A/N: Hello! This fic is part of the Primary Paladins Big Bang, organized by voltronbigbang on tumblr. It is complete. I'll be posting a chapter a day until it's all up. It's about 57,000 words total, just so you know what you're getting into.

This fic was entirely written in November and the first week of December last year, so it is not Season 2 compliant. There are plot points here that would be voided by some things we found out in that season, so this is a slight AU. I couldn't change it without rewriting basically the entire thing, so it is what it is.

I have two marvelous artists working with me on this story, tsmdraws and propansexyaul. My beta was letzteslied. Ff.n does not allow me to include images in the post, but the art will be on AO3. You can also find links on my tumblr, also maychorian, with the tag bchu.

I have a music playlist for this fic as well! It is not spoilery, since I used it more for setting the mood while I was writing. I listened to it a lot. It is also linked on AO3 in the notes there.

This story contains violence, torture, and a pretty large amount of blood. Most of the actual torture is offscreen. The story is very much focused on Hunk and Lance and Keith supporting each other and doing everything they can to protect each other, even in the extreme circumstances they find themselves in. But it's a hard R, and there is one scene in particular that is a bit disturbing. I will put a specific trigger warning on that chapter, but if you are particularly sensitive or have psychological triggers, you might want to skip this fic.

Thank you for reading! This has been the work of months, and I hope you enjoy.

Bars Can't Hold Us
(Prisons Can't Stop Us, Chains Can't Slow Us Down)

"I'll kill them. I'll kill them!" That was Lance's voice, raw, all but screaming.

"You won't," Keith's voice, rough too, but lower. Calmer. Since when was Keith the calm one? The situation had to be completely horrible and screwed-up if that was true.

"I will," Lance snarled with a savagery in his tone that Hunk had never heard from him before. It sent a shiver down his spine, distinctly unpleasant. And painful. Why was it painful? "I swear I will."

"You won't. You can't." Keith, still reasonable. "The cuffs..."

"I don't care. When we leave here..."

"When?"

"When." The harshest snarl yet. A modulation in Lance's voice, a vibration of the floor like he was pacing back and forth, unable to be still. "When we leave here, they're all dead."

Keith hummed, but he didn't disagree. "You need to calm down. Hunk..."

That was him. Were they looking at him? Hunk groaned. He tried to open his eyes. It didn't work.

But there was an instant clattering that echoed off the walls, a rush of air, and a warm presence at Hunk's side. He heard Lance's breath, rough and uneven. His knee pressed into Hunk's side, and Hunk felt it shake. A hand landed on his chest, light as a tiny, trembling bird.

"Hunk? Buddy?" Still an edge of anger under his tone, of rage and fury, but Lance had tamped it down as soon as he saw Hunk stir. Tenderness overlaid it, fierce concern. Why was he so worried?

Hunk tried again to open his eyes. The flesh around them felt swollen and sticky. Why? He became aware of a throbbing in his skull. His face. His whole body. Did he catch the flu? Some kind of horrible Space Flu that had laid him out flat, knocked him unconscious, and scared Lance enough to make him savage?

A breath sighed out of Lance's mouth, and he slumped at Hunk's side. "Okay, okay. You're waking up. That's good. It's okay, buddy. You don't have to open your eyes if you don't want to. It's not going to be anything nice to look at, anyway."

Hunk frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Of course it would be nice. He would be looking at Lance, wouldn't he? That was always nice. He tried again, and this time he managed to open his left eye a sliver. It hurt. His eye, the flesh around it, even the orbital bone beneath the skin.

But he could see Lance, so it was worth it. Lance had moved so he was directly in Hunk's limited line of sight. His face was drawn and anxious. There was a bruise on his cheek, a cut on his forehead. His eyes were watery. Hunk frowned harder. The wall behind him...

Huh. That didn't look like the Castle of Lions. The wall was rough and dark instead of white and smooth, dimly lit by a light source Hunk couldn't see. "Wh're'r we?" Hunk slurred. His lips felt fat and sluggish. He felt slow and heavy and buried under the weight of sleep. Sleep? Had he been asleep? Maybe unconscious.

