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Chapter Text

Lance realized something was wrong after the fourth bruise appeared, purple and pulsing on his right hip, without having earned it. He’d brushed off the first three from the day before, which had already begun to yellow on his knees. He had no memory of falling, or running into anything.

No one had said anything when he’d worn shorts around the Castle, exposing the small discolourations. Probably thought he was clumsy. That it was just typical Lance shenanigans. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except it was.

And Lance couldn’t help but feel he was going mildly crazy.

His hip wasn’t hurt so bad he couldn’t walk, it was more tender to the touch than anything. Still, it wasn’t entirely comfortable either.

Sighing to himself quietly, Lance pulled off his headphones and headed to the Castle’s cafeteria, hoping to find his buddy cooking up some radical food storm. Hunk’s home cooking, as alien as it was now given their current location in space, did wonders to relax his busy mind. That, and the easy conversation that spilled from their lips as Hunk rolled dough or prepped vegetables.

The troubled teen didn’t bother changing out of his pajamas, deeming it fit to simply wash off his Altean face mask and loosely brush his hair. Shit. He was starting to grow a mullet. Better ask Allura to cut it again.

Rolling out his stiff neck, Lance wandered through the dormitory halls before making his way to the cafeteria, part of him hoping to run into someone else on his way. Ever since their last mission, destroying one of Haggar’s off-world research bases, Lance felt...off. It’d be nice to talk about it with someone, even just casually and behind several layers of bravado. The blue paladin felt he sometimes unloaded too much of his own shit on Hunk.

Lance didn’t want to burden his friend with some silly bruises and a gut feeling.

After an uneventful stroll, with everyone in the Castle presumably busy with their own devices, Lance finally entered into the massive kitchen complex, still rubbing some of the sleep from his eyes.

He’d gotten the bruise on his hip in his sleep apparently.

Tired, Lance didn’t question it any further.

“Hey bud! Sleep okay?” Hunk called out from behind an alien industrial stove, wiping a flour-like substance from his face.

“Hunk, my man! You know it, this kid needs his beauty sleep.” Lance replied, joining his friend in front of the smooth, metallic appliances.

“Kind of nice that we get this down time, huh?” Hunk started, while washing his hands off with a vaccu - some kind of steam based cleanser that Coran had installed. “That last mission was insane, I’m still not over that light show, it was so weird.”

“Agreed,” Lance sighed, flopping down onto one of the many stools scattered about in the kitchen. “Those druids were up to some creepy shit man, good thing we managed to blow the place right to next Thursday.”

“Indeed” Pidge offered, entering into the kitchen abruptly and without warning, throwing a heavy laptop up on one of the nearby counters. “But not before Haggar managed to launch that computer code...huhhh...I’m still trying to figure out what it was for...”

“You’ll crack it, Pidgey, you always do” Lance smiled, shooting his computer genius friend some finger guns.

“And to do that, I need brain food”

“Fair”

“There’s some of those chips Coran bought at the mall a few cycles ago, still good I think” Hunk offered, busying himself with some oddly shaped fruits. Whether the hawaiian teen was cooking or tinkering in the flight bays, it seemed as though Hunk always need something in his fingers.

Busy hands, Lance thought. Probably helped with his anxiety.

“Thanks, bro”

“S’all good. Give ‘em Hell, gremlin”

“Will do” Pidge smiled, packing up the laptop again and absconding to the tech management wing of the Castle.

A few minutes after Pidge left, Lance felt it.

A sharp pain in his wrist, nerves buzzing like live wires, and he cried out in surprise.

“Lance! Buddy, you okay?!” Hunk worried, hurriedly rushing over to his friend, and spilling chopped fruit to the cold floor in the process.

With his wrist clutched tightly to his chest, Lance bit his tongue and nodded.

“M’fine, m’fine...I just...never mind” The Cuban teen managed, teeth slightly gritted. This was nothing, he’d endured much worse than this.

“I’m gonna go see Coran real quick - you keep up this healthy breakfast deliciousness my friend!” Lance finished before Hunk could respond, jumping from his stool and jetting out the double-door.

“Ugh...Okay!?” Hunk called out into his wake, confused. Something about Lance was off, that was for sure. That said, Hunk trusted his friend to come to him if he needed anything, and left it at that.

***

Halfway to the bridge, Lance had to stop and catch himself against the Castle wall, flinching as the cool metal surface contrasted his warm hand. A brutal headache was creeping behind his eyelids, growing heavier as time went by, and making his vision shudder at the edges.

Still holding his potentially broken wrist, the blue paladin stumbled the rest of the way to the bridge, hoping that the orange-haired Altean was there. He’d know what to do.

Lance hoped.

When the door to the large room slid open, Lance was a little deflated to find Coran nowhere in sight. Allura was sitting on the control base steps, with Shiro nestled quietly at her side. Star gazing. Of course.

Not wanting to bother them, Lance tried to slink back out of the bridge, but Shiro heard his quiet feet and turned his head immediately.

“Oh! Ugh - Lance - hey! What’s up?” Shiro choked out, flustered. Allura snorted at her boyfriend’s embarrassment and shot Lance a quick smile. Space Dad really wasn’t the type for public displays of affection, apparently.

“H-Heh heh, oh, nothing, just...umm...looking for Coran?” Lance stuttered, trying to control his breathing. The migraine (Lance felt it warranted that title now) was brutal, steeping his brain in near unbearable pain. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Hmm...think he may have gone down to the flight bays to check on the Lions, but I’m not certain.” Allura offered, trying to remember her companion’s whereabouts. “Are you sure you’re okay, Lance? You look uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? What, no, I’m just t-tired I guess, heh-heh.. Anyway, thanks for the help, enjoy y-your date night!” Lance managed to force out between his locking jaw. Smiling, he nearly sprinted from the room, bolting to the flight bays.

When he audibly heard his ribs cracking under an unseen pressure, Lance finally collapsed at the foot of a final spacious corridor, mere metres from the flight bay entrance. He curled up on himself and bit back a scream, long since past the verge of tears. Whatever the hell was happening to him, it was lethal and scary and all he wanted was for the pain to stop.

Belated wounds kept joining the party. Another heavy hit to his ribs, plasmafire to his left shoulder, some kind of stab wound to his right thigh. It just kept coming, and coming, and the whole time Lance’s migraine worsened to the point where he couldn’t even open his eyes.

Then, as quickly as the pain had onset, it started to wane, the sharpness of his wounds diminishing to a heavy but manageable ache. Lance just lay there on the floor, breathing heavily and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Taking a quick survey of his body, Lance found himself covered in deep bruising and dried gashes, even lifted his shirt to see the echo of a plasmafire wound to his shoulder and the ever present bruising at his hip. Despite the startling injury toll, Lance was finally able to breathe deeply.

“Lance?”

The blue paladin snapped back into focus, and registered Keith standing in front of him, having just exited the flight bays.

Lance just laid there, speechless, entirely unsure of what to say. How to explain himself. Explain the injuries.

“What, are you just taking your thirteen-hour naps here now?”

What?

“Ughhh…” Lance started, admittedly surprised.

“Fine, whatever, catcha later sleepyhead. Try not to dream of me.”

And then Keith was gone, running down the hallway to the Training floor. Lance sat stunned on the ground, mouth slightly agape.

Did Keith really care so little about him as to not even question his blatantly obvious wounds?
Lance tried to think that that wasn’t the case.

Maybe he really was going insane. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be the blue paladin after all.

Or, maybe, something else was at play here.

Lance pulled his face into his hands and allowed himself the comfort of a dry sob, letting his lips fold and curl back in that ugly, crying way. He kept the tears in his eyes as he pulled himself to his feet.

Coran.

Lance forced himself forward, to the protest of his aching limbs, and slipped into the Lion bays. He felt Blue press up against him in his mind, worried and insistent. He let her cradle him, to hold him close and wrap him in her love, and the tired teen damn near started crying again.

As he walked past his Lion’s bay, and continued past the others, Lance felt the hot gaze of the other Lions against his skin. It was disconcerting, he’d never felt so...linked to them before. It was almost as if they were ghosting at the edge of his mind, the way Blue used to when they were just forming their bond.

It didn’t feel healthy. Lance hurried his pace.

Chapter Text

He found Coran perched at Red’s feet, running some kind of visual scanner over her massive paws. The altean man was deep in thought, brows furrowed in what Lance thought to be either concern or curiosity.

Maybe, both.

Still dizzy, Lance approached with heavy feet.

“U-Ugh, Coran?” He started, interrupting the flight engineer’s train of thought.

“Wha-Oh!-Lance. What is it, my boy?” Coran fumbled, eyes still half trained on his data tablet. “You look...pale. Are you experiencing sickness?”

“Well, I’m experiencing something, that’s for sure…” Lance managed, holding out his bruised  and battered arms to his friend.

Coran looked at him confusedly, before breaking into a wild grin.

“By the stars, Lance! Are you inviting me to an Earth hug? I-I’m honoured-”

“What? No!” Lance cried out, getting frustrated, and feeling bad as he saw Coran’s face drop. “I mean, I’d never say no to a hug - but that’s not what I’m here for. Can’t you see my skin? My bruises?”

“Whatever do you mean, Lance?”

