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The words haunt him.
They’re always there. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, or where he’s going, they sneak up on him. They’re insidious.
They make him ache.
Take me.
He exhales, but the tightness in his chest remains. It’s a new constant in his life. He feels pulled taut and brittle, like he’s going to crack into infinitesimal pieces.
“Lance? You with us?” Shiro places a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder and fixes him with his concerned gaze.
Lance takes a deep breath and tries to force a reassuring smile, but it feels like a grimace. He nods because he doesn’t trust his voice.
“Keith’s a fighter,” Shiro reminds him. “We’ll get him back.”
Their leader carries himself with strength, but Lance knows he’s worried too. His brother has been gone for two weeks, and he’s probably been delivered to Haggar. It paints a bleak, colorless picture.
They’ve heard nothing from the Galra since Keith’s abduction, which is terrifying in its own unique way. Why wouldn’t they be flaunting their victory? Why aren’t they making demands? Why haven’t they made any contact?
It keeps Lance up at night.
And Keith was hurt in the fight. Lance can still see Keith pressing a hand to the gash in his side.
It came away bloody.
Did the Galra treat him? Did he lose too much blood? Did it get infected?
Is he already dead?
The silence is explained if they lost their only bargaining chip.
It hurts.
Nausea creeps up on him, and he makes a hasty, haphazard excuse to Shiro before he bolts from the dining area for the nearest bathroom. He proceeds to vomit up everything he’d managed to eat that day; though, to be fair, it isn’t much.
Lance cups his hands under the faucet and sips at the water. He swishes it around in his mouth and spits it into the basin, and then he wipes the sick off his chin.
He catches a glimpse of his reflection, but he doesn’t recognize the face in the mirror. Sallow, pale, gaunt, his eyes are rimmed in dark, sleepless circles.
He blinks, and the words taunt him again.
Take me.
A third week passes without any news or leads.
Allura fusses over him, Coran tries to distract him, Shiro trains him, Pidge shares information with him, and Hunk sits with him. He appreciates their efforts, but their voices don’t drown out Keith’s.
Take me.
It’s so loud. It’s deafening. It’s too much.
Lance lies awake in his lonely bed, and his eyes burn and sting with exhaustion and upset. The memory is burned into his retinas or corneas or whatever part of the eye sees . He wants to replace it or tape over it. He’s got plenty of material, but it’s a struggle.
Lance rolls onto his side and buries his nose in the fabric of Keith’s favorite black t-shirt. It’s worn and soft, and it smells like him. He pictures Keith’s gentle smile. He remembers the way Keith’s lips curl over the syllables of good morning and breakfast. He thinks about the richness of his laugh when Lance digs his fingers into his ribs, and the graceful power of his limbs when he shoves Lance off and tackles him with a pillow. He thinks of the way they fall against one another, tangled up in each other, and how Keith’s violet eyes crinkle at the corners as he whispers, I love you, Lance.
But then he sees pained, hazy indigo, and he hears Keith’s voice break with the force of his emotions as he pleads, demands, begs take me.
Lance can’t stay here anymore. He gets to his feet and heads for the training deck, but he can’t outrun the words or the look in Keith’s eyes.
Desperate, but fearless and fierce.
Lance takes it all out on the gladiators and bots, which come in continuous waves at his bidding. His shoulder is singed, but he doesn’t care. He fires off three more shots in rapid succession and watches another opponent fall. The indifferent voice of the simulator tells him he’s reached Level 5. He takes no break. He peers through the crosshairs. He pulls the trigger.
Another enemy falls. Another takes its place on the frontlines. They surge and glide together as one impenetrable army. They’re fast and precise and deadly.
They overwhelm.
Take me.
Please no , Lance thinks, Don’t. Keith! Keith! Don’t do this! No! No, no, no, no, Keith! No!
His gut lurches uncomfortably because these aren’t thoughts.
They’re just echoes of the same memory.
Take me.
It won’t leave him alone.
The hum of technology is the only source of sound in the room. Lance sprawls on the couch with his hands behind his head and tries to block out language with white noise. It doesn’t work.
Take me.
It’s insistent.
It books no room for argument.
Lance wants to scream.
But then he’s interrupted.
“Holy shit,” Pidge gasps. Her jaw drops open, she stills, and then she’s a blur of movement. Her hands race over the keyboard. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she urges. In an uncharacteristic turn of events, she smacks the modem with the flat of her palm.
