How long had it been?

Days? Months? Centuries? Who knew. Day did not exist in the room. Neither did night. Just a hazy purple glow that fuzzed around on the edges of Lance's vision, sometimes dimming so low he was positive that he had lost all vision. He hadn't been able to see anything for quite a while now, and whenever he turned his head, the view was exactly the same: black.

He could feel inserts in his arm, pulsing some sort of liquid through him, circulating from the machine to him then back. He couldn't move his arms anyhow, the way they had his hands cuffed to an arch that stood alone in the room.

His memory was fragmented, the only consistency was the reel of visits from the robed creepy lady. Haggar. Zarkon's witch bitch.

Apparently she had taken up residence on the base he was being held on, separate from Zarkon and Co. at the main fleet. It was enough to make Lance feel special at first.

He had tried to be a smartass for about ten minutes before Haggar and her cronies had decided that he wasn't fun anymore, and had gotten down to the meat of the business: hacking apart his mind.

Where is Voltron? Where is Princess Allura? What are Voltron's weaknesses? Each and every visit from the Witch Bitch Squad started with these questions, trying to coax him out of his mental fortress.

At first, Lance had been fairly confident in his mental training that he had undergone in the Castle of Lions, but three minutes into the first interrogation, he was mentally backed into the corner of his own mind, throwing up barricades and hastily produced defenses. Haggar had battered away at them, and each time the druids came around to take a stab at breaking him open like a coconut, Lance could feel that it was loosening at the seams. His sanctuary of sanity in his own mind had been reduced to a shanty with a massive hole in the wall, just waiting to be broken through and ravaged.

All he had left in his arms were the names of his friends, which he fervently held onto. They were names that kept him going. They meant something. Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Keith, and Coran. That was it. Don't ask him what they looked like, he couldn't remember for the life of him. But that was good.

Haggar couldn't steal from him what he didn't remember. He could keep them safe.

If they just stayed away.

If they kept safe.

If they just forgot about him.

Stay away.

Be safe.

Forget about me.

Stay Away.

Forget me.

Away.

Forget.

Away.

Away.

Away.

Hunk squinted at his display. "Pidge, you seeing this?"

A window popped up in the corner of the screens of the Yellow Lion, displaying Pidge. She, too, was hunched forward, looking like she was looking at some minute detail on her display. "Looks like a standard colonization to me. Maybe a little heavy on barricade ships for being in an outlying system. What did you say this place was, Coran?"

Coran and Allura were already present on their screens. Coran piped up, "Just your run of the mill mining colony."

"Somehow I'm not convinced," Keith said into his mic. "Something feels different."

"Oh, look out guys," Pidge smirked, "Keith's Galra senses are tingling."

"I will reach through this feed and strangle you!"

"Do it you coward."

Shiro intervened. "That's enough. Please focus."

Pidge crinkled her nose. "Yes, dad."

"Nevermind, Keith, go on."

"Paladins!" Allura took her turn to rein her team in. They all cringed back in their seats, and Pidge began to whistle. "The scanners are picking up residual druid energy. They aren't here, but it's strong enough that it's scrambling the scanners. This base must be important enough for them to come around to often."

They all snapped to attention.

"We may not be able to form Voltron, but I am confident in your individual abilities. I want a tidy operation. Clean them out and find out what makes this base so special."

The Paladins replied in unison. "Yes Princess."

Hunk white-knuckled Yellow's thruster. No, they weren't able to form Voltron. His chest tinged at the thought of the sight of Blue in her hangar: the metal on her head peeled back like tissue paper, the entire cockpit torn out. Pidge and Coran were in the process of fixing her, but their resources were dismal and replacing an entire cockpit was near impossible.

He still had nightmares of the robeast that tore into Blue and swallowed the cockpit whole, throat bulging and then having it settle at the base of its baggy throat, and the way that Lance's transmission cut out with a startling shriek.

"-and go in. You think you can do that, Hunk?"

He shook his head, "Sorry, what was that Shiro?"

"Since the main base is on a high point of the moon, we'll need to take out all the ships in the barricade to keep things clean. You and Yellow punch a hole and we follow through. Can you do it?"

Hunk nodded, "Just say when."

"Whenever you're ready."

He settled back into his chair, easing his hands down on the controls. "Let's get 'em, girl."