The hurt teen’s face dropped. He felt gutted.

There was something definitely, seriously messed up with him. But should he say something? Coran would think he was crazy. That he had suffered some kind of brain damage during their last mission. That he couldn’t keep piloting blue.

Maybe he’d be right to say it.

NO

Lance felt Blue rumble into his head, fierce and warm and bottomless. The blue paladin shook the negative thoughts from his mind. Blue was right, there had to be something more to this.

RELIABLE

...What?

That wasn’t his Lion.

Lance shuddered as Red spoke to him in the same tongue as his own Lion, with minimal words and extensive visual imagery, her presence quick and hot and strong behind his eyelids.

Lance was a reliable, important, and valued member of the team. Others would believe him.

The Cuban teen choked out a breath, relaxing as Red retreated to the shallows of his mind. Following her there, Lance found that the others Lions were ghosting around his consciousness as well, each reassuring in their own unique way. And each were soaked in thick guilt. They knew something. Something important.

Before Lance could grow too excited, his headache worsened astronomically and he groaned, clutching his temples. Apparently having this many astrophysical entities floating around his brainspace wasn’t exactly comfortable.

All this happened in the span of a breath, and then Lance was back in his conversation with Coran, hands still clutched to the sides of his head in pain.

“Lance, are you alright?” The altean inquired worriedly,

“I...yah...just a headache” Lance lied, wanted to have more information about his condition before bothering Coran with it.

“...If you’re certain…” Coran replied, arching an eyebrow at the blue paladin. Then, his eyelids stretched apart widely as the altean man drew a connection. “Oh!”

“What?” Lance asked, confused at his friend’s outburst.

“Perhaps this has to do with the readings I’ve been picking up from the Lions! Allura and I were going to hold a group meeting today to talk about it.” Coran started, his face warm with excitement. “It has to do with the paladin bond, we figure.”

Lance nodded quietly. Whatever Coran was going off about, it seemed like a good thing for the team.

It seemed like the opposite of any news bearing to the Cuban teen’s condition. Still, he smiled at his orange-haired friend in soft support.

“Now that I mention it, Lance, do you mind rounding up the other paladins? I will notify the Princess and Shiro of the meeting.”

“S-Sure,” Lance replied, “Where should we meet?”

“The Training deck would do nicely.”

***

Lance’s legs ached by the time he made it to the training deck, with the rest of the team close on his heels.

Hunk smelled absolutely incredible, whatever he’d been baking for breakfast smelled damn near heavenly to the tired teen. Lance leaned against his buddy as they walked the last few metres, playing off his exhaustion as a call for affection.

Hunk wrapped a warm arm around his friend, pulling Lance in close for a quick side hug before releasing him to stand on his own. Whatever the news, Lance hoped it was good. He needed some good news right about now. Lance’s blinks were over a second long each, and he was savouring the darkness closed eyes afforded him.

Finally gathered, Coran and Allura faced the paladins with strong posture. The largeness of the room was amplified by their echoing voices.

“Why are we debriefing here?” Keith asked, arms folding over his chest. “Don’t we normally use the dining hall?”

“That we do, young paladin. But in this case, the training deck is largely more appropriate” Coran replied, gesturing at the spaciousness of the arena with a flare of drama.   

“Let’s get to the point, Coran” Allura chided, shaking her head.

“Of course, Princess!” The older man replied, returning to his habitual formal posture. The team offered him varied intrigued expressions.

“Well, as you all must remember, we successfully destroyed one of the Druid’s testing facilities - though not before Haggar managed to launch an unknown application from a separate server.”

“I remember” Pidge grunted, with tired eyes.

“”Of course,” Coran laughed, entirely aware of the green paladin’s attempts at interpreting the galran source codes. “ “Well, I’m sure you will all be glad to know of it’s effects, questionable as they may be.”

“And these effects would be?” Keith asked, clearly growing impatient.

“A shift in the paladin bond.”

The group was quiet for a moment.

“What kind of shift, Coran?” Pidge questioned, hungry for information.

“A good one, from what we can tell based on the Lions’ data stream.” Coran replied, “It would seem as though a shift in the paladin bond has allowed you all to experience less physical pain and fatigue. Even illness.”

“What do you mean by shift, Coran? Where is it all...going?” Shiro asked, trying to fill in knowledge gaps from his brief conversation with Allura prior to the meeting.

“Presumably, it’s being cancelled out by the Lions. Perhaps they’re emitting some kind of healing frequency-”

“sO THEY’VE BEEN HACKED?!” Pidge exploded, the news triggering a whole new line of thought about the nature of Voltron to consider.

“...Sort of? But it’s positive hacking-”

“There is no such thing as positive hacking, Coran, you are either on the administering or receiving end and that’s it” Pidge ranted, fingers stretching in frustration. “It could be malware disguised as a regular function-”

“Pidge, breathe,” Hunk said, with flat hands held out reassuringly. “Let’s get the full story before we start jumping to conclusions.”

“Here’s a conclusion for you: Haggar would never launch something that was beneficial to team Voltron.”

“Or,” Allura interjected with a calm voice, “the Castle was able to alter the application before it negatively affected the Lion’s. My father was a cautious man, the Castle and the Lions both are heavily equipped with anti-malware countermeasures.”

As the team continued to brainstorm back and forth, Lance stood quietly, absorbed in his own thoughts. This was not the news he was expecting. If anything, it was exactly opposite to his unfortunate situation.  

“Now,” Allura continued, “Coran and I have called you here to run some tests on the extent of this new pain buffer.”

“Indeed-” Coran started, before being cut off by the red paladin.

“You keep talking about stronger pain tolerance, or whatever, but I don’t feel that different at all.” Keith challenged, with a quizzical expression.

“Keith,” Shiro started, sighing, “what level in the training sims did you make it to last night?”

“...ughh...15? Why?”

“That’s a new record by three levels. Not to mention the fact that you should still be recovering from overexertion during our last mission”

“I...guess you’re right.” Keith finally agreed, realising the connection. He had never been good at looking at himself or his actions objectively. “I thought I was just improving a lot, or maybe that I’d just gotten lucky.”

“Luck doesn’t have much to do with Altean combat simulations.” Coran piped in, jokingly.

Lance inwardly looked down at his plasmafire wound, and numerous bruises, and shuddered.

This was starting to make sense.

“Now that you mention it, I think I understand as well,” Pidge added, “Earlier this morning I tripped running back to the labs from the kitchen. Totally smashed my laptop. Probably should’ve broken my wrist but...I’m fine.”

Lance’s anxiety grew, stomach folding in on itself as the singularity in his gut grew almost overwhelming. Lance didn’t need a mirror to know he was pale.

He’d hurt his wrist earlier this morning when he was with Hunk. It still hurt. Probably happened at the exact moment Pidge had fallen.

This was not looking good.

Before Lance could add to the conversation and express his worry, Shiro and Hunk added to the list of phenomena.

Apparently, the concussion Hunk had been suffering since the battle had let up entirely. Shiro had actually slept properly and restfully, to the point where he’d fallen out of bed and jammed his hip against the sharp bedside. This, and his battle damage had been likewise resolved.

A voice beckoned Lance back into the conversation.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Hunk asked, steadying Lance with a strong hand.

“Yah, what about you Lance? Did your injuries from the mission clear up too?” Keith asked, curious.

“U-Um...no...n-not exactly…” Lance started, before promptly passing out.

Well, shit.

Chapter Text

When Lance came to, he was lying flat on his back, with something warm supporting his head and neck. He tried opening his eyes, but then immediately scrunched them shut again, grimacing against the bright, cold lighting of the Training deck.

At first, all he heard was white noise, laced with the occasional sound of concerned talking. After what felt like a few moments, more noises started to leak into perspective.

“-Lance! Hey, Lance, y-you okay? You awake, buddy?”

Behind his foggy mind, Lance registered Hunk’s voice somewhere to the close right of him. Determined, he made the effort to open his aching eyes, and squinted up as his best friend with a small, forced smile.

“Rising and shining, big man-” Lance started, trying to sit up and, ultimately, failing.

“Easy there, paladin” Coran advised, his voice soft with worry.

Looking around, Lance found himself lying with his head in Pidge’s lap, Hunk sitting worriedly on his right side, Coran on his left, and Keith, Shiro, and Allura standing at his feet together - all exchanging concerned looks.

Disoriented, Lance realised that they were still in the Training deck.

Debriefing.

And that he must have passed out.

Well, that’s one way to get attention, he thought half-heartedly. Pidge helped him sit up, despite the aggressive protestation of his muscles. His bruises were still there, angry and dark, as well as the lacerations and plasmafire burns.

Lance felt his team’s eyes prickling into his skin as he mentally checked off his list of injuries. They were probably confused as to why he was prodding methodically as his skin, and favouring his other shoulder. Why it hurt for him to sit up. To breathe, even.

“...sooo-” Lance started, breaking the silence.

“Explain.” Keith stated, face drawn forward in a deep-set frown.

“I- ugh, I don’t know f-for sure what’s going on,” Lance confessed, eyes falling to his lap, “...But I don’t think that I’m on positive side of this hacking situation.”