“What’s going on?” Allura peers over her shoulder. Before she receives an answer, Hunk slides into the room.
“Did you - ?” he shouts.
“Yes, holy shit, you too?”
“Yes!”
“Holy shit!”
Allura puts her hands on her hips and studies them, “What in the world is going on?”
Pidge grins, and it’s the most genuine smile Allura has seen since Keith was taken. Hope unfurls within her like the petals of a flower. It blossoms and grows and thrives.
“Get the others,” Pidge instructs without looking away from her screen. “Keith just made contact.”
Allura dashes away to find Coran and Shiro as Lance scrambles to his feet and rushes to Pidge’s side, “What?”
In response, Pidge enlarges a hologram of a nearby galaxy and taps a purple dot on the screen, “There. He sent coordinates.”
“It’s not... It isn’t a trap, is it?” Lance whispers in awe. The little light blinks, and Lance wants to reach out and grab it.
“No, it’s definitely Keith,” Pidge answers. “He sent a brief encrypted message. It’s him.”
Lance’s fingers tense in anticipation. Adrenaline buzzes to life within him with enough intensity to make him shake. The restless lethargy ebbs.
Take me.
The volume is muted by the roar of his own blood in his ears, but he hears the words again.
Resolved, Keith stepped in front of the enemy. Take me.
Lance’s captor sneered, but Keith bartered and contested Lance’s worth to the Galra. The bounty hunters wavered. Lance shouted like it would make a difference. Keith dropped his bayard and raised his hands in surrender. The alien to the left kicked Lance in the back, and he landed on his face with his hands bound behind him. A foot rested on his neck in warning, and he watched the bandits cuff Keith and lead him into their ship.
Take me .
Allura returns with Shiro and Coran hot on her heels. Shiro looks ready to storm the enemy ship, and Coran is resolute at his side.
“It’s a prisoner transport,” Pidge informs them. “I’ve checked their logs. It looks like they’ve only had Keith for a few quintants. The pirates must’ve kept him until they had a guaranteed trade with a good price.”
The relief Lance experiences is staggering. Keith is alive. Keith isn’t with Haggar. He’s dizzy with the knowledge.
Allura reads the files as they flicker across the screen, “They’re not equipped to keep such a valuable prisoner. I almost wonder if Keith’s captors knew as much and counted on his eventual escape. They may be lying in wait to retrieve him to sell again.”
“They probably didn’t expect him to be resourceful enough to contact help,” Pidge infers.
Lance can’t stand still any longer. He paces and fidgets and finally exclaims, “Okay. What are we waiting for then? We have to go get him.”
Allura shoots him a sympathetic glance, “We need to consider the information. We’ll be no help to Keith if we go in blind.”
Lance turns to Shiro for support. Their leader is level-headed, but he has to be itching to go after his brother. They lock eyes, and Shiro says, “Let’s make a plan then.”
One wormhole jump and two vargas later, the Galra transport ship is in sight. Pidge activates Green’s cloaking device and docks without notice, and she, Shiro, and Lance board. Hunk is on standby, and the Castle is just far enough out-of-sight to go undetected.
Pidge connects to the ships system to locate the prison cells. Shiro’s Galra hand gives her access to all of the records, which she downloads to her own device.
“Okay, this should take about five dobashes. I’ve deactivated the alarm, but they run a security scan every ten dobashes, so that’s all the time I can give you,” Pidge explains. She points to a few heat signatures on the map and suggests they knock out the guards before they’re seen.
Shiro and Lance nod in understanding before they race off to the cell blocks. They make quick work on the sentries before they begin releasing prisoners.
It doesn’t take long for them to realize Keith isn’t in any of the cells.
Fuck , Lance thinks. Fuck .
“Has anyone seen a human with dark hair?” Lance demands, and he feels like he could sing when they nod their heads in affirmation.
“He broke out,” a young alien girl rasps. “Earlier. They took him away. To solitary.”
The little girl tells him where to go, and he thanks her. Shiro agrees to take the prisoners to Green before he meets up with Lance. They split up.
Take me.
Lance passes a few busted up sentries in the corridor, and he figures this means he’s heading the right direction. He makes three left turns, like the girl instructed, and then he is face-to-face with an enormous iron door.
He blasts the security sensor.
The doors release with a hiss.