Probably unconscious. His brain was still sputtering, struggling to turn over, but he was starting to piece the clues together.

Lance looked even more worried. "Do you not remember?" The rage rose again, sparking in his eyes. "Did they hit your head that hard?"

Hunk didn't feel like moving his lips again, but he had to. "They?"

Movement caught his eye. Keith moved up beside Lance, leaning in so Hunk could see him. He looked worried, though not as overwrought as Lance. "Wow, they really did a number on you." He sounded impressed, the way he did when viewing a punching bag that Shiro had obliterated. Hunk knew it was the fighter in Keith, appreciating the work of another fighter in a distant, almost professional way. It didn't bother him, but Lance was not so easygoing.

Lance's lip twisted, and he threw Keith a glare. "You sound like you're admiring a job well done."

"I am not!" Keith pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "I could never admire anyone who did something like that to Hunk. It's just...kind of impressive."

"I can't believe..."

Hunk moaned. Usually it would fall to him to mediate when Keith and Lance got like this, but he didn't feel up to it right now. It might be awhile before he could do it again.

That moan did the trick, though. The hostility fled away from Lance's face, replaced with overwhelming worry again. He leaned in toward Hunk and very gently patted his chest. "Sorry, sorry. We won't fight. It was stupid anyway. Just rest, okay? You don't have to do anything. It's fine."

Hunk released a muffled whine and let his eye slip shut again. Whatever was happening to him, whatever was going on, he was glad Lance was with him. It seemed to take monumental effort, but he lifted his hand and slid it up to his chest so he could tangle his fingers with Lance's. Lance latched on immediately, gripping tight and desperate.

Hunk lay still and let himself catalogue what was going on with his body. It was all he could just to hold Lance's hand. Lance sat there quietly, supporting him, though fear and anger continued to radiate from him like a heatless sun.

Why did everything hurt so much? Hunk shifted his shoulders, felt the ache and stretch. Now that he was thinking more objectively, it didn't feel that bad. He was bruised up, probably scratched and cut, too, but nothing felt broken. Nothing felt deep. His face was swollen and painful, but faces always swelled up a lot. He no doubt looked horrific, explaining Lance's worry, and he wasn't happy with his situation, but it all felt superficial.

Mostly, anyway. Mostly superficial. Mostly minor wounds. Stuff he could brush off. Forget. If he tried hard enough, he would probably be able to convince himself of that, eventually.

So why did he feel so sluggish and slow? A bad hit to the head, like Lance thought? His head hurt, but no specific place hurt more than the rest. He wasn't nauseated, either, which was a normal symptom of concussion for him. No, it wasn't the outside of his head that hurt the most. It was...

The inside. Hunk frowned, eyes still pasted shut, as he tried to figure it out. He couldn't remember where they were and how they'd gotten here. And he couldn't remember getting beaten up. Why couldn't he remember? It was like his brain was...raw.

Scraped out. He felt scraped out and empty. Not his body. His head. Hunk's gut lurched, something like nausea finally rising. It wasn't sickness, though, that he felt now. It was terror, a ball of cold fear taking up residence in his stomach.

They...whoever they were...they had scooped out his memory.

Hunk opened his eyes again, as wide as he could, and he looked at Lance. He still couldn't see well, vision blurry and dim, but at least he managed to crack both eyelids this time. "Lance..." His voice was shaking.

Lance sat up, fingers tightening around Hunk's. He tried to smile, but it didn't quite work. "Yeah, buddy? I'm here."

Hunk tried to swallow. It hurt. Everything hurt. "Wh...where are we?"

The corners of Lance's mouth turned downward. He looked miserable. "You really can't remember?"

Hunk swallowed again. It burned his throat. He rocked his head from side to side, once. Little explosions went off inside his skull. "I can't remember," he whispered.

