Lance knows when he had gotten those scars. He remembers every second of it, even if he doesn't want to. When he stands up from his bed, ready to start the day, the memories flash through his mind, running a hundred miles per hour. His body shakes violently, convulsing in ways it shouldn't. Beads of sweat run down his forehead, and it takes all the power in Lance's body to steady himself. He props himself up on his bed, vision flickering in and out of reality and his memories. Lance takes a second, and breathes. The breaths are deep and calming. In eight, out eight. Rinse and repeat. He looks around the room, grounding himself. He remembers all the times where his mama would ground him when things got bad. Maybe it was after a long day where his parents were arguing about finances, or when Lance would get hurt from playing too roughly, but his mama's warm embrace was always welcomed, and the soothing words were sweet like honey. Her fingers combed through his hair, and even though his mama was tired from working she always stayed for her hijo. Finally, after a couple minutes of calming himself, he goes out to go eat breakfast. What happened...it only happened a week ago. And nobody remembers. Or at the least, they couldn't. They woke up, spared from the memories, spared from the thoughts. Of course, Lance wasn't. He'd have to remember. He'd have to remember a lot of things for them. Like making sure that the crystals are in working order. Checking the airlocks for any malfunctions. Keeping patrol so that no rogue robots infiltrate the ship again. Maintaining the healing pods. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's him finally being cautious like he should've been. Should've been. Lance shoves the thought away before it's all he can think about.
He finds himself in the entryway of the dining area. The others are laughing, blabbering on about some new recipe. Hunk prides himself on being able to create delectable dishes out of...well, really, god knows what. Aliens are weird, and Lance couldn't really wrap his head around those complicated recipes. Thankfully Hunk is smart enough to find substitutes for earth equivalents, the smart guy. That's my best friend for you...He's not only good at building things, he can cook like nobody else in the galaxy. Lance, for a split second, wonders if anybody felt like that towards him.
"Hmm, do you think that this would make good throwing material? Maybe not as good as space spores but…" Pidge is grinning, grinning like nothing happened. Lance is sure, no, certain that they know something happened. For the entire week, they've been trying to find out. Check the cameras, the ship, the lions for a sign of what happened that day. Asked thousands of questions. It left them frustrated and confused. Lance pretended not to know.
"Oh no...Oooh no. Pidge, don't! You have no idea how long it took me to make that! How about you put that down and-" The first piece of food has been thrown. It reminds Lance of the first day they spent at Allura's castle ship, and the food goo fight. He laughs, a little shaken from the previous moment during the morning, but laughs, letting go. He feels free, for the first time in the week.
"Sorry Hunk, but food fight is calling my name." Lance's grin is practically feral, and he jumps to grab some food and chucks it like nobody's business. And it sails right to Keith's face. As the food slides off his face, his glare could kill.
"Okay, that's it! Food me." Shiro nods in serious understanding, and suddenly Keith's arm is fully loaded with jellies, alien fruits, and some weird pancake thing. He launches the first full blown attack. His eyes glint with fiery determination. Pidge is caught in the debris of the flying food, before sniggering, and throwing back a huge chunk of jelly. Allura sighs and clutches a plate to protect herself while Coran can only laugh. Hunk moans in the background, muttering about 'selling his soul' for those ingredients. Lance thrives in the warm, happy environment. The team has been so worried about that gap in their memory. But seeing them like this, seeing them happy...That's all Lance could ask for.
After the food fight, everyone tries to clean up. But Lance sets out to check up on the crystals first. Very important. He hadn't gotten the chance to check in on things with the food fight. How could have I forgotten? You idiot, you're supposed to make sure everyone's safe.
Shiro looks at Lance's retreating back, leaving the dining area and going off...somewhere. He frowns, but only slightly. Shiro knows that Lance hasn't been the same since the memory gap. He just wishes he remembered. He just wanted to know, wanted to know what happened to make Lance act this way, what happened to make him seem more...cautious. Yes, Shiro thinks, it's good to be on guard and aware of the ship's condition but... he wants nothing more to know why. Shiro could've helped Lance, or talked to him, or...or done anything. He's a leader. He should know but he doesn't. There was something majorly wrong and he needed to find out why.