The hole punch worked. Everything after that was frustratingly hard.

Without Voltron, taking out ships took twice as long, and when there was an entire barricade ring of them around the moon, that meant a lot of lost time and close calls. Hunk couldn't keep track of how many times Keith had to swipe fighters off of Yellow's back, or the amount of times Pidge would swear when Green took a hit.

But finally, after several hours of yelling, explosions, and colourful swears, the last ship blew apart after being hit by Red's ion canon, and the evacuation shuttles were jetting away from the planet. What was one planet to the Galra? They could afford to lose it now to come back another day, by their logic.

Hunk could hear the squealing of Yellow's hind right leg, which had been hit by some debris – a small dint had a stray shard of metal scraping over her main frame every time she moved her leg. He cringed at the sound.

The hangar was open, and plenty large enough for the Lions to swoop in and curl up. Black sat as a grim sentinel over Green, Yellow, and Red.

Shiro was careful to keep the other Paladins close on his tail like a string of kittens following their mother. He kept checking over his shoulder to make sure that they were right behind him, and he would pause if any of them lagged behind even by a few feet.

Their video communications had been shot ever since they entered the base, Allura's voice fizzed out once they landed in the hangar, and any feed the Castle of Lions usually sent their way was non-existent. Druid magic tended to mess with their equipment, no matter where they got it from. On the bright side, however, Pidge's scanner was working. It blipped and squeaked at her as she moved the transceiver.

"Well," she said, "If the Civie Galra know how to do anything, it would be how to clear out a place. Holy crow. There's no one here!"

"Lemme see!" Hunk wormed in ahead of Keith, sticking his head in close to the screen of the scanner. "That's crazy!"

Pidge scrunched up her nose. "You're right. One sec." She tweaked the settings on the screen, all of which were written in Altean. Apparently she had a knack for the language. A couple of bars were adjusted, and an extra command added into the list, and suddenly a solidary dot popped to life on the display.

Keith squished himself between the two, brow furrowed. "Just one?"

"It's not Galra. I expanded the range of live signs to every warmblood within a twelve klick radius. It could be anything." Pidge raised her eyes to meet with the rest of the team, "Most likely a prisoner."

Hunk knew that they were all thinking different things. Pidge probably jumped to the conclusion that it was either Matt or her father. Shiro most likely just accepted the word 'prisoner' and locked on, not caring who or what it was. Hunk and Keith, however, definitely shared the same thought, communicated by a sidelong glance each other.

It could be Lance.

It had been months. Every time they got their hopes up, usually they were immediately let down. Shiro never said it, but he might as well have: he's dead.

But Lance was not dead. If they were fully resigned to the thought that he was dead, they would have looked for a new Blue Paladin. But no. Everyone had seen the robeast not completely swallow. Blue's cockpit was lodged in the bottom of its throat, but it was not swallowed all the way to the stomach before the thing had fled.

Hunk was no idiot. Biomechanics wasn't his thing, but he had dislodged enough chicken bones from his dog's throat to know that it had not been completely down there.

But after the amount of time that Lance didn't make his miraculous re-entrance, hope had been lost gradually by the team.

And they couldn't exactly find a new Blue Paladin when the Blue Lion was in literal shreds.

He tried to dismiss that thought from his mind. It was because Allura knew Lance was alive. That was it.

Hunk hefted his bayard. "Let's go check it out, then."

They dashed off in direction of the dot, traversing the grid of the base. Alone in the hallways, their boots clacked loudly and their armour rattled with every impact, reverberating down the corridors harshly. It felt like forever before they finally came before the door that separated them from the dot on Pidge's screen.

The device was squealing like nuts before Pidge stuffed it closed and stowed it away in her bag. She carefully observed the door. "Looks locked. I could hack it."

"Or Shiro could punch it open," Keith offered.

"Or he could punch it open," Pidge parroted. "By crow, Keith, you take all the fun outta stuff."

Shiro straightened his arm out behind him, allowing the geometric sprawl of light to take over it, turning the whole prosthetic glowing magenta. He thrust his arm forward, spearing directly through the lock mechanism of the door.

The metal whined as Shiro used the super heat to peel the metal back like foil. It had several layers that he had to tear through but he eventually was able to reach his arm around to hit the switch on the other side with his Galra arm.

