Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12646668.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen
  Fandom:
      Voltron:_Legendary_Defender
  Relationship:
      Hunk_&_Lance_(Voltron), Lance_&_Pidge_|_Katie_Holt, Lance_&_Shiro_
      (Voltron), Allura_&_Coran_&_Hunk_&_Keith_&_Lance_&_Pidge_|_Katie_Holt_&
      Shiro, Keith_&_Lance_(Voltron)
  Character:
      Lance_(Voltron), Hunk_(Voltron), Shiro_(Voltron), Pidge_|_Katie_Holt,
      Keith_(Voltron), Nyma_(Voltron), Lotor_(Voltron), Zarkon_(Voltron)
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Triggers, Implied/Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Past_Rape/Non-con, Men
      Crying, Sad_Lance_(Voltron), worried_team, Sad, Sadism, Panic_Attacks,
      Suicide_Attempt, Dark, angry_lance, Keith_(Voltron)_is_Bad_at_Feelings,
      Hunk_&_Lance_(Voltron)_Friendship, Hurt_No_Comfort, Sad_bois, I_Love_My
      Babies, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Physical_Abuse, Emotional/
      Psychological_Abuse
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-03 Updated: 2018-02-19 Chapters: 3/? Words: 8180
****** Insecurities And Trauma Go Hand In Hand ******
by TheLanceShow
Summary
     Lance, as of late, has been dealing with very intrusive thoughts. Not
     like it's new or anything. But with his meds on Earth, the duty of
     trying to save the entire universe, and the whole Lion situation,
     things get tough.
     Old memories, though always at the back of his mind, resurface.
     And, hey, Lance is best at putting on a mask. Might as well do so for
     the rest of his life despite lingering glances at knives or air
     locks.
Notes
     Haha yeah so we're just pretending everything is hunky dory and Keith
     didn't leave the fUCKING TEAM BECAUSE ONE CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH
     ANGST
     PLEASE, READ:
     If you'd like to skip the rape scene, stop at the italics and pick up
     where they end.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** The First Time *****
Everyone has at least a single problem with themselves. Lance knows this; most
people do. Even someone who may seem the most self-assured can have tough days.
Lance is a people pleaser by nature. To appease to an audience, one must
observe. Find out--the minimum being one--insecurities. Whether it be big or
miniscule, he, in the end, wants to see people happy.
The castle is filled with problems regarding the Paladins and their roles.
Hunk. He was afraid of judgement the most. Having been BFFLs their entire
lives, Lance knows why. Hunk was always seen as a fat joke waiting to happen
with bullies. Always expected to make silly comments about food and whatnot. It
is one of the reasons Lance pulls attention to himself; so Hunk doesn't have
the unwanted spotlight on him.
("I seriously wanted to be the head."
"You want people depending on you?" Lance asked with a worried tone. "You
realize what that means, right?"
Hunk sighed with a resigned quirk of his lips. "Yeah, I hear ya. Maybe it's a
good thing big and buff Shiro is leading."
"That jawline can cut through Galras like a hot knife through butter," Lance
joked, nudging Hunk in the ribs. His best friend laughed and Lance's sighed
inwardly; crisis averted.)
Pidge was the most afraid of failure. He could see it in the hunch of her
shoulders when she was looking for Matt and her father. The way she continued
on after only her brother was found. The way she would slump, her face pink
with disappointment, when she couldn't quite crack a code.
("Pidge, you have ti-"
"No, I don't!" Pidge snapped at him. Lance leveled her with an
uncharacteristically hard glare. "Don't look at me like that! Lance, I don't
have time."
Lance gripped her shoulders tight, tipping his chin to look down at her. He
spoke softly, "Listen. You've been awake upwards of what is close to 48 hours.
You can't do anything productive if you fall asleep every thirty seconds."
Pidge opened her mouth to reply but Lance pulled her in for a hug. He squeezed
lightly and small arms tentatively wrapped around his torso.
"I want you to get at least ten hours of sleep," he murmured into her hair.
"Then you can try to track the cloaked Galra ship. Maybe it's a big deal to you
if it doesn't pan out well, but not to us. Because guess what? You're the
smartest techie I've ever met."
"Thanks," she said thickly. "I promise I'll sleep."
The next day, the ship was revealed thanks to Pidge. They managed to raid the
vessel, blow it up, and hand out supplies to people in need that were in the
coalition.
While handing out crates, Lance looked over to Pidge with a warm grin. She
beamed back at him in response.)
Shiro was the easiest to crack. Letting people down. Not his close friends,
heaven's no. His real friends knew what he was really like. Knew that Shiro
snorted water out of a straw, trying to shoot water through his eye like Lance
did, only to choke horribly as the water went to his trachea. Knew that Shiro
has awful bouts of PTSD. Knew what Shiro looked like when he was mad over
something petty.
No, it was letting down strangers. Specifically, strangers who have this big
idea of Voltron in their heads. He assumes the people they visit expect
grandeur and amazing people. So Shiro puts on his game face 24/7 despite the
rare carefree moments the team sees.
(Lance watched Shiro from across the room intently. His shoulders were tense
and jaw raised in pride. Lance had learned long ago that Shiro put on a façade
just as Lance did.
He watched as Shiro spoke to locals in polite yet business manner. Keith was
speaking to diplomats with Allura, looking bored out of his mind.
Yet he stayed focussed on Shiro. Keith shook hands with the other leaders
before waving his hand. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk stopped playing a game they were
participating in with the aliens species.
"Sorry, guys! We have to leave. Voltron will keep you safe, though. I promise!"
Lance walks towards the castle, staring at Shiro. He gives a polite goodbye to
the adult natives before he walks in after Pidge and Hunk. Allura and Keith
follow soon after.