Lance paces around the pods, checking everything. He makes sure to not step inside any of them, aware of what happened last time. He sees a flash of black out of the corner of his eye, and his heart races. Lance's entire body tenses, with his face twisted with panic. It lasts for only a second, before he composes himself. He checks the area, and relaxes. Nothing...the pods are working okay, and nothing else is here...good. No robots.
Shiro tries to follow Lance, and finds him checking the pods. Lance's face is fully focused,
checking his surroundings and cleaning each and every one. He doesn't notice him, until Shiro accidently moves his arm one inch too far. He sees the panic, the panic that shouldn't be on a boy that young, and the way his muscles tighten. This...this obviously isn't good. Shiro leaves quickly, deciding not to startle him any further. He hadn't meant to see him like this. So he leaves. Every action seems to make Shiro more and more worried. It's been like this for a week, and Shiro blames himself for not trying to help earlier. At least, he hopes he's helping. Allura calls for him, asking if he can help her contact old allies on planets from earlier travels. He'll need to talk to Lance later.
Hours later, and Lance sighs. He takes off his shirt, tracing the scars. Before they healed he spent every night in the healing pods, trying to heal himself as much as he could before he needed sleep and the sun rose up. One or two days of that did it, and the only thing left unable to heal were the scars. Healing pods could only do so much, couldn't they? It's a miracle they could do this much at all. It was hard to hide the pain for even 2 days, and Lance scoffs. I shouldn't even be complaining. Everyone's safe, and they aren't hurt. That's all. His hands trace a particularly dark, long scar. It's right across his stomach. Flashes fill his vision, and he stumbles. Phantom pain was...a bitch, to say the least. He heaves a heavy sigh, his heart weighing him down. He should probably head into the shower now, instead of staring at all of his scars. But he can't help it. He looks, everyday, at the reminders of what happened, what he did, what he saved. It reminds him that it even happened in the first place, and not some scarily realistic dream. His clammy hands continue on, feeling an area of shallower cuts, but cluster closely together. That was just a warm up of what was to come. He shudders. But he doesn't regret it. He doesn't regret sacrificing himself, while for only a couple hours, for the safety of his teammates. He's glad they don't remember the part where Lance gives himself up so they can run. He's so glad. So glad. They'll never forgive themselves for it, and he just wants them to be happy. They'll forget about the gap in memory eventually. Like nothing ever happened. To them, at least. He shudders, and his elbow hits the door's lock.
He stares at Lance's door. Should he open it? Knock? Maybe talk first. What would he say? Shiro was at a loss. How was one supposed to bring up an issue like this? Hey, so I saw you checking up on the pods and I saw you panic a bit. Mind telling me why? Shiro wasn't much of a diplomat. Sure, he had experience and tried to keep the team calm but...Allura was the diplomatic one, not him. He could talk about someone's feelings and grief, he's been through plenty himself to understand. But it always came naturally. The other person needed to talk, or wanted to talk to him. Not him, wanting to talk to them instead. It was confusing, and Shiro decided to start out with knocking. But the door opens automatically, on accident, he thinks, and reveals a shirtless, scarred, Lance. He can't help the shocked gasp that escapes his mouth.
Lance whips his head around, to see someone, to see Shiro at his door, hand raised to knock. His eyes are wide as he stares at the amount of scars that litter Lance's body. Lance slams the door shut, screwing his eyes closed, his breath quickening. He wasn't supposed to see, he wasn't supposed to see, he wasn't… He throws on a shirt, and opens the door, lazy grin on his face. It's strained.
"Lance. Where did those scars come from?" A commanding voice. At this point, Lance should know he's screwed. He lies anyways.
"It's...uh, from when Hunk and I went and got the Yellow lion. Ya know, it was totally galra infested and it did try to kill us. Totally epic battle though. You should've seen it."