The door shrieked open, and light from the hall spilled into the room, eliciting a sharp gasp from the occupant, then heavy, uneven breathing.

The prisoner was in a near sitting position – arms stretched out and cuffed to an overhead arch like some sick parody of a crucifix. He was low enough to the ground that his thighs had contact with the floor, but raised enough that strain was placed on his arms and shoulders from hanging by his wrists.

"I won't… won't give... anything…" the prisoner rasped out. "You can't… you bitch…"

Hunk rushed in, followed directly by the rest of the team. He would recognise that voice anywhere.

"Lance!"

Lance's head bobbed up, eyes unseeing, then lolled back down. He heaved his chest again, struggling to breathe. "Could'a sworn… Hunk…"

"I'm here, buddy," Hunk immediately set to work on the cuffs, pulling out a small plasma dagger from his belt. "Keith, Shiro, hold him up!"

Lance cried out when Keith tried lifting him from under his armpits, his breath quickening, face screwed up with pain. "Dammit," Keith said, shifting his hands to underneath Lance's legs. He lifted the Blue Paladin to sit atop his leg. "His shoulders are dislocated." It was easy to see, as only Lance's torn bodysuit remained – his armour completely gone. Every detail of his emaciated body was etched in the charcoal material. It was completely torn off from his arms and upper body, the torn strips gathered at his waist.

Pidge had begun hacking away at the other cuff with her bayard, hissing and cursing.

Shiro tried radioing in to the Castle Ship to try to signal in help, but to no avail. "The druid magic is still scrambling the comms." He said in frustration. He placed his hand placed behind Lance's neck, trying to support it best as he could so his head would stop listing to the side and hitting his shoulders. But Lance wasn't leaning back, so it was useless. They allowed the barely conscious Paladin to choose his direction – whatever was most comfortable for him.

Lance whimpered, slowly leaning forward and came to rest his head in the crook of Keith's neck. He was heaving breaths, open mouthed, body trying to take in as much air as it could.

"I've gotcha," Keith said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. "It'll be fine."

Lance managed a weak chuckle into the Red Paladin's neck. "Hey, Mullet." Hunk finally got through the cuff he was sawing at, and it snapped open. Lance's body swung forward on that side, and his chest came in blunt contact with Keith's chest plate. "Ngh!"

Keith steadied his teammate, taking Lance closer to himself for support. "Just the one left. Shhh."

Hunk was at his side as well, along with Shiro, and of course, Keith. "Holy crow, Shiro, is he going to be alright?" They both knew one thing – heck they all did. Lance was the reason for the heavy concentration of druid magic. They had hidden him away on an obscure base, then sent the druids to do their dirty work.

Shiro's face fell. "Only time can tell that, Hunk. But he's not going to be back on his feet for a while now."

"Got it!" The cuff Pidge was hacking at cracked open, releasing Lance's wrist. The Blue Paladin's left arm dropped. Any normal person would probably cry out from the treatment, but Lance just narrowed his eyes, like it only tinged a little.

"Hey!" Keith snapped at her, "Careful! Weren't you listening? His shoulders are dislocated!"

"Sorry," Pidge cringed.

There was a beat where no one said anything. They could've fit in a renaissance painting, one of those sad ones that the centrepiece character was injured and draped over their companions, and everyone had doleful looks on their faces.

Lance was still breathing heavily, eyes sealed shut in pain, limp against Keith and Shiro.

Shiro was the one that spurred them all in action. "We need to get him back to a healing pod, stat. Hunk do you think you can carry Lance out?"

Hunk's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Y-yah. Definitely." He gently leaned forward and scooped Lance from Keith's hold, bridal style. Hunk was definitely a solid support, and Lance looked so thin and gaunt in the enveloping mass of Hunk's arms and chest. His greasy hair was matted against his scalp, some was plastered down by a patch of blood.

He also had horrid acne. Never in Hunk's life had he seen Lance with a pimple, but he had the worst breakout that Hunk had ever witnessed on a human being.

It explained the extensive skin routine.