Lance drew a shuddery breath. He brought his other hand over to hold Hunk's as well. For the first time, Hunk could see him well enough to see that he wasn't wearing any of his usual outfits. Neither his paladin armor, nor their civilian clothes, nor anything they had picked up on their travels. Whatever Lance was wearing, it looked sheer, almost silky, a soft turquoise blue rather than the usual deep or bright shades Lance favored. The pattern didn't quite match anything Hunk had seen before, either, little cuts on the shoulders sewn together in a triangular pattern, asymmetrical half sleeves, some kind of insignia over the left breast.

The insignia sparked something. Hunk's left eye twitched, almost wincing shut again, but he forced it wide. "Wait, the... The Malkordans?"

Some of the worry instantly slid away from Lance's face, and he slumped in relief. "Thank God," he murmured. "You do remember. Something, anyway."

"We were...negotiating," Hunk said slowly, trying to figure it out. "They're one of the only free races still trying to wage war back against the Galra instead of hunkering down and defending their own planet. We...we came down to tour a military facility while Allura negotiated with their government. They wanted to meet the Paladins of Voltron."

"Yeah." That was Keith. He leaned into Hunk's line of vision to join them for storytime. "You remember their hangars? They're more technologically advanced than Earth, but a lot of their ships and procedures felt familiar. Looked like things we have at home."

Hunk made a noise of agreement. "The hangars, yeah. It was... It felt kind of eerie. Like we were almost home, but not quite there. And of course the Malkordans themselves..."

Lance's mouth twisted in that sad attempt at a smile again. "Like everything else on the planet. So close to home, but not quite there."

"They're...taller than human norm. Gray skin, mostly blue or black eyes. Like beetles. And their fingernails...like they're made of steel. Or are those implants? Everyone we met seemed to have claws, but maybe that's just because everyone we met was in the military..."

Lance choked out a watery laugh and clutched Hunk's hand harder. "Hunk, you Mensa maniac. Give your big brain a rest, c'mon. You'll break something."

Hunk blinked, but he couldn't stop. "And their teeth... Sharp. A little jagged. All the way back. Carnivore species. Civilized now but... Their history must be savage. Maybe that's why they've been able to hold out against the Galra for so long. They'll do things other races won't."

Keith let out a bitter chuckle. "You got that right."

Hunk blinked. His head felt too heavy for his neck. "That's..." He felt the words in his mouth, testing them out. "That's why we're here."

Lance nodded. His mouth stretched in a furious grimace for a moment, but he forced it down, made himself settle. "Got it in one, big guy. Did you remember, or did you figure it out by logic?"

Hunk made a noise through his nose. It wasn't the most pleasant thing he'd ever done to himself. His nose was definitely swollen, though it didn't feel broken. "I logicked that one."

"Of course you did." Lance let go of the back of his hand so he could pat it. "Do you want us to tell you what happened, or do you wanna wait and see if the memories come back on their own? I honestly don't know which one would be worse for you."

Hunk let his head roll back so he was staring at the ceiling. "I don't know. I think..." He closed his eyes. He could feel something in that center of raw, pulsing soreness that was his brain. It was like...a spark across a filament of wire, connecting two elements. Or two branches from side-by-side trees slowly growing to reach each other. "I think they might come back. Whatever they did to me... It doesn't seem permanent."

"What they did to you?" Keith's voice got closer as he shifted, leaning over Hunk to look his face. Outrage pushed behind his voice, though he was trying to keep it under control. "What are you talking about? It's not just because they hit your head too many times?"

"Mm, no. I don't think so." Hunk opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was dark and rough, too. Were they underground or something? The military barracks he remembered had seemed standard, made of steel and wood, or at least the local equivalent. "This doesn't feel like a concussion. It hurts but… It's different."

He drew a breath. He didn't want to say this, but he had to. Lance and Keith needed to know what they were dealing with here. "I think they...I think they did something to my brain. It feels...scraped out. And given that we're in a universe full of magic and advanced technology… It's possible, right? Has to be."

Lance made a distressed noise and held Hunk's hand harder, as much for his own comfort as Hunk's. "You really think they could do that?"