Once the castle doors are shut, all of their shoulders slumped. Even Allura,
always so straightback and regal, let her spine sag.
All except for Shiro. Lance took it upon himself to get him to relax.
He grabs one Pidge's and one Shiro's wrists and drags them towards the kitchen.
Everyone, ever curious as to what Lance will foolishly do next, follow.
Shiro doesn't bother to protest, letting himself be guided gently into a chair.
Lance all but flings Pidge into a chair.
"Competition time," Lance stated, grabbing two water pouches and placing one in
front of Pidge and Shiro. He grabs an odd looking blade before cutting the
pouches open.
"Is now really the time," Keith deadpanned. He looked deceased on his feet but
Lance nodded anyway. 
"Yes. Wanna know why? Because our former leader is being a--pardon my French-"
"What's 'French'?" Allura asked.
"-totally inconsiderate asswipe."
"I beg your pardon?" Shiro gaped at Lance, expression disappointed and
incredulous.
"Hey, watch it. You are the only one who hasn't relaxed yet and I can tell by
the tension in your shoulders and spine." He spills the water into separate
puddles. Bless Altean technology, it doesn't spill over the edge. "Here's
what's going to happen. You and Pidge will compete to lap up water from your
puddles. Whomever wins gets to punch me in the face."
Shiro was obviously about to object but Pidge said, "oh, it is on!" and began
to lick the table mightily. Shiro squawked, working on his own to apparently
"stop a conflict of interests."
It turned out that Shiro was absolutely determined to avoid Lance getting
punched in the face. He won, patted Lance on the head, and muttered "good job."
Because now his shoulders were relaxed, his dimples showed when he grinned, and
a fond look in his eye appeared as he gazed at Lance for a moment.)
And Keith. Little old Keith lost his way.
He was insecure about being abandoned. It wasn't as easy to read as Lance had
hoped. In reality, because Keith seemed to love to push people away. It was
after he had seen Keith's vlog that he realized what the problem was. 
("You ready to go?" Hunk asked, directing the question to Lance and Pidge. 
"Hell yeah," Pidge said with a grin. Lance was about to respond when he saw
Keith standing in the doorway. His expression was guarded and honestly a little
bitter.
The Garrison trio had decided to explore the planet on their own. Shiro and
Allura had gone to speak with the leaders of the planet. It occurred to Lance
that if they left, Keith would be alone on the ship. He pressed his lips
together before staring at Keith.
"What?" Keith snapped. Lance gave him a small and friendly smile.
"You wanna come with us?" Lance felt his smile widen when Keith's scowl
softened.
"No."
"Well, guess we're all gonna have to admit it; Keith is a pussy. Too scared to
explore without the team leader."
Keith gasped indignantly, a playful fire in his eyes sparking. "Wanna fucking
bet?"
It was later that day when Keith approached Lance. With a flushed face and
twinkling eyes, he said gently to Lance, "Thanks for... You know. Inviting me
to your quote-unquote exposotion."
Lance pulled him onto a hug with a grin. "You can join us anytime.")
So, yeah. All of them have their own little issues. But Lance figured them out
and knows when he should say or do things at certain times.
Lance doesn't know how to deal with his own. No-one ever tried to cheer him up
like he did with them.
Mostly, it would be the fact that he feels like he'll never be enough.
Maybe he shouldn't be a Paladin.
But, hey, Lance knows why. Why these insecurities started in the first place,
why they're coming back now.
As if what happened at home wasn't enough, the Garrison was bad as well.
Constantly, he was reminded that he would never be as good as Keith Kogane.
So fucking what? No shit. 
But at the same time, it confused him. It meant that he was so close to getting
into Fighter Pilot rank that he skimmed it. Or those people happened to just
barely get higher grades.
Lance remembers complaining to Hunk all the time about it. It didn't make sense
to him.
He wasn't a fucking fill-in for Keith. He was his own person and Lance wasn't
even half bad at flying. Sure, when he tried to do some stupid trick he crashed
the simulator. But he also knew how to lead, which is something the Great
Kogane didn't really know how to do.
He was able to brush it off, though, because of his medication.
Hell, he carries his meds on him all the time. In the Great expanse of space,
he had his antidepressants. 
But they only lasted for half a year.
"Cargo pilot" Keith had once called him.
Now, here he is, curled up in a ball on his bed. He had been doing so goddamn
well without popping pills. Then, then Allura had to go and take the blue lion.
Red was great; really, she is. The problem is that Shiro is back, and Red
belonged to Keith, and Keith is in Black, and what the fuck is he going to do?
He confided in Keith, sure. 
"Leave the math to Pidge."
Keith, dude, you suck at comforting people.
The castle alarms blare, Allura's voice echoing through his room.
"Paladins! Surprise training sequence starts now! I've sent Gladiators to your
rooms. Get dressed and hurry, please!"
Lance sighs, slowly sitting up. Immediately, he's hit with vertigo. He topples
over the side of his bed, groaning loudly.
Yep, he's feeling it today.
He doesn't know how long he lays on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly
there's a very loud knocking on his door. It sounded like a staff ramming
against his door.
Shit.
Lance scrambles up, grabbing his bayard from under his pillow. It turns into
two pistols just as the Gladiator bursts in.
He shoots, and shoots, and shoots some more, but lands no hits due to his
dizziness and exhaustion. In the end, he gets pummeled into a god damn pulp.
"Fuck!" He curses, and his bayard turns into a spear. He blocks a hit going to
his head and jumps to his feet, vaulting over his weapon and getting a solid
push of his feet to the Gladiator's head. It breaks off, falling to the ground.