Coran’s eyes widened, clearly he had been wrong about the source of Lance’s confusion earlier in the Flight bay. The Altean grew wary as he drew an unfortunate connection between Lance’s condition and the new shift in the paladin bond.

“You aren’t healing, are you Lance?” He said, eyes heavy.

“No.”

Lance loosened his robe and tried to show his team some of the injuries. Part of him knew it was pointless, but he tried again anyways, clinging to hope.

“I...ugh...have this plasmafire wound now.” Lance said, gesturing to his cradled shoulder, flinching as his fingers ghosted over the injury. “...and these gashes, and...um...a bunch of bruises here, and here. My w-wrist is broken, I think. I...have a migraine, or something, I don’t know, my head - my head j-just feels like it’s imploding-”

Lance was starting to jumble is words, breath coming too quickly, catching in his throat and making his chest flutter in jerky intervals. He didn’t want to cry, his head hurt too much, crying would only make it worse, but tears gathered quietly in the corners of his eyes nonetheless. His throat felt tight and gathered, as if made of spent rubber bands.

Hunk, recognizing his friend’s distress, held Lance’s hand firmly and helped him to calm down. Spoke to him softly. Reassured him. Gave him time. Told him they believed him, even if they were confused.

“It just...hurts” Lance said, finally, after recollecting himself. “And I don’t remember getting hurt. They just appear out of nowhere - the cuts and b-bruises and headaches - and I know that you guys can’t see them but I swear they are there and they’re real...I think...They feel so real…” Lance dissolved into upset silence.

He didn’t want to say it.

But they were all thinking it.

Lance had just described everyone else’s injuries, but on his own body. He was bearing their pain. Somehow, Lance was the one getting hurt.

Somehow, everyone was physically thriving at his expense.

And the team felt gutted for it.

“Perhaps...the pain buffer isn’t thanks to the Lions, but rather a result of Lance taking on the team’s combined damage.” Coran offered solemnly, while running an application on his datapad.

“So Haggar ‘hacked’ the paladin bond to hurt Lance? How can she even do that?” Keith questioned, confused and entirely uneasy.

“To put it simply, Keith, it’s complicated. To most humans, Voltron seems magical, as in not common scientific phenomena, but rather something of mystical origin.” Allura explained, bringing a hand to rest balled under her chin. “But you must understand that the Galran and Altean understanding of the multiverse is much different than your planet’s. The Lions, brilliant as they are, were manufactured with quintessence in a calculable way.”

“Not to say that they aren’t unique, or conscious, because they are both, but the Lions run on an initial program similar to what your planet calls Artificial Intelligence. They have scripted behaviours and tendencies, as well as labyrinthine, non-linear thinking patterns.” Coran continued, still flickering away at his device. “And considering her past, if anyone could find a way to alter the paladin bond application, it’d be Haggar.”

Lance felt drowsy from the aches in his body, and while he understood the premise of what Coran was saying, he couldn’t find the energy to acknowledge it. Pidge was quiet in thought, face pulled into a tight frown, and was clearly digesting the new information with vigor.

“Not that this isn’t an important conversation, but could we maybe move this someplace else?” Hunk pressed once the conversation paused. “There’s no way that laying on the floor like this is very comfortable for Lance, hey buddy?”

Lance managed a small nod, eyes brimming.

“Of course!” Coran exploded, having gotten carried away in his tech chatter, “Lance, my boy, let’s get you to the MediCentre and run some scans. Perhaps even find a way to numb the pain until we can shift the bond back to normal.”

While Hunk and Keith helped Lance down the hall to the MediCentre, Coran close on their heels, Allura hung back with Shiro and Pidge.

This was serious news to the team.

There’s no way they could form Voltron considering Lance’s condition, and maybe not for a while - at least until they could measure just how much damage gets deflected to Lance. What kind of injuries get transferred? Only major ones? Minor ones too? Would they have to wrap all the paladins in space bubble wrap just to function properly? What if the Galra attacked?-

“Allura.” Shiro said, voice soft with concern, sensing the storm of questions striking the princess’s mind. “I know that this is a lot to consider. It’s horrible that Lance has to go through this. That I have him to thank for last night’s sleep, for waking up well rested. That my battle damage healed up. But we can’t...we can’t let this shut down our team. We will find a way to fix this.”

“And if not, a way to live with it, I suppose.” She replied, eyes downcast.

“Oh we’ll fix it alright,” Pidge confirmed, with blossoming determination and a firm mouth, rolling her uninjured wrists. “We have to.”

“What I want to know is why.” Shiro added, flexing his robotic arm instinctively. “Why this. Why Lance.”

***

After running several different scans with the Castle’s infirmary equipment, Coran was disappointed to find no traceable evidence of injury in the blue paladin. Yes, he looked deathly. Exhausted. In pain. But from what the scanners told him, Lance was in more or less peak condition.

Disappointed, because he knew what options that left.

Lance was feeling better, or, at least what qualified as better when dealing with multiple ghost wounds. Ghosts wounds? Yeah, ghost wounds. That sounds cool, he thought.

His head was in much less agony than earlier, and Lance only remembered his bruising when he moved the wrong way. The fire wound and some of the lacerations still licked painfully into his skin, however.

The tired teen was propped up on an examination table, not unlike that of a dentist’s, and he shivered against the cool metal. The bath robes weren’t as thick as he’d previously thought. Lance listened quietly as Coran muttered and prattled to himself between operating different medical scanners. Finally, the Altean man grew quiet as he drew his conclusions.

Everyone was gathered in the spacious, well lit room. Not hovering per se, but Lance was still actively aware of everyone’s presence. He wasn’t quite used to having so many people worried about him at once. At least, not since he’d left his family in Cuba.

If he weren’t so busy buzzing with sore nerves he’d want to hug them all.

They ripped on him a lot. For goofing off, losing focus, seemingly not caring, acting too flirtatious, overstepping boundaries. Lance was used to that, as a younger sibling. But he is who he is, and ninety-nine percent of the time his shenanigans come from a place of love and good intentions.

He actions just got misinterpreted.

Often, and without discussion.

Lance’s disheartening train of thought was rerouted when Coran finally addressed the group, a hand rubbing at his neck in what Lance could only assume was stress or worry.

“I’ve run some tests, well, I fear my theory has been confirmed.” Coran began, breaking eye-contact with the blue paladin.

“Give it to me straight, Doc, heh-heh” Lance joked, despite the obvious tension. Hunk offered him a small, but genuine, smile.

“There is no physical evidence of your injuries, Lance, but they’re most definitely not psychosomatic either.”

“...So?”

“So,” Coran continued, “this leaves only one other option. Haggar has managed to influence quintessence in such a controlled manner that she can induce shifts in the nature of your relationship with the Lions from the inside.”

The flight engineer was met with faces slack with confusion. He continued.

“You remember the astrophysical plane from training, yes? The one you interact with the Lions on?”

“Yes, of course Coran.” Shiro nodded, eyes flickering between Allura’s and the other paladins.

“Well, consider it this way. Quintessence is a fundamental force that interacts with our many observed dimensions. Such as how space and time can be manipulated by gravity, lifeforms can be manipulated by quintessence.”

“Like Zarkon.” Keith supplied, eyes narrowing.

“Indeed, Zarkon is one such example of how quintessence can be influential.” Coran agreed, a sadness in his voice. “However, another would be the Lions. Voltron is a prime example of how quintessence can affect consciousness. Or, in that case, consciousness derived from artificial means.”

“In English please, Coran? I’ve already learned a second language, I don’t need Nerd as a third.” Lance interrupted, not out of impatience but out of growing anxiety.

“Because quintessence links you paladins with your Lions - and together as a team - you not only gain Voltron’s strengths, but it’s weaknesses.” Coran explained, thinking carefully about his next words. “Put simply, you can all, theoretically, get hacked. Your consciousnesses exist as a coded data stream inside Voltron. Heavily guarded, of course, but still you get the idea.”

“Not heavily guarded enough, apparently.” Hunk managed, arms folded loosely around himself.

“What the aCTUAL FUCK!”

“Pidge! Language!” Shiro scolded, despite internally having a similar reaction to the news.

Keith eyes stayed trained on the floor.

Allura looked extremely troubled, presumably she’d been unaware of just how tied the paladins were with the Lions.

Lance wasn’t sure what to think.

All he knew for certain is that he got a virus from downloading porn on his junky laptop one time at the Garrison and it basically voided the whole device, he had to trash the thing. He refused to let Pidge try and fix it, for obvious reasons. So whatever this was, it was a thousand times worse, and Lance would’ve given anything in that moment to be back home on Earth with a sore wrist and a questionable google search history.

He clung to that thought as his team struggled to accept what Coran had discovered.

Still, it left them with a question.

Why?

Chapter Text

The rest of Lance’s day was spent trying to get comfortable, whether it be propped up in bed or laid out carefully on the couches in the Foyer. Someone was always in the room with him, keeping an eye, and keeping him company. Deep down, part of Lance enjoyed the attention, but mostly he hated it. He hated that he was a burden. He hated that the team now had to babysit him. That they had to tread with caution, for fear of hurting him.

That they had to treat him like glass.

Coran had begun injecting Lance with a number of serums to try and ease his hypersensitivity, but nothing came of the effort. None of the concoctions seemed to take hold on Lance’s corrupted body, likely due to the astrophysical nature of his agony.

