When the Light Dims

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," Shiro assured the others as the transport sped back to the palace. While he shared the teams surprise and anger, his greatest frustration stemmed from his own inability to prevent the problem. He had sensed the interviewer's subtle shift in questioning but had failed to intervene effectively. Instead they had all become defensive, giving unintended credence to her baseless statements.

"I don't care what they say," Keith said defiantly. "We know the truth."

"Yeah, but it's kind of tough if the whole galaxy thinks you're going crazy." Hunk looked at the window as they approached the palace's outer grounds. "It's easy to say you shouldn't care what other people think. It's harder to do it."

"The truth will come out," Pidge said. "Honestly, I'm more worried that he skipped out on us in the first place."

"Pidge is right," Shiro said. "The first priority is finding out what's going on with Lance."

Coran was already waiting for them at the main entrance as the transport slowed to a stop. "I am as astonished and dismayed as you are," he said as the Paladins exited the vehicle. "The actions of that reporter were nothing short of, well, disgraceful. I assure you I will be lodging a formal protest with—"

"Coran," Keith interrupted. "Where's Lance?"

"Lance?" the Altean replied with some confusion. "Did he not tell you? He sent a message to my office this morning saying he was ill. Naturally I offered to have a Palace medic check in on him but he asked not to be disturbed." The older man's eyebrows dipped. "Did he not pass you a similar message?"

Hunk shook his head. "No… not a word."

"He seemed fine when Pidge and I spoke to him before bed," Keith said.

"It is flimrak season," Coran offered, "but it would be very unusual for it to develop that quickly."

"I think we need to pay him a visit," Pidge said.

"Of course," the Altean agreed, "but may I suggest only one or two of you go. I understand your concern, but I assume he requested to be alone for a reason."

"Coran is right," Hunk added. "We need to find out what's up, but we don't want him to feel like we're pushing him. If it's serious enough for him to be acting this way, I don't want to risk him shutting us out."

"I agree." Shiro's eyes flicked across the Paladins. "Hunk, Keith, why don't you check in on Lance. Pidge and I'll stay here with Coran in case you need us." In truth, Shiro wanted to check on Lance himself, but acknowledged he wasn't the best person for the job. Hunk had known Lance longer than any of them, and their friendship was unbreakable. And despite a litany of differences, Keith and Lance had forged an incredible bond of mutual respect.

Keith and Hunk exchanged glances. They had rang the doorbell, knocked, and even tried to raise Lance on the intercom. After five dobashes, nothing had brought their friend to the door.

"We have to go in," Keith said firmly.

Hunk was a bit more hesitant. "Maybe there's a simple explanation," he said hopefully.

"Maybe, but there could also be a bad one."

Hunk slumped slightly. "You're right." He pulled the door panel off the wall and entered a supervisory code Coran had given him. After a brief delay, the door slid open.

The room was in chaos. Clothing was strewn across floor, along with the broken remains of several hangers and a piece of cabinetry. A large chair rested against a glass-topped table, undamaged by balanced precariously. Amongst the mess Keith immediately spotted two blue slippers left haphazardly on the floor, each a plush avatar of Lance's first Lion.

Lance himself was laying on the bed, his chest moving with his slow, deep breathing. His eyes were open, but continued to glare aimlessly at the ceiling even as the other Paladin's approached. There was a noticeable cut above his right eye, accentuated by dry blood. Several bottles of various sizes adorned the nightstand, and the foul stench emanating from the bathroom suggested Lance had consumed far too many of them.

Hunk was unsure what to say. Over a decade of friendship he had seen Lance's highs and lows. Seen him suffer from personal and professional rejection. Seen him blame himself for things that were and weren't his fault. He'd never seen this.

"Are you OK?" Hunk asked. He resisted the urge to pull Lance upright when there was no reply.

Keith looked over the assorted bottles, recognizing about half of the labels. It seemed unlikely Lance could have downed that much alcohol in the varga since the interview; something else must have driven his friend into this miserable state.

