, but the silence felt warm and welcoming to Shiro. Hopefully it felt the same to Lance.

Lance cleared his throat. "You need to know about...the pieces."

Shiro's heart stuttered his chest. He had never expected Lance to open up on his own about this, without even being asked. He leaned his head a little more heavily against Lance's. "Yes," he murmured. "We do."

Lance sighed, his entire body shifting with it. He sounded mostly calm, for the moment. "I don't know...how to explain..."

"Just do your best," Shiro said. Tension crept up his back. He needed to know. "You seem...very self-aware about them." Was that how it worked? With...dissociative identities? Shiro didn't know. "When you think about your...pieces. What do they look like to you?"

Lance hummed uncomfortably. He pressed his head a little harder into Shiro's shoulder. "They're just...versions of myself. Versions of Lance. Everyone has different versions of themselves, right?"

Shiro's forehead wrinkled. "In a way," he said cautiously. "Everyone acts a little differently at school or work than they do at home with their families or when hanging out with friends. But most people don't...separate themselves so much that it feels like different pieces."

"Oh." Lance sounded embarrassed. Shiro held him a little tighter.

"Do your...do your versions of yourself...have different names?"

"No." Lance sounded confused by the question. "They're all Lance."

"Do you ever have periods that you can't remember, that are blacked out in your mind? Where, maybe, another version of Lance was taking care of things, so you didn't need to know about it?"

"No. That would be...really inconvenient."

Shiro almost smiled at that. Amnesia as an inconvenience. Yes, that was certainly true.

This was sounding less and less like Dissociative Identity Disorder. Shiro didn't know whether or not to be relieved, yet. "Do the versions have different emotions, or take care of different parts of yourself? Do you...put all of your pain on one of the versions, so that version of Lance can bear it all for you and you don't have to feel it?"

"People can do that?" Lance sounded flummoxed. "Wow, that sounds super helpful. No, no, I can't do that. I feel everything all the time. I just...try not to show it. Some versions of Lance don't show anything. It's...better that way."

"You feel everything?" Shiro murmured. "All the time?"

Lance curled up tighter. Shiro expected to feel his hand in his shirt again, but it wasn't there. He wrapped his arm tighter around Lance's middle, instead, and found Lance's hand clenched in the fabric over his stomach, pressing into his flesh as if to stanch a wound. He covered that hand with his and felt the trembling in Lance's body.

"I don't want to," Lance said, low and ashamed. "I've been trying to...push it down. The...the pieces that hurt. Sometimes I can. When...when I was back in that tree shooting all those drones, while you guys were hiding in the woods, I almost forgot about it. I made myself forget that I was scared, because I had a job to do. I just...I just kept shooting. Again and again and again. I shot so many robots, Shiro. And I... I almost forgot about shooting Ragnak. Just for a little while. I had to, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to keep firing my gun."

Shiro felt cold. He'd almost forgotten that incident. Yes, of course, if Lance had been suffering flashbacks of shooting Ragnak this entire time... Sniping from that tree, trying to protect his teammates on the ground, the hordes of robots just coming and coming and coming, endlessly... It must have been hellish. And Shiro remembered how many of the robots had been piled up under the tree, too. For part of that firefight, Lance hadn't been sniping. He'd been standing or crouching on his branch, shooting downward as robot after robot tried to reach him, tried to climb the tree to drag him down, while they shot at him and grazed his forehead. It must have been terrible. Terrifying. And Lance had been all alone.

No wonder he had worked so hard to repress himself, to repress those "pieces" that represented his fear and weakness and pain. No wonder he'd put on a cocky mask afterward and pretended, to himself as much as anyone else, that it had been fun instead of horrific. No wonder he'd been so exhausted afterward that they barely got him back to the village before he collapsed.

Repressing fear and pain during a firefight... That was one thing. That was survival. Shiro did that himself. He let the adrenaline take over, the need to protect, his role as the leader, the head. He became that person for as long as he needed to. And maybe it wasn't healthy for Shiro, either, but that was the life they were living. They couldn't afford not to fight when the fight came to them, over and over and over. Not to fight meant death and destruction and slavery, not only for them, but for everyone in the universe.

But Lance wasn't only repressing his feelings during battle. He was doing it all the time. Or he'd tried to. No wonder he hadn't been able to keep it up.

"Shiro?" Lance's voice was trembling, too. Shiro must have gone quiet for too long.

Shiro came back to himself with a shiver. "Sorry." He wrapped his hand a little tighter around Lance's clenched fist. Lance let go of the fabric he'd been holding and turned his hand over in Shiro's, and Shiro took it. "I'm sorry, Lance. I'm so, so sorry."

"Why?" Lance was almost breathless with confusion, voice pitched high and childlike.

"You've been alone for such a very long time, fighting all by yourself. I know... I know you hate being alone. I'm sorry, Lance. You don't have to be alone anymore, okay? You don't have to hide. You don't have to push down the pieces of yourself that hurt. You don't have to pretend that you're okay when you're not. You're not alone now, and you'll never have to be alone again. I promise."

Lance was shaking harder now. Shiro was distantly impressed that he'd held himself together so well this far. At times his voice had faltered, and he had needed to pause and gather himself, but on the whole he had managed to express himself quite well. A far cry from how it had been earlier, the first time Shiro had tried to patch over these gaping wounds in Lance's psyche.

"Lance? C'mon, say something, buddy. Are you okay?"

Lance sat there, shaking. It seemed even worse now, more out of control. His grip on Shiro's hand was so tight that it would have hurt if that hadn't been his metal hand. For once, Shiro was glad for the imperfect feeling in that limb, if only because it meant that Lance could hold on to him just as hard as he needed to.

"Lance? Kiddo?"

Lance sucked in a deep breath, then abruptly pulled his head away from Shiro's shoulder and looked up at him. The yellow mouse uncurled from the little puffball he had become and leapt off to safety on the sofa behind them. Lance's face was drawn in agony and streaked with tears, and Shiro started at the sight. Still, Lance did not let go of Shiro's hand. "I don't get this!"

Shiro opened his mouth, but Lance turned away from him, looking around the fort at the rest of the group. "I don't get any of this!" he cried, and the confusion and brokenness was so strong in his voice that Shiro's free hand clenched into a fist. "Why are you doing this? Why are you all being so nice to me? I don't understand!"

"Lance..." It might have been Shiro who said it, might have been any of the others. The voice was pleading, and it was heartbroken. It could have been all of them at once.

"No!" Lance denied them all. He let go of Shiro's hand and pulled away from his side, sitting upright, alone. His hands rose in front of his face, fingers splayed in desperation. "I don't get it. I'm such a screw up! My head is...it's all messed up." He bent over himself, hands burrowing into his hair, fingers gripping tight as if he could dig into his skull. "I'm weak, I'm useless, I'm an idiot, I'm everything you don't need in a defender of the universe."

"Lance." That was Allura, now. She was sitting forward on her knees, reaching out with both hands. The silvery blue light glinted in her white hair and shone in the tears on her cheeks. "Stop this, Lance. Stop hurting yourself so badly."

Lance gasped in pain and looked up at her, eyes wide, almost panicked, though he seemed to have some control of his breathing. "Princess, you... You should know better than anyone else!"

Allura knelt back, her hands falling empty at her side. Her face was struck open, devastated. "What do you mean, Lance?"

"You're...you're connected to the lions, right? To their, to their quintessence? Can't you feel it? Can't you tell that I don't belong here?"

"Lance, that's not how it works..."

"You should know! You should know I'm not fit to be the blue paladin!" He bent over himself again, shaking all over, his hands clenching against his head so hard that his hair bunched out between his fingers in messy tufts. "I'm broken and I can't be fixed! You need to...you need to start over. Find someone else. Someone better!"

Shiro could barely breathe. He felt frozen where he sat, every single muscle locked in rigidity. He wanted to move. He wanted to grab Lance and just...hold him. Just somehow, someway, make him understand. But he didn't know how, he didn't know how, and if Lance felt broken and useless right now, Shiro felt it ten times worse.

Allura was still too, staring at Lance with her mouth fallen open in utter dismay. Then Shiro saw the steel appear. She sat up straight and tall, hands neatly in her lap. Her face closed over in determination, hard as polished glass. He understood. She was prepared to lie. Allura would lie until she was blue in the face, if that was what it took to save Lance.

"Yes," she snapped, voice diamond-sharp. "I can feel the lions. I am connected to their quintessence, and while that is not usually useful for much except finding their locations, I do have a vague sense of their intentions, their desires. And right now, they are all crying in anger and loss. All five of the lions, Lance. They all want you to help pilot Voltron, and they are all extremely distressed by your inability to understand that. After ten thousand years of waiting, they found you, they chose you, and now you want to leave? You want us to find someone else to take your place? Preposterous. It cannot be borne."

Shiro's heart beat fast. Surely this would, surely...

But Lance huffed out a breath, short and disbelieving, not quite a snort. "No, no no no, that can't be true, that can't be..."

Allura's jaw clenched, and she looked ready to jump in again, to repeat herself a dozen times if necessary. But Lance suddenly paused. His breath hitched in his chest, and his head tilted, fingers still clenched tight in his hair.

"W-wait. Really? B-but, no, no, that can't..."

"It's true," Allura said firmly, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. "It is absolutely and utterly true, Lance. You are the blue paladin. We do not need anyone else. We do not want anyone else. You are where you belong."

Lance sat still, breathing. His breath was fast and rough, but he didn't seem to be building up to another panic attack. He was just...sitting there. Listening.

"Lance." Allura moved forward on her knees, almost into touching distance. Pidge had gotten out of the way long ago, leaving the middle free. Allura sat down on her heels again, her hands folded in her lap. "Lance, listen to me. Do you remember the first day, when I was telling you about the lions and their quintessence, which kind of pilots they would all need?"

Lance was still for a moment longer, then nodded, slow and hesitant.

"It was the quintessence that told me which of you were suited for which lion. As soon as I realized that you five were meant to be the new paladins, as soon as I looked on you, Lance, with that in mind, I knew that you were the blue paladin. You interrupted me before I told you about the blue lion's quintessence, do you remember that?"

Lance nodded. His hands relaxed in his hair, just a little. Just enough that he didn't seem ready to tear it out by the roots at any second. His head was still down, though, and Shiro couldn't see his expression.

"Then let me tell you now. The lions are individuals, it is true, but they are also each a part of the whole. Of Voltron. Each of them embodies a trait that is essential to the team, to the formation of the whole. All five are needed. Required. Indispensable." She raised her head and looked at Pidge, who was sitting with Hunk, his arm around her shoulders. "A good team needs curiosity and intelligence, to always look forward and see the challenges coming." She looked to Keith, sitting pale and damp-eyed next to Coran, leaning into his side. "A good team needs strength and courage, the willingness to fight even when all odds are against them." She looked to Hunk, a soft smile gracing her features. "A good team needs kindness and compassion, to bear with each other's foibles and lift up those who are in need of assistance." She looked to Shiro, and he stared back, breathing hard. "A good team needs decisive leadership to bring together all the disparate parts, to comfort and encourage and guide and keep everyone's eyes on the goal."

Last, she looked to Lance. She leaned forward, just a little. Just enough to lightly place one hand on the top of his head, between his pressing hands. "And a good team needs trust," she said softly, "the ability to see the worth in others, to reach out and grasp and hold fast even when outside influences say that you should not."

Lance gulped in a breath, his entire body hitching with the movement. Slowly, slowly, his hands slid out of his hair and fell down into his lap, hanging loosely. The heaving of his chest slowed, but he still didn't look up.

Allura stroked her fingers through his hair, slow, gentle, soft. She smiled, too, even as another tear tracked down her cheek. "You have lost your trust in yourself, Lance, and that is a hard thing to bear. But I think...no, I know. I am sure. I know beyond doubt that you still have the ability to trust in others. To trust in us, in me. In the lions. So please, Lance. Please believe me when I say that you are necessary to this unit. You are needed, you are valuable, you are wanted, and we cannot do with anyone else. You are the blue paladin. There is no doubt in my mind, and there never has been."

Lance breathed. He breathed. Shiro did, too.

"Do you believe me?" Allura asked, and oh, her voice was soft and kind.

Lance was still. Everyone was still. Everyone was waiting. Shiro held his breath. He was pretty sure everyone did.

Then the alarm began to blare from Coran's tablet, startling them all. Shiro almost threw up all of those delicious burritos. He recognized that alarm.

Attack. They were under attack by the Galra.

Chapter Text

Her Pilot's grip on Lion was slipping. Leader Pilot had given permission not to be okay. Leader Pilot told her Pilot that he should not hide his pain. And so her Pilot let go. All of his confusion and hurt and distrust in himself rose up around him in a cold flood, and his hold on Lion began to release.

"I don't get this!" It echoed in the shared space between them, reverberating so hard that it threatened to shake loose Lion's grip on her Pilot's mind. She reaffirmed it instead, metaphorical teeth bared against the buffeting. She would not be dislodged, not after she had worked so hard to get here.

"I don't get any of this!" he cried, and Lion heard the sob that came from his soul, sorrow and despair and terrible grief. "Why are you doing this? Why are you all being so nice to me? I don't understand!"

He yelled it at Lion, too. Oh, this foolish mortal child. How did he still not understand? After all she had done to show him, to prove to him what his worth was to her? She had learned mortal language, taken a warning shot at the Princess, pushed him and cajoled him and pleaded with him to seek assistance, and burrowed her way deep, deep into the bond until they could talk to each other from decks away. Lion had gone to great lengths for her past pilots, of course, but never so far, so quickly.

The other pilots were speaking, trying to be heard. Princess, Support Commander. Every mortal in the castle surrounded her Pilot, all trying to treat his wounds with their voices and their kindness. And still it was not enough. His wounds were too deep, too wide. They were old wounds that had never healed, hidden in the dark for most of her Pilot's life then torn open again by recent events, raw and fresh and much, much worse. They were a crevasse that must be bridged, and no one there had the tools to do it.

But Lion did. Lion was already here, deep within her Pilot's mind. She hunkered down in the storm that his mind had become and dug in her claws. She would not be moved.

"I'm weak, I'm useless, I'm an idiot, I'm everything you don't need in a defender of the universe."

No! Lion roared. My Pilot is everything Lion needs!

He couldn't hear her. Why couldn't he hear her? Lion growled in frustration and pushed closer to the beating heart of him, slowly, inch by painful inch, forcing a path through the maelstrom of his broken thoughts. My Pilot is not weak. My Pilot is not useless. My Pilot is needed and wanted! My Pilot is loved by Lion!

Her Pilot was talking to the Princess, as if that could somehow help. "You should know! You should know I'm not fit to be the blue paladin!"

No! Lion screamed. My Pilot is the blue paladin. There is no other! There can be no other!

"I'm broken and I can't be fixed! You need to...you need to start over. Find someone else. Someone better!"

There is no one better!

It hurt like nothing Lion had ever felt before. How could this child be so blind to his own brilliance? Her Pilot shone like a star in Lion's perceptions, and had from the first moment she found and claimed him, from the very second he arrived in the caverns above where she lay hidden, slumbering deep. The instant his quintessence sparked against her dormant consciousness, she had roused to life and brought him and all of his companions down to her in a rush of excitement and joy.

Finally she reached him and curled around him, the spark of life that was her Pilot. The storm raged, but she pressed against his brokenness with the immensity of her love, pouring over him all that she had to give, all that she wanted to show to this very small, very precious child of Earth. My Pilot. My Pilot is my Pilot. Lion wants no other.

The Princess spoke, too, and her Pilot struggled to listen, though disbelief still roared through him like a slavering animal. Lion listened through his ears and almost snorted in amusement at her words. The Princess was bonded to the lions, yes, but not like that. Still, she was trying. She was trying very hard. Lion could appreciate that in her own way.

Her Pilot shivered in fear and uneasiness. Oh dear. Lion's consciousness had touched her Pilot's, so he knew the Princess was not being fully truthful about her connection with the lions.

"No, no no no, that can't be true, that can't be..."

My Pilot. Lion pressed against him all the more warmly. Princess does not feel the lions and know what the lions desire. But Lion does. Princess tells a truth, though not from Princess's own knowledge. All the lions want my Pilot to be the blue paladin. All lions are distressed by my Pilot's pain.

"W-wait. Really? B-but, no, no, that can't..."

Lion would not lie, Lion said with a touch of heat. Lion will never lie to my Pilot.

And there her Pilot was caught fast, trembling, seized between his distrust in himself and his overwhelming, completely unbreakable trust in his Lion. The two could not exist simultaneously, and so he was trapped in wailing dissonance, unable to reconcile himself to himself. It was incredibly painful, and wrapped so closely up against him, Lion felt the pain, too. She grunted and curled tight around him, trying to protect him from it.

The Princess was talking, saying the same things Lion had just said, had been screaming in her Pilot's ear all along. Her Pilot fought to listen, breathing hard and fast against the pain that tore at him, that wrapped around his lungs like rigid fingers and tried to steal his air. He always did his best to listen to the Princess, no matter what else was happening. If he was unable to hear anyone else, perhaps he would be able to hear her.

The Princess was describing the lions' quintessence, now, and Lion hummed in pleasure and agreement. Yes, this is all good. This is all true. Listen, my Pilot. Lion would repeat the Princess's descriptions to the other lions later. She knew they would enjoy them.

When the Princess said "trust," her Pilot went still, almost rigid, even as he trembled. Lion purred and pressed against his spirit as hard as she could. His mind lit up with bright blue fire. In that instant, he almost, almost understood what they were trying to tell him.

"You have lost your trust in yourself, Lance, and that is a hard thing to bear. But I think...no, I know. I am sure. I know beyond doubt that you still have the ability to trust in others. To trust in us, in me. In the lions. So please, Lance. Please believe me when I say that you are necessary to this unit. You are needed, you are valuable, you are wanted, and we cannot do with anyone else. You are the blue paladin. There is no doubt in my mind, and there never has been."

Nor in Lion's mind, Lion said. Oh, if only her Pilot could see himself the way Lion saw him.

"Do you believe me?" the Princess asked.

Her Pilot wanted to. Lion could feel that. But the doubt was strong, and the dissonance screamed against the edges of his self-perception. His inner being twisted up against itself in confusion and near-terror. But I'm just Lance. I'm just Lance. I'm just...

My Pilot is my Lance, Lion burst out, exasperated.

And that was it. She'd had enough. Her Pilot was broken, her Lance was broken, but he trusted her absolutely and without question, and so she was able to bypass every barrier. She leapt forward and possessed him as he had so many times possessed her.

She did not do it because she wanted to control her Lance. This was an act saved for times of emergency, when pilots were incapacitated and lions were forced to take over their bodies in order to prevent imminent harm. Even then, it could not be done unless the bond between pilot and lion was as deep and strong as it could possibly be. Lion had had many pilots over the period of her existence. She had only been able to do this with a handful of those.

It was an act meant for a moment of deep crisis, and this Lion judged it to be. Her Lance was not allowed to believe for one more second that he was not worthy to be the blue paladin. That she did not want him. That she did not love him with every particle of her ancient being. Such horrible untruths could not be allowed to exist for even one nanosecond longer. So she took him over.

Lion and Lance were one. Their heartbeat trembled in their chest, fists clenched at their side. Their eyes were closed, but the soft blue light of the interior of the blanket fort glowed just beyond their eyelids. They heard the breathing of their fellow paladins, felt the gentle touch of the Princess's hand in their hair. Their body ached with weakness and exhaustion, their head was dazed and drooping, their throat tight and eyes stung with unshed tears. Their chest hurt. It hurt to breathe. Still, they did, slow and measured.

Lion beat against the monolith of Lance's uncertainty with the raging flood of her love. She might not be able to heal a wounded spirit, she might not even be able to convince her Lance to stop distrusting himself. But she could do this one thing. She could remove all doubt in who he was to her. If he could not understand from the outside, even within the tight, close confines of their bond, then she would convince him from the inside.

My Lance is my Lance is my Pilot is the blue paladin is my Lance is my Pilot. My Lance, my Lance, my Lance. Mine. Mine. MINE.

Alarms were blaring. The other lions stirred in their hangars, aware that battle was upon them. Leader Pilot/Shiro took their shoulders in his hands. "Lance. Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

They sat there, too occupied with the inward to respond to the outward. My Lance is my Pilot is the blue paladin is my Lance.

"He's in shock," someone murmured, sounding pained. "Again."

Leader Pilot/Shiro sighed, his hands tightening on their shoulders. "I hope it doesn't last too long. But maybe it's for the best. Coran, you'll stay with him?"

Support Commander/Coran leaped to respond. "Of course!" His hand landed lightly on their arm, keeping a gentle contact.

Leader Pilot/Shiro squeezed their shoulders again. "We'll be back, Lance. Just this one time, let us protect you, okay? There's no shame in it. You're wounded."

They drew in a gasping breath, but could not respond. Leader Pilot/Shiro rubbed his hands up and down their upper arms, then withdrew. Princess/Allura stroked her fingers through their hair one more time. Yellow Pilot/Hunk knelt down by them and gave them a quick hug. Green Pilot/Pidge punched them in the arm and told them to be good. Even Red Pilot/Keith gave them an awkward pat on the shoulder before racing away to battle. Support Commander/Coran wrapped a blanket around them, then sat nearby, watching his tablet device.

My Lance, my Lance, my Lance. Wanted. Needed. Loved. Loved by Lion. Loved by Leader Pilot. Loved by Princess. My Lance, my Pilot. Blue paladin. Paladin of Voltron. Wanted, needed, loved. Mine.

They shivered and tugged the blanket tighter around their shoulders, head lowered. They opened their eyes and stared at their empty hands, curled in their lap. They took deep breaths and listened to the sounds of the ship, the distant roar of space outside.

Lion showed Lance what he looked like through her eyes. She showed him past pilots, how it took years and years of training and bonding and slowly growing to trust each other to accomplish what Lance had been able to do in mere months. And that was with pilots who each matched her in quintessence, who were just as open and friendly and outgoing as she was. They had all been excellent pilots, every last one of them. But Lance, her Lance...

My Lance shines brighter than stars, Lion told him. Lion was alone, alone, alone, and then my Lance came, and all loneliness was banished and forgotten. My Lance, my small precious child of Earth. My paladin, my Pilot. Lion has found my Lance, and Lion will keep my Lance though all the universe tries to take my Lance away. Not even my Lance will be permitted to take my Lance away from Lion. My Lance stays here. No other path is acceptable.

She showed him what it meant to be a lion of Voltron. Ages and ages, long forgotten eons ago, Voltron was one creature, one intelligence. Voltron was arrogant and challenged a power too high to be conquered, and for that arrogance, that hubris, Voltron was split into five parts doomed ever to be unable to join together of their own will. Now, brought low in humility, each lion required a partner, a mortal pilot to guide them. Without a pilot, they were mere carapaces of metal and wire, magic and electricity.

Lion was alone beneath the surface of Earth for a long, long time, Lion explained. Lion slept and dreamed of ages past while Galra conquered the universe. Then my Lance came at last, long awaited, ages longed for. My Lance came, and Lion woke again to life and light.

She had been overjoyed at his arrival, and she leaped and played under the desert sun just for the fun of being free again. She was grateful to Lance for allowing her to do that, and for taking her home to the Castle of Lions. For letting her fight the Galra again. For helping her find her fellow lions and awaken her leader. All of that would have been wonder enough, but many creatures in the universe could have been such a pilot for Lion.

But then my Lance became...more.

The process had seemed slow to Lance, because he was very young, and his species lived short, short lives, at least as Lion saw them. But it had seemed lightning fast to Lion. The blink of an eye. She had a pilot, that was good and wonderful and everything she wanted. And then she had a Lance, and her heart expanded to encompass the universe and all.

My Lance is wounded. My Lance will heal. But until then, Lion will stay. All is well, and all will be well. Lion is with my Lance.

Support Commander/Coran was talking in a low, soothing voice. They lifted their head to listen, tilting their head to the side. The coldness had passed, and they felt warm again. Breathing no longer hurt their chest.

"...Not sure if you're listening, Lance, but thought you'd want to know. Everything's going to be all right in the battle. We've been standing by in this sector in case of an attack on an allied planet, and we were right to do so. The Galra decided to go after Danber, you remember the planet with the big waterfalls? And the nunvill so sharp it makes your eyes water? Ah, good times. Well, we've warped there, and the other lions have taken off from the castle. Looks like a small Galra fleet, won't be any trouble at all. You can just stay here and rest... Lance?"

They lifted their head and opened their eyes and looked at Support Commander. He sat still, staring, eyes slowly growing wider and wider. "...Lance?" He sounded even less certain that that was who he was talking to.

They lifted their hands in front of them, turned them over, looked at the palms and the backs. The lovely, warm brown skin, smooth and young. Tiny scars from playing rough games with those hands, calluses from handling long-range weapons made of metal from a young age. The hands were not shaking.

"I am the blue paladin," they said with Lance's voice.

Coran nodded, hesitantly at first, then more firmly. He was holding his tablet in front of himself almost like a shield. "You are, yes. There can be no doubt."

Lance's problems were not fixed. He still had massive, gaping wounds in his spirit that needed to be soothed and healed. He still distrusted himself, even down to his own perceptions. But he knew this one thing, absolutely and with certainty. And that was exactly what Lion had wanted.

Lance looked at Support Commander. "We're in danger. My friends are in battle. I must fight."

Coran waved a hand, patting the air. "Now, now, there's no need to be hasty. It's a small fleet coming in on a fixed location, so the tactics should be fairly simple. Four lions can handle it as well as five. You've had a very hard day, and you deserve a rest."

They frowned and tilted their head. "What if there's a need to form Voltron?"

"Well, let's think about that, shall we? We don't always form Voltron in every fight. There are times when it's a disadvantage, presenting one big target to the enemy."

They continued to frown. "I must fight."

Coran wrinkled his nose. "I think you would be better off staying here for now, young one."

They blinked.

Coran sighed and lowered his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. "...You aren't actually that young, are you?"