On the fourth try, as he was laying on the couch with a bowl of space soup, Lance convulsed violently the second Coran removed the alien syringe.

“G-g...h-ha-g..g-ga..hi-i..c-” Lance choked out between his locking jaw, as he spasmed painfully. Eyes rolling back into his head, the seizure knocking him off the couch.

Somewhere, amid the chaos, Lance heard swearing and a rush of limbs. Hands gripped him firmly at his shoulders. A fresh needle slipped into his neck. And then, blissful stillness as his muscles relaxed.

Coran prattled on about having neutralizing the medication, how it had apparently not agreed with Lance’s human genetics.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, brutal and heavy, and Lance grew emotional. Laying on the floor, with Hunk cradling him warmly, and Coran buzzing beside him with worry, Lance damn near cried.     

He was just so tired.

So fucking tired.

“I’m sorry, Lance.” Coran started, “That was the last one. It would seem as though we...can not numb the pain.”

Lance nodded quietly.

“S’okay.” He said, smiling up at Hunk. “It’s not so bad right now, honest.”

“Bet that seizure didn’t help, though.” Hunk frowned, hugging his buddy close.

“No...it did not.”

The erratic movement had reopened some of his lacerations, causing dots of fresh blood to blossom and stain his pajamas.

Whatever. Not like anyone can see it.

Silence.

Coran apologized again, face tilted downward, before returning to the Bridge to take surveillance.

There must have been something about the way Lance was staring down at his body. Blank, and empty eyed. Growing desensitized to seeing himself bruised and bloodied.

Because seeing his friend’s slack face set Hunk’s nerves on edge.

“...Bath?” The larger teen offered, running his fingers through Lance’s increasingly scruffy hair.

“PLEASE”

***

Lance let out a happy sigh, that dissolved into a legitimate moan as he lowered himself carefully into the deliciously hot water of the communal bath.

“Let’s keep it PG here, buddy.” Hunk laughed, bringing over a couple towels for later.

“Pfft, do you know me? Like, at all?-”

“Oh hush already-”

“Hush yourself,” Lance pouted, fake upset, and splashed some water at Hunk. The movement made his muscles burn, but he didn’t care. “Besides, this space hot tub feels amaaaaazinggg-”

“Is that what we’re doing now? Just putting the word ‘space’ in front of everything?”

“Yes. Yes it is. Do you know why, Hunk? Because it’s cool. Space is cool-” Lance rambled, enjoying the down time with his friend. If he tried, he could almost forget the ache in his shoulder where the steaming water met his plasmafire wound.

Could almost forget everything.

Almost.

“-Space mall. Space food. Space eyeliner. Space babes. Space bathrobe. Space hot tub. Space...ship? Space-”

“Okay fine, I see your point - but let the record show that ‘space ship’ does not count. That’s already a space thing.” Hunk interrupted, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Don’t you mean, space record, my friend?”

“You two have said space so many times in the past minute that it has lost all meaning to me.” Shiro laughed, walking into the communal bath in his typical black vest and pilot slacks.

Lance smirked and turned his head in greeting.

“What, no swim trunks? Thought I’d at least get to see the great Takashi Shirogane’s rippling abs before-”

“What, to ease the pain?” Hunk snorted, shaking his head at Lance.

“Yes, Hunk, to ease the pain-”

“Woah guys, tickets are sold out, sorry.” Shiro apologized, chuckling, and blaming the blush in his cheeks on the heat from the bath. A quiet moment passed. Not an awkward one. Just a quiet one.

Shiro sat down next to the large hot tub, not caring if rogue puddles of water ruined his dry pants.

“So, Lance, how are you feeling?”

Shit.

Lance really didn’t want to talk about that.

About the pain.

The ghost wounds.

Take the last few minutes of bravado, stupid jokes, and fake sexual confidence as proof.

“I’ve...been better.”

Shiro waited.

Lance sighed.

“...I still hurt. A lot. Kind of everywhere now, after that seizure. But it’s not that bad. Nowhere near as bad as it was earlier, by the Flight bays.”

“Well that’s good, I guess.” Shiro replied, shrugging. “We’ve...been careful not to get hurt, for what it’s worth.”

“R-Right, thanks.” Lance replied, because what else are you supposed to say to that. To people going out of their way to not get injured. For you.

“You are more than welcome, Lance” Shiro said, and the sincerity in his voice took Lance aback. “We’ll find a way to fix this. Just hold tight for now, buddy.”

“Will do.” Lance smiled softly, and his gaze fell to the steaming water. Between the rush of bubbles and froth he could only barely make out the dark, angry colours of his injuries.

If anything, the bath water felt amazing. It was medicated, or so Coran had told him before scurrying off to the Bridge. Kind of like the Bacta tanks in Starwars, just more...luxurious.

Lance wasn’t dumb, he knew that the water wasn’t actually healing his wounds. How could it. But still, a guy could dream.

“Anyway, Allura wanted me to come let you know that we’ve received an invitation by the Xiefarians to attend their Prince’s Ascension ceremony.” Shiro explained, looking at his hands in his lap. “And...we’ve decided to go. The paladins need to make more...public appearances now that we’re forging proper alliances.”

“Is Allura seriously expecting Lance to go, in this condition?” Hunk scowled, incredulous.

“Of course not, Hunk. Lance, I know that this is horrible timing, but we’re going to have to leave you up here for a bit while we go to the ceremony.” Shiro started, eyes still not meeting each other. “One of us will stay with you, just in case.”

“I will.” Hunk stated, jaw set determinedly.

“...Hunk, it can’t be you.”

“What? Why not?”

“The Xiefarians have...patchy political connections with the Balmerans. But, luckily they’ve invited a senator of Balmera to attend the Ascension. We need you to take the lead on guiding their relations.”

“This is bullshit, Shiro. I’m sorry, but we shouldn’t even be going at all! The Lions are compromised. Lance is compromised. For all we know this could be a trap!-”

“Hunk,” Lance interrupted, stilling his friend with a firm shoulder grip. “It’s okay! I’ll be fine. You should go. Voltron can’t take a holiday just because of a little hacking. That’s what Haggar wants. We can’t let her win this.”

“Pffft, ‘a litttle hacking’, do you even hear yourself, Lance?!”

“Bro, I-”

“Okay, both you, let’s just bring it down a notch, okay?” Shiro interjected, his voice clearly straining. “Let’s go speak with the Team. We’ll sort this all out, alright?”

“Fine.” Hunk frowned, still upset despite seeing the rationality in attending the celebration.

Lance just sighed, and attempted to hoist himself out of the water.

And then it hit him.

A few punches, in rapid succession, delivered straight into his gut. A heavy jab directly into his injured shoulder. A brutal kick into the left side of his fractured rib cage.

Lance was out like a light before he even hit the water, a pained scream leaving his lips before he fell slack into the all encompassing heat of the bath water.

Hunk was on it in an instant, strong arms reaching down into the bath desperately, trying to gain purchase on his injured friend. Finally, gripping Lance under the armpits, Hunk hauled him out of the bath and into Shiro’s arms, who dragged the unconscious teen back away from the pool edge.

“Lance! Lance, buddy, wake up!”

“Lance, can you hear me?”

His vision foggy at the edges, Lance managed to open his eyes. However, the second he emerged from unconsciousness his body jerked violently, stomach rolling.

Some combination of swallowed water and agonizing pain led Lance to retching and sputtering onto the tiled floor, instead of crying out. Shiro helped him turn over as wave after wave of nausea wracked his tired body, the involuntary muscle contraction only adding to his discomfort.

After a few minutes of focing up what little food he’d eaten and thin streams of bile, Lance body finally relaxed enough for him to breathe. Tears were streaming down his face, and he panted with over exertion.

He felt spent. Spent and deathly.

The worst was his shoulder. The angry wound had reopened, torn and entirely non cauterized.

Lance knew that he wasn’t bleeding that badly, but the puddles of water on the pool deck took the colour of his blood and it to his tired eyes everything looked astronomically worse.

Hunk and Shiro couldn’t see the injuries, but the look on Lance’s face was more than enough to give them an idea.

After gathering the wounded paladin in his arms, Hunk carried Lance back to the MediCentre. It wasn’t like they could actually heal anything there, but still, it was the only place they could think of to go.

Shiro shouted over the Comms for Coran to come meet them. For everyone to come meet them, at the infirmary wing. Lance didn’t object.

Over Hunk’s shoulder, Lance watched Shiro’s face dissolve into a quiet, cold fury. He watched as Shiro spat out Keith’s name over a private Comm connection. Told him he was reckless. That he had hurt Lance.

That he shouldn’t have gone to the training deck.

Lance closed his eyes as he heard Keith’s voice cracking under the static of the Comm.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

“How in the actual fuck did you think that was a good idea, Keith?”

“II-It was low level, I swear! But then it keep progressing and I...thought I could handle it.” Keith replied, eyes downcast and watering. Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was his fault. It was his fault that Lance was in even more pain, and he couldn’t anything to take it back.

But Pidge wasn’t having any of it, she was basically hissing at him. Shiro, despite being angered himself, was doing his best to mediate the argument. Hunk stayed deadly quietly, giving Lance his warm hand to hold for comfort.