“ Mierda ,” Lance breathes in horror. Keith is unconscious and chained to the wall by his wrists. Lance crosses the room in three strides and places his palms on Keith’s battered face. “Keith, cariño, are you okay?” This isn’t the time to cry, but his eyes feel hot. “Lo siento, baby. I’m so sorry.”
He surveys the damage.
Most of Keith’s armor is gone, which leaves him in the tattered undersuit. The laceration on his side looks like it was cauterized, but he doubts it was done by any kind of doctor. He’s too thin, like they haven’t properly fed him in weeks. He’s covered in cuts and bruises, and his ankle is swollen twice its normal size.
But the thing that steals all of Lance’s focus?
The collar.
Keith’s pale neck is encapsulated by the heavy metal atrocity. It’s crusted with dirt, and the depressions on his skin force Lance to conclude that he’s been wearing it since his capture.
Take me.
Disgust leaves a coppery taste in Lance’s mouth. This is his fault. If he’d been a better fighter, he never would’ve been captured, and Keith wouldn’t have insisted on taking his place. Keith wouldn’t be chained up and collared like a wild animal.
“Why did you... Why didn’t you just let them take me , you idiot?” Lance mutters to himself as he searches for a release on the cuffs. “I never asked you... I would never ask you to take my place. Why?”
He finds a button on the opposite wall, presses it, and then Keith slumps forward lifelessly. Lance darts over to him and catches him before he can smash his forehead on the unforgiving floor.
Keith’s skin is icy, and Lance whimpers, “You have to be alive, okay? You have to be alive.”
Lance wonders if Keith is in shock, and then he wonders if he’s in shock because he still hasn’t checked to make sure Keith’s heart is beating. He takes smaller teen’s wrist into his hand and presses firmly, “Please, please, please, Keith. Don’t do this to me.”
It’s too fast, but he has a pulse.
Lance calms enough to notice smaller details. Keith’s pasty. His lips are chapped. His extremities are cold, but his face is flushed with fever.
And then his eyes drop again to the collar.
Lance maneuvers Keith’s head to his lap and then gives his attention to the circlet. He tries to lift it away from Keith’s skin, but it’s too tight. He only manages to move it enough to see the places where it’s rubbed the skin raw and bruised Keith’s throat. Lance searches for a clasp, hinge, or lock, but there’s nothing. It’s seamless.
And they’re running out of time.
Take me.
He hefts his boyfriend upright and slings one limp arm over his own shoulders and then takes Keith’s slight waist. It’s slow going, but Lance drags Keith out of the solitary cell.
Activating his comms with his free hand, Lance checks in with the others, “I have Keith. He’s going to need a healing pod.”
“Copy,” Allura replies. “Coran is preparing one now.”
Lance doesn’t get a chance to thank her.
A sword flies past his ear. It arcs like a boomerang and returns to the attacker. Lance twists to follow its path and finds an angry Galra general behind them. He’s poised to strike again. He growls at the pair.
It’s awkward, but Lance manages to activate his bayard. He hopes he looks threatening because there’s no way he can shoot with any accuracy if Keith is hanging off him. He squares his shoulders, raises to his full height, and snarls.
The soldier throws his sword again, and Lance only just succeeds in rolling them out of harm’s way. They land on the ground, and Lance flattens himself over Keith when the blade circles over them on its way back to the Galra.
Activating his shield, Lance covers both of them as the Galra charges. The sword glances off the shield, and Lance shifts his weight forward to push the Galra off balance. While the Galra is distracted, Lance gets butt of his gun to his shoulder and fingers the trigger.
Defeated, the Galra opens his palms in surrender.
“It’s too bad your aim is shit,” Lance hisses through his teeth. He doesn’t feel like himself; he’s not sure if he’s in his own body anymore. He thinks he left it back on that planet three weeks ago. Maybe the bandits abducted him after all. Guilt, despair, and cold fury were the only thing they left behind. He’s never been this way. Fuck.
Take me.
Lance’s eyes narrow. He lines up his shot.
The Galra laughs.
It’s a dark, victorious laugh, and Lance shivers.
“I have achieved all I have set out to do,” the Galra leers.
Lance registers a flash of purple in his peripheral.
He fires.
It passes cleanly through the Galra’s chest.
He falls and doesn’t get back up.
But there’s no triumph, and there’s no time to mourn.