They tilted their head. Support Commander knew. Of course. He could probably see the glow in their eyes, even obscurred by the Altean blossom lights. He was a very perceptive and wise Support Commander.

"I will go and pilot the blue lion now."

Coran sat straight and faced them. "Very well. I'll go up to the control deck and tell Allura." He set his tablet aside, then leaned forward and took their shoulders in his hands. His face was deadly serious. "But listen to me, both of you. Don't keep this up for too long. It can be dangerous. I know this is a crisis situation, but... When it's over, please come back to the fort here and let go of each other. Just a little. We'll rest up, have some good conversations. We'll take care of each other." He stared deep into their eyes and said the last extremely slowly and deliberately. "We will all take care of Lance. Understood?"

They nodded, slow and solemn.

Coran closed his eyes for a moment, his face pained. He looked, for a moment, as old as he truly was. Then he opened his eyes and squeezed their shoulders. "All right, then. Let's go."

They left the blanket fort. They didn't bother to put on their shoes.

They had a battle to win.

Chapter Text

Keith just wanted this to be over.

He usually revelled in the opportunity to fight, to fly in his lion and take on the enemy. Ground fighting was good, too, but flying, ah, flying was where he truly felt that he was in his element, doing what he was meant to do with his life. He'd always, always struggled to find a place where he fit in, a place where he belonged, a place where he was wanted. And he'd found it, he thought, in space, as the pilot of the red lion. As a paladin of Voltron.

But he didn't have time for this. The sight of the Galra fleet in front of them, silhouetted against the brown and white of the planet, did not fill him with excitement and eagerness to take them on as it usually would. All Keith felt in this moment was impatience. He was annoyed with the Galra for taking them all away from the conflict they really should be fighting at the moment. Lance was more important than any of this.

Okay, that wasn't fair. Danber was an allied planet, and Voltron had vowed to defend them. This was their job; this was why they were here. It was important, and Lance would agree with that. More than any of them, probably. But that was part of the problem, of course, the fact that Lance thought that he wasn't important.

Keith clenched his teeth and pushed his controls forward, and Red leaped out toward the fleet. "Keith!" Shiro, on the comms. "Stay in formation! We'll meet them together."

"Okay, Shiro. Sorry." Keith pulled back a bit, and the others sped up to match his pace again. Still, Keith sat forward in his pilot chair, hands tight around the controls. He wanted to finish this battle quickly and get back to the Castle of Lions.

It wasn't like he didn't trust Coran to look after Lance. But Keith couldn't forget the last image he'd seen of Lance, sitting there in the middle of the blanket fort with his head lowered and his hands loose in his lap, his eyes closed and face blank. He had looked small and vulnerable and hurt, and it was stirring feelings in Keith that he'd never imagined could exist in himself.

Keith wasn't a complete stranger to feelings of protectiveness. Since losing Shiro for a year, then finding him again as a captive, strapped to a table, Keith had discovered a raging fire in his soul that he hadn't previously known was there. Shiro was strong, even after all he'd suffered, and Keith relied on him as much as he always had. But in the moments when Shiro faltered, when he blinked, when fear swept over his features, Keith leapt forward without a thought. Any hint of pain or weakness in his big brother ignited an instant need in Keith to fix it.

But he'd never felt the same for anyone else. Even after the five of them became paladins and started to bond as a team, Keith had always felt a slight distance from the other three. Hunk had tried to bridge that, indeed seemed not to feel it himself at all. And now, with Pidge's explanation, he could see that at least some of Lance's constant antagonism to him had been a weird, annoying attempt to connect with him. Maybe it was a product of his less than perfect childhood and adolescence, or maybe it was just something inherent in Keith, some flaw in his makeup, but getting close to anyone was so hard that he almost never bothered trying. Not anymore.

But now... He wanted to. For the first time in a long time, Keith wanted to try. He wanted to understand why Lance and Hunk were always so comfortable and happy in each other's presence despite their differences, why Lance could pick on and pester Pidge for hours and she still smiled and leaned into his side when he put his arm around her shoulders at the end of the day. There was something wonderful there, something that struck Keith as rare and precious and beautiful. He wanted to protect it. He wanted to understand it. And...maybe...he wanted to be part of it, too.

"All right, gang," came Shiro's voice again. "Our mission here is to protect. We'll blast through the fleet and cut through to the other side so we're between them and the planet, then take out as many as we can without letting any Galra vessels make it to the surface. Be strong and watch each other's backs."

"You got it, Shiro," said Hunk, voice strong and steady. Pidge and Keith made similar noises of agreement. Keith clenched his teeth and punched his controls forward, and he flew.

It was a smallish Galra fleet, compared with some of the battles they'd faced in the past, but it still had several capital ships and at least six dozen drone fighters. Keith drove himself directly into a swarm of fighters, blasting away. His shooting was precise, and he spun and dove the red lion in quick, tight maneuvers that forced the fighters to constantly track his movements, unable to get a fix on him for easy targeting.

He destroyed about five or six fighters on his first rush through the fleet, taking only minor buffeting from close misses. Now between the fleet and the planet, as ordered, he spun Red in a roll that flipped the lion end over end, so they ended up facing the fleet again. Throughout the flight, a corner of his mind had kept track of Hunk and Pidge on his left and right, so he knew that Pidge had made it through the line of scrimmage almost as quickly as Keith. Hunk was not far behind, and Shiro was further afield, raking over a capital ship on his first pass through the fleet.

But now, Keith's eyes flew wide as another lion appeared, both in his field of view and on the scanners, diving toward them from the castle. "Lance! What are you doing out here?"

There were immediate exclamations from the others, as well. Hunk was sufficiently distracted that he ran straight into a drone, which fortunately did no damage through his heavy armor. "Coran!" Shiro bellowed. "I thought we discussed this!"

Coran's voice came over the comms, completely calm. "It's all right. He can handle it. Just win the battle quickly and come back to the castle."

Keith was so angry and upset that he was shaking. "No, you can't be serious! This is... We all saw..."

"I'm fine." Lance's voice. He sounded just as calm as Coran. "I'm the blue paladin. You all tried to tell me so. Why should you be upset that I believe it?"

Keith closed his eyes for a moment, mouth drawn tight in a grimace. His heart jumped in his chest, too fast, too loud. Yes, Lance was the blue paladin, but he was wounded, they all knew it, they'd all seen it, and they couldn't, couldn't risk...

Even as these thoughts flew through his head, he was already diving back into the fray, shooting in all directions at the fighters that separated him from Lance. If Lance was going to be out here in danger instead of back home where he was safe, the least Keith could do was fly at his side. Be his wingman.

And Lance was flying as if to meet him through the fleet, shooting and manuevering. Between his own hairpin turns and rolls, Keith kept an eye on him. Lance seemed to be flying at least well as usual, if not better, but Keith wasn't sure he could believe what he was seeing. Lance had been so agitated, so shaky. How was he even keeping his hands steady on the controls? Was Blue helping somehow?

"All right," Shiro said, his voice harsh and unhappy. "If Coran says it's okay, I'm sure it is. Still, let's finish this quickly. Remember, everyone, we're here to defend Danber. Don't let anything through to the surface."

Fine. Fine, Keith could accept that. He didn't agree with it, but he could accept it. He reached Lance and fell in with him, covering his flank. "Lance! Let's take on the fighters together."

This was how it usually worked, anyway, when they fought separately instead of forming Voltron. Lance and Keith, in their quicker, lighter lions, usually took on the smaller fighter-class drones while Hunk and Shiro faced off with the capital ships. Pidge would dart in and out of combat as needed, offering support and quick strikes out of nowhere, and Allura and Coran backed them all up with the Castle of Lions.

"Sounds good," Lance said curtly, and they flew.

It worked. They worked. Normally when they tried to fly in formation it became something like a game of tag. Lance constantly struggled to catch up with Keith in his faster, more maneuverable lion, sometimes forced to make clumsy or ill-considered moves to stay at Keith's side. Keith did try to rein himself in on such occasions, aware that his teamwork wasn't the best, but too often he got caught up in the moment and let his reflexes take over until he unintentionally left Lance behind.

Today, though, it was almost the opposite. Keith let Lance lead while he covered him, a shaky feeling of need in his chest the entire time. He needed to make sure Lance was safe, needed to make sure he was okay at all times. Lance flew like a fish in water, graceful and efficient and controlled. Keith kept up with no problem at all, occasionally flying a tight circle around the blue lion to keep off any fighters that came after them.

Nothing got through to Lance. Keith made sure of it. Nothing got through to the planet, either, but that was definitely second priority. Still, Shiro should be pleased.

Eventually, they finished off the last fighter, then hovered in space as they took in the big picture. The other lions had disabled or destroyed a couple of capital ships, but one remained. The biggest one. Shiro was currently flying along the length of the ship, blasting a long line of laser fire into it, while Hunk rammed the yellow lion at weapon installations and knocked them off alignment so they couldn't fire. Pidge hovered in space, looking for an opening, an opportunity to strike. But the ship was too big for them to take down by themselves, and it was still moving, slowly, deliberately, but without stopping.

"It's positioning itself for a planetary bombardment!" Allura informed them over the comms, voice tight with stress. "It will be in position over the largest Danberian city in sixty ticks! We're moving to engage!"

Even with all the damage Hunk was doing to the weapons, it wouldn't be enough to prevent a devastating attack on Danber. The ship still had missile launchers; Keith could see the small openings all over the bottom decks. If the Galra wanted to punish Voltron and scare away other potential allies, wiping a Danberian city off the face of the planet would be a good start.

Keith's heart jammed into his throat. "Lance!" Lance was already flying, and Keith leaped to match him. They joined Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge in space between the Galra ship and the planet.

"Synchronized fire!" Shiro ordered, and they all let loose with every weapon they had. Keith saw entire decks disappear, metal melting off and hardening in the cold of space, atmosphere venting and fires burning inside the ship. And still it moved on, relentless, inevitable.

"We're almost in position!" Allura reported. "We'll aim for the thrusters, leave it dead in space."

"No good, Princess," Shiro replied. He sounded like he was gritting his teeth. "Hunk and Pidge already tried. The thrusters are heavily shielded and defended with lasers. They're prioritizing mobility."

Right. Of course. Because they wanted to destroy the Danberians for daring to ally with Voltron. Keith's hands tightened around his controls, his nostrils flaring.

Shiro blew out a breath. "Our individual weapons aren't enough. There's only one choice. We have to form Voltron."

No one protested, though dread lurched in Keith's heart. What if they couldn't, what if the injury between he and Lance was still too great, what if Lance's confidence was too broken to allow it? It didn't matter. They were already leaping into it.

Keith waited for the dissonance, the disjointedness that would alert them to a failed attempt, but it didn't come. He felt the minds of the other four paladins, their solid and steady intent to fight, to defend, to protect. The lions, too, were strong behind them. In fact, he felt the lions more strongly than usual for some reason. They seemed especially eager today, though Keith had no guess as to why.

Voltron came together, arms and legs connecting, head rising to face the battle. The transformation always felt like it took a long time to the paladins, though Coran and Allura had told them that it was almost instantaneous from the outside. Time seemed to slow down in that intense moment of connection. And there they stood, Voltron, bonded together and ready to fight.

They were only ever aware of each other's surface thoughts while Voltron was formed, and it wasn't like traditional telepathy at all. Coordination of movement required a joining of will and intent, of quintessence, and words would just slow that down. Still, Keith couldn't help tentatively reaching out toward Lance. It was a press of feeling, emotion. Concern, in this case. Are you all right?

Lance responded with strength and courage and steady, unwavering determination. I'm fine. He felt steadier than ever, actually. Keith pulled back, blinking a little in reaction. He really was okay? Even after all that had happened today? Or was he just holding it together until the fight was over, and then he would collapse again?

"Form sword!" Shiro cried, and Keith brought out his bayard without conscious thought. Later. Worry about that later. They had to get through this fight. They had to defend Danber, and then they could all get back to helping Lance. Concentrate on the mission.

Keith was the strong right arm of Voltron, and he was holding a sword. He looked up at the gigantic Galra ship looming before them, and adrenaline sang in his veins. The Danberians would not suffer, not today. Not while he and his teammates stood between them and the coming threat.

Voltron flew toward the ship, sword held steady in both hands, Keith and Pidge coordinating in perfect sync. Keith felt Shiro's intent, and they thrust with the sword, straight through the center of the ship, then swept it along in an enormous arc. They tore through the decks with terrible ease, leaving a trail of explosions in their wake. All the weapons the ship had left turned on them, firing erratically. Hunk and Lance kicked off from the ship, flying back as Voltron sought where to strike next. Then they flew in again. They cut with the sword, a huge sweeping strike that crossed the first slice. And again.

The Galra began to get desperate. Missiles began to fire, missiles that had until now been reserved for the planetary bombardment. Voltron flew away, spinning in the air to avoid as many as possible. Then back in again for another blow on the ship, this time taking out the command deck. The Galra ship listed in space, venting atmosphere in a hundred places. There was a bright white spark deep within, and they knew. It was the death throes.

They flew away just in time. The ship exploded behind them, bursting forth in innumerable fragments. Some spun off into the depths of space, some struck the Castle of Lions' particle barrier and rebounded, and some fell into the Danberian atmosphere and ignited as meteorites that would burn up on entry and never touch ground.

A large chunk of the ship remained floating in space as a hulk, burned out and drifting. Once the fires had died, Voltron returned to it, flying with tremendous speed. They reared back and kicked the hulk, the blue right leg catching it directly in the center. The hulk arced away from the planet into deep space, where it couldn't break up and rain down on Danber.

And that was it. That was the end of the fight. The Galra had been defeated once again, and Voltron hovered in space, still holding the red sword. No one yelled in victory, no one congratulated themselves and each other for the awesome fight. Lance didn't crow and celebrate his kick. They were all quiet, just accepting it as a job done.

"Good job, everyone," Allura's voice, immensely relieved, just this side of shaky. "Come back to the castle, now."

Voltron disbanded, and the lions returned. Keith remained at Lance's side, escorting him in. He was flying a little too close, but he couldn't make himself back off. The others flew behind them, watching Lance return. It was a little paranoid, but they couldn't help it. Keith had felt the others' concern, too, while they were joined as Voltron. They were all upset that Lance had been forced to fight while he was in such a bad way, and they all just wanted to make sure that he got back to the castle okay. No matter how strong and steady Lance had seemed on the surface, none of them could shake the belief that it wasn't going to stay that way.

But Blue made it back to her hangar without incident. Keith watched her disappear inside the castle, then flew toward his own hangar with all haste. As soon as they landed, he raced out of the cockpit while Red was still settling into her usual idle position, taking off his armor as he went. He needed to get back to the blanket fort. Something told him that Lance would be there. It was their home now, in a weird way, and Lance had always just wanted to go home.

He met the other paladins in the hall of the common rooms, Hunk and Pidge, then Shiro too. They didn't talk, just jogged together to the lounge, their faces all similar in worry. The blanket fort looked the same as when they'd left it, and they all took off their shoes and left them on the steps, then slipped through the opening in the blankets.

Yes, Lance was there, and so was Coran, almost as if nothing had changed since they left. But Lance was curled up on his side in the pile of bedding at the back of the fort, fast asleep with his head resting on Coran's thigh. Coran sat quietly next to him, one hand resting on Lance's shoulder. He lifted a finger to his lips when they entered to warn them to be quiet. The other paladins softened their steps and moved into the fort and found places to sit, all where they could keep an eye on Lance.

"Is he...?" Shiro started, acting as the voice for all of them.

Coran nodded and smiled softly. "He's fine. Just tired. Blue... That is, he came directly back here as soon as he landed. He only beat you by a few seconds. But as you can see, he's already asleep. The fight wore him out."

Shiro sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "He was already so tired before. This is... The Galra have such terrible timing."

Coran chuckled sympathetically. "Well, it's over now. Allura is finding a good place to hide the castle for a few days. Hopefully there won't be any more attacks on allied planets, and we can just rest and recover."

Keith slumped down against the pillows behind him, staring at Lance almost without blinking. His heart was beating too fast. He kind of wanted to go a few rounds with the gladiator to work off some of his excess energy from the battle, but he also really didn't want to leave the blanket fort. "What... What do we do now?"

"Wait for him to wake up," Hunk said. "We still have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah, obviously," Keith said. "But I mean..." His hands itched to reach out. He wanted to shake Lance awake and look into his eyes and ask if he was okay, just to know for sure. He frowned.

Hunk's face opened in sympathy. "I get it. Yeah, we need to cool down from the fight, too. A distraction, that would be good. Something to pass the time." He looked at Pidge. "Hey, that thing you and Lance were working on... Is it ready?"

Pidge's eyes lit up. "Yeah! Or almost. I'll go get it."

She jumped to her feet and hurried out of the blanket fort. Keith watched her go with an incurious eye, then turned back to stare at Lance. Lance's face seemed peaceful, but even in sleep, his forehead was wrinkled. Keith wanted to rub his thumb on his forehead until the wrinkles smoothed out, which was a stupid, ridiculous impulse, but he couldn't make it go away. He tucked his hands under his armpits to keep them from moving, and his leg bounced against the blankets.

He really needed to calm down, but he didn't know how.

Then an arm circled around his shoulders. Keith jumped slightly, then turned his head to see Hunk settling down next to him. It was Hunk's arm around Keith's upper back, pulling him close. "Hey, it's okay," he said gently. "You did good. You kept him safe."

Keith blew out a breath and slowly, slowly relaxed. "He kept himself safe. He flew... He flew really well. Best I've ever seen him. Don't know what the difference was."

Hunk nodded slowly. "He must have just...made himself forget everything else. I've seen Lance do that a couple of times, when he had a big test coming up or something. He would just toss everything aside and buckle down and work like a maniac for as long as it took to prepare." He chuckled softly. "He couldn't do it for long, and afterward he'd be like this, totally wrung out. But hey, what was it? Twenty minutes? It's okay. He'll be fine."

Keith nodded and let himself lean into Hunk's side. His hands slid down from his armpits as he let go, and some of the tension in his chest slowly released. Hunk knew Lance the best, so if he wasn't worried, it was probably okay.

Pidge returned with...a deck of cards? She held them up with a triumphant grin. "Yeah! Lance made the last few, must have done it last night before he went to bed. I found it in my workshop."

Keith blinked as she pushed her way into the fort and sat on the blankets, midway between he and Hunk and Shiro on the other side. "You and Lance made a poker deck?"

Pidge nodded. "I came across some Altean materials that were thin and flexible enough to use like cardstock, and Lance drew all the symbols for me." She held up a few cards, demonstrating. The spades and clubs were a little wonky, obviously hand-drawn, but the diamonds and hearts looked pretty good. And yeah, Keith recognized Lance's handwriting on the numbers.

Pidge handed the deck to Shiro. "I think you get first deal, fearless leader."

He gave her a sideways grin at Lance's habitual nickname for him, then started shuffling the cards expertly. Coran watched with interest, craning his head to study the process.

"What'll we play first?" Hunk asked. "Something classic, right? A kid game we all know. Since we're in a blanket fort and all."

Pidge nodded, then looked to Keith. "What do you want to play?"

He blinked. "Uh. I don't know. I don't really know many card games. I mean, Poker, but... I don't actually like that game."

Pidge wrinkled her forehead. "Do you know Crazy Eights?"

He shook his head.

"Go Fish? No Way? Spoons? Egyptian Ratscrew? Scum?"

He shook his head at each one. Pidge looked more and more confused, her mouth drawing down into a frown.

"Are you telling me you don't even know War? Come on, man, that is the simplest kid card game ever."

Keith shook his head. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Pidge was about to cry. She exchanged a look with Hunk, then with Shiro. Then she faced Keith again, her face determined.

"Okay, then. We're just gonna have to teach you all of them."

Keith raised his eyebrows. And they were off.

Chapter Text

Coran didn't want to leave the blanket fort. The paladins were teaching each other about human culture, and it was fascinating. Hunk and Pidge kept talking about more and more games, all played with the same 54-card deck. Human ingenuity was much deeper than Coran had given them credit for. Even Shiro looked a bit lost after a while, and poor Keith, well...

Keith had missed out on a lot of things in his young life, it was becoming quite apparent. Fortunately, the other paladins seemed determined to make up for it now. That was another reason to stay. It was heartwarming to watch them interact. Not to mention the fact that Coran's leg was currently weighed down by Lance's head, and he had no wish to dislodge him. The boy deserved to sleep undisturbed.

But Coran needed to go. He had things he needed to do. Just for a little while. He would return. Nothing could keep him away.

Eventually Allura joined them. She had found a hidden spot deep in uninhabited space where they should be able to hide for a while, still within easy reach of distress signals from allied systems. "The Danberians were very grateful and wanted to have the paladins of Voltron down to the planet for a feast, but I declined as graciously as possible," she said as she settled next to Coran at the back of the fort.

Most of the young paladins looked relieved, except for Hunk. "Aw, no feast?"

Allura smiled at him. "They wouldn't let us leave until I consented to accept some gifts, though. They sent up a pod ship with supplies. I believe you'll have fresh food to last awhile for your experiments."

Hunk brightened considerably. Danber was one of their few allies that was relatively advanced, including some manufacturing and a robust agricultural segment. While the food supplies wouldn't be quite a match for Earth comestibles, they would be closer than anything they'd had for a long time.

Hunk glanced back to the current game the Paladins were playing, a bluffing game that Keith was very bad at while Pidge was current champion. "Princess, you wanna join us next round? Coran keeps saying no, he doesn't want to disturb Lance, but there's plenty of room for a fifth player."

Allura smiled and started to nod, but Coran touched her sleeve. "Actually, Allura, could you take over for me? I need to check on the lions."

She looked at him, then down at Lance sleeping in his lap. A soft smile graced her features. "Of course."

It took some maneuvering, but they traded places smoothly enough. Coran lifted Lance's head carefully in both hands and held him steady while Allura slid in behind, then Coran scooted away as she moved in, taking over support of Lance's head as soon as she was in position. When they were done, Lance was still sleeping, head pillowed on Allura's leg instead of Coran's. His breath had never even hitched through the entire process.

Hunk looked over and gave a low whistle. "Hoo boy, Lance is going to be mad he slept through this."

Allura frowned, her face reddening. "As soon as he begins to stir, I'll be somewhere else. You are all forbidden from telling him that I allowed this. He'll be insufferable for months."

Pidge and Shiro laughed and promised not to tell, while Keith looked confused and a bit disgruntled. Hunk just grinned, and so did Coran, a bit softer. "You'll be all right?" he asked Allura lowly.

She nodded and gave him a smile, blush fading. Her fingers wandered into Lance's hair again, gently stroking through it. They could have just put Lance's head on a pillow, after all. There were plenty around.

But they had all made a silent agreement, it seemed. Never leave Lance alone, even while he was sleeping. Someone needed to be within touching distance of him at all times. Or, even better, actually touching him. He needed to know he was cared for.

Coran smiled back, then took his leave. Outside the fort, he put on his boots and tapped his toes against the deck to fit them on, then strode determinedly out of the room. He went straight for the hangar deck.

This shouldn't be too suspicious. Coran usually checked on the lions after battle, though not always right away. The lions were able to do a great deal of self-repair and maintenance, which was very helpful with support staff so low. Almost non-existent, in fact, since Coran was the only one left. But it was still important to do at least a visual inspection for any significant damage that might need intervention.

Coran did intend to inspect each lion, at least briefly. But that was not the purpose of this particular visit. If it had been, he could have waited till tomorrow, when things were hopefully a bit more settled for Lance and the other paladins.

But this couldn't wait. He needed to have a talk with the blue lion. While Lance was sleeping.

In the blue lion's hangar, Coran paused just inside the door and took a moment to look at the great mechanical beast. Once again, the lion was not in the typical idle position, sitting up on her haunches with her head raised. Instead she lay on her belly on the floor, head nestled in paws, like a much smaller cat having a good rest. Coran moved over to the panel that Allura had used earlier and tapped a hidden button on the bottom edge.

The panel switched to the translation program, long hidden deep in the databanks of the castle. Allura didn't know it, but this was why the Castle of Lions had that ancient Altean alphabet in its system. It was the alphabet that had been in use when this program was created, back when the lions, when Voltron, first came into the care of the masters of Altea.

Only select members of the support staff were ever to know about the program. Coran was the only one left. Allura had studied the ancient alphabet as part of her schooling, as a curiosity, but Coran was fluent in it. It was not something he had been able to reveal earlier. Not even the royalty of Altea were privy to this secret. The risk of corruption was too great.

Coran looked back to the blue lion. "Great lion of Voltron," he called respectfully, "is there a name that you would prefer to be addressed by during this generation?"

In the past, the lions had used all sorts of names, according to the species and predilections of their paladins. When a new paladin was chosen, it could take years before the lion agreed to accept a new name, to let go of their last paladin and all that that meant. Lions went through mourning, too. Coran had a hunch, though, that this time the lion he faced had already accepted a new moniker.

Blue. The word flashed up on the translator screen, and Coran smiled. Though the alphabet was Altean, the syllables transliterated the language of Earth. Of Lance.

He turned back to the blue lion and gave her a deep bow. "Thank you, Blue. I am honored to address you in the language of your pilot."

My Lance, said the screen.

Coran stared at the syllables for a long time. Lance. She was calling her paladin by his given name, instead of "pilot" or "my pilot." Coran had never heard of that happening before.

He had suspected part of this earlier today, seeing the program glitch so badly when Blue was warning them away. The program was designed to translate the image-based language of the Voltron lions into words that a few select support staff could read, and the grammar glitches like those Coran had seen today only occurred when certain conditions were met. When the lion trying to communicate had ceased using their own, image-based language, to be specific. Because they had learned the language of their paladin and were trying to use that to interface with the castle instead.