Hunk nodded, slow and ponderous. "But I don't know why. What possible reason could they have to beat me up, then make me forget it?"

The three of them were silent for a time, trying to sort through a disturbing list of possibilities. Or lack of them. It didn't make much sense, but whatever was going on here, it seemed ominous and terrible.

Lance shifted from side to side and pressed himself even closer to Hunk's body. "Maybe...maybe it was a test."

That made sense. It made too much sense.

Hunk's lips felt fat and uncooperative again, but he forced the words out. "If...if we've been kidnapped by the Malkordans, our potential allies, and they're trying to get something from us, but they still want to make an alliance with Voltron..."

Keith's breath was too fast. "They'll keep us locked up for as long as they want. Do whatever they want to us. Then, when they're done... They'll make us forget."

Lance gulped, the sound thick and choked in his throat. "The others must not even know. They can't know. They've been told that we were taken by the Galra, or anti-government rebels or something. Anything. When the Malkordans are done with us, they'll erase it all and give us back to our team, and no one will ever know. At least, that must be their plan. As long as the test on Hunk works."

Keith made a disgusted sound. "That's why they had us all sleeping in separate rooms. So they could grab us at their leisure and the rest of the team wouldn't know."

Separate rooms... Hunk could feel his synapses trying to fire. A vague memory rose at that, the military barracks where they had been staying, each of the paladins being ushered into officer's quarters, told that they were high-ranking official visitors who must have the best the Malkordans had to offer. Sumptuous furnishing, luxurious bedding, individual pajama sets hanging in the closets.

The memory sharpened. It had been fun at first. Hunk and Pidge and Lance had treated it like an out-of-town field trip, the kind where you had to stay at a hotel overnight in between visits to museums and art festivals. They had all gathered in Lance's room to play with the weird board games he found in his cupboards, laughing and talking and enjoying the food service, wondering if Shiro's room might even have a liquor cabinet...

Afterward, they had split up to go back to their own rooms to sleep. Maybe they shouldn't have. Maybe they all should have had a sleepover in Lance's room, like they had joked about doing. His bed had certainly been big enough for three people. If they'd done that, would Hunk and Lance still be free, or would the Malkordans have grabbed Pidge along with them?

Hunk still couldn't remember the moment he was grabbed, but Keith's supposition made sense. They must have been split up that way to make it easy for their captors. The Malkordans could have even put something in the air to make the three of them groggy and unable to react quickly when they were taken. But why them and not Shiro or Pidge? Hunk was thinking more clearly now, but not clearly enough to figure it all out.

The way he couldn't remember anything after hanging out with Lance and Pidge... That probably made sense, though. Those must have been the specific memories they had wanted to take from Hunk's mind, if this really was a test. For some reason their technique had hazed over earlier memories, too, at least for a while, but those were coming back now. Everything after he went to sleep last night (was it just last night?) was gone.

Hunk turned his head to look at Lance again. "Hey, could you help me sit up?"

Lance frowned. "I don't think you should."

"C'mon." Hunk smiled. It was rare to see this protective side of Lance, but he did like it. It seemed to come out most often when Hunk was anxious or under the weather, or if Pidge was threatened by so much as a papercut. "I'm okay, really. I'm sore, but nothing's broken. I'm getting tired of lying here."

"Well, that's too bad. You can't see your own face, man. You're...you're a mess. You need to rest."

"I want to sit up. I need to think."

"You can think lying down."

"I'll think better sitting up."

Lance blew out an exasperated breath and squeezed his hand. "Hunk."

Hunk squeezed him back. "Lance."

Keith was fed up. "Ugh! Would you two shut up? If you won't help him..." A glare at Lance. "...I will."

He moved over to Hunk's other side and held out a hand. Hunk took it, palm wrapping tight around Keith's steady pressure, and Keith got his other hand under his shoulder to lift him up. Before he started though, Hunk gave one more look to Lance.

"Babe." Soft, this time. The name they only used when they very badly needed the other to listen and pay attention to what they needed. "C'mon. Be with me on this."