This isn’t the place to consider the ramifications anyway.
Lance pivots, and something within him fractures. The first general wasn’t alone, and his partner holds Keith to her body with an arm across his chest.
“Well, well, well,” she smirks. “It must be my lucky day. I’ve heard so much about you, Blue Paladin.” She reaches around and grabs Keith’s chin to lift his face, “Bos Bandits do enjoy bragging. I hear this one traded his life for yours.” She squeezes, and Keith moans in pain. Lance tenses, “Ah, I wouldn’t if I were you. There’s a reason I ended up on such a lowly vessel.” Her yellow eyes glint with malevolent pride, “My hand has a bad tendency to slip .” She punctuates the statement by digging her thumb into Keith’s jaw. “It gets me in trouble.”
Lance hopes he imagines the pop, but he doubts it.
Take me.
“Let him go,” Lance commands. His voice is low and caustic.
She releases her hold on Keith’s face, and his head lolls onto her shoulder. She strokes his cheek, “Isn’t this sweet? Did he say the same thing?” She mocks them, “ Let him go. Take me instead. ”
She’s wrong.
Keith kept it simple.
Take me.
His voice was so thick and raw and sure that the pirates barely required any further convincing.
“Now,” she calls him to the present, “Lower your weapon. You can stay together this time. I’ll take you both.” Lance hesitates and keeps his bayard steady. “Oh, do you have a different idea? Let me guess. You’ll shoot me, right?” She tugs on a strand of Keith’s filthy hair, “You’ll have to shoot him to get to me, though.” She pulls again, “Can you do it? He gave up his freedom for you, didn’t he? Can you shoot him?”
Suddenly, her expression grows predatory.
She slaps Keith so hard his head twists with the force of it.
“Wake up,” she orders. “I want you to watch him. I want the blue one to see your eyes when he shoots you.”
Keith groans. Lance hasn’t seen Keith’s violet eyes in weeks, and now they’re clouded and disoriented. Keith makes a questioning sound, and their attacker decides to bring him up to speed. Her voice is almost jaunty, “There’s no place for love in war. This is what it gets you. Will he let me take you both to Haggar? Will he kill us to avoid his fate?”
For all his confusion, Keith appears to be trying to process her words. She shakes him in an attempt to bring him into full cognizance. “What do you think? I bet you want him to shoot us. You’ve made this choice, haven’t you? Tell him. Remind him.”
Take me.
Keith coughs and cringes. He barely opens his mouth, and his voice is harsh but distinct.
“Do it.”
Lance breaks. He lets his gun clatter to his feet. His voice cracks, “No. No . I never... I could never. .. I won’t let you do this again! You can’t trade yourself for me !”
Smug, the woman tightens her grip on Keith and fixes her cruel gaze on Lance. Her words are triumphant and sure, “Kick it away from you.”
Lance obeys. The blue bayard skitters over the floor and lands somewhere in the adjacent hallway. Lance never looks away from the Galra and Keith.
“Was he really worth all the effort?” she directs her question to Keith. “You went to so much trouble to save him, but it just wasn’t enough.” Lance bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to gnash his teeth or explode or make everything stop. He must look stricken because she outright smiles.
But then her eyes widen.
Everything changes in the span of a tick.
Lance’s brain can’t immediately catch up.
The Galra’s eyes widen. Her hand clenches. A gun goes off.
The laser enters just below Keith’s clavicle and exits through her back.
They crumble together, and Lance lunges automatically. His arms come around Keith, and the Galra draws her last breath next to them.
There’s a red dagger in her fist.
“Mierda, shit, shit, shit,” Lance distantly notices that he’s talking. “Fuck. Keith. Fuck.”
Keith makes an ugly sound and blood dribbles from one corner of his lips.
And then they’re not alone.
Shiro’s a mess as he lands on his knees next to his younger brother, but he pushes through the anguish, “Lance, give him to me. I have to get him to a pod. Give him to me.” Numbly, Lance lets Shiro scoop Keith up to cradle against his broad chest. He doesn’t follow until Pidge yells through the comms for him to hurry back to Green. He sways and distractedly picks up his bayard, which is now nearby again.
And then somehow he’s back in the lion.
They’re moving.
There’s a blanket draped over his shoulders, and Shiro and Pidge hover over a lump on the ground on the other side of the cockpit.