So he knew that Blue had learned to speak to Lance in words. Allura had been wrong when she said it wasn't possible, of course. It had happened semi-frequently in the past, though only a few times in Coran's tenure as support staff. When a bond between lion and paladin was particularly strong and the respect between them was particularly great, the lion would put in the time and effort it took to learn their paladin's language. It was such a bothersome process for the ancient lions, though, and the image-based language worked so well most of the time, that this was rare. And when it did happen, it was after the lion and paladin had been working together for years and years. Decades, usually. The quickest it had happened in Coran's lifetime was twenty. He had read a case in history where a lion had learned her paladin's language in a mere three years, but that was between one of the most legendary pairs in the entire long tale of Voltron's existence.

This had happened in months. Only months. And now Blue was calling Lance by his name. Which no lion in history had ever done.

Coran turned back to Blue, his heart in his throat. "Lance is very special to you."

My Lance shines like stars.

"You have gone to extraordinary lengths for him today."

My Lance is worthy of every effort.

Coran nodded solemnly. "The two of you were able to achieve full tandem." Even if Lance's speech hadn't been so stilted and unlike him, the soft golden glow in his eyes would have given it away. Yet another thing that wasn't possible for most lion-paladin pairs, and when it was, only after years of bonding.

Full tandem was necessary. My Lance was suffering.

Coran drew a breath. He did not disagree. Lance's anguish had been obvious to everyone, and not even the kindest and most heartfelt words had been enough to soothe his pain.

Attempting a full tandem link with Lance was the most powerful move Blue could have taken at the time, and it was the only thing that had been effective. Lance's wounds were just that deep. But it was deeply concerning to Coran that this had been necessary. Full tandem was another secret kept even from the royalty of Altea, both because it was so powerful and so dangerous.

Blue had, essentially, poured her own quintessence into the fragile mortal shell of Lance's body. It was akin to pouring pure liquid fire into a thin metal container. Yes, the metal could hold it for a time. Maybe even a long time. But eventually, it would begin to melt.

With the ancient power and wisdom of a Voltron lion "piloting" their body, a paladin thus possessed could accomplish incredible things. But it carried incredible risk, as well. Coran shuddered to remember those particular secret history lessons. Spontaneous combustion, madness, torturous death. He had it in him to wish that Blue had not been able to accomplish this today with Lance, just because those sticky ends would then be off the table.

"Thank you for keeping your promise and retreating after the battle was done," he said, choosing to voice none of this. Blue already knew.

My Lance is strong, but Blue will only use full tandem when necessary.

"That's good to hear." Coran sighed and leaned on the wall with one hand, watching her carefully. She was using Lance's name for herself, too. What a remarkable partnership. "You must know already, but... Lance cannot bear much of this. He's very young, even by the standards of his own species. His mind is immature. He is your star, your brilliant, shining star, and I understand that completely. But if you don't take great care, he will burn out and you'll lose him."

Full tandem was necessary. Blue's shoulders hunched in a stubborn posture. Blue could not allow my Lance to suffer any longer.

Coran waved his hands. "I know, I know! I know it was necessary. I don't doubt that in the slightest. Still, you must not do it again unless the need is very great. It would be better if you could back off for a while and let us take care of your Lance. I swear that we will all do everything we can for him."

Blue cannot make this retreat, even in deference to Support Commander. A low rumble vibrated the floor under Coran's feet, and he sat abruptly, hands pressed to the metal. Blue was growling, low and quiet, but very strong. Blue cannot leave my Lance alone in my Lance's mind. My Lance was too frightened. Blue does not wish my Lance to be frightened. Or alone. Ever.

Coran gulped. "Before you achieved full tandem...you were speaking in Lance's mind?"

Pride in the great, rumbling growl, now. Yes. Blue and my Lance have been speaking within the mind for some time. Only today from decks away, though.

In retrospect, this made sense. Coran remembered how unfocused and frightened Lance had been when he first came out of his state of shock, when Shiro was trying to talk to him and reassure him. The mere suggestion that Lance was valued and needed had driven him into a panic attack, and Coran had never seen anything so heartbreaking in all his days.

But later, after his nap and the period of cooldown with Hunk... Something had changed. Lance had even been able to look Keith in the face, despite what had looked like the beginning of another panic attack, and accept his apology with fairly easy grace. In fact, he had calmed down immensely while in the middle of that frightening experience. Maybe it was then that Blue had first been able to connect with his mind from decks away and prove her unwavering support.

Coran gathered himself for a few moments, then stood carefully to his feet and brushed himself off. "I understand. A compromise, then. You may speak to Lance's mind as much as you both may wish. In fact, that would be all for the good. He needs your kindness and strength, and I'm very grateful that he has you. But you must keep any use of full tandem extremely short. The risk to him is too great."

If a great mechanical warship could pout, that was what Blue did. Blue understands. Blue was going to do that anyway.

Coran managed a smile, brief and strained. "That's good to hear." He pulled in a breath and blew it out, deliberately relaxing his shoulders and closing his eyes for a moment. "Also, I must remind you not to force the translation program. There's a reason that it's kept a secret."

Blue's eyes seemed to narrow in annoyance, accomplished with a selective dimming of her headlights. Coran wondered if Lance had taught her that trick. Crisis situation.

"Yes, yes, I know. But in the future, if you must speak to someone besides Lance, at least let it be me. I'll leave the translator program open on my tablet reader. If you need to reach me, you'll be able to find it through the castle systems."

Blue rumbled in agreement. Yes. Blue will speak to Support Commander. Or Yellow Pilot.

Coran tilted his head, immensely pleased. "You trust Hunk as well?"

Yellow Pilot is good to my Lance. Yellow Pilot can be trusted with secrets.

Coran nodded. "Yes, he can. I'm glad you think so. I'll find a moment to...give him a summary of events." He paused then. "I don't disagree with your choice, not at all, but would you be willing to trust Shiro as well? He and Lance have also gotten very close recently, and Shiro is kind and reliable."

Leader Pilot is good to my Lance. But Leader Pilot has burdens and wounds, also. Blue does not wish to give Leader Pilot more than Leader Pilot can bear.

"Ah." Coran smiled. "You are kind and wise, Blue. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I will share these secrets only with Hunk, then."

Blue's rumble faded out, content.

Coran stared up at the ceiling for a moment, breathing out a sigh of relief. Then he looked to the mighty lion and gave her another sweeping bow. "Well then. I will return to Lance now. I know you will as well. I'll meet you up in the blanket fort."

With no movement and only the slightest suggestion of sound, Blue gave the impression of laughter. Coran turned off the translation program, then left the hangar.

That was one conversation down. Coran had many more planned for the hours ahead.

Chapter Text

Lance woke slowly. The first thing he felt was warmth. He was curled up in something soft and comfortable, and someone was breathing close by. A large hand pressed warm and comforting against his back, his head was pillowed on something firm yet yielding, and he knew he was safe. He was home. The hand rubbed over his back, slow and rhythmic, as if it had done so many times before and the motion had become habitual. Then it settled between his shoulder blades again.

The next thing he became aware of was Blue, curled up soft and warm in the back of his mind. There was no pressure from her, no insistence, just presence. No words at this time, only emotions. Contentment. Peace. Love. Blue was happy, and she wanted Lance to be happy, too. Lance breathed out a sigh against the blankets beneath his cheek. In this moment, he was.

The voices filtered in next, his teammates chattering and playfully arguing. He didn't listen to the words, just let the sounds wash over him. Shiro sounded content, and Hunk and Pidge were enjoying themselves and laughing at each other, and Allura was there, too. And Keith. Lance waited for his body to tense up at the sound of Keith's voice, but it didn't. Huh. Things had changed, then. For the better. He didn't pursue the thought at the moment, didn't try to figure out why, just let himself enjoy it.

He felt...good. It was strange. He hadn't felt this good for a long time. That was probably a bad sign, but Lance didn't want to think about it.

He drew his knees up a little closer to his chest and rubbed his cheek against the firm surface he rested on. He wasn't really awake yet, just snuggling. The hand rubbed over his back again, slow and smooth. Lance's forehead wrinkled.

There was a...rawness. Inside his body, inside his mind. He felt like a vessel that had been scrubbed out with sand and then rinsed in salt water. It wasn't bad enough to be painful, but it was the first hint of discomfort he'd felt since he began the slow process of waking up. What had caused it?

A sense of apology from Blue, cool and low. The memory of being taken over, suddenly feeling through his body with two spirits, two minds thinking in the same instant instead of one. Oh, yes. Blue had joined her quintessence with his for a little while. It had been incredibly powerful and completely overwhelming. That was where the rawness came from.

Lance's eyes slid half open, and he stared blankly ahead, trying to process what had happened. He remained boneless and limp, unmoving where he lay. All in front of his eyes was a pile of bunched up blankets, above that Allura's silver-blue lights shining from the ceiling of the blanket fort. Blue had possessed him. It had been...really weird.

Amazing, too. He had felt everything she was feeling as if they were one being. Even speaking with words inside his mind had not been so close, so all-encompassing. He had felt her overpowering strength, felt it matched by her love and possessiveness over him. Blue loved him. She wanted him and needed him. She rejected even the idea of taking another paladin while he was alive. And she meant to keep him alive for a long, long time.

It was a lot to take in. Even now, he felt a trembling doubt lurking at the edge of his mind. It couldn't really be true, could it? He must have imagined it, must have been so desperate for any hint of validation or acceptance that he hallucinated the whole thing, made it all up...

No. Blue, strong and low, just a hint of anger deep in the tone. Blue loves my Lance. Do not doubt. My Lance must never doubt Blue's love again.

Ah. Lance went limp in the bedding again. So it was true, then. The incipient fear vanished, burnt to ash and blown away without a trace left behind.

"Lance?" Coran's voice, soft and gentle. The hand rubbed over his back again.

Lance blinked. He remembered now. The utter certainty that he was the blue paladin, that he was meant to fight. Running off to battle, Blue still twined inseparably with his mind, the two of them working in perfect sync. They had flown together like never before, perfectly harmonized, perfectly strong. It had been amazing, but when they returned from battle afterward and Blue released her hold on his mind, Lance had collapsed. Coran had been there to catch him, lowering him into the blankets, and Lance had curled up on his lap and let everything fade away. And here he still was.

Lance drew a careful breath and pushed himself over on his back, head still resting on Coran's thigh, and blinked up at him. Coran's hand shifted from his back to his shoulder, still pressing warmly. Lance blinked, slow and just a touch disoriented. "Hi, Coran."

Coran smiled. He kept his voice low so not to draw attention to them, letting Lance choose when the others would notice that he was awake. "Welcome back, paladin. How are you feeling?"

Lance thought about it. "Not terrible. Pretty good. I'm tired. But okay." Achy weariness still lurked on the edges, but it was nowhere near as bad as the bone-deep exhaustion he'd felt earlier in the day. He would probably be okay for a few hours awake, then sleep like the dead when the others finally let him go to bed.

He knew they were going to want him to talk more. Now that they'd pulled the lid off Lance's gigantic mess of issues, Coran and Shiro and even Hunk weren't going to leave him alone until they thought they'd helped, at least a little. The thought made Lance sigh. He knew things weren't fixed for him, not even close, but he was tired of talking about it. Already.

Couldn't they just let him be a mess? It was all such...such a tangled knot of idiocy and weakness and minor problems that he should have gotten over long ago but had somehow festered and grown until they wrapped him up like slimy, unbreakable cables. It couldn't possibly be worth their time to try to fix something so stupid and illogical, especially when it probably couldn't be fixed anyway. It was a total waste of effort in every way, and Lance's friends were all pretty smart, so he was shocked that they couldn't see that.

But looking up into Coran's face, even from this strange, tilted angle, Lance already knew the answer. No, they wouldn't just leave him be, not knowing how screwed up he was. It wasn't in their nature. Everyone he knew had a hero complex, darn it. Even Keith. He remembered the battle, oh yes, and how Keith hadn't strayed from his side for more than a few seconds at a time. Turned out the secret to getting along with Keith was to be super, super pathetic. Who knew.

Coran seemed to catch something of the thoughts passing over Lance's face. He gave him a smile that was almost a wince and pressed his shoulder. "I'm glad you're feeling a little better than you were earlier. And are you suffering any...ill-effects?"

Lance blinked. Oh. Coran had been able to see it when he and Blue were sharing his body. He had warned them at the time that it could be dangerous, and now, feeling that inner rawness, Lance could see why.

"I'm okay," he said again. He lifted his hands and laid them carefully over chest. "It's a little weird. Feels like I've been...scrubbed out."

Coran nodded solemnly. "You both must take great care." His voice was very soft, barely above a whisper.

Lance understood why he was being so quiet. He had already known it from his connection with Blue's mind. This was not something that the others should know. It felt strange, after all the talk they'd done earlier in the day about not keeping secrets from each other. But this, what Blue and he had done... It was incredibly powerful and therefore also incredibly dangerous. Coran didn't want to encourage the others to pursue a similar bond with their lions, no matter how helpful it could be.

Plus, it would just make them feel bad, knowing that Lance had a level of connection that they couldn't achieve. It wasn't their fault. It was just because Blue was so amazing, really, nothing else.

My Lance is amazing, too, Blue said, fierce and proud. If she'd been in a physical body, her tail would have been lashing back and forth, her ears slicked back against her head.

I know, I know, Lance soothed. He knew Blue thought so. She subsided in his mind again, not completely satisfied with his answer but letting it go for now.

All he said to Coran of this was, "I understand."

Coran squeezed his shoulder. "Are you ready to join in, now?"

Lance nodded, then yawned and rubbed a fist against his eye. Now that he felt a little more settled in his body and mind, the chatter from the rest of the group was starting to sound more interesting and fun. He wanted to join, yes. He braced himself, then pushed up to a sitting position, groaning a little as the movement pulled at sore muscles in his legs and abdomen and arms. Wow, being joined with Blue even for half an hour was like going through a really intense workout, apparently.

He blinked at the sight thus presented to him. Everyone was...playing. Shiro, Allura, and Pidge were working on some sort of art project, and Hunk and Keith were facing each other with cards in their hands, Hunk with his back to the fort opening and Keith with his back to Lance. Oh, those were the playing cards Lance had helped Pidge make. And that art project—Pidge was cutting out new cards from the same material they'd used before, while Shiro and Allura were each holding marking utensils and carefully writing and drawing on the new cards Pidge handed them. Shiro's tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he was working so intensely and carefully, and Allura had a big grin on her face. Lance blinked, dazed by the sight.

"I don't get the point of this game," Keith grumbled, and Lance switched his attention to them. Hunk grinned as he and Keith each held out a card from their face-down decks, then flipped them simultaneously. "It's all completely based on luck and how the cards are dealt initially. You could just have a computer run it and you'd get the exact same results."

Hunk snorted and waggled his eyebrows. "Are you saying that you don't get the point of War?"

"Yes," Keith said, utterly serious, utterly oblivious. "I don't get the point of War. War is pointless."

Hunk laughed out loud, his eyes winking closed for a moment. Then he opened them and spotted Lance at the back of the fort, and his grin got even wider. "Hey! Lance is awake!"

The response was instantaneous. Everyone turned to face Lance, most with a big grin and a shout of greeting. It was overwhelming. Despite himself, Lance shrank from all of the attention. His eyes widened and he leaned into Coran's side, suddenly wanting to hide. It was just...startling to have everyone apparently so happy to see him. Coran put his arm around his shoulders, which was more reassuring than Lance wanted to admit.

"Lance!" Pidge threw her arms out enthusastically and almost smacked Shiro in the side of the head with her cutting tool. "We're making another deck of cards! One deck just isn't enough for seven people, we decided. And look!" She gestured at Allura with both hands. "Allura is really good at drawing the clubs! Who knew, am I right?"

Allura smiled at him, just a touch bashfully, and held up one of the cards she was working on to show him. "It's only because the cards you made were so easy to follow."

Lance blinked. Every single club shape was perfectly consistent, with just the right proportion between the three round balls. Wow, Allura really was perfect at everything. He didn't know why he was surprised.

"I'm drawing the hearts and diamonds," Shiro said, stoically proud, and held up his own card to show off. His hearts were...very round and cute. Lance blinked again.

"Wanna play with us?" Hunk asked, gathering up the cards he and Keith had been using. "Keith is tired of War..." He giggled at his own words. "...so we're gonna try a different game."

"Yeah!" Lance started crawling toward them, instantly enthusiastic, then paused when he realized that he would run straight into Keith if he kept going. His heart lurched in his throat, but he made himself keep moving. He had to get over this, he had to...

His sudden nervousness must have shown on his face, though, because Keith flicked him a glance, then wordlessly scooted over, almost trading places with Hunk. By the time Lance reached their little circle, Keith was leaning against the pillows on that side of the fort, facing Lance, and Hunk split the distance between them. Hunk was still smiling and shuffling the cards in his hands, but Lance knew he had noticed.

They had all noticed. They all knew. Lance flushed with shame, but he tried to play it off by shaking his head and giving Keith a somewhat shaky smile. "So, for real, was that the first time you ever played War?"

Keith nodded, frowning a little, but Hunk laughed again. "Can you believe it? Keith knows like, no card games. Except Poker and Old Maid. Weird combination, huh?"

Lance raised his eyebrows, and Keith frowned harder. "My mom taught me Old Maid when I was little," he said defensively. "Though we played with one of those kid decks with like, apples and oranges and stuff. I learned Poker...somewhere else."

"Well, you're in the right hands," Lance told him brightly. "Me and Hunk grew up in families with regular game nights, so we know lots of card games." He looked at Hunk. "You didn't teach him Speed yet, did you? I wanna teach him Speed."

Hunk grinned and shook his head. Lance made grabby hands at the cards, and he turned them over. Keith was watching them with a puzzled frown, and Lance faced him again. He shuffled the cards a bit out of habit, though Hunk had already done it quite thoroughly.

"What is Speed, and why do you want to teach it to me?" Keith asked cautiously.

Lance gave him a grin. It felt a little more natural, now. "It's a reflex game, and I wanna beat the pants off you, that's why."

Keith wrinkled his nose at him. "You'd take joy in beating a total beginner? That's not very sporting of you."

"Oh, c'mon." Lance scoffed. "The great Keith Kogane is going to make excuses about getting beaten at a reflex game? Before we've even played it?"

Keith sat up straighter, eyes sparking at the challenge. "I never said I was gonna lose."

"That's the spirit." Lance chuckled and started dealing out the cards. "This is a two-player game, but Hunk can watch and referee. He's good at that." Hunk nodded comfortably.

Keith looked just as confused as before. "Why would you need a referee for a card game?"

"I told you, dude. This is a reflex game. It's more like a sport than those pansy kid games you've been playing up till now. Hunk will watch and make sure we don't cheat, even by accident, and if we both flop a card down at the same time, he'll be able to see who got there first."

"Okay." Keith mirrored Lance in picking up the starting hands and setting the draw piles to the side. He narrowed his eyes at Lance, watching him closely. "Explain the rules to me, then. No way I'm gonna let you beat me, even at something I've never done before."

"Sure, sure," Lance said airily. "I warn you, though, you're talking to the undisputed Speed Champion of all of my family's summer barbecues and Christmas parties."

Hunk crinkled up his face in amusement. "Ask him how he does at Gin Rummy, though."

Lance made a face and stuck his tongue out at him.

"How does he do at Gin Rummy?" Pidge called from the outside, exactly like a straight man in a comedy duo.

Hunk shook his head solemnly. "Not as well."

"Bad luck," Lance said. "Every single time. For ten years running."

Keith was frowning at them harder than ever. "Shut up and teach me this game," he growled.

Lance grinned and did so. As expected, he won the first round. Before Keith could get into a snit, he held up a hand. "Hold your horses, dude, we always play best two out of three for a game. You still have a chance to beat me."

Keith narrowed his eyes and nodded. Lance dealt again, and Keith snatched up his cards and stared at them, rearranged them, then looked up at Lance and gave him a nod. His face was completely serious and intent. It was...actually, it was just a little bit intimidating.

Lance fought down a shiver and nodded back, then reached for the cards. Keith mirrored him, and they flipped. Keith won the second round, but not by much.

"Okay, that wasn't fair," Lance said. He started stretching out his right arm. "I was still waking up from my nap and I'm all tense. It won't happen again."

Keith grinned, slightly sharp-toothed. "What was that you said about making excuses?"

"S'not an excuse, just a fact," Lance said, making his voice as flat as possible. "You wanna deal this time?"

Keith nodded and scooped up the cards. His shuffling was a little awkward, but he dealt them out accurately, copying what Lance had done earlier. Lance scooted closer to the game area, focused on the cards. Everything else seemed to fade away as he fell into the game.

Lance won the third round. He slapped down the final card, then straightened up with a shout and pointed his finger straight at Keith. "In your face! Booyah, Grandma, winner and still champion!" He raised his arms in a victory salute, and Hunk laughed uproariously and slapped his back.

Keith sat there, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. "Rematch."

Lance slowly lowered his arms and gave him an innocent blink. "Don't you want to learn a different game now? I'm sure there's still plenty we haven't gotten to yet. Maybe you'll find your niche in a different game."

Keith bared his teeth. "Re. Match."

Lance laughed in his face and started gathering the cards. "Fine, then. I'll just have to beat you again. And again and again and again."

"We'll see."

Lance smiled and shuffled the cards. This felt like playing with Jordan back home. A lot like playing with Jordan, actually. The more he did it, the more normal it felt. The nervousness was fading, bit by bit. Having Hunk barely a foot away, his knee almost touching Lance's, seemed to be helping, too. And everyone else was here, so... Yeah. Lance was fine. He was fine.

Blue pressed against his mind, purring deep and low. Blue is proud of my Lance.

Yeah, Lance replied. I'm doing okay for once.

He dealt the cards again, and they played.

Chapter Text

Lance and Keith were still playing Speed. It had been at least six full games now, the seventh was being dealt, and Lance was still champion though Keith had won a round here and there. They were both totally focused, totally intent. The early wariness in each other's presence seemed to have passed for both, and Hunk was glad to see that, truly. It had been really sad and uncomfortable to see how scared Lance was of Keith, and how ashamed he was of that fear, and also how carefully and anxiously Keith kept acting in an attempt to avoid triggering him again. It was just as bad for the team as having the two of them angry at each other. Even worse, maybe. Their anger had always passed quickly, after all. Lance was a very mellow guy at heart, and Keith acted impulsively and was easy to work up, but he wasn't one for grudges. So yeah, their mutual fear had been pretty darn damaging, not to mention heartbreaking to watch.

But this game, seriously? They weren't getting tired of it. Hunk was. The ref was going to have to tap out before either of the players did. Hunk's stomach gave that preliminary little pang that wasn't a grumble, but warned him that a grumble would be forthcoming in a half hour or so. He put a hand over his abdomen and frowned thoughtfully. It was time to start thinking about supper.

Shiro and Allura were still drawing the new deck, but Pidge had finished making the blank cards. Hunk tapped her shoulder to draw her attention and tipped his head toward the two duelists. "Hey, can you referee for a while? My eyes are starting to do the spinny thing, and I want to check out the supplies from Danber."

Pidge nodded, then scooted into his place while he moved toward the steps. Hunk looked to Allura. "Princess, which hangar did the supplies get dropped off in?"

She told him, and then Coran was moving, too. "I'll come with you. We can get a hover sled and start hauling them back to the main storage closet near the kitchen."

Hunk nodded, and the two of them exited the blanket fort. They put on their shoes and picked their way carefully over the cables that held up the fort, then made their way into the hallway. They traveled to the hangar in comfortable silence. Hunk always felt at ease in Coran's presence. He could be a goofball sometimes, and he made a lot of weird jokes that reminded Hunk of his dad back on Earth, but on the whole he was a very steadying and reassuring guy to be around.

Once they reached the hangar, Hunk all but ran toward the boxes and barrels with their Danberian logos. There was a sizable pile of them, and Hunk was grinning. Wide. The last time they had stopped at Danber they had gotten some foodstuffs, too, but not nearly this much. He was pretty sure that there were items here he'd never seen before.

"Oh, heck yeah." Hunk pulled open a big box at random, then stared in delight at the colorful smaller boxes inside. "These look like... Hey, Coran, can you read this?"

He held up a box for Coran's inspection. Coran nodded. "It's an easily recognizable universal alphabet, though it did alter some in the millennia since Allura and I were put into stasis. Still, I was able to familiarize myself with it on our last visit to Danber."

Hunk tapped his finger against the picture on the front of the box. "That looks like a loaf of bread. Is this a baking mix?"

Coran leaned over with his hand on his chin and peered closely at the box. "Yes, it appears so."

"Awesome." Hunk turned the box over in his hands and grinned down at the picture. "I can work with this. Because, you know right, we're all having a sleepover tonight. And you know what the classic Earthling food for sleepovers is?"

Coran shook his head, though he was smiling, genuinely interested. Hunk liked that about him. He was always genuinely interested in the paladins and their talk about Earth, and always happy to share back with memories of Altea, even if it made him sad sometimes.

"Pizza. Pizza is the classic food for sleepovers." Hunk pulled out a few more boxes of the baking mix and set them aside for later transportation to the kitchen, then turned back to the larger pile and started searching for more ingredients. "Of course, I don't know if Danberian grain is anything like wheat back home, but the picture of the loaf on the box gives me hope. It looks like a yeast dough with some rising, and fairly defined, so this grain might have a protein that's similar to gluten. That's what gives pizza its wonderful elasticity, right, it's the gluten. I'll have to experiment, of course, see if I can do something with a kneading technique or something, but even just plopping a bread-like dough down on a baking sheet and covering it with sauce and other toppings will be close enough to pizza for space jazz."

The entire time he was talking, Hunk searched for more items that could work as pizza ingredients. He popped open a barrel and immediately whistled at the sight before his eyes. "All right. Those are definitely wheels of cheese. No idea if the dairy is anything like cow milk, but yesssss on the cheese." He pulled out one of the wheels and held it above his head like a character in a video game finding a prize. He was grinning wide and hard.