He collapses on the floor to his knees, panting as his bayard goes back into
its usual harmless form. Every breath he takes makes his ribs hurt, every move
of his arms aching and stinging from exertion and new bruises. Very slowly, he
grabs it and trudges to the training room.
When the doors open, his team, Shiro, and Coran are all staring at him. They
flash faces of disappointment before they soften into concern.
"Lance?" Shiro asks, walking forward. He's in his Paladin armor; Lance doesn't
know how they produce the armor, honestly. "Are you all right?"
"...Yeah," he says with a shrug. He doesn't hide his wince in time. "I'm
great."
Shiro touches his cheek, frowning when Lance bites his lip to suppress a
whimper. "You're not okay."
"I-I'm fine." Lance turns his attention to Allura. "What are we doing today?"
"You're not doing anything," she says, voice worried. It grates on Lance's
nerves because, really, who is she to judge how well he can do something. Lance
doesn't judge them and they should return the favor. "You should rest. Maybe go
into the healing pod for a few doboshes."
Lance manages to take a deep calming breath. Hunk beats him to it.
"I think that if Lance says he's okay, then he's okay," he mumbles. His face is
troubled though.
Oh, if only he knew how many times Lance had fakes a smile or a laugh. He feels
so fucking alone in this castle.
Lance smiles tightly, going to raise his bayard in his left hand. His wrist
bends slightly and suddenly he's yelping in pain, falling to his knees. The
adrenaline has left and replaced the numbness of his wrist with hurt.
They all stop training that day.
 
Lance thinks about it a lot. An overwhelming amount, honestly. It started when
he was about sixteen. The first time it happened, that is.
Anthony is at the house. He's finally back and Lance is so incredibly happy.
After the divorce with his sister, Lance thought he would see his ex-step-
brother again.
But there he is when Lance opens the front door. All amber eyes and tossled
strawberry blond hair. Lance launches himself at him with disbelieving giggles.
"Anthony!"
"Lance!" He shouts louder, wrapping his arms around Lance. He breathes in
heavily, smelling the familiar scent of the sea and green apple. "Miss me?"
"So much, man!" Lance pulls away slightly and jumps when he sees the intensity
in his eyes. "How long are you staying?" He says slowly with a squint.
"Long as your mom lets me." Anthony pulls away, the scent of familiarity going
with him yet lingering. Lance closes the door. "Says as long as Maria and I
behave ourselves."
"That's super duper great!" Lance chirps. He hasn't quite grown in a while and
Anthony is a good head taller than him. "Wanna hang out?"
"Yeah. Let's play some video games in your room."
Lance furrowed his eyebrows. "Why my room?"
"You don't want to set it up down here, do you?" Anthony smiles sweetly. It
turns dark the moment Lance turns around and heads to the stairs.
They're in Lance's room when he startles, feels a hand on his waist. He looks
over his shoulder, the predatory look on Anthony's face getting creepier by the
second. He steps away, turning to him fully.
"Are... What's wrong?" As soon as the words leave his mouth, he doesn't want to
know. He wants to leave, needs to leave. Something doesn't feel right.
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong." Anthony shrugs. "Well, nothing will be wrong. If
you cooperate."
"Wha--ow!" Lance shrieks when Anthony roughly pushes him onto the bed. He
bounces a bit, sternum aching. "What the Hell, dude?"
Anthony closes the door, locking it. "Take off your pants."
All of the air in his lungs leave in a sharp exhale. "What?"
"I said," he starts. He undoes his belt, removing it from the loops. "Take off
your pants."
"No," Lance shakes his head, swinging his feet from the bed and landing his
feet on the floor. "If you take a step closer to me, I'm calling Ma."
It happens abruptly; Anthony shoves a sock down his throat, ties his hands with
the belt, and slaps him across the face.
"You or your little cousin?"
There are tears running down his face as Anthony tosses him to the bed once
more. He shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut and squeezing his legs
together. He can barely hear the sound of clothes shuffling.
"Your cousin? AJ?"
Lance shakes his head, a heaving and silent sob wracking through his body as
Anthony unzips his boots.
"You?"
Frantic nods and Lance can hear him tossing his shoes somewhere in the room.
Maybe if he keeps his eyes shut, it won't be as bad. Lance flinches when he
feels hands on the zipper of his pants. He kicks out, knows he lands a solid
foot to Anthony's face.
His eyes fly open when a harsh hand pulls him from the bed and onto the floor.
Pain blossoms in his side when Anthony kicks him twice, three times.
He's whimpering as Anthony pulls down his pants, when he tears through his
underwear, when Anthony praises how big he is, when Anthony tries to give him
an erection, when he blames him for not being hard because he's being fucking
raped, when Anthony forces him to keep his eyes open as he chokes the shit out
of him.
When Anthony goes in raw.
When he spills his vile seed into him.
Anthony cleans himself up and Lance watches through hazy eyes. He's curled up
into a ball on the floor, shaking. The only reason hes stopped crying is
because he's too dehydrated to produce any tears.
Anthony takes his belt from around Lance's wrists. He slips it on as if nothing
had happened. Lance can't take the sock out of his mouth; he'll start
screaming.
"You might wanna go to a doctor," he says. "There was some blood and tearing.
Clean yourself up."
He leaves the room quietly and leaves Lance to weep. Because the very reason
why Maria broke it off with Anthony--as she only confided in him--was because
he has AIDS and didn't tell her. Which is a felony.
Despite the crippling pains and aches in his body, Lance manages to make it to
his bathroom before vomitting. He tries his best to empty himself, scrub
himself clean with scorching hot water, but can't seem to get it together
enough to even pretend he's okay.
Pathetic, a voice whispers in his head. But no, he's not. He's strong, he can
do this.
He's crying without tears as he looks up the number.