Lance tried to tune out what was happening around him, concentrating solely on his breathing, which was growing less and less pained by the minute. Thank God. Maybe the injuries were getting better, or maybe he was just building tolerance. He didn’t dwell on it. The heated yelling slowly cooled, until the only voices were Allura and Coran’s as they quietly discussed the Ascension ceremony in the far corner of the Medicentre.

When Lance opened his eyes again, Keith had joined Hunk at his side, and the older teen’s eyes were red and irritated, puffing out under his lower lid. Keith was...crying? Lance wouldn’t lie, he was pretty fucking pissed, but still, this whole mess was Haggar’s fault. Not Keith’s, not really. Lance wasn’t going to let that creepy bitch break him or his team apart.

Wetting his cracking lips, the wounded teen reached out to Keith and quieted his shaking hand.

“S’okay, buddy.” Lance rasped, and smiled. “I’m all good.”

Keith didn’t meet his gaze. Hunk stared at Lance incredulously, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry…”

“I know.”

And that was that. For the moment, at least.

People filtered in and out of the Medicentre throughout the day, like shiftwork. For the most part, it was Hunk, and Pidge, who’d sit at Lance’s side and keep him in good spirits. They’d decided on keeping him on the medical chair, it was heated and could warp its structure to fit whatever laying position afforded Lance the most comfort.

Sometime in the evening, when the Castle lights dimmed to simulate day cycles, Allura came to Lance with a soft face and set jaw. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the mice tunneling around in his blankets reassuringly, before Allura finally spoke.

“We’ll find a way to fix this, Lance.” She stated, and gave the paladin a firm smile.
“I know,” Lance replied, wondering if he was lying to himself. “I have the best space fam ever - and I know that we’re gonna make Haggar pay.”

“Indeed, on both counts.”

There was something in the way she looked at him, with guilt, that took Lance aback.

“What is it, Princess? What’s going on?” He asked, dragging more air into his tired lungs.

“...Your migraines, Lance. I-I fear they might be my doing…”

Lance stared at her, confused.

“When I pilot the Castle, it’s through a telepathic link not unlike yours with the Lions.” Allura started, daring to look into the Cuban teen’s eyes. “But it takes more of a physical toll at times, depending on how drastically I have to displace the Castle in spacetime. Our last mission was a bit hectic, I’ll admit, and the head pain should be mine to bear - not yours.”

“I...didn’t realize that.” Lance admitted, “That must be hard for you.”

“I’m not looking for sympathy, Lance, I’m apologizing.”

“Well, with all due respect Princess, I don’t accept your apology.” Lance started, and reached out to take Allura’s tense shoulder in his hand. “Because this is not your fault. It’s Haggar’s.”

Allura’s eyes widened in surprised, then glistened in recognition.

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But I still feel bad…”

“Tell me about the ceremony.” Lance asks, ending his friend’s train of thought. “Where is it?”

“Well,” Allura began, the mice crawling back into her lap. “The Xiefarians are a fairly advanced people, having moved homeworlds a couple centuries ago due to self inflicted climate issues. They operate on a refined feudal system, and their planet, Secriis, has several different land masses as well as generally alkaline oceans.”

“What’s it look like there?” Lance asked, glad for the story.

“From what I’ve seen of the holos, it’s very pretty.” Allura mused, “We’ll be attending the ceremony on the northernmost continent, Namaas, in the seaside city of Vaynea. Due to the chemical composition of the soil, the flora is quite vibrant, and luckily most of the wildlife is benign.”

“Well that’s good,” Lance laughed, and grimaced at the way it made his ribcage expand. “So...they have oceans? Like, beaches and stuff?”

“Yes, they do. Coran tells me that they highly value the ocean, and other large bodies of water. That’s why the ceremony will take place at seaside, to honour the young Prince’s rise to formal rank.”

“Cool…” Lance trailed off, getting lost in his own thoughts. God, he missed the beach.

As if sensing the other teen’s bitter nostalgia, Allura put forward a new idea.

“Lance...I know that you - that our team - isn’t at it’s best right now, and that you’re hurting.” She started, taking the paladin’s hand. “But if you like, we can take you down with us. The Castle needs to stay in orbit, but we could set you up for a nap inside one of the Lions on the surface while we attend the ceremony.”

Lance blinked in surprise. He hadn’t considered that. Maybe...It’d be nice to get out for a while, even only slightly.

“I-I’d really like that, Allura.” He smiled, and squeezed the Princess’ hand reassuringly. “Thank you.”

***

The royal banquet was, in a word, decadent.

A regal buzz filled the spacious dining hall, and individuals of all intragalactic origin were dressed in elegant formal wear, lining the tables excitedly in preparation for the feast. The high-ceilinged room was moonlit, and stole light from the evening sky outside through large, un-paned windows.

Despite the light breeze rolling into the dining hall, Hunk found himself more than warm enough thanks to the body heat that hovered around his skin. Warm, but not uncomfortably so.    

Each of the paladins, save for Lance (who was nestled and put to rest inside Blue out in the courtyard), were dressed in stylish formal wear that had been custom made by the Xiefarians. Their tunics tapered flatteringly at their waists, rose into high collars at their necks, and were fashioned from thick fabric in accordance to the colours of their Lions.

From what Hunk could tell, their hosts ate a largely peskatarien diet, and he was immediately enamoured with the skillfully prepared fish settled on his plate. The Xiefarians themselves, however, were far from piscinoid. They were similar to humans in stature, and bore similarly jointed limbs, but that was where most similarities ended.

Their velvety skin could be many a different earthy hue, though most of the people present seemed to bear an either russet or or amber complexion. Where Hunk had ears, the average Xiefarian had scooped divots, like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to the sides of its head. No facial hair of any description, but seemingly compensated with finely crafted jewelry. They had no visible ear holes, or nostrils, just a simple lipped mouth a few inches beneath their eyes.

And their eyes. Oh, their eyes.

Hunk struggled with his anxiety on a good day, but there was something about how oddly hollow the Xiefarians’ looked - solid blue eyes blanketed any expression - that put him on edge.

Pidge at his left, Keith at his right, and Allura, Coran, and Shiro sitting across from him, Hunk tried to convince himself to feel safe. They were in this together. A team. Besides, it was a celebration, not much could go wrong, and the venue was divine.

Tsalik, the rising Prince, eventually quieted the hall with a raised hand and welcomed the guests to Vaynea. A voice translator was hooked like a broach on his formal blue vest, and the team listened intently as the opening ceremony began.

“Honoured guests, be welcomed to our oceanside paradise, the citizens of Vaynea are humbled by your presence, as am I.” The Prince smiled, and raised his glass to the seated crowd. “In particular, I would like to welcome Princess Allura of Altea, her advisor Coran, and the Paladins of Voltron.”

A rush of whispers ghosted through the dining hall, presumably as people recognized Lance’s absence. The prince, however, carried on seamlessly, and the crowd responded accordingly.

For what the Xiefarians lacked in facial expression, they made up for in speech. Taslik’s voice was silk and lilty, rough and warm, his intonation shifting with every word - more than Hunk though biologically possible. It was both interesting and invigorating to listen to. The next few toasts were equally formal, as well as beautiful, and the paladins found themselves lulled in the face of the Prince.

“He’s a charmer, huh?” Pidge whispered, elbowing Hunk softly in the ribs as she smirked.

He stifled a laugh and smiled in agreement. At Allura’s firm look, the two paladins settled, and grew quiet for the rest of the opening acknowledgments.  

Speech completed, the Prince bowed before his people, the paladins, visiting senators of many a species, political representatives, and retook his seat at the central table. Light chatter resumed as everyone dug into the next course of food. So far, things were going swimmingly.
Lance hadn’t messaged him since the ceremony began, and Hunk figured his tired friend must have finally fallen asleep. Comforted by the thought, he slid another forkful of tender space fish into his mouth, careful not to burn his tongue. Who knows, maybe Lance would feel it, so he played it cautious and made sure to cool each mouthful beforehand.

***

Lance woke up in a cold sweat, shuddering violently as fever took hold of him.

Something was not right.

Stumbling out of his makeshift blanket fort in Blue’s cockpit, Lance found his legs to be too weak to carry his weight. Ungracefully, he crashed the the floor and panted at the effort of rising to his hands and knees. His limbs felt lead-locked and hot, useless, as he tried to clamber toward the control panels to call for help.

His migraine had resurfaced tenfold, wiping out his peripheral vision and making his gaze shudder as he crawled forward. He was hot. Too hot. Or maybe he was cold. Whatever his actual body temperature, it was too extreme, and it drew nerve wracking shivers from his tired skin.   

Lance finally managed to pull himself into Blue’s pilot seat, groaning as his limbs protested sitting, and bit his lip until it bled. Nausea wafted up his throat and before he could open a Comm link to his teammates, Lance jerked over and retched onto the floor, jaw seizing with the force of it.

“G-Gha-a...k-k...B-Blue...Blue-e, ca-all H-Hunk-” Lance managed to groan, and splayed his hand desperately over the console.

Why was this happening? None of his teammates were sick. Everyone was safe, inside enjoying the banquet.

Unless.

Unless they weren’t safe.