Hunk held the cheese to his nose and sniffed. Whoo, that was a pretty strong scent. He needed something milder if it was going to be anything like mozzarella. He put that wheel down and picked up another one with a different colored rind. He had to try four different kinds of cheese before he found one that might pass, but still. Huge success.

Coran had been searching through the pile, too, occasionally setting a few things aside. Hunk turned to him. "Hey, Coran. Did you see anything that looked like cured meat? Maybe in a log form? Or even like sausage or something? Oh, and tomato sauce, we're gonna need sauce."

"Cured meat? Perhaps. But what's tomato?"

Hunk paused and blinked, trying to think of the best way to put it. "Well, tomatoes are an Earth vegetable, okay, technically a fruit, but everyone thinks of them as vegetables, no one puts tomatoes in a fruit salad. Unless they're a little off their nut. But, uh, it's a soft, round vegetable-slash-fruit, usually red, grows on a vine, with a flavor that's quite sweet, but also with some...um...meatiness to it? Oh, and actually pretty acidic, despite the sweetness. It's common to add sugar in one form or another to tomato sauce to balance the acidity. To make the sauce you usually mash the tomatoes and cook them down to reduce the water. There's a lot of water in tomatoes."

Hunk stopped, not sure if he was just babbling with no purpose or not. But Coran nodded along as if he understood every word. Despite the differences in the kinds of food they worked with, Coran was a cook, too. Totally the best partner Hunk could have along on this type of expedition.

"Tomato sauce, eh?" Coran pulled on his mustache, then turned back to the pile of supplies with purpose. He dug into a particular box and pulled out a jar, then handed it to Hunk. "Try that one."

Hunk's shoulders lifted happily, and he popped open the jar with a quick twist and sniffed the contents. The sauce wasn't even close to red, but it definitely smelled both sweet and a touch acidic. He stuck his pinky into the sauce and pulled it out for a closer look, then stuck it in his mouth. "Yeah, this is great! And it's even in a pre-made sauce so we won't have to cook down any vegetables. That makes it so much easier."

He put the lid back on the jar and set it with the baking mixes, then rubbed his hands together. "Flavor profile is off, but I have lots of herbs from the jungle planet, potted and growing, ready to go. Hadn't even found a use for the one that's like oregano yet, and we have basil-like stuff, too. Too bad we haven't found space rosemary or space thyme, but that's still a great start. We'll just have to stew the sauce for awhile, infuse it with the herbs, maybe add some oil..."

While was talking, Coran brought out a few more jars of the sauce and handed them to Hunk to set with the shopping pile. Then he dove into the supplies and came back up about thirty seconds later with a log-shaped substance dangling from a string. "Cured meat," he said with satisfaction.

Hunk actually squealed at that one. "Coran, you're amazing!" He held his hands out, fingers wiggling, and Coran handed it over. The cured meat didn't smell even remotely like pepperoni, but that was okay. Still an amazing find.

"That was the only one like that," Coran said. "So your Earth, uh, peets might be a one-time thing."

"That's okay," Hunk said, gloating happily over his pile of pizza ingredients. "You can use other toppings for pizza, too. Pepperoni...er...log-shaped cured meat is just the most popular."

"Pizza," Coran repeated carefully. He gave a slow nod, committing the word to memory. Then he drew a breath, and his head tilted to the side. "Hunk, there's something I'd like to talk to you about while it's just the two of us."

Hunk stopped and blinked at him. Ah, so this was why Coran had been so serious ever since they left the blanket fort. Usually when the two of them went shopping for ingredients or worked on food together, Coran got really loud and excited and matched Hunk in enthusiasm, sometimes chattering over top of him as he talked about this food item or that. But he'd been quiet this whole time because he'd been trying to work up to something.

There's was only one topic Hunk could think of that could make Coran this serious right now. "Is it about Lance?"

Coran nodded. He pulled a box out of the pile and sat down on it, and Hunk found a low barrel to perch on and faced him seriously. "It's about Lance, yes. It's also about the blue lion, and about some ancient secrets that you must vow to protect very, very carefully."

Hunk nodded, his eyes wide. He had no idea what this was about, but of course he would keep safe whatever secret Coran told him. Especially if it involved Lance.

Coran's face was solemn. "Lance and Blue have gotten to be very close, very quickly. Too quickly, some might say." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his head. "If I still had the support staff from the old days... Ah, I can just hear what they would say. But then, if we'd had the support staff from the old days, it probably wouldn't have happened this way in the first place. We would have had someone on staff who was familiar with the particular health issues suffered by humans, someone who would have noticed how deeply wounded Lance was and pulled him in to get help before things had progressed to this point. But that's a moot point."

Hunk blinked. "Are you saying that Lance and Blue's bond was affected by his mental and emotional issues?"

Coran chuckled. "That's a rather stark way to view it. In a way. But it's not necessarily a negative development. Just...too much, too fast. There's, well... You might be aware that there are several levels to the bond you experience with your lion."

"Yeah." Hunk nodded slowly. "Top level, I guess, what we all have to have just to pilot the lions, is that like, sort of telepathy, right? We get a sense of what the lions are thinking. They communicate with us in images and guide us. Otherwise no way I would have been able to pilot Yellow minutes after getting into the cockpit. I'm not even a pilot, never wanted to be! And yet... I'm not the best pilot, but I can fly a giant mechanical space lion. Because Yellow guides me, or at least did in the beginning."

Coran leaned forward wearily, his elbows resting on his knees. "Exactly. The second level..."

"That's what we're all working to achieve now," Hunk said, realizing it as he said it aloud. "Seeing through our lion's eyes, gathering more information than we can on our own in order to pilot more efficiently. That's right, the first time we did that exercise with the darkened helmets you said that it was advanced and usually took years to reach. But we were in a hurry."

"Yes. It's remarkable that you all are progressing so well with it, and even more remarkable that Shiro was able to do it on the very first try. You Earthlings..." Coran chuckled low and soft. "Your short lives, by our standards, seem to compell you to reach great heights with great rapidity."

"So what's the third level?"

"Mainly an extension of the second. You become so entwined with your lion that not only do you see through their eyes, but you get information from all of their other sensors as well. At that point, the pilot feels the lion as an extension of their own body, or as if the lion's body is their own. It makes for extremely efficient movement in combat, because the delay between gathering information and responding to it is non-existent. I believe Lance achieved that level more than a month ago. Even before the jungle planet, perhaps. He wouldn't have thought to mention it because he had no idea what it meant. It would have felt like just a slightly deeper understanding of the second level, which you were all working on anyway."

Hunk swallowed. There must be more. There must be a fourth level, or Coran would not be speaking so easily about this part. Hunk's shoulders hunched a little harder. Just what had Lance and Blue been doing?

Coran had been looking away, speaking to the wall. Now he met Hunk's eyes. "Up to this point, all that I've told you is common knowledge to everyone who works with the lions. This third level... It's what all paladins and their support staff strive to reach. It's marvelously effective. Also, at that level the lions are capable of independent movement, much like you've already seen when you're in imminent danger and the lions move to protect you. For you and most of the team, it's rather limited at this point. But Lance and Blue... You saw what happened this morning."

Hunk nodded. "Blue...she was moving around a lot more than the lions usually do. She shot at the princess. And she was talking in words through the computer. The princess didn't even think that was possible. That was...that was more than level three usually allows, wasn't it?"

Coran sighed. "Possibly. At the time I chalked it down to the extremity of the situation. Lance had been harmed by someone within the castle, by someone on his own team, no less, so Blue's protective instincts went into overdrive. At that point both Allura and I knew without doubt that Lance had reached level three. Speaking with words... That's a somewhat separate issue, and I'll inform you on that as well. But yes, as you suspect, there is another level past level three. Lance and Blue reached that this afternoon, when the Galra attacked Danber."

Hunk's voice was hushed. "What is level four?" Just how much deeper could the bond go? Suddenly, it made sense that Coran and Lance had both insisted that Lance was okay to fly during that battle.

Coran rubbed his palms on his knees as if they were sweaty. "Level four... More commonly, it's called full tandem." He chuckled without humor. "Commonly... No, this is very uncommon. And it is rarely discussed. It's rarely necessary to discuss it. And it is kept secret, because it is both very powerful and very dangerous. Dangerous to our enemies, but also dangerous to the paladin who uses it. And to the lion, in a way, since the risk of losing their trusted paladin is so high, and the loss, if it occurs, is extremely traumatic."

Hunk's heart beat faster. Why was Coran talking about loss? There was a risk of...of losing Lance? Just from using this "full tandem?"

Coran met his eyes. "In full tandem, instead of the pilot possessing the body of the lion, the lion possesses the body of the pilot. It is a joining of quintessence, a bonding of spirit far too deep and intense to be safe. It is a last resort, meant for times of terrible crisis when the pilot is incapacitated and the lion must take immediate action to prevent the pilot being hurt or killed. This afternoon, Blue judged Lance's inner wounds to be just such a crisis, and she took him over."

Hunk caught his breath. So that was what happened after Allura had told Lance, definitively and without question, that he was the blue paladin, then asked if he believed her. He had gone still and silent, just sitting there and breathing, his hands loose in his lap and his face blank. They had all assumed that he'd fallen into shock again, but when Hunk hugged him, his body had been warm. He hadn't been in shock. He'd just been...not himself.

So very extremely not himself. Hunk wanted to laugh, but all that came out was a high-pitched wheeze. "How...how dangerous is it? You keep saying...loss. Lance could die from this?"

Coran looked at him solemnly. "In the worst-case scenario, yes. A lion's quintessence is extremely concentrated and powerful. Bearing it in the fragile mortal shell of a human body... It carries terrible risk. Paladins have been lost in the past. More than one. Eventually, it was decided to keep the existence of this level of the bond a secret from everyone but a few trusted members of the support staff. Sometimes a lion and paladin do reach that level on their own, without seeking it. But it usually takes years. Decades, even."

Hunk felt dizzy. "Blue and Lance managed it because Lance was hurt so badly. That's what you meant about his issues affecting the bond."

"Yes. Again, as I said, it's not necessarily a negative thing." Coran chuckled lowly. "It's actually rather amazing. What most paladins take years to achieve, Lance accomplished in mere months. Partially because of his wounds and Blue's intense need to soothe and protect him, of course, but that's not the whole story. It wouldn't have been possible if Lance hadn't also been open to Blue's influence, if he hadn't been far more trusting and friendly than the vast majority of people in the universe. If it wasn't so terribly dangerous, I would consider it something to celebrate. Your friend is incredible, Hunk. I think you know that."

Hunk nodded numbly. "Yeah, I do. Of course I do." He always had. He blinked and sat up straighter. "If that's true, if it's so dangerous and must be kept a secret, why are you telling me all this? I'm a paladin, too."

Coran gave him a sad smile. "Yes, you are. And it's possible that you and the yellow lion might achieve that level of the bond someday, too. But I trust you not to seek it intentionally, knowing the risks. The reason I'm telling you about it now is because...well. There is no support staff. I cannot do it all alone. I need you to help me. You and Lance are close and spend a lot of time together. If you get the sense that there's a danger to your friend, if he goes blank and distant again, or if you see his eyes begin to glow a soft gold, you must try to bring him out of it. Bring Blue out of it. He's too young and his mind is too immature to bear the full tandem for long. What they've done just this afternoon is already pressing the boundary of safety."

Hunk gulped. This was a huge...huge responsibility. But for Lance... Yes, yes, of course. There was no question that he would do everything he could. He sat up straight and gave Coran a solemn nod.

Coran smiled, twisted and uneasy. "Also, Blue asked for you. Well, she asked for Yellow Pilot. But that's you. She trusts you to care for her pilot, which is, as I'm sure you are aware, an enormous honor. Especially with her being as intensely protective as she is right now."

Hunk blinked. "Blue asked for me to help keep an eye out for full tandem?"

Coran shook his head. "No, that's me. I'm asking you do that. But what Blue asked for..." He smiled genuinely this time. "That should be a little easier."

Coran sighed and stood up, dusting himself off. "Let's get that hover sled and bring the supplies we've chosen up to the kitchen. I'll help you make your...pizza...and we can talk about how lions speak with words."

Well, that sounded like more fun. Hunk perked up and hopped off his barrel to go look for a sled.

Chapter Text

Hunk's pizza was delicious, as expected. Not quite like pepperoni pizza back home, but Shiro knew perfectly well that this was as close as they were going to get. And anyway, he almost couldn't remember what Earth food tasted like anymore, so it didn't matter as much to him. Still, he was pleased by the reactions of his teammates. They were all overjoyed. Even Allura and Coran seemed to enjoy it, though Allura spent some time quizzically picking off the little circles of cured meat and studying them carefully before eating them. Coran ate enthusiastically, as usual.

At Hunk's insistence, they all exited the blanket fort and ate in the dining room to avoid getting sauce all over everything. It was a good call. Keith and Lance were sufficiently wound up after their long card battle that at the end of the meal when both were sated they picked up their uneaten pizza crusts and threw them at each other. Lance might have started it, Shiro wasn't sure, since he hadn't been watching at the moment. Keith finished it though when he picked up a leftover slice and jammed it right into Lance's face, toppings flying everywhere, sauce smearing over his nose and cheeks.

Lance went still, eyes wide in shock. Keith stopped, too, his face suddenly dismayed. He had forgotten to be careful, forgotten to avoid touching Lance the way he had been all day. Everyone else watched with held breath, too, unsure how this would go. Then Lance started to laugh, bright and clear and completely unbothered. "You got me, dude! Good one! But let's not waste the pizza, okay?" He picked up a napkin and scrubbed at his face, and Keith slumped in his seat, utterly relieved. Everyone else did too.

Shiro felt compelled to scold them both, but he was grinning, and he knew they weren't the least bit affected by his words. It was amazing to feel so normal. It hadn't even been twelve hours since breakfast, and already things were this much better between Lance and Keith. They had both worked hard to close the rift between them, but Shiro ascribed it mostly to Lance's kind and easy-going nature. He was incapable of holding a grudge, it appeared, and he would not let even the deepest wounds in his spirit prevent him from having fun with his teammates, his family.

Because the wounds were still there. Shiro knew that. They had all done their best to give Lance a break from dealing with them for a little while, but it couldn't last much longer.

After cleanup, it was Coran who suggested that everyone shower and get into pajamas, then return to the blanket fort for their sleepover. "Hunk and I were discussing the activites you Earthlings usually do during these nocturnal social gatherings while we prepared the food, and I am very excited to experience them firsthand." He was beaming, and his enthusiasm was infectious. The others smiled and agreed, even Keith.

Shiro reflected on that while he showered and changed. He was very impressed by how hard Keith had been trying all day long. Pretty much everything he'd done since rejoining the group after Shiro found him crying on the training deck had been outside of Keith's comfort zone, but he had poured everything he had into it without a single complaint. Of course, Keith always put his heart and soul into any skill that he saw as useful, but he had never done it with social activities before.

As destructive as this day had been, maybe good could come from it. Lance was no longer able to hide his problems, and neither was Shiro. Everyone knew now, and Shiro knew that the others would not rest until they found a solution, or at least a way to help them deal with everything. And Keith... For the first time, he had a reason to really try to bond with the team. He had always wanted to, Shiro knew that. But he hadn't known how to go about it, so too often when socializing became difficult for him he excused himself to work on the training deck instead, falling back into the familiar comfort of working alone. Now, that had changed. Instead of shrinking when interaction became uncomfortable or painful for him, he was sitting still and accepting it, trying to work through it.

Shiro was unbearably proud of him. He would have to find a moment to tell him so.

The opportunity did not present itself right away. When Shiro returned to the blanket fort, most of the others were already waiting, decked out in their comfiest pajamas and chatting amongst themselves. Allura was the last to arrive, her hair still damp and folded up on her head out of the way, the mice riding on her shoulders.

Pidge broke out the cards, as well as a handful of utensils from the kitchen. "It's time for Spoons!" Her eyes were sparkling with glee. Shiro wrinkled his nose. He remembered playing this one with his little siblings and his friends in middle school. He wasn't sure quite why Pidge was so excited about it. She had excelled at No Way when they were playing earlier, so he had pegged her as a bluffer. Spoons, as he remembered it, was more of a reflex game.

Once they got into it, though, the reason became clear. Pidge had a way of choosing a moment when everyone was focused on their cards to very sneakily pull away a spoon, and the next thing Shiro knew everyone would be grabbing and shouting. She won several rounds that way, enough that Shiro began to suspect that Pidge's extreme bluffing skills also counted as a mark of her genius. But then someone began to rival her. Coran.

He was usually so loud and off-the-wall that it was a bit of a shock. But Coran did something Pidge couldn't: after he sneaked away a spoon, he just sat there with the exact same expression as before, his motions smooth and unchanged, while Pidge had always been unable to hide a tiny smirk and a sparkle in her eye. Shiro was impressed.

Lance and Keith were loudly unimpressed, though, calling them both cheaters. They had expected to do well at a reflex game, expected to be working to rival each other, and they found themselves left in the dust almost every single time. Shiro, Allura and Hunk were somewhere in the middle. Everyone won a round or two, but the game always ended with Coran and Pidge battling it out for final supremacy.

They played Spoons until they were all thoroughly sick of it, then switched to Scum. When the rules were explained, Allura frowned primly. "This is a very unfair game."

Pidge nodded easily. This was another of her favorites, it appeared. "That's the point. The President and the Vice-President are at the top of the world, and the Scum is at the bottom. That's how society works. But the President can still be toppled, and the Scum can rise to the top in a single round. It's rare, but it happens."

"I prefer to think of it as an exercise in adversity," Hunk said cheerfully. "How well can you overcome the odds? Can your skill outweigh your disadvantages? C'mon, it'll be fun."

Allura nodded and narrowed her eyes, accepting the challenge. "All right. Shiro, deal the first hand."

No one was surprised when Allura quickly rose to the President seat, then stayed there. For the rest of the game. Everyone else moved positions quite a bit, but not Allura.

Eventually, Pidge groaned in defeat and flopped backward into the pillows behind her. "Okay. I give! This isn't fun anymore."

Allura smiled and collapsed her current hand of cards into a neat pile, then handed them to Shiro to collect. "I think we're all ready for a different activity."

Shiro nodded and gathered the cards from the others. He had noticed that Lance had been drooping for several rounds, and several of the others were flagging, too. It was time to take it down a notch. He crawled over to the back of the fort to store the cards with the other deck on the sofa at the back.

When he went back to the group, he found himself between Lance and Keith. Not by accident. Everyone was settling into the pillows at the bases of the sofas, sitting in a circle. Shiro put his arm around Lance's back, and Lance leaned into his side, head falling easily on Shiro's shoulder. They had done this so many times that they didn't even think about it.

On Shiro's other side, Keith sat stiffly, unsure of how to react. Shiro reached out and grabbed his shirt to give it a tug. Keith moved instantly, and then he was leaning on Shiro, too. His body wasn't as soft and relaxed as Lance's, but Shiro knew they would get there. He ruffled Keith's hair, then left his arm stretched along the pillows behind him instead of wrapping it around Keith's shoulders. Keith liked some contact, at least from Shiro, but too much and he got uncomfortable. That was the last thing Shiro wanted.

Hunk, between Keith and Pidge, yawned and blinked at Coran. "Okay, so what do you want to do next?"

Coran smiled, settling down next to Allura once again. "You said that Earthlings tell stories at sleepovers."

Hunk nodded. "Yep. Lance is really good at telling scary stories." He gave Lance a concerned look. "I'm not sure he's up to it right now, though."

Lance shrugged, not bothering to move from his position slumped against Shiro. "I can if everyone wants to hear one."

Coran shook his head. "I had something else in mind." He looked around the circle, meeting everyone's eyes for at least a moment. "There's something that we all need to do."

Shiro swallowed. Coran's voice was suddenly very serious. He didn't move, but he watched Coran without wavering, his incipient sleepiness banished.

Coran sighed and leaned further back into the cushions behind him. "I've been doing some reading this afternoon, as you all noticed. There is not, unfortunately, anything like a manual on how to treat the kinds of wounds that Shiro and Lance are suffering. But I did find a treatise from an earlier war about refugees from devastated planets, and... There's a practice that crosses the bounds of cultures and species, for use whenever anyone has suffered horrors. The author I read called it 'taking out the venom,' which sounds to me like an excellent description of what we need to do."

Shiro nodded slowly. A spark of hope lit in his heart. "What...what is the practice you speak of?"

Coran gave him a gentle smile. "I warn you, it sounds simple, but it is actually very, very difficult. Still. We must persevere. It is the only option open to us."

Hunk hummed. "You mean telling stories?"

"Yes." Coran gave him a soft, knowing look, then looked across at Shiro again. "We all need to talk about the things we have suffered."

Shiro's breath caught in his throat. His arm tightened around Lance, and he felt Lance's hand clutching his shirt again. Somehow, he had known that this was where Coran was going, and yet...

No. This was the one thing he didn't want to do. He was willing to pursue almost any option to fix the things that were wrong with him, but this...

He didn't want them to know. Not because he was ashamed, or not only for that reason. But... They didn't deserve the pain of it. Carrying the burden of the few memories he had was hard enough. He didn't want anyone else to have to suffer with him. Lance already knew some of it, because he had spent so many nights listening to Shiro cry out in his sleep, but the others, especially Pidge...

She was so young. And...and her family... Shiro didn't want to paint in her mind images that weren't true. Sam and Matt had been sent to a labor colony. It was no doubt difficult and degrading, and he wanted to rescue them almost as desperately as she did, but this... He didn't want her to know.

He didn't want anyone to know. His breath was getting shorter and more painful as he considered the idea. No, this wasn't about protecting the others. It was about protecting himself. It was pure, unadulterated selfishness. He didn't want anyone to know.

"Shiro. Shiro. Stay with me, Shiro." Lance. His hand was wrapped around Shiro's neck again, pressing firmly. His fingers were strong and warm. Shiro blinked and gasped, coming back to himself.

Lance had all but climbed into Shiro's lap, clutching him close, just like he had in the field of giant leaves. Shiro moved his other arm from behind Keith's head and wrapped him up. He bent forward, twisted over himself and Lance, his belly squirming with sickness. He squeezed his eyes shut and hid his face against Lance's neck. No, no. The air didn't smell of rot. It didn't. He was in the castle, in the blanket fort. Lance was here. Keith's hand was on his shoulder, fingers clenched in the material of his pajama shirt. He was safe. He was safe. Was he safe?

"I'm sorry," he gasped, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"You're okay," Lance said. "It's okay, Shiro. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. You don't have to if you're not ready. No one's going to make you."

"I want to get better," Shiro said, his breath coming in short, hot pants. "I want to get better, I do, but I can't, I can't..."

"It's okay." Lance hand pressed against his neck, grounding him, telling him where he was. "We'll work on it. Slow but steady, right? That's how you do it. Everything is okay. No one is going to force you to go faster than you're able. We'll work on it, a little bit at a time. Everything is going to be okay."

Shiro breathed. He breathed. A few tears trickled out, and he felt the dampness of Lance's cheek against the side of his head, too. Everything hurt...it all hurt so much. But he was okay. He was here and he was safe, and he believed what Lance was saying. No one would make him talk before he was ready. Coran's voice sounded too, affirming that to be true, though Shiro could barely hear him over the rushing in his ears.

Bit by bit, the terror passed. Shiro loosened his grip on Lance and sat back, drawing in a big breath the instant he was able. Keith pressed up against his side, as close as he could get, and Shiro's hand clutched at his shirt. Lance settled on his other side, arm still wrapped around Shiro's stomach, head pressed into his shoulder. Shiro looked across at Coran and drew a deep breath, felt the tears on his cheeks, but he couldn't wipe them away. Both of his hands were busy.

Coran's face was wet, too, and immensely pained. "Lance is telling the truth," he said roughly. "You don't have to talk, Shiro. You don't have to share anything you aren't ready to." He looked around the circle, at everyone sitting there teary-eyed and distressed. Hunk's hand was holding Pidge's shoulder, and Pidge was clutching Allura's hand in both of hers, and Allura's other hand was wrapped around Coran's wrist. Coran looked back to Shiro and pulled in a breath. "If you aren't able to share your story with everyone, you could just tell me. Or Lance, or Keith. Whatever you need. And it doesn't have to be today, all right? It doesn't have to be today."

Shiro nodded shakily. "I..." His throat was full. He swallowed and tried again. "I want to..."

Coran nodded. "I know you want to get better. You want to heal. We all want that, for you and for Lance, and for everyone who is having difficulties. But we'll take it one step at a time. We all will." He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, then looked over at Allura. He lifted his hand and covered hers. "The two of us will start."

Allura nodded back, firm and strong.

Hunk sniffled. "What...what do you mean?"

Coran smiled. "I didn't finish describing what I meant about telling stories." He looked across at Shiro and Lance. "The two of you need to talk about the things you have suffered, that is true. But you don't have to do it alone. Everyone here has pains and griefs that need to be healed. We all have stories that need to be told, that we've never spoken aloud even to ourselves."

He looked to Allura again. "So this is what I propose. Each of us...each of us who are able will share something that we've never told anyone before. Something that hurt us. It doesn't have to be a secret, as in something no one knows ever happened to you, but at least something you've never spoken to anyone about. The act of...the act of putting these incidents and feelings into words... That's what the author called 'taking out the venom.'" He looked across at Shiro again. "Words are powerful. They give shape to reality. Giving shape to nameless pains and fears makes them easier to face, even if the shape is enormous and overwhelming. The inner landscape is a complicated place, but to take control of it, to take control of yourself, you must learn to shape your reality. We all need to learn that skill. And so we will start tonight."

He looked over at Pidge and Hunk. "It doesn't matter how small the incident may seem from an objective view. If it's something that hurt you, it's worth talking about and understanding. We all need to hear each other's stories."

They nodded thoughtfully.

Coran faced forward and closed his eyes again. He let go of Allura and sat with his legs crossed, his hands touching in front of him. It looked almost like a meditation pose, and Shiro wondered if this was an Altean technique. There was so much they didn't know about Altean culture, so much that had been lost. Coran drew several slow, deep breaths. He seemed to be counting the inhales and exhales. Then he opened his eyes and looked calmly forward. His eyes were dry, though his cheeks still glistened.