"Suicide hotline. We care, so please tell us what's wrong."
Lance is shaken awake urgently. Hunk stands above him, face the epitome of
concerned. He sits up, wiping at his face, knowing his cheeks are wet from
crying.
"What's up?" He asks tightly. "Something wrong?"
"You, uh. You were crying in your sleep. And screaming. It sent Shiro into an
attack so Keith told me to wake you up. To make sure you're both okay."
"Oh," he breathes. He blinks at Hunk for a moment. "Is he okay now?"
"Yeah, but... are you?"
Lance hesitates, takes a steady breath. Looks Hunk in the eye.
"No. And I honestly don't think I'll ever be again."
***** Melded Mistakes *****
Chapter Summary
     "Lance," Anthony cooes. "I've missed you. Why haven't you visited
     me?"
     "I fucking hate you," Lance hisses. He manages to get a foot to move
     backwards. "Get the Hell away from me."
Chapter Notes
     Ay this chapter is dark
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hunk stares at Lance long enough for him to shuffle out of bed. With a sigh, he
goes to the bathroom. Hunk trails behind him, clearing his throat as Lance
picks up the alien equivalent of a toothbrush.
"What do you mean?" He asks, voice small. Lance closes his eyes briefly in
agitation before he turns to his friend. He smiles apologetically.
"Dude, I was kidding," he placates. Hunk's eyebrows go flat. "Bad joke, I know.
Just a nightmare."
"That's not funny, dude. I was really worried about you just now!" A pause.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Lance purses his lips, small grin in place. "It was about..." he hesitates.
Could he really call that Hell hole home anymore?
Anthony.
"...home. That's all. Nothing new."
"Well, I'm sure we can go back someday-"
"No." Lance blinks at Hunk and his glare softens at his hurt expression.
"Why not?"
"Just don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles before sticking the toothbrush in
his mouth. "A'll be out in a min'it."
"All right. Find us in the training room. How's your wrist, by the way?"
Takes the brush out, "It was just a hairline fracture, Hunk. You put me in a
healing pod; I'm good." Puts it back in 
Wordlessly, Hunk nods and leaves. Lance brushes his teeth hard, some sort of
paste dispensing from the brush automatically. He can't help but glare at his
reflection in the mirror.
He spits out the paste then throws the brush at a wall. His nose burns and his
vision is blurry, but he wipes at his eyes to clear them. 
He's fine.
He's strong.
Lance takes a deep breath then exits the bathroom. He is the last to make it to
the training room.
"How are you?" Keith asks. His eyebrows are furrowed, and Lance suddenly
doesn't want to be near anyone. Their worry is suffocating, looks weighing him
down. Keith and him have grown together, a brotherly relationship now. Rather
than actual fighting, it's more of siblings purposefully antagonizing the
other. "We heard you had a nightmare."
"Is that so?" Lance smiles a bit; he's gotten too good at being someone he's
not. "I'm fine, Keith. No need to worry."
"I wasn't worried," Keith grumbles. Lance's face must make a pained expression,
for Keith backtracks. "I'm kidding! I was; I am. I want you to be okay."
I know.
"I know."
Allura walks in as Lance ruffles Keith's hair a bit.
"Paladins!" She smiles pleasantly. "Today we are doing mind melding."
Lance freezes, doesn't realize he tugging on Keith's hair too hard. He hears a
faint sound of discomfort and lets go. Pidge stares at him concerned as Keith
rubs his head.
"S-sorry." Lance clears his throat. "Any specific melding?"
"Yes!" Allura claps excitedly. "A new exercise by Pidge! We will be able to see
each other's deepest fears."
Lance keeps his face blank and voice flat as he asks, "Why do we need to know
these things?"
"To help us grow," Shiro answers with a firm nod. "And to avoid these things."
"I'm away from the thing I'm most afraid of," Lance nearly growls. Allura
frowns at him.
"No matter, Lance, and that doesn't apply. You're all fighting an army. You'll
go last, if you'd like."
He wants to keep fighting, doesn't want to do this. But he reluctantly agrees,
eventually. He doesn't really have a choice in the matter.
Keith goes first. As it turns out, he's not able able to see them.
"Guys?!"
"Calm down, Keith," Allura commands. "We can see you but you can't see us."
They all watch themselves burn in a raging fire. Keith is held helpless by
Shiro, who holds Keith from jumping into the white fire himself.
And suddenly, Lance is thrown into his own.
"What's going on?" He mutters, looking around. He's in his castleroom, it
seems. "The Hell? I thought we get to decide when we wanna go!"
"I put it on randomized because I knew you'd find a way out of it," is what he
hears. He can't see her, but he knows it's Pidge.
"You don't understand," Lance starts. Anxiety rises to his chest. "Please pull
me out."
"No, buddy," Hunk says. "I know it, now everyone else needs to."
You don't know, you don't know, you don't know-
The door opens, revealing Anthony. He saunters into the room, wearing an orange
jumpsuit with handcuffs. It's the last thing Lance had seen him in.
Hunk makes a sound of confusion and Lance is frozen in place. He feels a cold
sweat break out on the back of his neck as Anthony approaches.
Lance has a good head on him now, more muscle. But he feels weak suddenly
seventeen all over again. He's shaking, he knows. Practically vibrating in
place, tears burning in the corners of his eyes. A small and choked sob makes
its way from his throat when Anthony places a hand on his cheek.
Why can't he fucking move?
"Is he afraid of Anthony being hurt?" He hears Hunk whisper.
"Then why is he in his room?" Shiro retorts. "In a prison jumpsuit?"
"Lance," Anthony cooes. "I've missed you. Why haven't you visited me?"
"I fucking hate you," Lance hisses. He manages to get a foot to move backwards.