As usual when Hunk did this, Lance all but melted into a puddle. His eyes went liquid and his grip on Hunk's hand went from tight and demanding to soft and supportive. "Not fair," he muttered. "You know what that does to me."

Hunk just smiled.

After a moment, Lance blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Fine! You know I will."

He shifted his grip on Hunk's hand, then got his free arm under his shoulder, mirroring Keith on the other side. "Okay. Ready? Go." He and Keith both pulled, and Hunk strained his muscles to help. His abdomen and back ached and burned, but it was nothing deep. Sitting up didn't feel good, but he could do it.

Once he was up, Keith and Lance both helped him shuffle and scoot until he was leaning against the hard, rough wall. Keith had been nabbed fully dressed, that old habit he had of sleeping in his clothes in unfamiliar places rising again. He took off his jacket and put it on the floor for Hunk to sit on, shielding him somewhat from the chill of the cell. Of course Hunk was wearing Malkordan pajamas, too, pale yellow in his case.

Lance nestled up against his side, pulling their clasped hands to rest in his lap. Hunk was already slumping, but with this invitation he slumped down yet further and let his head fall sideways to rest on Lance's chest. Lance's pajama shirt was too thin and flimsy for this environment, but it felt nice on Hunk's sore ear and cheek.

Lance put his other arm around Hunk's shoulders, hand resting on his bicep. Like this, Hunk felt Lance's presence all around him. It felt like home, even in this strange and awful situation. Lance was warm, and Hunk could hear his heartbeat. He felt his eyelids drooping already. But no. He couldn't fall asleep. He had to figure this out.

Sitting up like this, even with his narrowed vision and fuzzy mind, Hunk could see the room they were in a lot more clearly. Keith sat cross-legged in front of him, a worried frown on his face as he watched Hunk and Lance curl up around each other. The room was definitely a prison cell. The single door had a barred window in the upper half, and there were no other windows that Hunk could see, which strengthened his earlier guess that they might be underground.

The walls and floor seemed to be made of some kind of concrete, but they were darker than Hunk might have expected. Maybe they used different materials than the stuff back on Earth. He caught a glimpse of a cot in a corner of the room, but there was just one. For all three of them? The room was relatively small. Maybe it was only supposed to house one prisoner, normally. Another corner had a commode in the floor, universally recognizable. No privacy screen or anything.

Yeah, the whole thing was very reminiscent of Earth. Hunk had never been to prison on his home planet, but he had watched TV. He knew what they looked like.

Why were they keeping all three of them together? Hunk wasn't complaining, but it didn't quite make sense from what he knew of the Malkordans so far. They were a brutal race, and brutally efficient, too. If they had captured the three of them with the intent of gaining something from them, it would make more sense to keep them isolated from each other, even in different wings. That way they wouldn't be able to communicate with and comfort each other.

Though Hunk couldn't remember being beaten up, he presumed that it had been part of an interrogation. Hunk wanted to believe that he hadn't told them anything, even if he couldn't remember for sure. He had to have been able to hold out through a simple beating, especially one that had only done superficial damage like this. If they were trying to break him, trying to make him give up information about Voltron or the Castle of Lions or something like that, they weren't going to stop at one attempt.

So they were going to try again. And they would definitely speed things up if they kept Hunk away from Lance and Keith. Like this, leaning on Lance's chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, Hunk felt himself growing steadier, stronger. And Keith was here, too, his eyes dark with sympathy. Hunk would never break, not while he knew that his friends were waiting. The thought was a fire in his chest, in his belly, warming him from the inside despite the uncomfortable coolness.

Unless... This was all hypothetical, and Hunk didn't want to think it yet, but maybe he wasn't the target. Maybe they hadn't asked him any questions at all. Maybe they had just beaten him.

Why would they do that, if so? The Malkordans seemed too focused and efficient to beat up a prisoner just for the sake of sadism. They had to have a reason for all of this. But if Hunk wasn't the one they were truly trying to get information from...