"You all know that Allura and I lost our planet, our civilization. We lost our families and friends, everything and everyone dear to us. It's a lot to process, too much perhaps, and fighting this war, we haven't taken time to mourn. Everytime I begin, my mind shies away from such a gargantuan task. It is...too much. Far too much. But I must start somewhere." He raised his eyes, just a little, looking into Shiro's face. It was as if he was speaking directly to him, though his tone indicated that he was sharing with the group as a whole. "Before the final war with Zarkon, I was a family man. I had a spouse and a son."

Shiro caught his breath. Coran smiled sadly. His gaze switched to Lance. "My son was a grown man when the war began, and he joined the fleet, same as I did. I was against it, because I was afraid.... Ah, but Colin was a headstrong man, the same as I was in my youth. He wanted to fight. He wanted to protect our people. He was...too brave." He closed his eyes and breathed again, then opened his eyes. They were too bright in the silver light, and Shiro swallowed and looked away.

"Our last conversation was an argument. That is my deepest regret and sorrow. I don't remember the words now, only that I said things I didn't mean. Colin did, too. He ran off to his ship, and I went to mine. Later, I heard that his ship had been destroyed. We did not know if there were any survivors. The end of the war was quickly upon us, and I had no time to think about it. I went to sleep for ten thousand years, then woke to learn that Altea had been destroyed, as well. My spouse... I hope they didn't suffer, the people of Altea. I hope the end was quick. But I have not had the courage to look closely at any records, if they even exist after all this time. So in the end, perhaps it didn't matter that Colin joined the fleet. He would have perished anyway. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have yelled..."

He was trembling. Allura reached over again and caught his hand, drawing him out of the meditation-like pose. He looked down at the blankets and squeezed her hand. Silence held for a moment.

Shiro's heart ached. He didn't know what to do, what to say. Maybe nothing could be said. Then he felt Lance moving, pulling away from his side. Shiro's hand squeezed his shoulder to hold him still, but then he understood and let go. Lance crawled across the middle of the fort and knelt by Coran and put his arms around him, pressing his face to his shoulder.

Coran smiled, small and strained. His free hand rose to curl in the back of Lance's head, carding gently through his hair. "Thank you, my boy," he said softly.

"I'm sure Colin regretted it, too," Lance mumbled. "I would have. So much."

Coran sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes. I'm sure."

Lance sat back and gave him a watery smile, then moved back to Shiro. Shiro put his arm around him and held him close. He hurt. He hurt so badly. But he was so, so grateful that Lance was with them, that he was on their team. No one else could have done that.

Coran drew a deep breath, accepting the pain. Then he looked to Allura. She nodded and squeezed his hand, then looked to the group.

"I loved my father very much," she said. "And he was an excellent father to me. But he was not perfect. No one is. Almost all of my memories of him are good, and that's remarkable. But there's one that is not."

Coran folded her hand in both of his. Allura smiled at him. "It might have been a small thing. It seems so now. But at the time, it was not. I was a child, and I wanted my father's attention. I had just gotten a new dress that I wanted to show off to him, and I ran to find him. I searched high and low, everywhere I could think of, then finally found the council chamber doors closed. I pressed my ear to the door and listened as hard as I could, and I heard his voice, muffled with the others. So I pushed the door open and went in, even though I knew it was not allowed."

She chuckled softly and passed her hand over his face. "Yes, I was being naughty. I suppose it surprises none of you to learn that I could be a headstrong and willful child. All I knew, though, was that I wanted to show my father how pretty I was. I wanted him to lift me in his arms and praise me. Instead, I got a scolding, and he pinched my ear and led me out of the chamber. I cried for hours. Father ignored me, too, for a few days, because I had embarrassed him in front of his peers. It was quite a terrible punishment." She paused and pressed a hand to her chest, looking around the circle with a rueful smile. "Saying it aloud, it sounds very small and petty..."

"No." Coran pressed her hand in his. "It was an injury. Unintended, but even so. I remember that incident. No one could comfort you. Your father was your world, and your world had betrayed you. Eventually you both put it away, but I know how badly it affected you."

She gave him a gentle smile, then looked to Pidge, passing the baton. Pidge was stilling holding Allura's other hand with both of hers, though she was cradling it now instead of clutching on for comfort. Now Pidge smiled tremulously, then looked to the group.

"I suppose... If it's okay to talk about things that happened a long time ago, that shouldn't mean much..."

"Of course," Coran said.

Pidge nodded. "Well. It was elementary school. Um. I had this friend named Alice. Not much of a friend, it turned out. About halfway through the year, she spread this rumor about me. I don't remember what it was anymore. Something hurtful and stupid. I yelled at a lot of people for believing it, and they just laughed at me. But the worst part was that, uh. My best friend, Johnny. He believed it too. He stopped hanging out with me."

She drew a shuddery breath and looked at Hunk, who squeezed her shoulder and gave her a smile. "I should have just let it go, found new friends. It's pretty easy to make friends at that age. But I was too angry. I chased Johnny down one day and confronted him in the playground after school. I yelled at him for falling for Alice's stupid lie, and he yelled back and shoved me. I fell down and got dirt all over my nice jeans, then kicked his leg out from under him and jumped on him and punched him in the nose. And... Yeah. That ruined my chances of ever being friends with Johnny again."

She looked around the circle. "Eventually the adults found out and made Alice fess up, and the rest of the class apologized. But not Johnny. He couldn't even look at me. We never made up. But sometimes I still think about that stupid fight, how he shoved me and I hurt him back. We were both dumb little kids, but I still wish that we had stayed friends." She let go of Allura's hand and wiped her palms over her face. Hunk pulled her into a hug, and she put her arms around him and held him back.

After a moment, he let go, and she sat back and smiled over at Shiro. "So yeah. Another stupid little story. Still hurts, though."

Shiro nodded numbly. He hurt for little Pidge, little Katie, losing her friend because of a lie. "It's not stupid," he told her gently. "None of these stories are stupid."

Hunk nodded, then pulled in a breath. "Mine was a long time ago too. As soon as Coran said that, about how we should share something we've never talked about... This was what came to mind. Uh, I was always...chubby. It doesn't bother me now when people call me fat... Don't look at me like that, Lance, I know it bothers you, but it truly doesn't bother me anymore. It's just a description of physical size." He put his hands on his stomach and jiggled it comfortably. "I find it kind of fun now, having all this extra fluff. Makes for great hugs and cuddles. And if anyone ever calls me 'fat' like that's a bad thing, I just laugh, because they're idiots who don't know anything about the world. About the universe. Fat people are awesome, and I'm super fine with being one of them.

"But there was a time, yeah. There was a time when I didn't laugh it off as easily. I was about eight, I think, and I went shopping with my mom. And there were these two haoles at the store. Um. Tourists. Not locals. It was this teenage kid and his little brother, and they were just hanging out while their parents bought supplies, I think. But I was stuck there, too, waiting for my mom, sitting on a bench outside the grocery store door, and they were at the vending machines.

"And the little brother started laughing and pointing, tugging on his big brother's arm. 'Look at that fatso, look at that fatso, he's so fat.' The big brother was ignoring him and sighing, and the little kid kept going. He just wanted to impress his big brother, but I had to sit there, listening to it, and my face got redder and redder. I couldn't even look at them. Eventually my mom came out of the store, and the little kid shut up, and we went home."

Hunk sighed. "Like I said, it's not the word 'fat' that bothered me. I knew I was chubby. A lot of my family is, too. It's normal for us to be big. Fat is just a description of excess adipose on the body. It was what the kid meant when he said that. He meant that I was stupid, and smelly, and gross. He meant that I was worth less than he was because of the way my body was shaped. And I was young enough to be bothered by the opinions of others. Now I know that he was just a silly little kid and nothing he said mattered, but at the time... Yeah. It hurt."

Lance was tense against Shiro's side, and Shiro knew that if he could go back in time and space, he would punch that little kid out. He sighed and held him tighter. Hunk honestly did look unbothered by it now, and it wouldn't do any good for Lance to get himself all worked up. "You didn't deserve that, Hunk," Shiro said gently.

Hunk smiled at him. "I know." He blew out a breath and wiped a hand over his forehead. "It does... Wow. It does feel kind of good to talk about it, even if it doesn't really change anything. Thanks, Coran. This is...really good."

Coran nodded, smiling softly.

Next in the circle was Keith. Several pairs of eyes switched to him, and he immediately shrank into Shiro's side, pressing against him. Shiro tightened his arm around him. "You don't have to," he said. If it applied to him, it certainly applied to Keith as well. He and Keith had never talked about the past, not in specifics, but Shiro strongly suspected that there were a lot of memories that Keith had no wish to dredge up.

Keith breathed hard for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I want to."

Shiro bit his lip. Lance's arm was still wrapped around his stomach, which meant, because Keith was pressed up on his opposite side, Lance was touching Keith as well. At this, Lance turned his hand and latched onto Keith's shirt. Keith caught his breath, then seemed to take that as the encouragement he needed.

Unlike the others, he didn't talk to the group, He kept his head down, almost mumbling into Shiro's chest. But everyone was very, very quiet, and his voice, soft and strained as it was, filled the entirety of the close space.

"Um. My mom died when I was six. Never knew my dad. I ended up in, uh. Foster homes. More than...more than one. I didn't...do well. Couldn't...make friends. With anyone. I'm not saying, I'm not saying they were bad foster parents. Most of them tried really hard. I just. I just couldn't. I was...angry. At everything. My mom, for leaving me. My dad for not being there. The world for not having them in it. I was so...alone. All the time. When someone tried, I pulled away harder. I didn't...didn't know how."

Shiro lifted his hand from Keith's shoulder and buried it in his hair instead. Keith drew a shuddering breath and kept going. "There was one family. The Jacksons. I guess they...wanted to try. The mom was nice, asked what my favorite food was. I didn't know what to say. The dad...wanted me to do things. Tried to get me into his interests. I didn't want to. Fought. I frustrated him. He hit me."

Shiro caught his breath. Tears sprang to his eyes. He had suspected, of course, with the way Keith shied from contact sometimes, the way he startled at too-sharp movements. But he hadn't known. Knowing was...so much worse.

There was fumbling at his side. Lance was trying to catch Keith's hand. After a moment, Keith acquiesced. They were holding on to each other. Hard. Shiro held them both.

"It was..." Keith started, then stopped. "It was just the... Just the one time. One...night. I'd been in foster care a while, and plenty of social service agents had told me... Don't put up with that. So I knew not to. At school the next day I went to the nurse's office and refused to leave. At first they thought I was, was making trouble. Being belligerent. But I showed them the bruises, and... Um. I never saw the Jacksons again. I'd never gotten in fights before, just yelled at people sometimes. So I guess it was obvious. Anyway."

"How old were you?" Shiro asked, barely above a whisper.

"Twelve. I met you a year later."

Shiro nodded, a little jerkily, and turned his head to bury his nose in Keith's hair. He remembered that skinny thirteen-year-old, dark-haired and pale, wary, sitting across from him at the rickety picnic table where they'd met for the first time. His shoulders were hunched, his elbows drawn to his sides, and he looked at Shiro like he couldn't believe he was there, that he'd actually shown up like he said he would. And no wonder. No wonder.

Keith shifted against him, just a little. Not trying to get away, just settling into being held. For what was probably going to be a long time. "I'm okay," he said softly. "A lot of kids have had it worse. That's why I...why I never talked about it."

Shiro shook his head. "No," he said thickly. "Don't you dare compare that to what anyone else went through. Don't you dare. It was horrible, and you're allowed to know that it was horrible. You didn't deserve it. Not even a little bit. It doesn't matter how...how difficult you were. How hard it was to get along with you. How angry you were. You didn't deserve that."

Now he was the one who wanted to travel through time and space and punch someone. The need was hot in his belly and hard in his fists. He felt dizzy with it.

Keith nodded and went limp against him, almost exactly like Lance. Shiro drew a shaky breath. No. He was here. He was needed here.

They were quiet for a while, just breathing. Shiro heard sniffles and little gasps in the rest of the blanket fort, but he was entirely focused on Keith. And on Lance, in his other arm, because Lance was trembling, too. And he was still holding Keith's hand.

"Okay." Lance's voice, watery and choked, but determined. "Guess it's my turn."

Shiro's throat was tight. "Lance..." He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this. Again. Didn't want to hear what it meant to Lance that he'd shot that Galra to save both of their lives. It was cruel, maybe, to cut him off when this so very much needed to be shared, but... Shiro didn't want to hear it.

Lance shook his head, rubbing it on Shiro's shoulder. "No, I... This is important. I think it's... I've been thinking about it a lot, and Blue... I think this is where the pieces started."

Shiro went still, his breath halting in his throat. Lance wasn't going to talk about the jungle planet, about Ragnak? What...what was this then? What other traumas lurked in Lance's past? He squeezed him in, his nose still pressed in Keith's hair, and Lance shifted closer to his chest.

Lance pulled in a quick, hard breath, then started. He spoke rapidly, the words clipped, as if he needed to get this story out as quickly as possible. As if he had to run, keep ahead of his thoughts, or he wouldn't be able to finish.

"I was five when my biological parents got divorced. Me and my mamá and my full siblings moved to the States from Cuba. Mamá met Dad, and our families moved in together. So when I was six I started a new school in a new neighborhood. My step-siblings were awesome, and I loved them to death. And most of our neighbors were great too. But at my school, yeah. There were these three bullies.

"I guess I was too loud and annoying. I was having a great time, loved my new school, loved my new life. But I had brown skin, and I had an accent. And these three bullies didn't like that. They started following me after school. Chasing me. I didn't know what they would do if they caught me, but I was terrified.

"I didn't know the neighborhood well. One day they trapped me in a blind alley. They backed me up against the wall. Told me I was a... They used words I didn't understand. Some I did. Made it clear that I was worthless, not wanted. Too annoying, too brown. My voice was stupid, and my accent was ugly. I was ugly. They punched me in the stomach, then let me run away.

"It kept going for a few weeks, I guess. I got quiet at school, though I was still loud at home. I knew I had to hide, had to be different than the person I was. It didn't work. They still chased me down, still hurt me. Then one day they made a mistake. One of them hit my face.

"My big brother saw it, Javier. I was ashamed and I begged him not to tell, so he didn't. Not Dad or Mamá. But my big sister, Mariposa. My step-siblings, Laura and Jordan. They were all several years older than me, except Jordan. He was only a few months older, but he still saw himself as my big brother. He was angry that he hadn't noticed them at school, not until then. But Javier asked him to watch, and the next day he saw them picking on me and reported back. So Javier and Mariposa and Laura...

"The bullies never bothered me again. Javier put the fear of God in them but good. But I never forgot. I always knew that there was a part of me that wasn't wanted, that had to be hidden. So I started doing that. It got to be a habit. It became very engrained in my mind. Be this, not that. A different Lance at home than at school or with friends. That's where it started."

Lance drew a deep breath and was still against Shiro for a moment, shaking all over. At some point Shiro had stopped pressing his face in Keith's hair and was pressing it in Lance's instead. It was almost funny, but he didn't laugh. Keith and Lance were still holding hands, white-knuckled and sweaty. Coran had crept over to Lance's other side and rested his hand on his arm.

"The jungle planet made it worse," Lance whispered. "There are more pieces now, more I had to hide. That's why it got to be too much, and I couldn't keep control anymore. And I don't know what to do now. I don't know who I'm supposed to be. I don't know what's expected of me. It's really..." His breath hitched. "It's really scary. I don't know how to handle it."

"Then don't," Coran said. "Don't try to hide. Don't try to present a perfect version of yourself. You don't need to do that, not any longer. You're with us, and we love you and want you for who you are, nothing else."

Lance pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. "I want to believe that," he said in a small voice. "I really, really do. But it's hard."

"We know that," Allura said from across the circle. "But we are all here to prove it to you. You can take your time. There's no hurry."

"Yep," Hunk said, strong and forthright despite the tears in his voice. "No hurry at all, buddy. We'll wait as long as it takes."

"Yeah," Pidge said. Shiro closed his eyes against Lance's hair, and he felt Keith squeeze Lance's hand, both of them pressing harder against Shiro's stomach with the movement. Everything hurt so, so badly.

"Okay," Lance breathed. He was limp now, again, completely wrung out. "Thank you. I'll try."

"That's all we ask," Coran said.

The blanket fort was quiet. Everyone was still, trying to absorb it all. Shiro sat there in silence, holding his two precious little brothers. His heart was beating fast.

Maybe he could. Maybe he could share something. Not...not the worst parts. Not the memories that woke him screaming in the night. But...something. Coran had said it didn't have to be something huge. A small incident, something that hurt him or frightened him, that wounded his spirit. Something he'd never told anyone. Shaping it into words... Maybe it would help. It was worth a try, right?

"I..." Shiro started. Then he stopped again, the words bunching up in his throat. Lance sniffed against his chest, then turned his head up, trying to look into Shiro's face. Shiro drew back to look at him, though his sight was blurred.

"Are you gonna talk, Shiro?" And oh, Lance's voice was so soft and hopeful. Shiro didn't want to disappoint him. He wanted to share. Something. Something small. Anything.

Shiro nodded. "I..."

He halted, huffed out a breath. He felt like he was going to faint.

Coran's other hand moved to his head, combing through the white tuft on his forehead. "It doesn't have to be any of the worst hurts. What about how you got the scar on your nose?"

Shiro shook his head, chest hitching with terror. "Not that one."

"Okay." Coran's fingers continued to move. "Something else then. Anything. Something from your childhood, something from the year you were captive. Whatever you can tell us."

Shiro nodded. "Okay, I..."

He blinked. That was it. He knew what he wanted to share. What he could share.

He opened his mouth, and he began.

Chapter Text

Like everyone else, Pidge waited with held breath. She both wanted and didn't want to hear what Shiro would say. Her mind was already reeling with the stories they'd just listened to, but this one... She was hungry for any details about what Shiro's life as a Galra captive had been like, but she also dreaded them. She knew that her dad and brother weren't going through the same thing, since they weren't fighting in the arena, but... She still wanted information. Her analytical mind demanded it.

It hadn't escaped her notice that the stories had gotten progressively worse as they'd gone around the circle. Okay, Coran had lost his entire planet, including his son, and that was a grief so great that Pidge's mind shied away from it. She tried to imagine what it would feel like if Earth was destroyed and her last conversation with her mother was an argument, but she couldn't wrap her head around the idea. And Allura... Yeah, it sucked to have your father wound your feelings, even unintentionally, and her pain was valid, but at least she had some responsibility for it. Pidge had been partially responsible, too, for losing her friend.

But Hunk... He hadn't remotely deserved anything like that awful episode outside his hometown grocery store. That was pure psychological damage, no matter that he seemed fully healed now. And between Keith and Lance, Pidge really couldn't decide which was worse. Keith had been abused by someone who should have been a parent to him, and Pidge could imagine no greater betrayal, no greater evil anyone could endure. And he'd said "bruises," as in plural, which meant it was more than just an ill-considered slap or something so minor. That man had hurt him. Badly.

But Lance... That had gone on for weeks. That was verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, and he'd suffered it for weeks. No wonder it had left cracks in his psyche. No wonder the time had finally come when he hadn't been able to hide them anymore.

And Shiro. He had been a prisoner of the Galra for a year. A year. The things he went through were so awful that his mind had hidden a great portion of them from him. Shiro was tough, even after all he'd been through, so if what he'd suffered was too much even for him to handle... What chance did the rest of them have?

Shiro was wavering where he sat, his face twisted in pain as he tried to work up to speaking. Coran's hand moved from his head to curl around the back of his neck, pressing warm and firm to ground him, like they'd all seen Lance do when Shiro almost panicked merely at the idea of talking. Lance and Keith both pressed themselves into Shiro's sides, his arms wrapped around them, fists clenched in their shirts, and their hands were entwined, too, in front of Shiro's stomach. It all looked desperate and agonized, and Pidge badly wanted to look away. But she didn't.

Shiro pulled in a harsh breath, then raised his head and looked straight at Pidge. His mouth was drawn back in a grimace, and his pupils were too big, even for the dim light. His voice was strangled. "Pidge... Is this okay?"

Her heart lurched in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"This is...the story I can tell... It's from the beginning. It's... Is it okay if I tell this one? It...involves your family."

Pidge's hands wrung together in front of her, and she felt Hunk's hand on her shoulder. She wanted to yell Yes! He could tell, of course, of course, she wanted to hear any details he could give of her dad and brother. From the pain on his face, though, she knew this was going to be unpleasant. Maybe she didn't want to hear it. Maybe she didn't want anyone else to hear it, either. Her dad and brother didn't deserve to be known only as victims to her teammates. They were so much more than that.

She closed her eyes and drew a shuddery breath, then opened them and looked at Shiro. He was still watching her, his chest heaving for breath. Oh, right. This wasn't about Pidge, nor even about her family. This was about Shiro. He needed to talk. He needed to tell his story. He needed to take the venom out of the wounds that festered in his head. Pidge's story had been so, so much less severe than what Keith and Lance and even Hunk had been through, but it had still hurt her, and she had still felt better for telling it. Shiro needed to know that relief, too.

So she nodded to him, as strong as she could. "Tell it." Her voice was strangled and rough, but she hoped she sounded as sincere as she felt.

"Okay." Shiro closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, letting his head lean back into Coran's hand. He was slumping now, trying to relax against the pillows behind him. He slid down until he rested as loosely as possible, his head supported, still being grounded by Coran and Lance and Keith. Then he opened his eyes and stared away at nothing in particular. He spoke calmly, factually, as if he was giving a report. It didn't really make it easier to listen to, but maybe it made it easier for him to say it.

"We were...collecting ice samples. When the Galra ship came. They picked us up in a red beam of light, our bodies, our equipment, all being pulled into the atmosphere as we tried to run. The guards dragged us in front of the ship's commander. He spoke to Zarkon through a screen. Called us primitive scientists. Zarkon said the druids would get all the information they needed from us. Like an idiot, I protested. Said something about how we were peaceful and meant no harm." He huffed softly. "As if they cared. That's an encouragement to them, nothing more. So a guard knocked me in the head. I passed out.

"I woke up being dragged. Looked up through a window, saw...prison cells. Thousands of them. My head hurt. Passed out again. Woke up in a...room. It was cold and bare. The guards were standing at the walls, but the hands on me..." He shuddered.

Pidge felt her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to stop this, didn't want to hear. Needed to hear. Needed him to say it. Matt and Dad went through this, too, though it sounded like they were smart enough not to get a concussion out of it. Of course Shiro spoke up, though. Of course. He was so protective, always took the attention on himself when things were going wrong, just like Lance had done back when they failed that stupid simulation at the Garrison...

Shiro swallowed and kept going. "Um. The hands were...smooth. But cold. Not human. It was a...now I know they call them druids. At the time, he was just another alien. He was wearing a robe, and his eyes glowed. I tried to move, tried to fight, but there was something wrong with my limbs, and then a guard pointed a gun at me, and I stopped. My head hurt really bad. Commander Holt and Matt were there, too. The druid had a knife with a long, curved blade, and he...removed my EVA suit. Cut it off me. Like skinning an animal. Nicked me in a couple places. Then the rest of my clothes, whatever was still hanging on me. I wasn't given a choice. Then Commander Holt and Matt, too. Matt tried to take his own clothes off, to at least take that much control, but the druid didn't let him. He wanted to do it.

"He...examined us. Looked at us. Measured us with his hands. It seemed to take forever. He seemed fascinated by the differences between the three of us. Kept going back and rechecking. Pinched our skin to watch how it turned white, then red. Ran his fingers through our hair. Laughed to himself, cold, mocking. Every time he touched me, my skin crawled. But I couldn't escape. Escape was not possible."

There were tears in Pidge's eyes now. She felt sick. Shiro looked like he was fighting nausea, too. Coran had been crying for a while.

"We were left there, on the cold floor, huddling together like animals. The druid watched us. He smiled. I don't know, maybe it was scientific. Maybe it was observation. Maybe he was taking notes on the strange new species naked in front of him. He left the room, but the guards were still there, keeping their guns on us. I knew we were still being monitored, could almost feel the eyes on me. It was...it was the creepiest sensation I'd ever experienced in my life up to that point." Another shudder passed over Shiro's body, and he clutched Keith and Lance harder.

A cold part of Pidge knew what this was. Humiliation. Dehumanization, if such a word applied to literal aliens from outer space. Control. Plenty of tyrranical regimes had used similar tactics in Earth's history. But it was one thing to read about it in the history book your mom told you to stay away from because it was too graphic, so of course you sought it out just to spite her. It was another thing to hear that it had happened to your leader. Your brother. Your father.

Plenty of serial killers used tactics like that, too.

"I don't know how long we were in there. Hours, maybe. My head got worse. I threw up. Matt and Commander Holt tried to talk to me, tried to keep me awake. We were all shaking with cold. Finally the druid came back with his hands full of cloth. Three prisoner outfits, black coveralls, ragged purple shirts. We were allowed to dress, made to stand for one more inspection. The druid had a device in his hand, held it to my head. I tried to shrink away, but he grabbed my jaw and held me still. My head started feeling better, and the pain and nausea went away. Then the guards took us to a cell."

Shiro blinked and shuddered, as if coming out of a trance. He looked over at Pidge again, his face anxious. Still trying to make sure she was okay with this. "That was...that was the beginning. Worse things happened later, but I remember that part as vividly as I remember anything, because... Because it was the first."

Pidge nodded, tears stinging her eyes and running warm over her cheeks. She braced herself, then pulled out of Hunk's hand on her shoulder and crawled over to the bundle of bowed backs and locked arms that was Shiro, Lance, and Keith. She picked her way over Keith and Shiro's sprawling legs to where Lance sat, curled into a ball between Coran and Shiro with his knees drawn up. And she settled down next to Shiro's legs and laid her hand on his clothed knee.