“P-Poison-n...gh-ha-a...i-it’s p-poison, B-Blue.” Lance gritted out between his clenched teeth. “T-Tell them-m...B-Blue...tell th-them it’s poison-n-”

Lance was cut off as a violent seizure gripped his muscles and pulled them to attention, throwing him from the seat and onto the floor in a shuddering heap. He fought to keep consciousness, peeling his eyes wide in defiance.

If he had had a mirror, Lance would’ve seen the blood darkening beneath his skin as the toxin settled into his veins, and coursed through his arteries. If he’d been more coherent, Lance would’ve noticed the squelching hiss his in his lungs as he sucked in too small of breaths.

As he was losing to the darkness, Lance barely registered the heavy jostle of machinery as Blue activated herself, and rose from her sitting position.

Then, he was gone. Unconscious. Near death.

Alone.

Chapter Text

“This is as close to mash potatoes as it gets, Hunk-”

Keith froze mid sentence when the Blue Lion quite literally burst through the dining hall, tearing through the Xiefarians’ carefully laid foundation and extensive decor. The guests ran for cover as the giant robotic cat made a dramatic entrance. The broken clay walls flung debris into the crowd.

Keith ducked as a chunk of something like reinforced steel shot by where his head would’ve been.

But that wasn’t his main concern.

His main concern was the fact that Blue was roaring - like, properly screeching - into the dining hall, opening her jaws wide and gaping.

It took Keith a second to realize that it was her way of encouraging the paladins to enter into her cockpit.

Racing through the crowd, Hunk caught up with Keith as he rocketed toward the distressed lion, face set in a worried grimace.

“D-Did he call you over the Comms?” The larger teen asked, his words strained, as if he were struggling to say them out loud properly.

“No, nothing.” Keith replied, his voice lilting more than he’d have liked. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that Shiro, Pidge, Allura and Coran were busy evacuating the guests from the dining hall.

Without the rising Prince.

Quickly scoping out the room, Keith found him, at the edge of the dining hall, a breath away from being out of sight. The Xiefarian prince was avoiding the paladins like the plague, and Keith narrowed his eyes in mistrust. Tsalik had something to do with this, Keith could feel it.

Someone had to follow him. Keith was about to turn on his heel and chase down the prince, when Hunk beat him to it.

“Look after Lance!” The yellow paladin shouted over his shoulder. “I’ll take down Tsalik!”

“O-okay!” Keith replied, confused. This was not a typical Hunk move. Why would he have abandoned Lance at a time like this?

If his teammate’s life weren’t possibly on the line, Keith would’ve argued and traded places. But there wasn’t time. Someone had to get to Lance.

In the back of his mind, he thought maybe it was because Hunk was scared of losing his friend. Or maybe it was because he was angry. Angry at Tsalik. At Haggar. At space.

Whatever the motive, Keith had to roll with it, so he rushed up into Blue’s shuddering jaw.

He didn’t have time to be contemplative.

He had to get to Lance.

Entering into the cockpit, he smelt it before he saw it. Bile. And something else. Something sickly. Keith nearly gagged, but kept his nausea in check, the way he’d been taught to at the Garrison.

And then he saw him. Lance. Only it wasn’t the same Lance that Keith had learned to recognize. The loud, bubbly Lance that could fill a room with the sound of his voice.

This Lance looked dead. Dead, and quiet.

Heart shuddering, Keith dropped to his knees, half intentionally and half out of shock, and dragged his teammate into his arms. Lance was a ragdoll at the foot of his pilot seat, limbs heavy and unwilling. But not locked. Not post-mortem tight, which was a resistance Keith had grown disturbingly used to.

“Lance! Lance, hey!” Keith called, roughly shaking his friend’s shoulders, but to no avail. Lance’s head lolled to the side, and that’s when Keith noticed the black, deathly looking veins that crawled up the unconscious teen’s neck.

That was not normal.

Poison, maybe. His gut clenched, and he hoped Hunk had found the prince by now and put a bolt of plasmafire through his heart.

The Xiefarians must have poisoned someone on the team, and by extension, Lance. Some...political scheme. Sure, Keith was jumping to conclusions, but he couldn’t help it, his brain was buzzing with anxiety.

But poison didn’t explain why could he see the symptoms. They’d never been able to see Lance’s injuries before.

A wet sound, like rubber on rubber, escaped from the back of Lance’s throat, and it took Keith a moment to recognize it as a breath. Keith startled at the sudden movement, then relaxed, taking comfort in the small act of life. Lance was covered in sweat, and shivering almost comically, like in the cartoons he’d watched as a kid.

But this was far from funny. Keith sighed.

“Lance?” He called again, half-heartedly, knowing that his teammate was out cold. Carefully, he began to scoop Lance up into his arms, struggling with his friend’s lanky limbs. Keith could feel Lance’s shivering through his armour-clad arms.

Then, Lance wasn’t shivering anymore.

He was seizing. Like, tonic-clonic, grand mal seizing.

“Shit. Shit, shit! Lance, stay with me buddy!” Keith yelled and released his grip on Lance’s body. Fleeting thoughts of first aid crossed his mind, and he gently rolled the other teen onto his side as best he could, to ease what little breathing Lance could perform.

The space beside the cockpit was far too crammed to be safe, and Keith flinched as Lance’s left ankle shot into the bottom of the dashboard with a crack. Unfortunately, Lance wasn’t wearing his paladin uniform. Then again, that would’ve probably make it worse, with how tight around the neck the flight suits tended to be.

Still muttering swears under his breath, Keith knelt beside Lance as the tired teen rode out the muscle spasms, face far too lax. Almost, unrecognizable.

“Guys! I need back up, Lance is - Lance is not good.” Keith stated over the comms, surprised at the steadiness of his voice. “Coran, are you there? I need medical help asap, Lance is seizing. I think he was poisoned by the Xiefarians.”

The comms crackled blankly in response.

Shit. No signal.

The moment Keith dropped his hand from his helmet, feeling defeated, he noticed that Lance had stopped seizing. Puffing out a sigh of relief, he went to scoop Lance up, to get him out of Blue and closer to finding help, but soon realized that the seizure wasn’t the only thing that had stopped.

Lance had also stopped breathing.

“No, n-no, Lance, not like this, c-come on!” Keith stuttered, hands shaky as he jostled his teammate desperately. “God-fucking-damn it, fuck, wake up. Wake up! Lance!”

No pulse.

Nothing.

Not wasting any time, Keith gathered Lance in his arms and shot out of the cockpit, buzzing with dread as he shot out of Blue. Frantically, he searched the dining hall for a familiar face, for someone who could help. He made it out into the main hallway, towards the coronation room, before his feet started to drag. He tried the comms again.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing. His eyes started to water.

“Coran!!” Keith screamed, and dropped to the floor, arms finally recognizing Lance’s weight as he set the unmoving paladin down. “Shiro!!”

Lance laid still, sprawled unceremoniously across coronation room’s grey tiles. The colour of the flooring only added to the way the life seemed to drain from his face. Lance looked wrong. It wasn’t like the movies. Lance didn’t look asleep. He looked fucking dead, a shadow of what he was supposed to be.

Swallowing a sob, Keith grimaced and rolled the other teen onto his back. He’d never performed CPR on a real person, not even during his time with the Blade. Only on dummies in simulations at the Garrison. Keith wasn’t prepared for the way Lance’s chest resisted the force of his movements, and he ground his clasped hands down into his friend’s sternum with a numbed resolve.

He’d lost enough people already. He wouldn’t let death take this blossoming friendship from him as well.

Keith flinched when he heard the crunch of Lance’s ribs fracturing. But he had to continue.

Keith kept counting. Kept going through the motions, ignoring the way his muscles burned after he’d repeated the sequence three times through. Not even the breaths would go in. At some point, Keith became detached from his body, to the point where he couldn’t hear help arriving.

And help did eventually come.

Coran dropped to his side, muttering something in Altean as Keith continued pushing on Lance’s otherwise unmoving chest.

Someone pulled Keith away. Maybe it was Allura, or Hunk. Either way, someone strong ripped him from Lance, making room for Coran and a small group of Xiefarians to kneel at the fallen paladin’s side. They ripped his blue baseball tee off, and prodded at his skin as if searching for the right spot.

Keith couldn’t hear himself yelling over the rush of blood in his ears, but he could feel the way his voice tore away at his throat, raw and unfeeling. He didn’t care. They did this to Lance; Coran shouldn’t be trusting the Xiefarians for help.

Then Shiro was there, placing a warm hand on his back.

Keith watched as Coran jammed a syringe full of clear fluid into Lance’s chest, and another, filled with a bluish gel, into his neck.

Keith pulled Shiro into a iron hug when Lance finally took a breath, sputtering and coughing, mouth stretched wide like a fish on land.

For a moment, they made eye contact, Lance’s eyes white with terror, before the revived teen fell into unconsciousness. Alive.

Alive.

***

Six minutes.

Lance had been dead for six minutes.

He almost didn’t believe it when Hunk told him, but the broken look in his friend’s eyes was all the proof he needed.

Having been moved to the best medical facility in Raynea, Lance had awoken in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by aliens he’d never seen before, and the tired paladin had damn near screamed.