Lance. The Malkordans had been observing all of the paladins carefully from the moment they arrived on planet. They would have been able to see how close Lance and Hunk were. They weren't shy about touching in public, and they had smiles that were only meant for each other. And Lance, while he was a great guy and very strong in his own way, did not have quite the same fortitude as Hunk. If they wanted to get at Lance, weaken his defenses, shake him up and rattle his convictions, the best way to do that would be to abuse Hunk.

Or maybe... Maybe the Malkordans thought it would work on both of them. They could beat up Hunk to get at Lance, and beat up Lance to get at Hunk. At the thought, Hunk snuggled his head a little harder into Lance's chest and breathed in deep, trying to take in his scent. He was tense and trembling, and he knew Lance could feel it.

No.

No. They had to get out. That was all. It didn't matter what these creeps wanted, what they were trying to accomplish by grabbing the three of them and subjecting them to this. They were going to escape, no matter what. And they were going to do it before any of them laid a finger on Lance.

Lance lifted the hand he'd been resting on Hunk's arm and started combing through his hair, instead. He worked gently through the tangles, the matted areas left behind by sweat that had since dried. Lance was good at this. It was incredibly soothing, and Hunk badly wanted to close his eyes and drift off. Which was Lance's plan, no doubt. He thought he was so sneaky, sometimes.

Hunk huffed out a breath against Lance's chest and rolled his head over to stare fixedly at the door. "That feels good," he mumbled.

Lance hummed deep his chest, low and satisfied. "I know."

"I'm not gonna fall asleep, though."

Lance snorted. "Yes, you will. My fingers are magic."

"I know I've said that in the past..."

"More than once."

"...More than once," Hunk amended agreeably. "But not this time. We have to figure this out. We have to escape. Right away."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Keith said. "But what do you think we've been trying to do ever since we woke up in this rotten place?"

Hunk squinted at him. Keith flushed. "...Oh, right. You can't remember, can you?"

Hunk grunted. "I remember arriving here on Malkord. The private rooms. Hanging out with Lance and Pidge before we went to sleep. But everything after that is blank. I think their test worked."

Even if it hadn't, even if the memories came back later, Hunk was not going to say it aloud. The Malkordans were no doubt monitoring this cell, listening to every word they said to each other. If they knew that the memory erasure hadn't worked, what was their alternative to keep Allura and the others from finding out what they'd done?

They'd have to kill them. That was the only other option. Hunk shuddered.

Not gonna happen.

Keith's nose twisted. "The cell is solid. Stone everywhere. We're not gonna be able to dig our way out. When they took you away, Lance and I took turns ramming ourselves into the door. No give. And when we started to get desperate enough to almost damage ourselves..."

He hesitated, and his eyes flicked to Lance above Hunk's head. Lance heaved a sigh, shifting Hunk's head with the movement. "They activated the cuffs."

Cuffs? Hunk looked down at his and Lance's hands, still linked, resting on Lance's thigh. He hadn't noticed the bands around their wrists earlier, too occupied with other things. They were light enough that Hunk hadn't noticed their weight, but they looked solid, made of some kind of dark metal with a darker band in the middle, probably an unlit indicator light.

Hunk brought his other hand over, not without a twinge of pain in his upper arm and shoulder, and poked at the cuff. It looked kind of like the cuffs back in the castle, and like the ones that bounty hunter girl had used to tie Lance to a tree way back at the beginning. Similar in design, but probably with materials native to Malkord.

"What happened when the cuffs activated?" he asked.

Keith grimaced. "They must be magnetic or something. Drawn to the material the cell is made of. As soon as that middle indicator light turned on, the cuffs instantly slammed down on the nearest surface. And they stuck there."

Lance made a noise of disgust. "Mine just stuck to the floor. I had to kneel there, didn't have much room to maneuver." His voice went a little lighter. "Keith was stuck in a worse position, I think. One wrist was kind of high up on the wall and the other was on the floor."

"Yeah." Keith's voice was disgruntled. "It was super uncomfortable."