He was wearing long pajama pants, a long-sleeved shirt, socks. It made sense now why she'd never seen him take his shirt off, never even seen him bare his arms above the elbow. Now that he could control what he wore, he did everything he could to make himself feel safe.

"Thank you for telling me," Pidge murmured, even as the tears ran. "I know that was hard for you."

Shiro nodded numbly. His expression was raw, stripped bare. He was probably wondering if he would still be able to lead them now, if they were going to be able to take him seriously after learning something so painful and humiliating. Pidge didn't know how to reassure him of that. They would all just have to prove it to him in the coming days by treating him normally, following his orders in battle without hesitation, messing with him in downtime when they could get away with it. As they always did. Shiro was their leader, and this didn't change that. This story...it had always been in his past. It didn't change who he was. They just knew about it now.

But for now, Pidge patted his knee and gave him a shaky smile. She didn't know what else to do. Hunk moved up on the other side and leaned over Keith's legs and patted Shiro's other knee. Lance and Keith had let go of each other and were clenching their hands in the front of Shiro's shirt, instead. Even the mice had climbed up on Shiro's shoulder opposite Coran's hand so they could nuzzle his neck.

It was all very ridiculous and close and stuffy and overly warm. Pidge cast a glance at Allura and saw her looking very put-out that there was nowhere to sneak in except Shiro's feet, which they all knew already were too sensitive for touching. So she was stuck there across the circle just trying to comfort him with her eyes. Which if anyone could do, it was probably Allura.

Shiro closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath, a few tears trickling out. He clutched Lance and Keith closer to him again, which Lance responded to by going boneless and hiding his face against his chest, while Keith tensed up under his arm and just looked absolutely miserable with the entire arrangement. It was all getting to be too much for Keith, Pidge could tell.

But he made no attempt to get away. Didn't even shift against Shiro to let him know he was uncomfortable. And Lance...apparently he'd forgotten his fear of having his breathing restricted, because there was no way being crushed into Shiro's chest like that was good for his lungs. Or maybe, like Keith, he was pushing down his natural responses in order to let Shiro squeeze him like a teenage-boy-shaped stress ball.

After a moment longer of just sitting there, dragging in all the closeness and connection he could, Shiro opened his eyes and loosened up his grip of Keith and Lance with a small, cut-off gasp. He blinked and looked around at everyone, tried for a smile. "Okay. That was..." He grimaced, couldn't seem to come up with a word to describe it. "Thanks for listening."

Pidge offered something like a smile. It was hard for her, too. "Do you feel better?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Saying it all aloud made it...fresh. Again. But maybe I will later."

Pidge nodded thoughtfully. She sure hoped so.

Shiro sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, then looked around the group again. "Okay, I think we forgot something very important about sleepovers." His voice was entirely solemn.

Hunk perked up and looked at him quizzically. "What?"

Shiro smiled. "Junk food. You gotta have junk food. Think you could fix us up, Hunk?"

Hunk considered thoughtfully for a moment, then grinned, big and wide. "How about dessert pizza? We have more of that baking mix in the kitchen, and Coran picked up some preserved fruit from the supplies."

"That sounds wonderful." Shiro nodded hugely and rubbed his hands over Keith and Lance's backs. "Why don't we all take a break from the blanket fort? It's a great place and I love it and I can't wait to go to sleep in it later, but right now it's kind of hot and stuffy."

There were murmurs of agreement all around. Not surprisingly, Keith was the first one out, after he carefully peeled himself away from Shiro's side, making sure the whole way that Shiro didn't mind. The rush of cool air from him flopping open the doorway blanket hit them like a refreshing breeze. The others followed a little more slowly, blinking in the light, then broke off. Some headed for the bathrooms, some for the bedrooms for more supplies for later.

Pidge went with Hunk to the kitchen. Shiro promised to come later and help out too, but now it was just the two of them. She was curious about the Danberian supplies and wanted to watch him work with them. Hunk was always a marvel in the kitchen, applying that big engineering brain to the science of food and flavor. Plus he could usually find a job for anyone to do, no matter how unskilled they were with cooking matters, and Pidge needed something to do with her hands after that long emotional trip. It was all starting to feel a little stifling, and physical activity was just what she needed to take her mind off things.

He set her to work stirring stewed fruit with some sugar in a saucepan over a heating element while he kneaded dough. They worked in comfortable silence for a little while. Then Pidge felt compelled to ruin it. She turned away from the stove, just for a moment, just to have Hunk admonish, "Don't stop stirring! Burnt sugar is the worst!"

Pidge sighed and went back to stirring, but still turned her head to look at him. "Hey, Hunk?"

"Yeah?" he asked absently, steadily kneading. He seemed to find the activity relaxing, too.

"You know you look good just the way you are, right?"

He turned his head to toss her a smile. "Yeah, I know."

"I bet you were a super adorable little kid, too."

He chuckled softly. "Enough relatives told me so."

"You didn't deserve that," she said solemnly.

"I know." He sighed. "And you didn't deserve some jerk of a little girl telling lies about you and making everyone turn against you, either."

"I know."

She stirred her fruit. It was starting to smell really good. Kind of a cross between maybe...apricot and grape? Interesting.

"Hey, Hunk?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Lance and Keith know, too? That they're fine the way they are, actually kind of hilarious and adorable in a weird, obnoxious way, and they didn't deserve that? Any of that? Even a little bit?"

Hunk hummed appreciatively. "If they don't, we'll tell them."

"As many times as it takes?"

"Of course as many times as it takes."

It was enough. Pidge smiled and stirred.

Chapter Text

Keith couldn't sleep. When everyone dispersed to take a break after the extensive caring and sharing session, he went on a short run through the halls to try to work off some of the turmoil churning within him. He kept it short because he didn't want to get sweaty and need another shower; he wanted to be back with everyone when they gathered again. It was a strange and new feeling, but he couldn't deny it. He wanted to be with them, these weirdos who were now the only people in his world who mattered. Who had ever mattered, maybe.

But the result of the short run, and no solo training this evening, meant that he wasn't able to burn off all the nervous energy spinning in his gut. After the dessert pizza, which was strange but tasty, they settled in the fort and talked some more. Just frivolities, talking about favorite things they missed from Earth and Altea, little stories from schools and friends and families left behind. Lance and Coran got into a joke tell-off that was frankly incomprehensible, though they seemed to enjoy themselves hugely. Then, one by one, people started to drop off to sleep.

Pidge was the first, shockingly. Maybe all of her nights staying up too late working on projects had caught up with her. She curled up under Shiro's arm and dragged him down with her, squishing herself between his side and the row of pillows. He ended up lying on his back staring up at the blossom lights, still listening to the conversations. Lance was next, sprawling on his back with his head on Shiro's chest. Shiro's other hand curled around and rested lightly on his stomach, so he could feel it moving up and down with Lance's breath. Even now, he was careful not to touch Lance's chest. Then Allura took a blanket and pillow to the sofa next to Pidge and spread out. Before or after she dropped off, Allura's arm trailed down into the main fort, and now she and Pidge were holding hands in their sleep.

Shiro's blinks started getting slower, his eyes opening less and less frequently. Coran moved to his head, arranged a pile of pillows behind his back so he could recline comfortably, and pulled Shiro's head into his lap. He started running his fingers through Shiro's hair, and Shiro was gone. "I'll wake up if there are any nightmares," Coran assured Hunk softly. "Hopefully before he disturbs Lance."

Hunk frowned at the way Lance was leaning on Shiro's chest. Surely even the slightest nightmare would wake him in that position. But neither Hunk nor Coran wanted to move him and risk waking him, so there he stayed.

Lance had probably positioned himself that way out of pure habit, after spending so many nights taking care of Shiro. Keith felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, and he looked away, face burning. It had been made abundantly clear that it wasn't his job, that Shiro didn't need him for this, but he still wished that he was the one to look after his big brother and protect him from dreams.

Coran and Hunk kept talking for a little while longer. Coran's head leaned more heavily against the cushions behind him, and Hunk was burrowing again in a pile of bedding at the back of the fort. Keith sat against the cushions on the opposite side of the circle, his head heavy, hands clenched loosely in his lap. Lance's foot was next to his knee. Half of him wanted to grab it and squeeze until he woke up and squawked at him in childish protest. Half of him just wanted to touch it gently, pet it like it was a wounded little animal that needed tender care. Everything was confusing.

He wanted to leave. Wanted to stay. Wanted to run until his lungs burst and he fell to the ground, completely spent. Wanted to listen to the soft murmurs of Hunk and Coran's voices as they rambled on about nothing in particular. He wanted to protect Lance and make sure that he was always, always safe. He wanted to push him out of the way and take his place at Shiro's side. He wanted to take back everything he'd said during their messed up little storytime. But he was also glad he had said it.

His head hurt. His stomach, too.

Eventually Hunk's voice trailed off into sleepy mumbles, then stopped. Then Coran's eyes closed and he went limp where he reclined. Keith looked away, feeling creepy about watching them when they were asleep. Everyone was so...vulnerable.

Keith's head bowed almost to his chest. He closed his eyes and listened to everyone breathe. These were...these were his friends. His teammates. Everyone's stories swirled around his head. He wished he was Hunk, or Pidge, so he could build a time machine and go back and prevent the awful things that had happened to everyone. But that would mean he would have to go back ten thousand years and stop Zarkon from killing Coran's son and destroying Altea, and...

But no, forget that. Just ten years. Just eleven. Just enough to keep Pidge from losing her friend, or Hunk from being torn apart by that nasty kid. Just enough to keep Lance from being told that he was worthless and ugly at a time when he was young enough to believe it. Just two years, to stop Shiro from going on that mission.

He couldn't. He couldn't do any of that. The helplessness was hot and heavy his chest, a burden that he couldn't get rid of. Keith curled forward onto himself, his knees drawing up, hands rising to his face. He cried. Just a little, as quietly as he could. He didn't want to wake anyone.

He didn't know who he was crying for. Himself. Lance. Shiro. Everyone. It was sadness and grief and anger and hatred, but there was a beam of light in the back of his mind, too. He had told his story, that awful thing he'd never said aloud to anyone, ever, after that first day when he forced the nurse to listen to him. And no one had rejected him. Shiro had pulled him in tighter and pressed his face into his hair. Lance had held his hand, had insisted on it. The others had wept for him, as if his sorrow was their own. As if he mattered to them, and his pain mattered, too.

Family. They were his family. Keith had been through many families, just passing through like a ghost. Some had tried to connect with him, and some had ignored him, and some had hurt him. But this was the first one that felt like this. Keith didn't know what to do with it. Didn't know what to do with himself.

All he knew was that he wanted to protect it. Them. Himself. Everyone. He wanted them all to be safe. He wanted to be able to listen to everyone breathe, free and clear and peaceful and loved. Always.

The sniffles passed, dying away, and he sat there with his hands pressed to his face. Slowly, he uncurled a bit. His knees were still raised, but his head leaned back on the pillows behind him. He looked up at the blossom lights. They had dimmed somewhat now that everyone was sleeping. Had Allura commanded them somehow, or was Altean technology just that sensitive, even in such a tiny form?

A rustling drew his attention, and he turned his head and saw the mound of pillows and blankets that Hunk had disappeared into beginning to move. After a moment, Hunk emerged, blinking owlishly. He was looking at Keith. He gave him a smile, then crawled over and sat next to him. Keith rolled his head over lazily to keep an eye on him. He was limp and relaxed, completely wrung out, and he felt no desire to move.

"Hey, buddy," Hunk said, soft and low. "You okay?"

Keith nodded, a slight movement of his head. "Did I wake you up? I didn't mean to."

Hunk shook his head. "Wasn't really asleep. Just knew Coran wouldn't sleep till I shut up."

Keith blinked at him. "You're sneaky."

"Only sometimes." Hunk snickered softly. "Usually because of Lance."

"Yeah." Keith looked back up at the lights.

"Hey." Hunk shifted beside him. "I...I want to ask you a couple of questions. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. You can tell me to buzz off, and I will. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or bring back bad memories."

Keith looked back at him. His stomach squirmed. He should have known that wouldn't be the end. "What...what are your questions?" His lips felt numb.

Hunk grimaced, as if the question pained him as much to say as it did Keith to hear. "Did that man... Mr. Jackson... Did he pay for what he did to you? Because... He should have to gone to jail for child abuse. Or assault. Doesn't matter if it was just the one time. If he left bruises..." Hunk's broad shoulders moved in a helpless shrug. "That's really bad, Keith. Really, really bad."

Keith looked at the lights. A shiver passed over his shoulders.

"You don't have to answer," Hunk said again, even lower. "If it... You don't have to think about it. You can ignore me."

Keith thought about it, then rocked his head from side to side. "No. I'll tell you. But if anyone else asks, I'll send them to you. I don't want to say it more than once."

Hunk slumped beside him in relief. "That's fair."

Keith was still for a moment, gathering strength. Then he opened his mouth. "Mr. Jackson... That man... No, he didn't go to jail. He said I got in a fight with some neighborhood kids, and it was my word against his. I thought his wife was nice, but she sided with him. Said he was a perfect father, loving husband, wouldn't hurt a fly. I was lying for attention. The bruises... I guess they could have looked like a fight."

His hand raised dreamily in the air, fingers ghosting over his mouth, his cheek. "Split lip, bruised jaw. A scratch from his ring when he backhanded me." He lowered his hand again. "My upper arms. I thought it was clear that they were...finger-shaped. Guess they weren't. My back...could have gotten that anywhere. Not proof." He could feel the horror rolling off Hunk in waves. He didn't have the energy to respond.

"It's not like he beat me. No welts, no cigarette burns. It was just a...moment of frustration. So no, he didn't go to jail."

Hunk's voice was a bare hush. "Did you have to go back...? No, you said you never saw them again. How...?"

Keith closed his eyes. "It's how the foster system works. They have to be careful with accusations. Even if the investigation doesn't prove anything, the kid still doesn't go back. I went to a new place. But they were...wary of me. I guess they knew I was a liar, and they had to be careful. They kept their distance."

"Did anyone believe you?"

"I think my social worker did." He sighed. "I don't know. She was...tired. She'd been doing it for a long time, seen everything. I could almost never tell what she was thinking. But she...she would have known that I'd never done that before. I was always honest when I got in trouble, too mad not to be. Why would I start lying then? I think she knew the truth."

Hunk was quiet for a long moment, taking that in. "I know I said...a couple of questions. Can I ask a couple more?"

Keith just nodded, too tired to speak. Suddenly, he very much wanted to go to sleep.

"Did anyone hug you afterward? Your social worker, maybe? Did anyone tell you it wasn't your fault?"

A smile twitched at Keith's lips. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. Slowly, deliberately, he began to tip himself over. Until the top of his head just barely landed on the side of Hunk's shoulder. "No," he murmured. "I wasn't much for hugging. Always stiffened up. She knew I didn't like it. And no, no one told me it wasn't my fault."

"Then could I hug you? Right now? You can tell me to stop if you don't like it. But I'd really like to give you a hug."

Keith thought about it. He wasn't sure he could deal with it right now. Hunk's hugs could be overwhelming. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay."

"No," mumbled a third voice. Keith raised his eyebrows and looked toward it. Lance was awake, his head still resting on Shiro's chest, position unmoved. He looked tired and disgruntled.

Keith blinked. "No? What no?"

Lance squinted at him. "You're not doing this right."

Keith frowned. Lance sighed and slowly, carefully began to inch away from Shiro. He lifted the hand on his stomach and slid out from under it, then laid it gently down on the blankets where he'd been lying and moved over to Keith's side. He got into Keith's personal space, way too close, just like he always used to. His frown was mighty.

"Hunk is offering to comfort you, and you're putting him off. That's not how you do it, you utter fool. So here, let the cuddle master help."

Keith's eyes widened in faint alarm, but it was too late. Lance's hands were already on him. He didn't grab him hard, just firmly and decisively, but it was definitely a little startling.

Lance was stronger than Keith expected, too. He grabbed Keith's arms and manhandled him upright. Then he pushed him back into Hunk's side. Hunk had already moved to accommodate this, somehow. Had they done this before? Then Lance took Hunk's arm and very gently, very carefully placed it around Keith's chest. He patted it, like he was tucking Keith in under a blanket. And he gave him a smile. "See? That's nice, isn't it?"

Keith blinked again. Rapidly. He had no words.

He felt Hunk's chest rumble against his back. "Lance, you can't just force someone to accept cuddling. Keith, do you want me to let you go?"

Keith was still for a long moment. Then, "No," breathed out in a hush.

"Okay, then." Hunk settled his arm more comfortably around him.

Lance was still smiling. Smugly, now. "Told ya. Here, I'll show you how it's done."

He picked his way over to Hunk's other side, crawling over his legs to do it. Keith turned his head to follow him. Lance settled down on Hunk's other side, his back to his big buddy, and pulled Hunk's other arm around himself. Then he tipped his head back to look at Keith. "And now you relax. It's the best thing ever."

So Keith did. He looked forward again. He felt Hunk's warmth, the movement of his breath. Heard the others' small sleeping sounds, Lance on the other side shifting his head against Hunk's shoulder. Keith felt like he was melting. A few more minutes of this, and he was going to be fast asleep.

Lance breathed a tiny, contented sigh, like he'd been wanting to do this forever. Though, as Keith remembered it, he'd actually already done it once earlier today. Lance had been kind of out of it at the time, though, so maybe he hadn't been able to enjoy it properly.

"Lance?" Hunk's voice, quiet, apologetic. "We're sorry we woke you up. The point of all this was to help you get more sleep, not less."

"It's okay. I just sleep really lightly nowadays. I'm sure it'll get better." Lance sighed. "And before you ask, no, the bullies didn't go to jail. They got punched, though. And they knew they were always on thin ice. Jordan wasn't in my class, and we were kind of prickly with each other up till that moment. Too much alike to get along right away. But we hung out at school a lot more after that and started walking home together, and they knew if they ever pulled anything he would report it to Javier. I also got hugged. Like, a lot. Mariposa and Laura spent basically weeks pampering me and telling me that I was beautiful and my brown skin was gorgeous and not to listen to anyone who said otherwise."

"Okay." Another shift, like Hunk was holding Lance a little tighter. Carefully, though, because of his breathing thing. Keith let his eyes drift shut. "Is that when you started moisturizing?"

"Yeah. Gotta do my big sisters proud."

Hunk hummed. Keith was almost asleep now. He heard Lance's voice again, sounding worried, and Hunk said, "It's fine. Coran's taking care of him," and then everything faded.

Chapter Text

The thing about space, Hunk had discovered, was that space was cold. The Castle of Lions was a big, very big, very old ship. It had huge echoing halls, and walls and floors made of metal, and even though it was run on magic crystal energy the heating bill was kind of insurmountable. So Hunk and his buddies ended up wearing their jackets a lot when they were technically indoors, and they were all grateful that the pilot armor regulated their temperature. Made things a lot easier.

But even in the cold of space, you could make a warm place for yourself and your friends, your family. Yeah, the residential area was usually kept as warm as Coran could make it, but there was more they could do. They could build a blanket fort. They could tell stories about the things they'd lost and left behind, jokes and memories, funny moments that happened while some of them weren't present. They could share their heartaches and sorrows and hold each other through the tears. They could rest leaning against each other, soft and close and safe, and that was the warmest of all.

Also, something Hunk had discovered pretty early on was that the yellow lion's hangar always felt warm to him. He wasn't sure why. Measured objectively, the temperature wasn't any higher than that of the other hangars. And yet every time he went to visit his lion, whether flying through the tube or walking around the long way, Hunk always felt a warmth that started in his heart and expanded to his entire body. It made him happy.

"Hey, Yellow," he said today, walking in and looking up at his big yellow buddy. He had a tablet reader with the translation program on him, but he didn't bother looking at it. He was learning the ancient Altean alphabet with Coran's help, but he only knew a few words so far. It was easier to just talk to Yellow in the usual way. And today, same as always, he felt the welcoming press on his mind as soon as the lion came into view.

Hunk sighed and crossed the space to meet her. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her tail flick in greeting, but it might have been his imagination. He reached her great front paws and sat down with his back against the smooth surface. That felt warm, too. He leaned his head back against her paw and closed his eyes.

"How are you doing, Yellow? Everything good on the lion front?"

Warmth and contentment came through the bond. Hunk smiled. Since he'd learned about the levels of the bond, he'd been coming to the hangar and having a conversation with Yellow every day. Granted, he had always come to visit her fairly regularly anyway, even when there wasn't a need to fight, even when there weren't repairs or maintenance to perform. Ever since the Balmera, when Hunk had first accepted his mission as a paladin and decided to give everything he had to the fight against Zarkon, he had felt pretty close to Yellow. And he'd always felt her appreciation for him in return.

But he'd never really sat down and tried to talk to her before that revelatory conversation with Coran. It turned out to be surprisingly easy, once he tried it. Fun, too. Yellow didn't speak to him in words, though sometimes he got the feeling that she wanted to, but her language was even more efficient in some ways. Ideas and images and concepts and feelings all beamed directly into the brain were a pretty quick way to communicate things. Plus, he knew that she understood him, and sometimes that was all he needed.

"We're still spending our nights in the blanket fort," he told her now. "I know, I know, it's been five days. But...none of us are willing to give it up yet. We did have to launder the bottom blankets yesterday, though. Seven people all sleeping and drooling and sweating in the same space...it gets a little rank."

He got the sense of her amusement and happiness, a deepening of her purr. She thought it was good that they were all spending their sleeping times together. They were a pride, after all. A touch of concern, the image of Lance and Shiro.

Hunk sighed. "Yeah, Shiro is still having nightmares. That's probably not going to change for a long time. But we've been taking turns looking out for him. Lance showed us how, and sometimes we still have to get him to help when it's particularly bad. But we're learning. It's easiest if Lance sleeps within arm-length of Shiro, so Shiro can reach out and touch him if the nightmare's about him. A lot of them are, still. But Lance has been getting more sleep, and he's a lot steadier for it."

Agreement, the image of Blue and Lance flying together.

"Yeah, he's been flying well. You saw them the other day when we did that training exercise. Again with the darkened helmets, even though Lance doesn't need the training wheels anymore. Lance is flying great. You think he and Blue went full tandem again? I couldn't tell."

A discreet hum. It wasn't Yellow's business to tell. Full tandem was still too much of a deep secret, even among the lions. Hunk blew out a breath. "Yeah, all right. He seemed okay afterward, anyway. No eye glow or distance in his manner. It could have just been level three, I guess. But anyway, why are you asking me about Lance? Can't you just talk to Blue?"

Amusement, then an image of Hunk and Lance laughing together. Ah, she wanted to hear it from him, because Lance was Hunk's friend and Yellow liked to hear Hunk talk about him. Hunk grinned reluctantly. "Yeah, I know you like to listen to me talk. Sorry I never did it before. It's fun for me, too."

A gentle press of her mind, warmth and purring and a sense of weight. It was as if she had physically manifested as a huge, furry lion and rubbed up against him, and it was the first time Hunk had felt her presence so powerfully. It was wonderful. Hunk shivered all over with delight. He wondered if this was what Lance felt when he talked with Blue.

"Oh! Something new did happen on the Lance front. Today we analyzed the data from that exercise, you know, the one from the other day where Lance was flying so well. It was Keith who asked... He pointed out that Lance's moves were a lot more smooth and efficient than they used to be. He brought up the battle at Danber, too. You should have seen Lance's face, Yellow. Keith was praising him, and he was absolutely shocked. I mean, everyone else did, too. Me, Shiro, Pidge, even Coran and Allura. And Lance just blinked around at us like he couldn't believe what was happening.

"Shiro said something about how much he had improved, you know, since we first left Earth. Told him he was doing great, that he was proud of him. Lance almost looked like he was gonna cry, but then he shook his head and said, 'That's not me, though. It's Blue.'

"I knew what he was talking about, of course, but everyone else was confused. Keith kind of waved his hands in the air and was like, 'But it's been more than a month, I thought like a month ago that you were flying better, and now you're saying that it was Blue the whole time and not you? In every battle, not just during the exercise to see through our lions' eyes? That doesn't make any sense.'

"And Lance blinked at him all slow-like and said, uh, let's see if I can remember the exact words, because it was kind of hilarious. He said, 'Well, yeah, Keith, that's because I've been seeing through Blue's eyes every time I fly, not just for the exercises. Oh yeah, and all of her other sensors, too. Of which there are a lot. It's a lot easier to turn on a dime when it feels like your own body making the turn. It's nothing special.'

"Oh, man, Yellow. You should've seen it. Maybe you can see the images in my mind, huh? Man, Shiro and Keith and Pidge basically exploded. It was awesome. They were all, 'Wait a minute, what?' 'You can do what now?' 'Are you kidding?' And Lance was just blinking at them and starting to look a little nervous, and Allura was smiling that tight smile she gets, and Coran looked pained and pleased at the same time. And I know I was grinning like an idiot, just as proud as punch. Because, right, I knew about it, I knew how amazing Lance is, but I hadn't ever gotten a chance to tell the others. And now they could see it, and they were all so shocked and amazed... Yeah, it was awesome." Hunk could feel Yellow's delight, echoing his own. She was enjoying the scene in his mind as richly as he was.

Hunk's smiled faded, and he slumped further down on Yellow's paw as he remembered. "Poor Lance, though. He just couldn't take it in. He was starting to cringe back in his chair, even looking a little scared, and I'm sure that Blue had to speak in his mind to calm him down." A rumble of agreement from Yellow.

"Poor guy. He still can't understand how great he is, even when we all tell him so. Anyway, Allura took control of the conversation then. She explained to the others about the levels and how Lance had reached level three, even told them that the way Blue acted on the day of the big blow up was because of how close they are now. I could see the moment it all clicked in Pidge's mind, the instant a lot of things suddenly made sense, and she nodded and sat back. And then Shiro was grinning, too, just as proud as I was, if not more. He was like a dad at his kid's piano recital, watching the kid absolutely slay a Chopin piece. Keith... Well, he looked jealous. Not gonna lie. But he also looked determined. I just bet you he's decided that if Lance can do it, he can too, and he's gonna be the next one to reach level three even if it kills him."