But then Hunk was there, holding him, calming him down, hugging him. Crying with him. For the first time in a long time, Lance felt safe. When they finally separated, he noticed that Hunk wasn’t the only of his friends in the room. Pidge crushed herself into his arms, and he winced at the strength of her hug.

“P-Pidge, ribs, man, o-oww.” He groaned, but managed to keep the smile on his face. The green paladin’s eyes widened in realization and she withdrew almost immediately, face apologetic. Lance waved her out of it, opting instead for a soft embrace. Pidge sniffled into his hospital gown, and he wove his fingers through her cropped hair. “All good, Pidgey. All good…”

“Sorry about that, by the way.” Keith offered, stepping closer to Lance, eyes downcast. “The ribs, I mean.”

“Dude - you helped save my life!” Lance countered immediately, eyebrows drawing together almost angrily. “I can handle a few fractured ribs. Not really the worst kind of injury I’ve had to deal with lately. And besides, it’s more than worth it to be here. Not dead, that is...”

Keith quieted at that, and Lance could see his teammate’s eyes start to brim.

“Thank you.” Lance pressed, smiling.

“I-I, it wasn’t me, it was Coran and the medical team. If they hadn’t gotten to us when they did, you’d have probably stayed...you know.”

Lance grew quiet this time.

“Still.” He said finally, and warmly looked back up to his friend’s eyes. “Thank you for getting me that far.”

Keith nodded.

But something was still wrong. Keith was looking at him strange. They all were. Lance’s stomach twisted in knots as his friends eyes rested like livewires on his skin.

“Okay, um, what’s up with you guys?” Lance finally dared to ask, withdrawing his hands from Pidge’s hair as she sat upright on the bed with him. “I know I’m pretty, but the staring thing is kinda creeping me out.”

No one knew quite what to say at that, until Shiro spoke up. He’d been hovering at the edge of the bed, presumably waiting for his chance to welcome Lance back.

“We can see them, Lance.”

What?

“We can see our...your...injuries.” Shiro clarified, and cleared his throat.

Oh.

Those.

Lance nodded slowly, and he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the bruises and burns on his arms, the mess of his shoulder. He swallowed numbly. Lance couldn’t tell when, but at some point he’d started crying, silent tears tracking down his cheeks. He brought a shaky hand to his raw eyes, and puffed out a long, overdue sigh.

Hunk, who was still kneeling on the other side of the bed, drew himself up and gently wrapped his arms around his buddy again.

“I-I don’t kn-know why I’m h-happy about that...b-but I am.” Lance managed to choke out, signalling to Hunk that he was good. “D-Does - ehem - does that mean I’m getting better?”

“Something like that.” Shiro confirmed, and offered Lance a warm, wholehearted smile.

Then Shiro’s comm buzzed. It was Allura.

“She’s been in meetings all evening, sorting out the Rising Prince’s arrest. There was a whole underground network of extremists based here on planet Secriis, trying to take down the resistance.” Shiro explained, realizing that Lance had a lot of catching up to do. “Tsalik provided them opportunity to poison Allura during the ceremony, and he was going to use her death as a way of motivating the people of Raynea to pledge allegiance to the Galra.”

Lance hummed in thought, head nodding.

“Pretty heavy-duty poison.” He offered jokingly, but ended up shuddering. Silently, he was glad he’d kept Allura from experiencing such a deathly incident. “So, if Keith was with me, who all took down the prince?”

“It was Hunk!” Pidge exclaimed, giving her science bro an ‘atta boy’ pat on the shoulder. “All by himself. Gave the dude a knuckle sandwich and knocked him out cold!”

“MY MAN!” Lance practically screeched, face breaking into a massive grin. “Dude, you are the epitome of awesome.”

“Hah-hah, thanks.” Hunk blushed, and scratched the back of his neck, smiling. “I just...I needed to be the one to go after him. I’m...sorry I wasn’t with you when...when you...I just couldn’t bear to see you like that. I know that’s selfish of me, but-”

“Hunk.” Lance interrupted, taking his buddy’s hand. “Believe me when I say that I totally get it. I was in good hands. Besides, you got to kick total ass, I’m proud of you, man.”

“As are we all,” Shiro smiled, his hair falling over his eyes a bit as he spoke. His comm buzzed again and he startled. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this. Allura wanted to be here but-”

“Shiro, I get it, there’s a lot of shit to sort out.” Lance cut in, eyebrows raised in understanding. “You should go give her a hand.”

Shiro gave Lance a quick hug, and jogged out of the room, his white floof flopping with the movement.

Then Lance realized something.

“Where’s Coran?” He asked, swivelling his head around the brightly lit room in search of his mustached friend. “Is he with Allura as well?”

“No, he’s with Blue, running more scans.” Keith explained, still standing awkwardly beside the hospital bed. “From what he’s told us so far, the readings are good.”

“Good, like, the shift in the bond is going back to normal?” Lance asked hopefully.

“Exactly that!” Coran confirmed, poking his head into the busy room, his hair wildly askew. “It’ll take some time to balance itself, but the paladin bond appears to be normalizing!”

Lance breathed out a sigh of relief. This nightmare was almost over, thanks the stars. The good news left him with a question, however.

“Why? What changed, Coran?”

“I can explain everything after you’ve gotten some rest, young paladin.” Coran parented, arching an orange eyebrow at Lance. “You look more exhausted than a maned lixxus after a feeding frenzy.”

Lance huffed out an affirmation. Coran was right. He was struggling to keep his eyelids apart for more than a few seconds. Besides, he was safe, and that was all that mattered for now. The rest could be explained after a long, long nap.

Before he could close his eyes, Lance called out to his friends as they quietly left the room.
“Hey, guys?”

Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Coran turned to look at him.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Pidge asked, her head tilting in confusion.

“For...caring. And for being here when I woke up”

Pidge grew stern.

“Of course we care, Lance.” She replied, and her voice was full of warmth. “You’re family, and we love you.”

Lance found an easy breath, smiled, and looked down to his blanket.

“Can...can one of you stay?” He asked quietly, not looking up. Feeling guilty. “I just-”

“I’ll stay.” Keith replied almost immediately, and walked back to Lance’s side. This time, grabbing a chair. Lance was almost surprised, but then remembered what Keith had just been through.

Lance could only imagine how it would be if they’d switched places. How gutting it would be to see his friend dead in his arms. No bonding moment to speak of in that kind of situation.

“Thanks, mullet.” He whispered, and closed his eyes.

***

To put it simply, it wasn’t a restful sleep.

When Lance woke, he was just as tired as when he’d finally fallen asleep. Yawning, and carefully rubbing sleep from his eyes, he noticed that Keith was out cold, arms splayed across the bed.

The goof had gone and half-fallen out of the chair in his sleep.

“Yo, Keef, wakey wakey, man.” Lance laughed and rubbed at Keith’s shoulder. Shaken from sleep, Keith groaned and sat up, disgruntled.

And injured.

Small cuts and bruises were dotted along his arms, a nasty burn growing along his jawline.

As if looking in a mirror, Lance brought his hand to his own jaw and nearly gasped when the skin there felt healthy, gone of injury.

It was an alien sensation, to not hurt for once. It almost felt wrong.

“Lance, what’re you-” Keith cut himself off with a small hiss, as the burn stretched when he spoke. “Ow…?”

Keith’s head snapped up to Lance’s face as the realization hit him. The bond really was normalizing. Keith was getting what was left of his injuries back.

Lance could only assume that the rest of his teammates were as well.

For a moment, Lance felt guilty. Guilty that everyone had to feel his pain, their pain, again.

But he stopped that train of thought in its tracks. The shift hadn’t been healthy. Everyone needed to feel their own pain, it wasn’t right for it to all land on him.

Still, he’d felt particularly useful when he could take his friends’ damage away…

“Stop it.” Keith barked.

“-Stop what?”

“I can practically hear your guilt. Stop it. This is how it’s supposed to be.” Keith stated, giving Lance a firm face.

Lance nodded, more out of habit than anything else.

“Right.”

Just then, Allura raced into the room, her eyes glittering. Coran was close on her heels.

“Oh good! You’re awake!” Allura gleamed, joining a sleepy Keith at Lance’s side. “Lance, I’m not even sure where to begin. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. But, it would seem as though everything’s going back to normal.”

Lance couldn’t help but be impressed by how straight a face Allura could keep, considering that her migraine must’ve returned. The princess’ pain tolerance must be pretty damn high.

“Yah, things are really starting to look up.” Lance agreed, snapping his fingers into a thumbs up. “And don’t worry, Princess, I know things must’ve been hectic after Blue went all “The Shining” on that wall.”

“I...don’t understand the reference, but yes. Things were...hectic.”

“And, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I could keep you from being assassinated.” Lance added under his breath, eyes softening.

“Lance, I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone except Zarkon.” Allura replied, frowning. “Especially not on a friend. I’m just glad you’re alright, the guilt would’ve…well...”

“If anyone’s to blame, it’s Haggar.” Lance supplied as Allura trailed off. “Oh! Coran, could you fill me in on the whole healing thing now? You kinda left me hanging yesterday.”

“Gladly, my boy!” Coran piped up, flipping out his datapad. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Lance, but that toxin might have been the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”

Lance froze, confused.