"Get the Hell away from me."
Anthony easily breaks the handcuffs with a frown. "I thought you loved me?"
Lance blinks and he's back in his room from his house. The last time he's seen
it, the deep green changed to a Tiffany blue. Lance frantically glances around,
feet still glued to the floor. Another blink and a king sized bed is the only
thing in the room. It's in the center, stripped bare. The mattress is stained
with blood and other bodily fluids.
He would know; it's how his father found out about it in the first place.
He's hyperventilating now, chest heaving. His legs are tingling and his tears
roll down like razor blades down his cheeks. He's wants it to be over,
overx over-
Lance can't move again, only stare terrified as Anthony grins at him. The one
he got whenever he planned to do something filthy. His body moves on its own
accord as he swings a punch. It should've hit Anthony hard yet instead, he
disappears into thin air. Lance feels strong hands push him from behind and he
stumbles despite his usual agility. 
He lands face first on the bed dressed in the Garrison uniform, jumping to flip
over on his back. Anthony stands at the end of the bed, a sinister grin
splitting his face. He strolls over to Lance and the bed is like a magnet; he
wants to move, run away, kick at him.
But he can't.
Anthony unbuckles one of his Garrison issued boots. Lance can only vaguely hear
Pidge shout, "End simulation!" 
He moves onto the next shoe.
"Every part of you is so beautiful," Anthony whispers. He prods at Lance's toes
leisurely after the boot falls to the ground. "Always was, Kitten."
Lance shudders violently with horrific thoughts, a silent plea for help falling
into the air. He shuts his eyes as tight as possible when he sees Anthony reach
for his zipper.
"End the fucking simulation, Katie!" Keith shouts. It all sounds like it's
underwater as Lance's eyes fly open. Anthony unbuttons Lance's pants tugging
them down in a smooth sweep.
He literally tears through his boxers and Lance is naked from the waist down.
Anthony nods in satisfaction with a hum.
"So tight for me, Lancey," he whispers. Lance jolts when he feels a nose at his
ass. "And already so hard."
He isn't, knows he isn't, but it's something Anthony used to say. As if to
deluxe himself.
"Mama," he sobs, and he knows he looks gross, red faced with snot and tears. "I
want my Mom!"
"Oh, it's okay, sweetheart. I'll take care of you." Lance can feel the wicked
smirk on Anthony's mouth before he pulls away.
"Get away-"
Anthony jams his tongue into Lance's mouth. He's starting to feel that odd
blackness. It slows him down with thinking, and he has to blink a few times to
get his senses back. Then he bites down. Anthony reels away, blood spilling
from his mouth. 
He still can't fucking move.
Anthony glares intensely at Lance as he backs away. All too fast, Anthony
aligns himself, slams his hand down on Lance's throat, and thrusts in. A scream
rips through Lance's throat, a blinding pain blooming from everywhere on his
body. His eyes shut in reflex.
The pain disappears and he feels the steady weight of clothes on his bottom
half. He opens his eyes, only able to see white. He scrambles backwards on his
hands, crying still. He moves until his back hits a corner and he curls in on
himself.
He's shaking, and can't see, and he doesn't know where he is.
A hand tentatively touches his shoulder. Lance lashes out, instinctively
throwing a blind punch. It hits and there's a grunt of pain. Lance closes his
eyes again, whimpering.
Lance doesn't know how long it takes for him to be able to hear again.
"-happened?! What the fuck, Katie!"
"I-I'm s-s-sorry!" A girl is crying, barely getting the words out.
"This is unacceptable! Did you not fucking test this machine?!" Another man
shouts. His voice has a commanding lilt and Lance flinches out of reflex.
"Blame me, not her! It's not her fault, it was my idea!" A woman this time,
with an air of authority. They're too loud.
"Then you should be fucking ashamed of yourself! You call yourself a fucking
princess?! Maybe ten thousand years made you lose your ability to be a fucking
decent human being!"
"Do not speak to the princess that way!" A man with an odd accent.
"YOU CAN TELL ME THAT AFTER YOU'RE RAPED IN FRONT OF YOUR ENTIRE TEAM!"
The room is suddenly filled with a cacophony of arguing, everyone talking at
the same time. A loud whine makes its way up from his throat and it falls
silent.
Lance cracks open his eyes blearily. Keith, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and
Coran stand in the middle of the training room, eyes wide. It takes a moment
for him to get his bearings. His team approaches slowly.
Keith has a bloody nose, the blood dry on his face. "Lance? Are you with us?"
"I..." His voice is hoarse. He glances around, eyes flitting around. "No. No no
no. Leave me alone."
"Buddy," Hunk starts, "why didn't you tell me?"
"Fuck you," he hisses. "Fuck you for not being able to tell when I can't handle
something. Fuck Pidge for not testing something before trying it out. Fuck
Allura for coming up with the idea in the first place! Fuck Shiro for agreeing
with this! Fuck Coran for sticking up for Allura!
"Keith-" He stops, trembling too much to continue. He stands suddenly,
startling everyone, then bolts from the room.
No-one tries to stop him, and for that, he's grateful.
He doesn't think he's hated people more than he hates the majority of them
right now.
Chapter End Notes
     Oh noes
     :)
     He had no reason to be mad at Keith, that's why he didn't say
     anything btws
***** Maybe *****
Chapter Summary
     "You're not the only one with family!" Pidge snaps. Lance lets her
     slap him across the face. He's almost numb to it, to anything, at the
     moment. "I'm just a kid, Lance! You can't--"
     "Rip the bandaid off!" Lance roars, standing from the chair required
     to access the maps.
Chapter Notes
     Will any of these chapters stay happy??