Lance didn't make any sounds on their way back to the hangar – he looked sound asleep, to be honest. He wasn't stiff, so that was a good sign, anyways. Keith and Shiro were constantly looking to make sure that Lance hadn't disappeared, and Pidge would do strange twirls whilst walking to make it look like she didn't care, but following her eyes, Hunk could see that she always would have them glued to Lance until he was out of her sight.

The Lions hadn't moved in the hangar, and Hunk was glad that Yellow was waiting for him closest to the entry to the deck. He made a beeline for her, mentally signalling for her to drop her mouth open so he could take the ramp up.

Yellow purred for him as he came up her ramp. She tried to fill his mind with pleasant thoughts – it was customary for them after a mission. Yellow would play images and memories for him to calm him down. He came in slowly, ducking into the small room behind the cockpit. During the hayday of the Altean Empire, the compartment had been like a bunk room for the Yellow Paladin, used during extensive trips and whenever they needed a rest. To the best of Hunk's knowledge, all the Lions had such rooms, but none of the Paladins really used them, because of the cramped sizes.

But Hunk was glad for it now as he slid Lance into the bed, drawing the sheet up and securing the straps over his sleeping form. He made sure that the pillow was positioned to give proper support for Lance's neck.

It suddenly struck Hunk just how vulnerable Lance looked. So boney and sallow, his natural brightness eaten away by God knew what he had been through. Hunk rested his palm on Lance's forehead for a short moment. I'm so sorry.

He could barely tear himself away from his best friend, but Yellow needed to have a pilot, and Lance needed to get back to the Castle as soon as possible.

Hunk thumped down into the pilot's chair, giving Lance one last look before brining Yellow into a stand.

Shiro led out of the hangar, drawing the other Lions into a close formation after him as they returned to the Castle of Lions. Allura and Coran had piloted it closer, so their communications picked up fast.

"Paladins! Are you all alright? I couldn't get a hold of you!" Allura worried on their video feeds.

"We're fine, Princess." Shiro answered, smiling bitterly. "Can a healing pod be prepped? Lance is hurt pretty bad."

"Yes, of course we – wait… Lance?" Allura's voice raised an octave in surprise. "You have him with you? You found him?! Where is he?"

"My lion, Allura." Hunk said, drawing her attention to his screen. He glanced back tellingly over his shoulder. "But he's in pretty bad shape. Like, really bad."

"Yes…" She replied, voice suddenly dropping low. "I'll have Coran ready a pod immediately."

An oppressive silence settled over the Paladins and the Princess as the Lions landed in their own hangars. Coran had sent some refugee volunteers with a gurney to help him with Lance.

Eurelle had once been a physician on her planet before she was imprisoned for treating the wounds of rebels, and Ti Reen was a steady-handed, four arm alien that assisted Eurelle with everything. Apparently they had been a student of medicine before the Galra conquered their planet, then chose them specifically to maim publically to make a point. The webbed patch of puffy scar tissue on their throat was a stark reminder of the vocal cords they no longer possessed.

Hunk allowed Ti Reen to help him get Lance on the hover gurney, but he did the majority of the pushing up the ramps and down hallways as they rushed to the infirmary. Eurelle was taking note of everything about Lance's condition as they sped down the halls.

It seemed to take forever before they got to the infirmary. The doors opened with that all too familiar sigh, revealing Coran, who had been prepping a healing pod that slid out from the wall like an oversized drawer. All the standing ones were occupied by their latest rescue of prisoners four days prior.

Coran waited grimly for the gurney to hover up the steps. The particle window was already drawn back, ready to receive its patient.

Lance didn't stir when they lifted, then lowered him into the med pod. He remained in his creased-brow sleep, and continued to do so until Coran sealed the pod and initiated the healing code, assuring that it would reset his shoulders as well.

Hunk sighed, placing his hand on the particle window that held in his best friend.

"He'll be alright, right, Coran?" He asked. He had already asked Shiro, but his leader's answer was inconclusive and just plain ominous. Hunk wanted a second opinion.

Coran clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course!" He assured. "These healing pods have done far more than this before! For example, when Geez and Harlay, our previous Blue and Green Paladins, got into that accident with the flesh eating plants on the planet Besiel, we had them back to normal in a jiffy! These machines can regrow tissue of all kinds!"

After hearing it from Coran, he didn't necessarily feel better, but he was somewhat reassured that the answer would not change. Lance will be alright.