"Funny, though."

"Next time you should try it, then. Give us all an idiot to laugh at."

Lance shook his head and turned his attention back to Hunk. "Anyway, at least they didn't leave us that way for long. The cuffs turned off, and a voice from a speaker somewhere told us that that was a warning. Next time it'll be worse."

"They activated 'em again when they brought you back," Keith said. "So we had no chance to rush the door. When they took you they had a lot of guards with guns, kept us subdued that way, but I guess it's more efficient to use the cuffs. The door opened and a couple of guys dumped you on the floor, then left, and the cuffs turned off again."

Hunk hummed thoughtfully. Efficient, yeah. That sounded like the Malkordans. How to make things even worse for folks who were already in prison and already being subjected to torture? Restrict their movements. Cuffs that automatically welded to the wall would be a very useful method of punishment.

Okay. So first thing, as soon as Hunk had dexterity back in his fingers, he would have to figure out the cuffs and find a way to deactivate them. He wouldn't talk about it now, though, when he was too tired and sore to move. With the Malkordans monitoring the cell, the three of them would have to talk about any escape plans in sign language, or maybe English if they could find something to write with. Hunk and Lance could sign pretty well, the alphabet as well as a few common signs, but Keith had never had a reason to learn.

That was something to talk about when they got away from here. They should make sure all the paladins knew some method of sign language, and maybe Allura and Coran, too. Never knew when this sort of situation might come up again.

Hunk recognized this for the good sign that it was, the fact that he was thinking in certainties about what to do once they got out of this. Despite the direness of the situation and how uncomfortable he felt in body and mind, Hunk was not remotely broken or depressed. He was more angry than scared, though fear was definitely a shadow over his thoughts. More for Lance than for himself, though.

Maybe they had done him a favor, erasing the memory of that beating from his mind. He knew it had happened, and he still felt the effects, but it hadn't done any psychological damage to him. At least none that he could feel right now. He might even get out of here without any nightmares, which certainly would be a treat.

"Okay," Hunk said, voice already starting to slur. "I think I am gonna sleep now."

"You done thinking, Brainiac McEinstein?" Lance asked, soft and fond. His fingers kept slowly sweeping through Hunk's hair.

Hunk made a noise of agreement and let his eyes droop shut. "Yeah. We'll...talk about it later." His voice was a low mumble now, but he knew Lance still heard him. "Gonna get you outta here, babe. Not gonna let 'em do anything to you."

"Yeah." Lance curled his whole body around him a little closer, a little tighter. Hunk still felt the coldness of the wall and floor through Keith's jacket, but everywhere he touched Lance, he was warm. "You too, babe. Not again. I'll kill them first."

Hunk smiled. Such a Lance thing to say, boasting with absolutely nothing to back it up. But he heard the sincerity in his voice, his deep and very real desire for it to be true. Lance would kill to protect him. Hunk knew that, had known it for long time. He'd seen him do it, too. But it was still nice to hear.

Hunk went still against Lance's body, just resting, breathing smooth and slow. His mind was already fading, but he heard Lance's voice talking to Keith.

"See?" His voice was stuffed with pride. "I told you Hunk would come up with something. Look, he's not even worried now. Drifting off like a baby. Everything's gonna be fine."

And that was like Lance too, that utter confidence in himself, in his team, and especially in Hunk. Even when it wasn't necessarily deserved, even when the situation was dire and dark and seemingly hopeless. Especially then, it seemed.

Keith said something back that could have been an agreement, though his voice was not quite as confident as Lance's. Count on Keith to be the pessimist whenever the group needed one, or "realist" as he preferred to call himself. Didn't mean Keith wouldn't fight, though, even with his back pressed against a wall. Keith fought like a demon every single time, no matter whether or not he believed that they would win. Hunk didn't know why the Malkordans had decided to kidnap the three of them, but he really couldn't ask for two better companions to be in this mess with him.

Hunk didn't catch Keith's exact words, whatever they were. He was already asleep.