     Probably not lol
See the end of the chapter for more notes
He hasn't slept in what might be four days. He can't, because he started
hallucinating after two days of insomnia. Right now, he can see Anthony dressed
as Galra, a gun in his hand. He doesn't say anything, instead standing next to
the door like a guard.
Lance can almost feel him when he goes to the kitchen to get food when no-one
else is there. Marching behind his back, making no sounds. He's so tired.
Out of all the things the team could've thought of, or even a regal woman like
Allura, their thinking strayed to revealing their fears. How does that even
work?
Lance locks the door behind himself before he sinks into his bed. The bowl
slips from his hands with how badly he's shaking. He watches as the goop spills
like gel onto the floor, spork sticling upright. The bowl skids across the room
and ends up near the door. Anthony looks at it, seemingly debating whether or
not he should pick it up.
The guy can't, though, because he's not fucking real.
He's not sure how he gets absorbed in just staring at the bowl. It isn't until
a soft knock on his door pulls him from his reverie. He's about to shout some
pretty insulting things before Keith's voice reaches his ears.
"It's--It's Keith." His voice is small, something Lance hasn't heard before.
"I'm alone. Can we talk?"
Lance doesn't know whether or not the words "Come in" are croaked out of his
throat. Keith walks in and, wow, he doesn't look good.
"Thanks," Keith says. His smile is small and guilty but he has nothing to be
guilty about.
"What?" His voice is hoarse, not from not using it, but from all the screaming
he hurls at the shitty hallucination pointing a gun at Keith's head.
"You said I don't look good..." Keith trails off, crossing his arms and
hunching his shoulders. It's a defensive stance, not necessarily hostile, but
prepared. "Anyways, uh. I'm worried about you. We're all worried about you."
Lance feels too tired to be truly angry. "What, because we can't form Voltron
when a teammate is rightfully pissed at his crew?"
Maybe he's not.
Keith winces and the harsh tone that his voice took on dies. "You didn't do
anything wrong, Keith."
"I did," he retorts and nods, and he's blinking rapidly. "I could've protested
more, or, or--I don't know, Lance. I could have tried to at least stop it. Stop
from even beginning."
"Another reason why I think Shiro is a clone," Lance hisses. Keith lets out a
huff of laughter but Lance doesn't see the humor in his statement. "No, listen.
Like, actually let this sink in. What kind of leader would just--just exploit
their team's weaknesses? You were a better Black Paladin and even then, you
were shitty without me."
Keith seems bewildered for a second before his shoulders relax. "Sure, Lance."
"Hey, don't go... entertaining me. Really think about it."
"You're not okay. Can you talk to me?"
Lance doesn't say anything, instead returning his gaze to the bowl on the
floor. He hasn't stopped shaking. Maybe he should just get it over with, off
himsel--
"When was the last time you showered?" Keith asks. It's a genuine question.
"You don't look well."
"Earlier today," he says flatly. "I know I look like shit." He looks up
abruptly into Keith's lightly startled eyes. "What did you come here for?"
"Because we miss you," Keith repeats gently. "You--you have to realize that
they didn't do it on purpose. They were trying to make us stronger--"
"They were trying to paralyze us!" Lance snaps. He feels a tension headache
brewing behind his eyes. "I don't fucking understand their thinking. They went
too far with this bull--"
"That wasn't my biggest fear," Keith interupts hastily, like he knows what
Lance was going to say and wouldn't like it. "I just redirected it."
Lance stares at him; Keith continues.
"It was one of my biggest fears, but not the absolute biggest. You know I love
you, right? All of y'all." Lance nods. "It's just... I have these dreams, not
directed at any battles or anything. One by one, you guys explain why I'm a
disgrace or just bash on my insecurities.
"It starts with people that mean kind of less to me--not in a bad way. Like
friends, close friends, family, et cetera. So it goes Coran, Allura, Hunk,
Pidge, and then... both you and Shiro gang up on me. You're both so important
to me in different ways. It hurts, and when I see you guys it hurts even more.
That's it. That's mine."
Lance licks his lips, opens his mouth. "You know we'd never do that kind of
thing, right?"
"It's just my anxiety. I know but at the same time, I don't." Keith is looking
everywhere but into Lance's eyes. They keep drifting to his arms and torso.
"Maybe you need cuddles?" Lance asks and the little amusement he finds in his
own words bleeds into his voice. Keith frowns. "I'm not laughing at you, just
that I asked that question in the first place."
"Do you?" Keith asks. He voice is rough and thick. "'Cause, you know, if you
need it--"
He doesn't need it. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be touched
at all. But Keith is his friend and Lance has always been one self-sacrificing
son of a bitch.
"C'mere," Lance says. Keith surges forward and wraps his arms around Lance's
neck carefully. He's literally sitting in his lap, knees dipping into the bed
on both sides of Lance's hips. Lance curls his arms around Keith, rubbing
soothing circles into his back. "Why're you so sad?"
"Well, for one, what I told you really hurts and it's not even that deep,"
Keith says, tone shaky. "For two, you barely said anything about it. And for
three, I feel so bad that I couldn't do anything."
Lance stalls, filling the silence with quiet humming. He hears Keith ask, "Why
are you shaking?" but ignores it.
"Wanna know the fear that Hunk was talking about?" Lance says instead. Keith
nods into his shoulder. "Water."
At that, Keith pulls back to look Lance in the eye. "What?"
"I'm afraid of water," Lance repeats. Then, "at least, I was when I was
fourteen. This group of kids nearly drowned me. Got over it pretty fast but at
the time, that's what I had told Hunk. It's what I kept telling him. When I
showed up to school with bruises on my jaw or hands, I'd say something like 'I
was trying to avoid walking near the lake but tripped.' I never gave him a
reason for doubt, so. He thought he knew. Guess he never really thought about
it when we went to that planet with the mermaids."