Amusement from Yellow. Hunk chuckled, too. "Yeah, it's gonna be a tough row to hoe for him. Poor Keith. After learning about his past, it makes a lot more sense why he was always so wary of getting close to anyone. He's scared of his own feelings, and I get it, I do. But if he's going to get to level three with Red, he'll have to learn to deal. Lance is showing us all the way in more than one thing, I guess. Keith has been trying hard to get along lately, anyway. This is just giving him even more motivation."

Hunk lifted his hand and pressed his palm against Yellow's paw, slowly stroking the metal surface. Still he felt that warmth, silky and smooth in his mind and his heart. There was an ache inside him, a longing and a wish. "Hey, Yellow?"

She purred, open and listening.

"Do you think we can reach level three?"

Absolute certainty. Of course they could. They would. It was just a matter of time.

Hunk smiled. "Okay, cool. I would love to be able to feel your presence and talk to you from decks away, like Lance can with Blue. That would be really awesome. Oh, man, when Allura explained that part, that level three could even allow that in some cases... Yeah, a lot of things suddenly made sense. Shiro asked Lance if that was why he kept starting to say Blue's name in casual conversation like she was right there with him, then stopping himself. Lance bit his lip, then nodded, blushing like it was a shameful secret or something. And Shiro somehow looked even more proud, oh man.

"It was Pidge who asked why he kept stopping himself, why he hadn't just told everyone that he could talk to Blue like that. She said she got why he hadn't told them about level three—he hadn't thought to mention it because he didn't realize what it meant. It just felt natural to him, that was all, which was more proof of how amazing it really was. But the talking? C'mon, man. He had to know that that was new and cool.

"And Lance gave her this worried look and said that he hadn't wanted to make anyone feel bad. Which is just...so Lance. We're all aware that Pidge has the weakest connection of any of us to her lion. She's working on it, always, just like the rest of us, but he still..." Hunk shook his head, an amazed smile drawing out his mouth. "He's such a good guy, Yellow. It's ridiculous, how he can't see that about himself. Pidge thought so too. She threw her fists in the air in exasperation and actually got up from her chair and went around the table so she could hug him. I mean, she called him an idiot, too, and told him to never, ever hold back for such a stupid reason again. But she was hugging him the whole time. It was pretty sweet."

Yellow purred her pleasure at the images in his mind. Hunk closed his eyes and revelled in it for a while, too. Everyone was so much closer now, more willing to talk, more willing to touch, more aware of each other's mental and emotional states. Slowly, some signs of normality were surfacing, too.

After the day of the big blow up and another full day of recovery spent doing very little besides resting, playing, and talking, Allura and Coran had started up training exercises again. Just a couple the first day back, then more. Voltron made a few appearances at strategic locations to make sure the Galra didn't think they'd vanished, but they hadn't purposely engaged in battle yet. Hunk was sure the time was coming soon, though they were still taking it easy for now.

Keith and Lance were having nightly Speed battles, enjoying a fierce rivalry with no true heat behind it. They competed in training exercises, too. They were even starting to casually insult each other in everyday conversations again. But it was always with a careful eye on each other, making sure that the sting didn't actually cut deep. The other would come up with some way to show that it was fine: a smirk from Lance, a hair toss from Keith. And then a smile of relief to signal that the message was received. It was kind of fun to watch, actually. They were so gentle with each other now, even when they fought. It was amazing.

They had all started doing their solo things again, too. Allura spent more time on the control deck, looking over the data from the thousands of distress beacons over all the years of Galra conquest. Pidge had gone back to her lab after several days away to work on her projects. Hunk experimented in the kitchen and helped Coran with some maintenance, which gave them time to work on learning the old Altean alphabet. Keith seemed relieved to get to train again, and Shiro did his extra workouts. Lance pampered himself, which he'd been neglecting for a long time, and also hung out with Blue. And still, when they were done, they met back at the blanket fort to wind down, talk, and eventually sleep.

Hunk really liked the new schedule. He hoped they could keep it for a while. Soon enough, though, Allura was going to finish poring over star charts and pick a new system for them to liberate, or maybe the Galra would figure out where they were and attack in the middle of the night, or go after an allied system again. Or something. There was always going to be something. They were at war, and that was their reality.

But their reality was a little deeper, now. A little wider. A little warmer. They had each other in a way they never really had before, and Hunk could feel it. He hoped everyone else could do. He thought they did.

Yellow purred, deep and soft and happy, and Hunk leaned against her paw and closed his eyes. He was so comfortable that he might actually fall asleep here. If he did, though, Pidge would probably find him and scold him, never mind that she did the same thing all the time like not even a week ago. Or if not Pidge, Lance would wander in here on the way to visit Blue and find him. Or Keith or Shiro would stop by after they finished training, or Coran would come looking for him to help with maintenance. Or Allura might yell at him through the comm system. Who knew.

Hunk smiled to himself. He almost wanted to let himself drift off, just to find out. In fact, maybe he would.

Yellow purred.

Chapter Text

"So who's going to be the designated Shiro Shusher tonight?" Shiro asked, smiling.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. The blue glow from the blossom lights caught his brown hair in silvery highlights as he sat against the side of the fort, cross-legged and scowling. "Don't call it that. You make it sound like we just want to keep you quiet."

Shiro waved his hand in apology. "Sorry, sorry. Shiro Soother, then?"

Lance nodded, mollified. The others snickered, and Shiro smiled wider. After almost a week of this, he was hardly embarrassed at all. And why should he be? Everyone was helping him, and they wanted to do it. Nothing embarrassing about that.

Lance uncrossed his arms and twisted his hands together instead. "You know, I haven't taken a turn yet..."

Shiro shook his head. "Nope. You need to get at least a week of mostly-good rest before you throw yourself into this again. I know they've been waking you up to help with the bad ones, anyway. You've had lots of turns."

Lance's forehead wrinkled. Hunk, sitting next to him, yawned and put his arm around Lance's shoulders. "Don't look so worried, dude. We're getting better at it. And you'll still be right here in case something goes wrong."

Lance didn't look satisfied, but he nodded. Coran patted Shiro's shoulder. "Why don't you choose someone?"

Shiro raised his eyebrows. He hadn't considered that possibility. So far every night someone had just volunteered and taken their place at his side, then spent the night taking care of him. He looked around the circle, saw encouraging smiles and eager expressions. Everyone wanted to help. Everyone wanted to be picked. Pidge was actually raising her hand and waving it in the air.

It was a little overwhelming. Then Shiro's eyes fell on a certain someone, and he knew who he needed. "Keith, then."

Keith had been staring at the blankets, his hands loose in his lap. Now he looked up with wide eyes. "Really?"

Shiro smiled at him. "If you don't mind."

Keith shook his head, almost frantically, and crab-walked over to Shiro's side. Shiro put his arm around his shoulders. "Thanks," he said softly. "I really appreciate it." Keith nodded and sat up straight and square, proud of being tapped for this duty. Shiro doubted it would stay that way. People were going to start getting tired of this onerous job quickly enough. For now, though, he could enjoy everyone's eagerness to assist him.

Everyone settled down for the night. Allura and Coran had taken to climbing up on the couches, lately, leaving the middle of the fort for the paladins. If an alert came in the middle of the night, they could pull a blanket aside and sneak away without disturbing the rest. Of course, if it was an attack the rest of them would have to wake up anyway, but Shiro appreciated the effort.

Shiro lay down on his back, pulling Keith with him. Keith rested himself at a slight angle to Shiro, his head on Shiro's chest so that any movement would wake him, and Shiro wrapped his arm around Keith's front. Lance sprawled out within arm's reach above Shiro's shoulder, his back against Hunk's, Pidge somewhere on the other side of Hunk hidden from view. Shiro closed his eyes and let himself drift.

There were still a few soft, murmuring conversations, but they petered off, and the quiet sounds of everyone sleeping filled the fort. With his eyes closed, listening carefully, Shiro could pick everyone out. There was Pidge's high-pitched wheeze and Hunk's low-toned bass rumble, just this side of a snore. Coran's breath whuffled through his mustache, and Allura's was somehow as cool and dignified as she herself was. More importantly, though, he could easily hear Lance, not that far from his ear, breathing smooth and clear and without impediment. And Keith...

Shiro frowned, his eyes popping open. Keith's breath was a little short and fast for sleeping, and his abdominal muscles under Shiro's hand were tense. "Keith?" he asked, low and quiet. "Everything okay?"

Keith didn't say anything, but Shiro felt him tense further.

Shiro pressed his hand down a little firmer. "What's wrong?"

Keith had just better not say "It's nothing" or anything like that, or so help him, Shiro would kick his butt in training tomorrow.

But he didn't. After a moment longer just breathing, still too short and tense, Keith answered. "I'm just nervous."

"About what?" Shiro smiled up at the ceiling. "About looking out for me tonight? I know how carefully you've been watching the others. You'll be fine."

Keith hesitated, then shook his head, long hair rustling against Shiro's chest. "Afraid I'll mess this up."

Hmm. He hadn't said 'nervous' this time. He said 'afraid.' That was probably closer to the truth. Shiro's forehead wrinkled, and he pressed him a little closer. He kept his voice as low as possible, even though everyone else seemed to be asleep. "What is it, Keith? What are you afraid of? Talk to me."

Keith pulled in a breath. "This. All of this. Being...family."

Oh. Shiro closed his eyes. He chest hurt, and not because Keith was lying on it. "You won't mess it up," he said as soothingly as he could. "It's not possible to mess up being in a family. Family means you're stuck with us, and we're stuck with you. No matter what. Even if one or more or all of us messes up."

Keith's breath hitched. "But I did! I did mess it up. Already." It was a low hiss, still soft enough to avoid waking the others, but Shiro felt his tension increase. Still, Keith did not move to face him, and Shiro didn't make him. Sometimes it was easier to talk when they weren't looking at each other. Shiro had discovered that with Keith early.

And suddenly, Shiro understood. "You mean about Lance."

"Yes." Keith's fist thudded softly into the blankets at his side. "I hurt him. Not once but twice. And I've been thinking about it, and... It's too close."

"Too close to what?"

"To...that man. Mr. Jackson."

Shiro was quiet. Keith's breath was still harsh and tense. He didn't want to ask, but... Maybe he had to. "Keith... What happened with that man?" He knew that Keith had told Hunk about it that first night, and Lance heard it too, but no one else had pried. It hadn't seemed necessary. It was enough to know that it was in the past, and Keith had people who loved him now and would never let that happen again.

Keith was quiet for a long moment. Then he spoke. "He...got mad. Lost his temper. Grabbed my arms really hard and pushed me against the wall. Yelled. Let go with one hand and hit my face while I was pinned there. I couldn't move. Too scared. Let him do it. Then he let go and walked away."

Shiro closed his eyes tight, denying the tears. He couldn't cry right now. Keith needed to discuss this. Still, his arm pulled around Keith's chest, dragging him in even closer. "Okay. And how do you think that's...too close?"

Keith huffed, exasperated that Shiro hadn't figured it out. "Because I did it too! I lost my temper. I...shoved Lance against the wall. He was... He was scared. I hurt him and scared him."

Shiro ached. He remembered Keith's desperate remorse, the way he had asked to be disciplined. The guilt must be overpowering. Which was really sign enough to Shiro that Keith wasn't anything like the man who had abused him, but Keith didn't see it that way.

"Okay," he said. He was going to have to be very careful here. "You're right. That was wrong, and we still haven't figured out a way for you to make up for it. Maybe we can find some gross, boring chores you can do for Coran. I'm sure he'll be glad for the help. Or I can ask Allura to lecture you, like I originally suggested, but I'm not sure she'll want to now. But really... Don't you think that you should talk to Lance about it?"

Keith was painfully still. This had not occurred to him. "I...I already apologized..."

Shiro snorted quietly. "Yeah, so did I. While he was still in shock and barely able to hear what we were saying. I need to have another conversation with him, too. But think about it. You heard Lance's story. He knows what it's like to be hurt by someone more powerful than him. To be abused. Ask him if that moment in the hall felt similar to him, or if it was more like facing another young man, his peer, who was in terrible pain and lashing out because he saw no other recourse."

Keith barely breathed. "Is that what you think happened?"

"I know that's what happened." Shiro sighed. "You told me, remember? You were afraid that you were losing me. That you'd already lost. Right after getting me back, too. I was the only family you thought you had, and suddenly I was treating Lance like my little brother and neglecting you. Of course you were in pain. You didn't feel like you could talk to me...which is incorrect by the way, if you're ever in pain, especially if I'm the one causing it, I want you to tell me...so Lance was the only outlet you had. It was...very unfortunate. For both of you."

Keith was silent for a long moment, absorbing this. "I still hurt him," he said quietly.

Shiro sighed. "I know. And you do need to talk to him about it. But you know that it wasn't entirely your fault, right? Lance is sensitive about being touched on the chest because of factors outside of both of your control. Remember the moment it happened. Did you want to hurt him? Was that the desire in your heart? Did you want to see your teammate cringe and cower and cry in front of you? Did you want to control him, make him do what you wanted him to do?"

Keith stiffened against him. His breath stopped for a moment. "No." It was barely audible, but extremely sincere.

Shiro chuckled silently, his chest bouncing Keith's head around a little. "I figured. You just wanted someone to listen to you, right? And your words didn't seem to be working, so you resorted to actions instead. It's how you normally operate, kiddo."

Keith sighed and was silent. It wasn't a stubborn or sullen silence, just thoughtful, so Shiro let him be. Keith seemed more relaxed now, too, though still not ready for sleep. Shiro glanced over at Lance to make sure they hadn't woken him, but he seemed dead to the world. He had been sleeping more deeply with each night that passed uninterrupted for him, or almost uninterrupted. Soon he would be back to his usual I'm-a-teenager-let-me-sleep-in self.

Something else ticked over in Shiro's brain, and he looked back to the ceiling and pressed Keith closer to him again. "Hey, I just remembered. That thing you said about Lance when we finally talked. Do you remember? You said, 'Everyone loves him.' More than once, if I recall."

Keith was quiet for a moment, then Shiro felt him nod. "Yeah. He's a great guy."

Shiro huffed in amusement. Why could everyone see that but Lance? It was one of life's great mysteries. "That's perfectly true, and maybe you can help us convince him of that. But in the meantime, you know that everyone loves you, too, right? Because we do."

Keith made a skeptical noise. Shiro squeezed him tighter. "No, we do. Just as you are. Your entire moody, impulsive, uncommunicative, talented, brilliant, wonderful self."

Keith was quiet, but he leaned his head on Shiro's bicep, curled around him. Shiro could almost feel his longing to believe it.

Shiro blew out a slow breath. "That's what family is," he said gently. "Even when you mess up, it's still there. Siblings fight. People argue and make mistakes. Sometimes you hurt each other, though hopefully it was unintentional, and not too severe. But at the end of the day, you can sleep side by side in a blanket fort, and everything's okay. Family is family, no matter what."

"That sounds...really nice."

"It is."

They were quiet. Shiro closed his eyes and let himself drift again. Keith was much more relaxed against him now. Right before Shiro fell off the edge, he felt Keith's hands wrap warm and strong around his arm, holding on. It was... Yes. It was nice.

He dreamed of rot and death and corpses. The jungle. Lance struggling for breath, the awful rattle in his chest. Then it stopped. It stopped and didn't start again. The water flowed over him and nothing revived. All dead, all gone, all wilting in his grip as his fingers tightened and blood leaked through. The Galra commander stood on the bank, smiling down at them, and all was dead and gone. Shiro had nothing left to give, and despair was a black hole in his gut, sucking him in, tearing him apart.

Shiro woke with a gasp, Keith's hands on his cheeks. "Shiro, it's okay. Shiro, Shiro. Everything's okay. Lance is right here. He's fine." Keith guided his hand over to touch Lance's arm, and Shiro laid his fingers over it, heavy, felt the warmth, the smoothness of his skin. Heard Lance breathing, slow and soft and steady. His eyes closed again, and Keith settled against his side.

Ragnak was dead. The jungle was behind them. Shiro slept.

The smell of rot. The jungle bled to the arena, and Shiro was locked in a cell. He heard the prisoner in the cell beside his moaning, soft and low, dying and bleeding out. The scent of alien blood and corpse rot was overpowering, sweet and sickly and thick enough to cut with his hand. Guards came and hauled the moaning prisoner away. Shiro was glad, even as his stomach turned. The cell on the other side still held a corpse. They hadn't taken that one, because they hadn't needed that one, and robots didn't care about the smell.

They brought him food, a bowl of mush and liquid shoved through the bottom of the door. Shiro picked it up and looked at it. The liquid was black and viscous, almost covering the lumps of half-cooked meat in the bowl. His stomach churned, but he was so hungry. He had to keep up his strength, or the guards would drag him away and the druids would forcefeed him with hate and magic. It was worse than eating this, as horrific as this was. He closed his eyes and ate as quickly as he could, trying not to think about it, trying not to let himself understand what this was. In the end, though, he could not shut off his brain, could not hide from the knowledge, and he threw it all up in the corner. He collapsed beside the pile of blackish-green muck, heaving and gagging.

They knew. They always knew. They came back, they forced him to eat it again, they closed his mouth to make it stay down, and he knew, he knew, and his gut rebelled, but he couldn't expel it, and the stink of it, the stink of blood and rot and death and despair, it clung to him, it filled his pores, it stained his skin, stained his soul, he would never be rid of it, never...

"Shiro!" Keith's hand on his face again. Shiro heaved upright, his heart pounding, hands pressed against his stomach. He was pouring with sweat. He closed his eyes and breathed through it, gulping against the nausea. At supper...there had been some kind of protein mixed in with the tuber mash. Was that why? If he could tell what it was, it usually wasn't a problem, usually didn't provoke these dreams. And if he couldn't tell, he just wouldn't eat it.

No, no. It was okay. Hunk wouldn't, Coran wouldn't, they wouldn't... They wouldn't feed him that. No. It was okay. Everything was okay. Keith was saying so. Lance had said so a hundred times, even when he didn't know what the dream was about, and Shiro had always found himself believing his voice.

"Shiro, are you gonna be sick?" Keith's voice, just this side of panicked. That's right. This hadn't happened before, not in the blanket fort. A new nightmare, just for Keith. What a joy. Shiro closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, made himself smell the fresh air of the castle. The sleeping scents of his comrades all around him, sweat and warm air, Lance's weird homemade lotion that he had insisted on sharing with everyone. Nothing like the arena. Nothing like that food.

Shiro opened his eyes. "I'm fine." Barely a whisper. "I'm fine." Meant to be stronger. "I'm fine." It wasn't. He was so weak.

He wished the jungle planet had never happened. The smell of that place, the rot and the stink. It had opened these memories, and Shiro didn't want them back. Such a cesspool of filth. He hated it, hated knowing how he had survived. Wasn't it enough that he was here? He didn't want to know how.

"Shiro." Keith's hands held his head. His thumbs pressed his cheeks under his eyes. "Tell me."

Shiro shook his head and blinked, eyelashes brushing Keith's fingers. "No," he said. "No."

Every night, before they decided on their sleeping positions, Coran asked. Both him and Lance. Asked if there was something they needed to say, a story they needed to tell to take out the venom. After a night or two, Lance had started sharing. He talked about the planet. About the pain of not being able to breathe, the way his lungs had seized up and he could never catch his breath. About shooting Ragnak. He talked and talked. Lance had always been a talker. It was good for him. The others hugged him and pet his hair and made sure he knew that he was loved, and he made it through the memories one at a time.

After the first night, Shiro always shook his head. No. He couldn't share anything else. It was too much. It was too heavy. He couldn't bear the weight of their eyes. He was weaker than Lance. It was too much to tell. Too enormous.

"Tell me." Keith wasn't Coran. He didn't ask just once. "Tell me." Low, angry, insistent.

Shiro tried to smile at him. Felt his lips tremble. The smile failed to come. "You don't want to hear it."

"I do."

"No. It's...awful. You'll see me differently."

"Did anyone treat you differently after the last story? No. We didn't. Because you're still Shiro."

"It'll hurt you."

"So did the last one, but it wasn't you doing the hurting. It was the Galra doing that, that disgusting 'scientist' or whatever that treated you like an animal."

"I..." Shiro was running out of excuses. "I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because I'm too weak."

Keith was literally shaking now. "No." Rebuke in his voice. Shiro's shoulders rose. "Tell me why. Are you scared?"

Shiro could have laughed. Keith was turning his own tactics back on him. "Yes. I'm scared of you knowing."

And now Keith was exasperated. He punched Shiro on the shoulder, very lightly. "Ugh, Shiro, you're such a hypocrite. Weren't you just telling me that family is family no matter what? Do you really believe that or not? Tell me. Tell us."

And now Shiro did laugh, low and strained. Hoisted on his own petard. He held still for a few long moments, breathing through it. The nausea had passed, replaced with the warmth of Keith's touch, his closeness. Shiro pressed his hands to his stomach, but it didn't hurt anymore. He was just...tired. So tired.

"Okay." He opened his eyes and looked at Keith, saw the tears on his cheeks sparkling under the dim lights. "Okay. Tomorrow night. I'll tell everyone. At least this one part."

Keith was still for a moment, staring at him. Gauging the truth in his words. Then he smiled, broad and bright and so happy that he'd managed to get through to Shiro when no one else had. It was beautiful. It was gorgeous. Shiro wanted to protect it.

He smiled back.

Chapter Text

Keith wasn't on the training deck. Lance stood in the hall for a moment, fidgeting with the deck of cards in his hands as he tried to decide what to do. Usually after supper was cleaned up the two of them sat at the dining room table and went a few rounds, but today Keith had disappeared as soon as the food was gone. Maybe he didn't want to play tonight. Maybe he was avoiding Lance for some reason. Maybe Lance was starting to annoy him.

Red pilot is not annoyed by my Lance, Blue said in his mind, half-scolding. My Lance is not annoying.

Lance half-smiled. "I know you don't think so, Blue, but some people do. And it's not like they're wrong. I can be super annoying sometimes."

Blue huffed. The conversation had the intended effect of settling Lance down, though. After a moment of thought, he walked down the hall to the side room where Shiro usually did his workouts and stuck his head in the door.

Shiro was doing crunches, but he stopped and sat up, greeting Lance with a smile. "Hey, buddy. What's up?"

Lance smiled back, a little hesitantly, then slid into the room. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all." Shiro reached over and grabbed a towel to mop his face. "You're welcome anytime. Here to work out with me?" He gave Lance a lopsided grin. He knew Lance wasn't a fan of extra workouts.

Lance hesitated, his feet shuffling awkwardly on the floor. "Do you think I should? I mean, I know I'm still not the best at close-quarters combat, and my strength training could use some work, and I don't want to bring the team down..."

"Lance." Shiro rolled to his feet and crossed the room in three quick strides. He took Lance's shoulders in his hands and looked seriously into his face. "Stop that. I was teasing. You're already doing plenty of training during the day, and you're doing great, you really are. Keith and I like to do extra training, but that's because we're kind of crazy, that's all. Do you want to sacrifice your free time to work out more?"

Lance stood still for a moment, biting his lip, then shook his head.

Shiro smiled and squeezed his shoulders, then let go. "Yeah, I thought not. You like being able to visit Blue and wander around and see what everyone's doing. And that's fine. You should use your free hours to recharge yourself, not drain your body even more." He lifted the towel draped over his shoulder and wiped his face again. "Now, what can I do for you? Do you need something from me?"

"Actually, I was looking for Keith. Do you know where he might be? He's not training, and that was my first and last guess."

Shiro's forehead wrinkled, but then it cleared. "Oh. I think I know. I told him the other day that when I need to be alone and think I like to go to the control deck and look at the stars. He might be there."

Lance nodded and started to turn to go, then looked back to Shiro. "Then should...should I not bother him? If he wants to be alone..."

"I'm sure he won't mind, kiddo. Go on. Go to the control deck." Shiro smiled and ruffled his hair.

Lance sighed and leaned into the ruffling for a moment, soaking it up. Then he pulled back and gave Shiro a smile. "Okay. See you later."

Shiro put his hand on his back, warm and strong, and shoved him out the door. Lance scampered away. See? Blue said. No one is annoyed by my Lance.

Not right now, Lance thought. He was sure it would change eventually.

Everyone was still being really kind to Lance, and he appreciated it, he did. He needed it. Now that he had stopped trying to repress the parts of him that hurt, he found himself being overwhelmed at random times and for no good reason. A flash of fear would take over his body, or the image of Ragnak would rise again, or for just a second he would feel like he couldn't breathe. That armor seemed to be the worst; it still felt restrictive, no matter how everyone tried to reassure him that it wasn't. His body would go still, paralyzed with the feeling, and his hand would shoot out to grab whoever was nearest. He'd grab a shoulder, an arm, a hand, whatever he could.

It was usually Hunk, or Pidge, or Shiro. Coran, a couple of times. Just once, Allura had happened to be standing closest to him, and he had latched onto her wrist before he could stop himself. He stood there frozen, mortified, certain that she would brush him off, maybe rebuke him for touching her without permission.

She hadn't, though. She'd given him a kind, understanding smile and covered his hand with hers, and asked if he was having trouble breathing. She must have been able to hear the way his chest was hitching. He nodded, unable to speak, and she stood there with him and talked him through it, just like Hunk or Shiro would.

"Everything is okay, Lance. There is air here. You can breathe. There's no more pneumonia. No one is putting pressure on your lungs. Everything is okay." Blue pressed against his mind, saying the same things, and slowly, gradually, the sensation passed. He released her wrist as soon as he could, gasping, face red, but she didn't let him go right away. She held his hand in both of hers, pressed it gently, and told him once again that everything was okay.