“What? Why the quiznak would you say that?” Keith asked, clearly upset.

“Allow me to explain,” The technician began, taking a seat on the foot of Lance’s bed. Allura and Keith listened intently as well. “The codes Haggar launched had an embedded termination sequence. The shift in the paladin bond was to remain off-balance until that sequence was triggered by a particular scripted event.”

“Which was?” Lance asked, keeping up with Coran’s flowery explanation.

“The eventual death of the victim.”

Heavy silence.

“...So because the toxin killed me for a little while, the application terminated?” Lance finally spoke, his tongue thick in his mouth.

“Essentially, yes.” Coran confirmed, fiddling with his mustache. “The green paladin and I have been going over the source code, the Xiefarians’ helped us decrypt it, and it’s really quite elegantly designed. Which is horrible, of course! But...we’re using it to developing countermeasures so that the druids won’t be able to hack the Lions again.”

“Ideally.” Keith added, still skeptical.

“Very likely.” Allura corrected, tilting her head at Keith. “Don’t underestimate your teammates, Pidge is proving herself to be more a genius than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Keith backpedaled, shaking his head. “ I just...I’m glad this is over at least.”

“Me too, buddy.” Lance agreed. “So, when are we getting off this rock?”

“Soon, my boy.” Coran sympathized. “The princess and I have got a few things to finish up with the council members here. The Xiefarians are officially joining the resistance, and have issued a formal apology in regards to what happened.”

“We’ll be back in the Castle before the end of the day cycle.” Allura clarified. “Until then, try and rest up, Lance. You deserve the downtime.”

Lance put on a smile. Made a joke. Waved as his friends left the room.

But he still felt off.

It was going to take time for him to feel “normal” again. As it stood right now, the absence of agony in his body felt jarring.

Lance didn’t fall back asleep.

***

Days later, Lance started to feel more at peace.

His injuries had completely healed, and he was back to training with his team. From what he could tell though, his friends had a little bit of healing left to do on their own.

Keith had to deal with the tail-end of the plasmafire wound. Pidge had her wrist braced for a time, as a precaution. Hunk’s concussion resurfaced, but had luckily grown largely more bearable. Allura’s migraines came back full force after displacing the Castle, and it was a no longer a mystery as to why she preferred the quiet company of her mice some evenings.

Shiro’s insomnia returned.

The whole team had bruises and small lacerations to spare and Lance, Lance felt...okay.

Sighing, he rolled out of bed and staggered towards the communal bath, in full pajamas. His skin care routine had suffered tremendously while he was injured, and it was starting to show.

Wiping the oil from the creases of his nose, Lance eventually made it to the sink, looked in the mirror, and started washing. The air was steamy from someone taking a shower, but he couldn’t tell who. Probably Shiro, considering how early in the morning it was.

Lance just couldn’t bring himself to sleep in.

Halfway through applying his favourite moisturizer, he slipped. The steam had apparently gathered along the walls as condensation, and dripped downwards, pooling on the tile-like floor.

“Ouf!” He gasped, more out of shock than anything else, as his elbow jammed into the sink on his way to the ground. Typical. After sitting stunned on the wet floors for a couple of ticks, Lance managed to haul himself back onto his feet, and huffed out a breath of annoyance.

He finished rubbing in the face cream and stole a long glance at himself in the mirror. His eyes were a little bloodshot still, and the skin underneath them was darker than usual, heavy with lingering fatigue.

“Fuck you, witch lady. Huggghhh, I look like shit. How’s a paladin supposed to woo anyone with such a tired-ass face?”

Just as he was about to keep complaining to himself, Lance noticed something. A speck of blood dotted on his chin.

Where had that come from?

Looking down, Lance’s stomach nearly dropped from his body. His elbow was quite literally a bloody mess, the dark red liquid seeping through his housecoat.

“What the fuck!” He screeched and held his injured limb tenderly. Only after really focusing on it did he noticed the subtle ache of pain where his skin had split on impact with the sink. “Stop! Stop bleeding, this is my favourite housecoat!”

“Lance?” A voice called out from the changing area. “Is that you? Are you okay?”

“N-Not really. I fucked up my elbow, Shiro.” Lance admitted, still shocked at the sudden development. “Can you help?”

“Course!” Shiro replied immediately, and rounded the corner in a loose black tee and sweatpants. His hair was still soaked from the shower. “What happened?”

“I slipped on the tile and smacked my elbow on the sink.” Lance replied, looking defeated.

“Must’ve smacked it pretty hard, that’s a decent amount of blood.” Shiro sympathized, helping Lance take off the robe and use the material to put pressure on the small wound.

“Yeah.” Lance affirmed, albeit distantly. “Must’ve.”

Shiro noticed.

“What’s wrong?” The older paladin pushed, looking Lance in the eyes.

“It’s just...it doesn’t hurt? Not badly, anyway. Not like it should.” Lance explained, gesturing towards his bloody elbow. “Things don’t feel the way they used to, before the hacking thing.”

Shiro nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, I’m no doctor, and I’m certainly no coder,” Shiro started, quirking and eyebrow. “But I think it’s going to take time for you to feel normal again. It took me a long time to feel even remotely ‘normally’ about my prosthetic arm.”

“...You’re...you’re right.” Lance agreed, and they started walking towards the MediCentre. “Who knows, maybe I’ll end up with a scary-high pain tolerance, that’d be handy.”

“It would be different.” Shiro corrected, putting a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “But I know you can handle anything that gets thrown your way.”

Lance beamed at the praise.

Maybe, just this once, he’d cave and agree with the sappy, English proverb “Time Heals all Wounds.”

Time tends to heal physical wounds, at the very least.

After getting a couple stitches, and taking a painkiller for show, Lance joined his team for breakfast. Hunk made space waffles, and they weren’t half bad. Hell, they were the best breakfast dish they’d had so far aboard the Castle.

Lance smiled to himself as he took a swig of his homemade milkshake, courtesy of his bovine muse, Kaltenecker.

He felt happy, and safe, and surrounded with family. If he closed his eyes, this could easily be an Espinosa family gathering back home on Earth.

It wasn’t. But for now, it was good enough.

Lance had a ways to go. They all did. Haggar’s application had really thrown them threw a loop. But now they could train again, form Voltron again.

And for now, that was good enough too.

END

-

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(bonus)

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Interrogation Report - Protocol C1221

Title: Tsalik Unn of Raynea, Namaas.

Guilt: Violation of sections A, C, E - K of the Xiefarian Royal Code.

Burden: Relocation to a Resistance holding facility. Permanent banishment from Secriis.

Status: Falling Prince.

/start recording/ 00:00:01

Risen Prosecutor (RP): How long have you been in contact with the Galra Empire?

Falling Prince (FP): Long enough.

RP: Please clarify.

FP: How about you clarify this.

/detected: inappropriate gesture 0.3/

/detected: physical punishment 2.7-2.8/

RP: Let’s try that again.

/fast forward/ 14:30:01

RP: How did you acquire Xinth toxin?

FP: My contact gave it to me three days prior to the Ascension.

RP: And who is your contact?

FP: The one with the cat thing.

RP: Haggar, of the Druids?

FP: No, the other one. The general.

RP: I see. Does that mean you’ve been in contact with Prince Lotor as well, then?

FP: Yes.

RP: And was it him who prompted the extremists to attack Princess Allura of Altea?

FP: No.

RP: Who poisoned the Princess’ drink?

FP: …

RP: I’ll repeat myself. Who poisoned the Princess’ drink?

FP: Allura was not our target.

/detected: neurotoxin cartridge - status: activated/

RP: G-Ghh-ich...h-how did you get past security with th-that?

FP: You’d be surprised at how easily influenced your staff is.
RP: Who are y-you? Gh-ha...ch-h...you can not be Tsalik-k.

FP: Well, you are right about that. Your Tsalik is still imprisoned on a Glaran warship.

RP: H-How...h-h….h…

/detected: deceased xiefarian/

/detected: comm channel open - status: closed frequency/

FP: Sir, project Kuron is still operational. Should I pursue?

Unknown: No.

Unknown: Retreat, for now. This hasn’t been a total loss.

FP: Affirmative.

/detected: comm channel closed - status: untraceable/

/detected: malware - source code: unknown/

/detcted//det/de//c//t/e/d/d/

/error/

/err/er//or/r/

/er///e/re//r/o/oo/rr///

/system shutdown/

01010100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01010011 01101000 01101001 01110010 01101111 00101110

/system reboot/

/detected: replacement documents/

/start recording/ 00:00:01

RP: How long have you been in contact with the Galra Empire?
FP: Two decacycles.

RP: Who was your contact?

FP: A druid.

RP: How did you acquire Xinth toxin?

FP: I had it smuggled in from off-planet.

RP: Who poisoned the Princess’ drink?

FP: I did, before the ceremony began.

RP: What is your motive for attacking the Castle of Lions, and the Paladins of Voltron?

FP: To gain political stature by exploiting their weakness.

RP: Do you accept your status as Falling?

FP: Yes.

RP: You will be transported immediately to a holding facility off-planet. You will not have permission to return. Do you have any last requests before Falling?

FP: No.

/detected: fallen xiefarian/

/end of recording/

***