Keith scowls. "Wish I could beat the shit out of that man."
"So do I. But life isn't very fair, now, is it?" He bites his lips for a
moment. "Keith, I'm really tired."
In almost an instant, Keith is off of him and heading backwards towards the
door. "R-right, sorry! If you want me to g--"
Lance latches onto his wrist, panic rising in his chest. "Don't go."
"Then what do you want me to do?"
"I'm, uh," he says dumbly. Anthony has unsheathed a knife and is pointing it at
Keith. "I haven't slept in really long and I'm hallucinating real bad. Um. I
know that it won't really help, maybe, but could you stay by my bed while I
sleep? It's the noon cycle, right?"
Keith nods, "Yeah, sure. It is; I was actually gonna go train with the team
afterwards if you wanted to be left alone."
"You can go if you want."
"No, the fuck? I'll protect you from what ever you're seeing." Keith activates
his bayard and squints, looking around the room. "Come fight me, bitch."
Anthony is crouching, narrowing his eyes at Keith. Lance can't help but to let
out a dry laugh.
"Why do you have your bayard on you now?" Lance asks as he shuffles to lay down
on his side. He's on his left, watching Keith stalk around the room
suspiciously as Anthony jumps from spot to spot. He pulls the blanket up to his
chin. Maybe this will help him sleep. "You're so weird."
Keith smirks at him. "I love you, Lance; my homie."
"Leave your lingo back where it belongs in the past with your hairstyle."
"Brotha from anotha motha."
Lance wrinkles his nose, making a gagging noise. He falls asleep to the sound
of Keith chuckling to himself.
 
When he awakes, Keith and Anthony are gone. He doesn't know what time it is and
doesn't bother to check as he rolls out of bed. Lance goes into the bathroom
and nods in approval when he sees that he no longer looks like a corpse. Maybe
he does, though. He can't tell.
It takes a moment for him to psych himself up. Unhurried, he strips off his
pajama pants in trade for gray sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. He just
barely manages to drag himself out of his room and head to the dining room.
Lance thanks the God he doesn't believe in when he hears nothing from the
hallway. Maybe they're done eating and he missed the meal. It takes him by
surprise when he sees the team eating silently. He stops in the doorway, frozen
by the way they all stare at him. Keith speaks up first with false
cheerfulness.
"Good morning, sunshine!"
"Isn't it like dinner time," Lance mumbles grumpily.
He heads over to the kitchen, a garlic-esque smell emanating from the
direction. They're blue disks with a sprinkling of orange on top that give off
a faint scent similar to oregano. He picks one up and bites into it, frowns
when he finds it tastes like cheesecake.
Lance throws the cookie out, opting for plain goo instead. He slumps next to
Keith, whom ruffles Lance's already messy hair. Lance glares at him.
"No, you fuckin' broken crockpot. Don't touch me," Lance says. In a softer
voice, he mutters, "Please, don't. I'm not ready."
"I won't," Keith says quietly. "I'm sorry." Hunk clears his throat but Lance
continues to stare into indigo-gray eyes. A bucket of gratefulness is dumped
into his very being.
"I tried to make them taste like garlic knots but the smell greatly
contradicts..." Hunk's voice grates on his ears and, he's sad to say it but,
he's glad when he trails off into silence.
"Will you ever forgive us?" Pidge asks. Her voice is thick and Lance tears his
eyes away from Keith to lock on to her. She flinches though Lance can't find it
in himself to feel bad about it. "I'm so sorry--"
"No matter how much you say sorry, it won't prove anything. It just shows that
you can very simply articulate the fact that you feel regret." Lance takes a
steady breath, absentmindedly poking his food. "I'll accept your apology, but
I'll never forgive you. There's a difference."
Pidge looks crestfallen; Shiro clears his throat. "I know you're compromised at
the moment. Therefore, despite the fact that we have a Universe to save--
" Lance scowls at the wording and tone, "--we will take a vacation."
"Where to?" Lance asks, eyes drifting back towards his bowl.
"Earth."
But Lance knows. Earth isn't there any longer, not really. Just a crusted,
hollow chunk of rock floating through space. As if he hadn't looked at recent
star systems, tracked down his home.
"Earth is dead. Gone." Lance lifts his utensil, watching as the alien
silverware becomes almost rainbow hued at certain angles. "It's been dead for a
while."
"What do you mean?" Hunk asks. He sounds close to crying and it causes Lance to
fix his gaze onto him. "Dead?"
"It's lifeless."
"I don't believe you," Pidge whispers.
And maybe--maybe Lance is being a cold and heartless asshole when he makes a
gesture for the team to follow him. Into a subroom within the constellation
gallery. There, he searches the direct coordinates of Earth.
It's even worse than what he previously thought. The planet is in chunks,
barely held together. Farther out, Jupiter and Neptune are dying. Their star
burns all the same.
"How--I don't--" Hunk takes in a heaving breath. "Oh, God."
"Ever watch Interstellar?" Lance asks. Surprisingly, Shiro is the only one who
nods. "Coupled with Garrison education, you should be able to link what
happened together.
"Pidge isn't the only smart one here, you know?" Lance adds. "I got in on a
physics and math scholarship. I had to get into Fighter Pilot to study ships up
close. Partly why I was so sucky at it at first. I knew, deep down, that Earth
would die before we did. So I kept tabs. It would be our second Earth week when
the planet was devoid of life."
It's silent for all of ten seconds.