Belatedly, Lance thinks that Green must be on autopilot.
Everything seems distant and somehow detached. Shiro and Pidge are loud and frantic, but Lance can’t make out the words. Shiro is streaked crimson. His hands press against the figure on the floor, and someone wails. It cuts off with a gurgle.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Shiro apologizes to the person underneath him.
Distressed, Pidge wipes tears from her eyes and swears. She works with care. She avoids the smoldering wound beneath her task. She focuses. She’s got a cord running from it to the computer on her forearm.
Something sparks. There’s a substantial thud.
Pidge shoves the collar away with both hands.
Shiro chokes when he sees everything it concealed.
The flesh is marbled. Pink, purple, yellow, blue, red, it’s the most grisly painting.
“Oh, fuck,” Pidge gags. “Oh, fuck, they branded him. Fuck. Shiro. Fuck.”
Lance can’t tell which of them sobs.
He thinks someone should turn up the heat in this lion. He’s freezing. He considers asking the other two if they’d do it because he doesn’t think his legs will cooperate, but his mouth doesn’t want to work either.
Green lands in her hangar and opens her maw for Allura, who leaps up the stairs. Shiro picks up the bundle and passes it to Allura, “Take him. Please.”
Take me.
Shiro is bereft.
Empty.
Take me.
Allura’s gone. It’s just the three of them. Pidge buries her face in her hands and cries. Shiro hugs her.
He’s forgetting something important.
He tries to piece it together as he watches them.
Little snippets of conversation come to mind.
Take me.
Do it.
I’m sorry.
They branded him.
Take him.
Shiro reaches out.
Lance comes to life like a livewire.
Desperate, his hands are fetters on Shiro’s biceps, and he stutters through the tears he hadn’t noticed, “Shiro. Shiro. Don’t let them take him. They took him. Don’t let them take him.”
Hunk is there too, so Lance appeals to him as well, “They took him, Hunk. We have to save him. Please .”
“We saved him, buddy,” Hunk soothes. He eases Lance’s fingers off Shiro’s arms and settles beside of him on the ground. “Okay? He’s here. He’s in a pod. He’s going to be fine.”
“No,” Lance has to make them understand, “It’s all my fault. They took him. They’ll take him. Please.” Lance pants. When did he get so out of breath? “Please. It’s my fault. I can’t do it. I can’t shoot him. I’m so sorry.”
They don’t get it.
Take me.
“Please, no, just take me ,” his voice wavers. “Don’t take him.” The past and the present swirl together like a kaleidoscope. Nothing feels real. Everything is too real. Fuck. This is important.
He moves too fast.
He doesn’t know where he’s going.
And then the world is black.
Awareness returns with reluctance.
Lance knows he’s on a bed, and the hushed conversation nearby tells him that the entire team is present. The room is cast in a muted blue glow. This is the infirmary.
Lance bolts upright, but a palm stops him from getting up, “Easy, easy. Everything is okay.” It’s Hunk. Lance sags. Hunk wouldn’t lie to him. “What... what happened?”
Hunk frowns, “What do you remember?”
Lance furrows his brow in thought, “I... don’t know. It feels like a dream.”
Hunk nods like he expected as much, “You went into shock.” Hunk scratches the back of his neck and then takes a deep breath, “We got Keith back. He’s in a pod. Coran says he’ll be fine.” He summarizes the last few vargas, and Lance listens with a surprising amount of patience for someone who’d been so overwrought that he’d lost consciousness.
When Hunk finishes, he asks if Lance is up for food and promises he can see Keith after a meal, so Lance agrees to something light. He doesn’t really taste what’s given to him. It’s rote, but it satisfies Hunk.
His knees wobble when he stands, but Hunk is at his side to support him as he crosses the room to find the epicenter of his runaway feelings.
Still, Keith floats in the cryochamber. Lance lets his forehead rest against the glass and stares. He takes in the smooth panes of Keith’s face, the delicate slope of his nose, and dark circles beneath his eyes. His cheeks are too hollow, Lance thinks. Softly, he murmurs “I’m so sorry, baby.”
When he steps away, the others are there. Hunk spearheads the group with Shiro to his right. They surround him in a coordinated effort. He bows his head in shame. He’s the reason they’re here right now.
“Lance,” Hunk says seriously, “None of this is your fault. You understand, right? No one blames you, man. You’re the only one blaming you.”