Shiro's eyes look piercing, and his mouth curved downwards. He doesn't believe him for a second. So he hugs Lance tightly. He knows that it's probably uncomfortable, with his arm and all, but he couldn't help it. His teammate was suffering, and he didn't know what to do about it. All he could do was hug him. Tears well up in Lance's eyes, threatening to spill over. A choked sob leaves his lips, and hugs back even tighter than Shiro. He's wanted to talk to anyone for so long, someone who noticed something was wrong, who was worried about him. Don't be selfish. He's doing it because you're becoming weaker, being haunted by things in the past. This time, Lance can't stop the thought before he speaks.
"I...you're...probably pitying me right now, huh? Or thinking that I can't...can't fight because I have so many scars, so many failed battles. M' Sorry…" He mumbles his words, mostly being muffled by Shiro's hug. Shiro backs up, and puts his hands on both of Lance's shoulders. His grip
"No. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't notice. I should've as Voltron's leader, as your leader." His words are shaky, but he stares hard into Lance's blue, dull eyes. They should've been brighter. It's scary to see how lifeless they could be when he doesn't have his guard up. Lance hiccups, more tears bubbling over. He's grateful that no one else is out in the hallway, because this is most definitely private. He guides Lance to his bed, and closes the door behind them.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Lance looks at Shiro with eyes filled with worry, fear, and...disappointment? Shiro couldn't pick every emotion out, but Lance stiffens. He looks hesitant, and his entire body practically screamed 'uncomfortable'. But he couldn't stop now, he needed to know what Lance has been going through the past week.
"I don't...think. That you all remember what happened last week. I...I'm scared. Shiro, I'm scared of talking about it. About what you'll think. It's stupid. Silly. Irrelevant." Lance's words send even more worry through Shiro. If the blue paladin couldn't talk about his problems with his team, his friends, and his fellow paladins...there was wrong. Very wrong.
"I won't judge you, Lance. You're not just a warrior, you're our friend, our teammate, and our...our family. You can trust me." He can only hope his words resonate with Lance. He sees Lance take a shaky deep breath, and he spoke.
"We were...all in pretty bad shape. Too many galra fleets. Not enough backup. There was a distress call, and there was some refugees in need of help. It was a mining planet. All of you were fighting, trying to save the refugees but the fleets kept using that against you. You...you were hit a lot." Lance sucks in another breath, his hands clutching the bed sheets. Shiro looks over in concern, before Lance waves him off. "A general...he caught me first. He asked me if we could make a deal. I give myself up and you all escape safely, along with the mining planet being spared. I...couldn't were all caught, he told me. The next few hours were…" Shiro squeezes his shoulder, and Lance smiles. A sad smile. But a smile. "After he was done, he laughed as said he had got all the information he needed. He wanted me to rot, so he kicked me out of the ship. I was saved by the refugees." Outwardly, Shiro was warm, comforting, and understanding. Inwardly, he was angry. Angry at himself, for not noticing. For not being strong enough to save Lance. For forgetting. But was also angry at the prince. This general who dared to touch his team. His team who was practically family. He wouldn't let it slide, no, he would get back at him. He was fueled with rage. But he'd deal with that later. Right now, he had a job to do.
"Lance. I'm sorry we couldn't help you. I'm sorry we forgot. What you did was very brave of you...You were noble. Thank you. So much. I can't imagine what he did to you." Yes, he couldn't imagine. The scars told Shiro too much anyways, and if he continued thinking about it he would be an unstoppable force of rage. Lance didn't need rage right now though. He needed a friend.
"I…" Lance choked up, his vocal cords refusing to work with him. So he just cried, hugging Shiro like he was his lifeline. He sobbed, at the feelings of pain he felt when he thought about it too much. But he cried in relief too. He could finally speak, he could finally talk about it when it got too hard. The scars may be permanent, but that doesn't mean his team won't help him through it. His team would change and transform those scars and the depressing thoughts. He wouldn't be paranoid or depressed all the time. No, that was temporary. And the happy memories with his team would be that much more permanent.