He nodded and thanked her in a breathless squeak. When she let go, he fled and hid behind Hunk, covering his face with his hands. Hunk laughed and put his arm around his shoulders, teasing him gently for being such a blushing schoolboy. Lance shook his head and smiled, slow, reluctant. It was...too much. He didn't know how to handle it. Not just from Allura, but everyone.

He felt so...abnormal. So out of control and unlike himself. But then, he didn't really know what "himself" was anymore. He was relearning who he was, slowly, bit by bit, but it seemed to be taking a long time. Like rebuilding himself from the ground up. He already knew that he loved to fly, though. He loved talking to people and hanging out. He loved being competitive over silly things like card games. He loved joking around, even bragging about things that obviously weren't true, as well as things that were. He loved teasing and being teased. He loved it when Shiro ruffled his hair, when Hunk hugged him, when Pidge put her arm around his waist and pressed her head against his side.

He loved Blue. He loved his team. He loved helping wherever he could. He loved being needed. He loved feeling valuable.

He hated feeling like he was being annoying. Hated being bored. Hated feeling homesick. Hated being alone (but he never was, not anymore, not with Blue). Hated the weakness and fear that swept over him when his PTSD acted up. Hated the sensation of not being able to breathe. Hated being dependent on the others for support when he felt like he should be able to handle his problems on his own.

But he couldn't. That was definitely something he had learned about himself.

Lance had reached the control deck. His footsteps slowed as he neared the doorway. He told himself that he wasn't nervous about approaching Keith, and he wasn't, not really. But his heart was still pounding a little harder than usual. Things were a lot better between them now, but he still wasn't usually alone with Keith. Hunk or Pidge were always willing to referee their card games, and everyone still slept in the blanket fort (though there had been rumblings lately that led Lance to believe that some folks wanted to return to their own rooms soon). And now not only was he going to be alone with Keith on the control deck, but he was entering the situation willingly.

Well, almost willingly. Lance halted just outside the door, wavering where he stood. His fingers tightened around the deck of cards.

My Lance is brave, Blue murmured, deep pride purring through her tone.

Lance closed his eyes, willing it to be true. Then he crossed the threshold.

Keith was sitting on the steps, looking out at the stars, his knees raised and arms resting loosely on them. He looked over at the sound of Lance's footsteps, and Lance smiled and waved as he neared. "Hey, Mullet."

The corner of Keith's mouth turned up. "Hey, Mophead."

Lance pretended to take offense, leaning back and lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair. "Hey! I'll have you know that every single one of my luscious locks is perfectly placed. There's no mop here."

Keith laughed quietly. "Sure, sure. And this isn't a mullet, either."

Lance narrowed his eyes, not sure if Keith was messing with him or not. He reached the steps and sat down a few feet away from him, then set the deck of cards between them. "You wanna play?"

Keith glanced at the cards, then back to the stars. "Maybe later."

Lance nodded and fidgeted. Maybe he shouldn't have come after all. Then he paused, head tilting in thought. There was something he kept meaning to talk to Keith about, but he'd never quite found the right moment. This might be it.

He turned to Keith, mouth open, just to see Keith turning toward him in the same moment. "Hey, can I..."

At the same time, Keith said, "There's something I..."

They both stopped, staring at each other. Then they laughed. Lance's hand rose to cover his mouth, and Keith shook his head.

"Sorry, do you want...?"

"No, no, you go ahead..."

"You can..."

This was just silly. Keith shut his mouth and looked at Lance, waiting for him to go first. Lance pulled in a deep breath, then smiled and started over.

"There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

Keith's eyes widened, but he nodded silently.

"I..." Lance looked down at his hands, twisting in his lap, then looked at Keith again. "I'm sorry."

Keith's eyebrows twisted. "For what?"

"For forcing you into a role you didn't want to play." Lance spread his hands nervously. "From the beginning, I... I called you my rival, but you never wanted to compete with me. I kept pushing though, because... Well, it doesn't matter why. I'm sorry. I started us off on the wrong foot, and it took a long time to get past that. I think we have now, though." He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Keith nodded, slow and thoughtful. "What was the reason? You made me curious, now."

Lance sighed and looked out at the stars. "There were more than one. Part of it was how the instructors back at Galaxy Garrison kept talking about you, I guess. You were always so talented, so brilliant, top of the flight class all the time. I wanted... I wanted that, too. I was jealous. Even after you left, they couldn't shut up about you. I never measured up. So when I met you and you didn't even know who I was... Yeah, that stung. Made me mad. I'm sorry I took it out on you." He looked sideways at Keith, found him looking out at the stars, face thoughtful.

"Also..." Lance looked forward again. He laid his hands flat on the steps behind him and leaned back. "You remember my brother Jordan?"

Keith half-smiled. "Yeah. He's a few months older than you, right?"

"Uh huh." Lance was amazed that Keith remembered. "When Dad and Mamá got together, it was really cool having new siblings all of sudden. Laura was the oldest in their family, then Jordan, then Stacy. We had Javier, Mariposa, me, and Anton. I was used to being a middle kid, but with my new siblings, I was even more of a middle kid. Jordan and I are the closest together in age of all of us, and...we didn't get along at first."

Keith nodded. "Yeah, you said that. You said you were too much alike."

Lance gave him a grin. "Wow, you were really paying attention!"

"Of course I was."

Keith said it like there was no other possibility. Lance smiled and hugged his knees, looking out at the stars. "Yeah, so Jordan was a middle kid, but he was also the only boy in his family, so he was used to getting a lot of attention from his dad and sisters. And I guess I felt like I had to compete with that. So... Yeah. Right away, I was trying to do everything he did, only better. Even after the thing with the bullies happened and we started getting along better, that never really went away."

"You kept competing with him?"

"Yeah. Pretty much all the time. But then, he gave as good as he got. I think it was pretty scary for him, going from being the only boy to suddenly having three brothers, one of whom was an obnoxious brat only a few months younger than him who kept wanting to fight him on absolutely everything. He was determined to keep his place, which meant he had to take every challenge I gave him and win as often as he could. I didn't learn the word 'rival' until way, way later, but as soon as I knew what it meant, I knew that that was me and Jordan."

"Wow." Keith sounded a little unnerved. "Being in a big family sounds stressful."

Lance turned his head to grin at him. "Naw, it wasn't like that. I didn't mean to give you a bad impression. Yeah, Jordan and I competed, like, constantly, but after the first while when it was kind of rocky, we got to be friends, too. And then it was, you know, kind of fun. Except a few times when it got really heated, but, I mean, siblings fight sometimes. That's normal too. One time we had a really bad fight and ended up rolling around on the ground outside, and I cut my ear on a rock and had to get three stitches." He pointed out the tiny scar to Keith. "And one time I got mad and pitched a baseball at him when he wasn't looking, and he got a bruised rib and had to go to the hospital and get a x-ray to make sure nothing was really wrong. I was in big trouble for that one. But most of the time competing with him was fun. It was just...how we were brothers to each other."

Keith nodded thoughtfully. "So...what kinds of things did you two compete over?"

"Oh, everything. Jordan was always super athletic. Physically gifted, you might say. Kinda like you. He played baseball and football, and he was a champion swimmer in high school. So I tried, too, but I was clumsy as a kid. Now, too, I guess. Limbs too long for my body, Dad always said. So yeah, I never once won against him in a foot race, but I kept trying. But academics..." Lance raised a hand and pointed his finger at the ceiling. "Now, that was an arena I could really compete in."

"Yeah." There was a certain fondness in Keith's voice now. Lance wasn't sure where it had come from. "You were always a smart little guy, huh?"

Lance nodded enthusiastically. "Yup, that's me. I mean, I'm no genius. I'm not a prodigy like Pidge and I don't have the technical interest like Hunk. But I know how to study, and I can cram a lot of facts into this noggin, at least long enough to take a test." He knocked his knuckles against his skull. "So I did. Good thing, too, since I ended up wanting to go to Galaxy Garrison and be a pilot. Those guys check your grades back to, like, Kindergarten."

"Did you always get better grades than Jordan?"

Lance deflated a little. "Not always. We went back and forth a lot on who was the best at that stuff. But it meant that we were both at the top of our classes. Made our parents happy."

Keith hummed. "Did you have anything that you consistently beat him at?"

"You mean besides Speed? Because you know I'm the undisputed Speed Champion. Have I mentioned that I'm the undisputed Speed Champion?"

"Only every night for the last week, Lance." Keith rolled his eyes. "Yes, I mean besides Speed."

Lance paused, then smiled, slow and secretive. "Yeah, there's one thing. But... I don't want to tell you about that one yet. Sometime, I'll show you my hidden talent. It'll blow you away."

"Oh, yeah?" Keith raised his eyebrows. "If I ask Hunk, will he tell me what it is?"

Lance went sober immediately. "Please don't ask Hunk. He can't keep it a secret worth beans. He thinks it's too cool. Quiznak, he's like a proud aunt about that one. I want to show you myself. Later."

Keith chuckled. "Okay. Whatever you want."

"Anyway." Lance sighed and looked forward. "I kind of got off track with that. But that's what I mean, about Jordan, about being rivals. With him, with my brother, it was fun. It kept us both sharp, both constantly trying to one-up each other, and it made us better. So when I went to Garrison, far away from my family and everything familiar, I think I kind of latched onto whatever I could find that reminded me of home. Hunk, obviously, he was my bro right away. And you... You reminded me of Jordan. You were talented and brilliant and athletic and so, so cool. And I wanted to fight you. Like, all the time. But not really...in a mean way? I don't know. I don't know if I'm explaining this right."

Keith nodded slowly. "You've been thinking about this a lot, huh?"

"Yeah." Lance leaned forward, resting his chin on his knees. "Blue has been helping me. We've been...sorting through things, kind of. All the stuff that hurts. She's helping me remember what's good about what I left behind before I get overwhelmed with how much it hurts not to have it anymore. And so yeah, after doing all that thinking, I understood that I was trying to force you into a box. Rival, brother, Jordan, family. It all kind of means the same thing, in my mind. And I'm sorry. I should have just let you be Keith, whatever that was supposed to mean, and I didn't."

They watched the stars for a little while in companionable silence. After a bit, Keith shifted like he was working up to something. "I..." He paused. "Wait a second. You've talked about other names. Did your parents have even more kids?"

Lance laughed gently. "Yeah. Amazing, right? Yep, we got three more. Nicky, short for Nicolas, and Rosa and Sophia."

"So that means..." Keith was visibly counting on his fingers. "You're the fifth of ten kids?"

"Yeah." Lance grinned, big and wide. He loved talking about his family. It was really nice of Keith to ask about them.

"Wasn't that crazy? How do you even keep track?"

Lance shrugged. "Well, it's not like you meet them all at once. Except my three step-siblings, I guess. Yeah, big families seem chaotic from the outside, and they are chaotic, but you generally meet the kids one at a time and get to know them over years, so it's not that hard to keep track." He laughed. "Though it is hard to keep the names straight, sometimes. Man, I don't know how many times I've been called Javier or Jordan or Anton or even Nicky. Sometimes Dad or Mamá had to go through the entire list, including pets, before they got to the name they actually meant."

Keith still looked overwhelmed at the prospect of so many people, all the time. "Didn't you ever get...just...tired of it?"

"Yeah," Lance said reluctantly. He hated talking about the downsides of being in a big family, but Keith had asked. "I'm a people person, definitely, but there are still times when you just want to be alone, and it's hard to get that in such a full house. And keeping your stuff separate is a challenge, and getting a shower when you want it is pretty much impossible, and Nicky sure loved to wake me up early in the morning... But I couldn't imagine my life without even one of them. Yeah, sometimes I thought it would be nice if Dad and Mamá had quit at Nicky, or just decided not to have more kids when they already had seven. But then that would mean I wouldn't know Rosa or Sophia or some of the others, and that makes me too sad even to think about for more than a second or two."

"And you all get along?" Keith sounded absolutely flabbergasted, which amused Lance to no end.

"Yeah! Well, not all the time. Kids fight. But for the most part, yeah. At the end of the day we could all snuggle on the furniture in the den and watch a movie together. And yeah, I...I love them all, and, and miss them all..." Lance trailed off, a lump in his throat. Blue pressed against his mind, purring deep and soothing. Lance shook it off and looked back to Keith, grinning crookedly. "If we get out of this... When. When we get to go home. I'll introduce you, man. They've all met Hunk already and love him to death, and they'll love you too."

To his surprise, Keith didn't look excited at the prospect, nor even fearful. He looked...guilty. Lance raised his eyebrows. What the heck was going on here?

He jolted as he remembered. "Oh! There was something you wanted to talk to me about, right? Sorry I went on such a long tangent. What was it you wanted to say?"

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "I didn't mind," he said softly, looking away. "Thanks for telling me about your siblings. About Jordan. It...puts things in perspective. You...you really, really love your family. I can see that. Even Jordan, even though you fight and compete."

Lance nodded, mystified. "Yeah, I really, really do. Even Jordan. Sometimes especially Jordan. We're buddies, even when we frustrate each other."

Keith looked down at the floor. His hands squeezed into fists on his knees, opening and closing. Lance watched him and waited. Keith wanted to say something, and he needed space, so Lance held his tongue. It was hard, but he did it.

Finally, Keith drew a deep breath and looked up at Lance. His face was drawn and earnest. "If... If Jordan hurt you. Really bad. So bad it put you on the floor and it took you a long time to recover. Would you be able to forgive him?"

Lance frowned. "Well, yeah. I told you about that fight." He pointed at his scarred ear.

"No." Keith shook his head. "Not a fight. Just...out of the blue. For no reason. He attacked you. Hurt you bad. How would you deal with it?"

Lance's forehead wrinkled. "Huh. Well, first thing is I would wonder what was wrong with Jordan that he was acting like that. It's not like him."

Keith stared. "That's the first thing you would think? After getting hurt so bad that you were on the ground?"

"Well, yeah. I know my brother. He doesn't just hurt people for no reason. Not even me. Not even when I'm being super, ridiculously annoying. And to answer your question, yes, I would forgive him. I might be upset for a few days, but I would get over it. Me and Jordan are tight."

Keith looked even more pained, for some reason. "Would you be scared of him?"

Oh. This was starting to make sense. Lance blinked, slow and contemplative. "I might be...nervous," he said cautiously. "If there really was no reason, and I couldn't figure out why he'd done it. And if he didn't talk to me and tell me why, and explain what was going on... I might think that yeah, he could do it again. I might start hiding behind Javier or Dad, actually, if I thought it was a possibility. But it wouldn't happen like that. Jordan would talk to me. He would tell me what happened and ask me to forgive him. And I would."

Keith looked away. His hands remained clenched into fists. Lance sat still for several moments, breathing hard and fast. He felt frozen, his muscles locked in rigidity. But he knew what he had to do.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out between them and moved the deck of cards out of the way. Such a flimsy, useless barrier, anyway. Then he drew a deep breath and started scooting closer to Keith. It was difficult. It was painful. He could only move what felt like an inch at a time, and his chest hurt and his neck was stiff and his whole body was starting to feel sore from being so tense for such a long time. But he did. He made it all the way over until he was sitting right next to Keith.

"Keith." Voice soft, too. Lance wanted to speak louder, but he couldn't. "I'm sorry I was scared of you. I'm sorry I'm still nervous. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Keith went stiff, too. He turned toward him, eyes wide, tears in his eyelashes. Lance pulled back and put a few inches between them again. His breath caught in his throat.

"Are you kidding me?" Keith's voice was incredulous. "You're apologizing to me?"

Lance nodded, suddenly mute.

Keith laughed, harsh and grating. He lifted his hands and buried his face in them. "You're unbelievable. You... Why are you like this?"

Lance blinked. He had no answer to that question. He never did.

Keith looked up at him, pulling his hands down his face to reveal his pained smile. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Lance's eyes widened.

Keith shook his head. "No, don't... Don't answer that. It's just how you are, I get it. But, Lance..." His hands dropped into his lap again. "You shouldn't be apologizing to me. I should apologize to you. I should beg on my knees to ask forgiveness for what I did to you. I don't know if I can ever make up for it, if I can ever... I'd do anything you ask me to, truly, but..."

Lance opened his mouth, but Keith raised a hand to cut him off. "No, don't... You're good at talking. I'm not. Let me... Let me figure out how to say this. Just be quiet for a little while. Please."

Lance lifted a hand and swiped his thumb and forefinger over his closed lips, then turned the key at the corner and threw it away. He wasn't sure if Keith would understand the gesture, but Keith smiled, small and grateful.

"Okay." Keith drew in a breath. "You want to know why."

Lance nodded.

"It's because I was scared. And angry. I tried to explain this back that first day, when you were cuddling with Pidge on the couch, but I don't think it was getting through. So... Yeah. I was scared. Shiro is...very important to me. The most important person in my life, has been almost since we met. And when you came back from the jungle planet, and all of a sudden you two were so tight... I was scared. I thought I was losing him. Again."

Lance's heart hurt, but he kept his mouth shut. He should have noticed this. Why hadn't he noticed?

"I was angry, too," Keith said. "You... You keep talking about how great I am, how great Jordan is, but you're... You're a really good guy, Lance. You're a great guy. I can't compete with you. And I'm not talking about piloting, or academics, or sports. I mean just...you. You're so...full of life. Personality. Everyone loves you. It astonishes me that you don't seem to understand that."

"Keith." Lance could not be quiet at that one. He threw his arms into the air. "Everyone loves you too!"

Keith continued to look pained. "I know. Shiro told me. Shut up."

Lance grumbled, but he lowered his arms and made the locking gesture again.

"Anyway." Keith blew out a breath. "That's why I attacked you in the hall that day. Because I was scared and angry and I didn't know how to handle it. And at breakfast a few days later, too. It wasn't because of you. It really wasn't. You didn't deserve any of that. You didn't do anything wrong. I was just...so, so scared that I was losing Shiro, and angry at you for just being who are you are, for being better than me and taking him away, and so I took it out on you. I told you lies, and I hurt you, and, and..."

Keith was starting to break down again, curled over himself with his fists pressed against his eyes. Tears came, dripping off his bowed face, and Lance sat there, stiff and still, and felt like his heart was breaking. The next part was even worse.

"I'm gonna end up like that man, like Mr. Jackson, losing my temper, unable to control myself, slamming people into walls when I don't get my way..."

"No." Lance broke the lock again. He surged forward, arms reaching out, shattering the thin rime of ice that had held him in stasis. "No, Keith. No." His long arms wrapped around Keith's curled-up form, and he ducked his head down against him and closed his eyes. "No. Never. You never could. That's not true. Stop telling yourself that."

"I hurt you, I hurt you, I'm so so sorry..."

"I know," Lance said. He held him tighter. "I know, and I forgive you. It's okay. It's okay now. Everything is okay. I forgive you. It's over. Everything is in the past."

"I'm just like them... I... I bullied you, I..."

Lance's blood ran cold. "No," he denied as fiercely as he could. "That wasn't the same. It wasn't. You were hurting and you tried to make it stop, and I was in the way. And I forgive you. I forgive you. Please stop this, Keith. Stop believing lies about yourself."

Keith took a shuddering breath, heaving in Lance's arms, but he seemed to be listening. Lance held him as tight as he dared, as tight as he could stand, even as his trembling heart objected to the closeness. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand this, but he would hold as long as he could. As long as Keith seemed to need it.

After a moment, Keith made a tiny little shift that seemed to indicate discomfort. Lance instantly let go and backed off, his hands raised. "Sorry," he said. "Couldn't help myself. I know you're not a fan of hugs."

Keith lifted his head and grimaced. He swiped at his wet cheeks with his fingers and lowered his hands into his lap again. They were trembling. "I'm getting used to them," he said softly.

Lance grinned. "Yeah. Hunk, right? He's the best."

Keith nodded. He turned his head to look at Lance. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Lance raised his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just..." Keith gestured in the general area of his chest. "Your thing."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." Still, Lance folded his hands protectively over his chest. His heart was thumping a little too hard, but it was okay. He was okay. It was just a hug.

Keith watched him carefully. "I know...I know now that you aren't taking Shiro away from me," he said. "Shiro made that clear. I'm sorry I was such an idiot."

Lance nodded. "No problem." He bit his lip, then went on. "Would you mind telling me... How you guys met? Why Shiro is so important to you? I asked him once, but he said it wasn't his story to tell."

Keith frowned.

"You don't have to tell me," Lance hastened to add. "I'm just nosy. He was your mentor at Galaxy Garrison, right? That would make the most sense."

Keith shook his head and looked out at the stars again. The silvery light painted over his red cheeks and puffy eyes. "No, it's fine. You already know pretty much everything else there is to know about me." He heaved a sigh. "It's kind of silly, anyway. You've heard of Big Brothers Big Sisters?"

Lance eyes widened.

The corner of Keith's mouth turned up. "Yeah, I was...troubled. An at-risk youth. Especially after the Jacksons convinced everyone that I was getting into fights. So I got put in the program. And Shiro... He volunteered, got matched with me totally at random. He had no idea what he was getting into."

"So...you two were literally big brother and little brother."

"Yeah." Keith chuckled, turned his head to give Lance a grin. "Stupid, huh?"

"No. Not stupid at all. You must have been so scared at first."

"Yeah." Keith sighed and looked forward again. "It took Shiro a long time to convince me that he was serious. That he meant what he said. But after a couple of years... Yeah. He got through. I went to Galaxy Garrison because of him, mainly. I mean, flying is fun too, don't get me wrong, but... Mostly I just wanted to follow the only person who had ever meant anything to me."

"I get it." Lance looked at the stars, too. The sight was soothing. He understood why Shiro liked to come up here when he wanted to be alone and think.

He felt a lot closer to Keith now, which was something he had never imagined happening. Even after they had ended up in space together, fighting a tyrannical empire, Keith had always seemed like a distant figure he could never quite reach. Lance was always a little slower, a little clumsier, a little less talented. But after this, after this past week... Keith was no longer a distant paragon set apart on a pedestal, unattainable, unreachable. He was now shockingly...human. He felt like a brother.

It was much, much better than anything Lance had dared to hoped for, truly. Who would have ever thought the two of them could find such a connection way out here among the lonely stars.

And Lance was tired of being afraid. It was past time that he finally took steps to remedy the situation. He was sick of holding back from hugs and putting barriers between himself and others because of his dumb fear of not being able to breathe.

"Hey, Keith."

Keith turned to face him, eyebrows raised.

"You said you'd do whatever it took to make it up to me, right?"

Keith nodded. "Pretty much." His face went skeptical. "You don't want me to like, wash your feet or something, do you?"

Lance grinned and shook his head, then tilted it in thought. "Well, maybe I could introduce you to the wonders of a good foot scrub later. Your skin is appalling. You probably have calluses on calluses. But that's not what I had in mind."

"What do you want from me, then?"

Lance drew a breath, working up to it, then scooted back a few inches and turned himself on the steps to face Keith straight on. "Here. Look at me."

Keith hesitated, then did it. He took the moment to rub his hands over his face again, then turned to face Lance, as well. "Okay. Now what?"

Lance's hands had been folded in front of his chest. They often were, anymore, when he wasn't actively making himself not do that. Now, he took a deep breath, then lowered his hands. "Touch me on the chest."

Keith boggled. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Shiro told me about exposure therapy, and... I need to start somewhere. Why not with you?"

"Because I'm the one who set you off, you idiot. I'm the one who started it."

"No." Lance shook his head. "It had already been going on for a while. I just didn't notice until you gave me the push." He paused. "At breakfast that day, too. You gave me a push, but I was already on the edge. You hurt me, but I was already almost broken, anyway." He shifted from side to side to settle himself, then squared his shoulders. "Come on. This is how you make it up to me. By helping me get over my fear."

Keith stared at him for a little longer, making sure he meant it. Lance kept his face as serious as possible. Finally, Keith raised a hand and slowly began to reach out.

Despite himself, Lance's breath caught. Keith paused, looking into his face. Lance tried to smile. "J-just...a light touch, okay? I'll...I'll tell you when I need you to stop."

Keith nodded. He looked more determined now, jaw firm, mouth set. His hand completed the movement through the air, and his palm rested gently over Lance's heart.

Lance jumped when it landed, then forced himself to settle. He sat still, breathing, feeling Keith's touch, the warmth of his hand through his shirt. It didn't...it didn't hurt. After a moment, though, Lance's breath started to get more ragged. Keith snatched his hand back, looking worried.

"Was...was that okay?"

Lance felt dizzy, but he nodded. "I didn't tell you to stop."

Keith frowned. "I think this is enough for one day."

Lance shook his head. "One more time."

Again, Keith's hand reached out and touched down. Lance closed his eyes and breathed. Blue purred in the back of his mind, completely content with the situation. She wasn't worried, so he didn't need to be worried, either. He could breathe. There was plenty of air, cool and sweet and fresh. The stars shone behind his eyelids. He felt wholly free, wholly himself for the first time in a long time.

The anxiety built at the back of his throat, a burning and a pressure. He opened his eyes, voice a tiny squeak. "That's enough."

Keith pulled back, still looking worried, but not as much as last time. "You're okay?"

Lance nodded, just a bob of his head. Suddenly, he was exhausted. He couldn't wait to go to sleep. Forget playing Speed. They could skip it tonight. This had been plenty of bonding already. "I'm fine." A thready whisper. "Thank you."

"Okay." Keith pursed his lips. "We'll do it again tomorrow?"

"Yeah. And the day after. And so on. Until I'm okay again. It might take a while."

"That's all right. I don't care how long it takes. Whatever you need."

Lance smiled. His eyes were drooping now. The fear was gone, vanished away, and he felt limp and wrung out.

Keith watched him for a moment longer, making sure, then slowly, gently turned himself to face the observation windows again, staring out at the stars. He patted the deck beside him, not looking at Lance.

Lance held his breath for a second, then blew it out. He turned, too, facing the stars, and scooted closer to Keith. He was so tired. His head bobbed, then tipped sideways to rest on Keith's shoulder.

Keith put his arm around Lance's back to support him. Lance sighed. They watched the stars.

Everything was going to be okay.