"You're not the only one with family!" Pidge snaps. Lance lets her slap him
across the face. He's almost numb to it, to anything, at the moment. "I'm just
a kid, Lance! You can't--"
"Rip the bandaid off!" Lance roars, standing from the chair required to access
the maps. It clatters to the floor. "We all had to grow up faster than we
would've liked! Some faster than others!" He gestures wildly to Keith and
Shiro. "Don't play the fucking Kid Card with me, Katie! I'm a kid, too." His
voice cracks in the last word and his vision goes blurry. "Better knowing now
than hoping against hope that there's something to return to."
Shiro, as fucking usual, stands up for Pidge. No, that's not right. Lance is
just mad, and aggravated, and so fucking irrational.
Or maybe not.
"Lance," Shiro starts. Lance closes his eyes tight, rolling his shoulders.
"Pidge, too. This is devastating, I know. But you can't treat each other like
this. And Lance, Pidge was just--"
"Oh, but you can bring up our worst fears?" Lance fires back, eyes flying open.
"You can let Pidge test out her new gadgets on us? Let each and every one of us
suffer as you stand by and watch? Fuck you, Shiro."
Rightfully affronted, Shiro narrows his eyes at Lance and takes a step forward.
"It was for the better--"
"Better of what?" Keith interrupts. "Our trust in each other? If anything, it
compromises it. We should tell those things voluntarily, on our own. This was a
terrible idea, all of it."
"We understand that now," Allura says, clearly agitated. Lance directs his
watery gaze at her. "We're sorry."
"You can all take your apologies and shove them up your fucking asses," Lance
hisses before shoving through a space between Shiro and Allura. They let him
stomp out of the room.
 
His legs carry him to the training room. He doesn't bother to put on his armor
as he presses his hand to a panel on the wall. It opens with a hiss, a glass
casing around it, blurry.
"Lance," he murmurs. The glass rotates to find his specialty weapons. It used
to only be guns, but he's gotten better. He has long and close range weapons
now, on level with Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand.
He kicks off his shoes and tosses them towards the door. His eyes scan the
weaponry as he lets his jacket fall from his shoulders.
He's in a throwing knives kind of mood.
He grabs two types; one has four and is attatched to his wrist with a rubbery
substance and manages to never backlash--the others are normal, though made of
pure energy and produced by a small materializer. It was a gift from the Red
Lion when he had briefly piloted her.
"Begin sequence, level ten," he calls.
Three gladiators drop from the ceiling; he names them A, B, and C. Lance shoves
the materializer into his pocket and expertly throws one attatched to his
wrist. With deadly precision, it pierces through the B's neck and wraps around
it, gun falling to the floor. He tugs on the cord, hard, and brings it closer
before throwing another dagger at Gladiator A, who is closest to his left. It
drops the battle axe in its hand.
B, throat all but gone, falls through the floor. The other dagger doesn't
pierce through, instead coiling around the legs rapidly. Lance detaches the
knife and ducks, barely dodging a throwing star thrown at his head by C.
He simply needs to picture the energy dagger into his hand. He's about to throw
it but then A grabs one of his legs. He falls to the ground yet still manages
to throw three daggers with insane precision. C gets hit in the middle of its
forehead, its chest, and the abdomen. It falls to the floor just as A grabs the
axe that it dropped. The grip around Lance's ankle is still tight.
Lance can't seem to break free. He rolls to his side, just barely missing a
fatal hit to his stomach. Instead of trying to rise, A seems content to beat
Lance on the floor. Another dagger and Lance drives it through the robot's
wrist. It detaches, and both Lance and A stand.
An idea springs into his mind before he charges. He throws an elastic dagger
and A blocks it, as expected. Lance vaults himself upwards, grabbing the dagger
it deflected and pulling it around its neck. It bucks but trips over the ankles
that are still bound.
A still thrashed but Lance ties the cord around its neck to the wrapped ankle
wire. Like a dying fish, it struggles and flails as Lance pants and steps away.
He lets an energy knife appear in his hand.
The bot rolls onto its side and he goes in for the kill. He stabs into its
abdomen, repeatedly and furiously.
"I fucking hate this place," he growls as he guts the AI. The inner mechanisms
bubble out oil and fake organs. His hand is covered in liquids of neon blue and
gold; it smells like rotten oranges. Lance doesn't notice the tears making
rivers down his face. "I can't even go home anymore."
The bot falls through the floor. Lance rips the daggers off and throws the
materializer at the wall.
He stares at the knives on the floor, gleaming with fake blood, before he takes
a gasping breath. He doesn't bother to grab his shoes or jacket as he races out
of the room.
It's dark in the halls.
It's dark in his mind.
It's dark in his heart.
It's dark everywhere.
Lance barely makes it into his room before heaving his lack of dinner onto the
floor. It's just bile. He's eaten once today and maybe it's for the best.
He's not sure about how long he stays on his hands and knees hovering above his
own sick. There's a sudden pressure at his back and he flinches violently,
trying to move away but his hand slips from the oil and lands in his vomit.
Lance is trembling, he knows. Wide-eyed, he looks to where the hand would have
been. There's nothing there, his door is closed as he left it. More tears well
up in his eyes and he whimpers, curling in on himself.
The sobs are loud and they hurt to come out.
Maybe he deserves this.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry for taking so long!! I've been pretty depressed lately so...
     yah
     Comments!
     ((Did you notice how many times I used the word 'maybe'?)(Poor baby
     doubts himself so much))
End Notes
     Me while writing this, sobbing: why do I put my baby through so much
     pain I'm so sorry Lance I love you the most I wanna see you happy I'm
     such trash forgive me Lancey Lance for I have sinned
     I'm actually not the greatest at writing in general but??
     Angst is especially worse because how can I move readers if I can't
     make myself cry?
     Anyways. COMMENTS MAKE ME RLY HAPPY
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