Allura takes in his disparate expression and approaches him. “I’m sorry we didn’t put a stop to his pattern of thinking sooner,” Allura takes his hand. “In hindsight, it’s very clear that you have been feeling guilt over matters beyond your control.”
The rest of the team nods in agreement.
Lance wrings his hands. He knows what they’re trying to do, and he wants to believe them.
But he can’t fully absolve himself.
They weren’t there when Keith gave himself over to the bandits. They didn’t see the way the blood dripped from a cut over his eye, or the way he tried to stand tall when it clearly aggravated the gash on his side.
They didn’t see how helpless Lance was to stop it.
Take me.
“Stop,” Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t do this to yourself, Lance.”
“You... you didn’t... you guys didn’t see ,” Lance shudders at the memory and sucks in a shaky breath. “I... They hurt him. He’s so skinny. Again. Like when we first came to space.” His throat is tight, and he has to work to continue around it, “And the collar... and chains... And. Oh . Shit. Shit, they branded him, didn’t they?” A vague memory surfaces without any prompting, but it’s bleary and distorted. He looks at Pidge. It was her voice. “Pidge?”
Pidge bites her lip and looks away, and it’s all the confirmation Lance needs. Lance presses his hands to his mouth. The dam crumbles. . Whatever was keeping the worst of it muted or at bay gave way, and it was messy and destructive and took out everything in its path. It’s ugly and too much too fast. An image of a discarded Galra blaster surges upward from the mess, and Lance staggers, “Fuck. I shot him? I fucking shot him. Fuck .”
His vision narrows and tunnels and the colors are off. It feels like his head is underwater. The voices calling his name are too far away.
Oh , he’s on the ground now. Did he slide down the pod?
Hunk is loosely gripping his arms and trying to get his attention. He sighs when Lance finally seems lucid, “Quiznack.”
Lance blinks. Hunk never swears.
Shiro kneels next to Hunk, “Lance, you didn’t shoot Keith. I did. I shot Keith. I saw an opening, and I was able to take it. Do you understand?” Shiro squeezes his shoulder to ground him, and it helps. Lance focuses on the face in front of him. “Listen to me. You’re right. Keith is hurt. But that just means he’s going to need us right now, okay? Especially you. Because he’s here, and he’s alive, and I know he would never want you to do this to yourself. He made his choices. He loves you.”
Lance adds a conjunction.
He made his choices because he loves you.
A wounded noise comes from his chest, and his eyes well up again, “He should’ve just let them take me. I don’t.... He can’t... I can’t....” His words hitch on a sob, “He can’t do it again. I can’t do it again.”
“I know,” Shiro answers. “I wish I could tell you that it’ll never happen again. But this is a war, and I can’t.” Lance’s response is a broken sob. “Because if Keith can take the hit for you, he will. Every time. But you would too. And I know it because so would I,” Shiro pauses, and the others nod their agreement.
Lance feels like sailboat in a hurricane. Since Keith’s been gone, it’s been a choppy sea punctuated by tidal waves. He’s tried to guide his ship through the storm, and somehow he made it to the dock. Keith is back, but Lance still feels like his equilibrium is wrecked, like he’s still being tossed about in the ocean. He doesn’t know which way is up. He knows his makeshift family will work alongside him when he can’t moor the boat by himself, but he won’t be home until he can hold Keith in his arms.
“We’re fighting to defend the universe, but this is the heart of it. This is the very reason we defend it. We all know it, and you do too,” Shiro continues. He is the lighthouse in the tumultuous dark, and Lance can’t help but trust him to guide him through these rough patches. “You can’t blame yourself because it was never your fault. And you can’t blame yourself when everyone here would’ve made Keith’s choice under the same circumstances. Even you.”
Take me.
It’s too easy to see each of them in Keith’s place. He can even see himself. It’s awful, and Lance wishes it wasn’t the truth. He wishes he could protect them all and keep them safe.
But he can’t.
He can’t until Galra Empire is defeated.
Take me.
Lance can still hear the words, but now it’s a chorus of voices. Confident, hesitant, scared, desperate, resolved, they all say it.
Take me.
It’s heavy. It’s hard to carry, but it’s wrapped up in everything that drives them to keep going.
It’s precious and terrible.
It’s in everyone of them.
And Lance hears it in every voice.
For you
I would always let them
take me.