Without a word Keith sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out, gently touching Lance's shoulder and apply slight pressure. He could see his friend's eyes twitch in his direction, looking almost alien. The dark blue eyes, normally vivid and burning with life and purpose, seemed to fester with melancholy and sorrow.

"I'm here when you need me," Keith said gently. Whatever was going on, Lance was going to tell them about it in his own time and way.

Shiro put down his communicator and turned to face Pidge. "That was Admiral Iverson. Apparently they've been getting numerous media requests about Lance."

"What are they doing about it?" Pidge asked.

"Nothing, for now." Shiro pressed his lips together and inhaled through his nose. "He's a good man. He's not going to sell anyone out."

"Why do they even care?" Pidge asked in frustration. "He retired. He's a private citizen like anyone else."

"Its human nature," Shiro answered quietly. "People love gossip, especially about someone famous."

"And people wonder why I like machines." She shook her head. "We didn't choose to be famous. We did what we had to."

Shiro nodded knowingly. "You don't realize the blessing of anonymity until it's gone."

"I remember the press Matt, Dad and you got when they announced the Kerboros mission," Pidge said quietly. "I guess nothing could have prepared you for Voltron though." She looked towards the door, then down at her chronometer, then back at the door.

"I know," Shiro said in response to the unspoken statement. "I'm worried too. But I'm sure Hunk and Keith will let us know if Lance needs us."

"I just hate waiting." She exhaled slowly. "What about Lance's family? Have they heard yet?"

"I don't know," Shiro admitted. "Iverson's sending Griffin to Cuba to help them with anything they need, including running interference with anyone trying to bother them."

Pidge faked a smile. "Those reporters won't want to get on his bad side." Her eyes widened slightly. "Veronica is still on Proxima Gamma, isn't she?"

Shiro nodded. "Communication blackout from the radiation for another week. Hopefully by the time she hears about this everything is resolved."

"Hopefully," Pidge murmered doubtfully. "I'd feel a lot better if I knew what was going on."

"Me too," Shiro admitted. "Me too."

Hunk and Keith exchanged silent glances for what felt like the hundredth time. They'd been with Lance for at least a varga, but other than his breathing and a few unpleasant sounding dry heaves he had remained quiet.

Hunk finally broke the silence. "Should I tell them what's going on?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Keith admitted. He looked down at his friend. Lance had rolled over to face the small window, but his eyes were closed. Keith suspected he had turned away from them in a subtle attempt to dissuade further conversation, but he was not going to be discouraged easily. "Lance?"

The Cuban shifted his shoulders slightly in response, but didn't say anything.

"I want to help," Keith said, a familiar sense of discomfort in his chest. Lance was one of his closest friends and confidants, yet this kind of conversation still failed to come easily to him. "I know I'm not always the best at this stuff, but..." He took a long, slow breath and lowered his head. "I don't know what's going on, but… but what I do know is you don't need to face it alone. You never do. No matter what happens, we'll always be here for you. For each other."

"I've seen you overcome so much," Hunk said, trying to force a small smile onto his concerned face. "You can pretty much get through anything. But I still hate to see you hurting like this, so I want to help."

Keith waited several ticks for a response. "If you want someone else…" Keith suggested. "I can get Shiro or—" He stopped when Lance groaned weakly and rolled onto his back, now open eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I know you won't leave," Lance said in a weak, hoarse voice that was barely above a whisper, "but there is nothing to say."

"I've never liked talking about personal things," Keith reminded him truthfully. "But I learned that sometimes you need to, and making someone drag it out of you doesn't help anyone."

Lance turned his head slightly, bleary red eyes shifting briefly towards Keith before looking back at the ceiling. "There are wounds that no one can heal," Lance replied, "Pain that… that you can't fix, or maybe shouldn't fix."

"Maybe we can't fix everything," Hunk admitted, "but we can do something."

"There isn't anything anyone can do." He paused, his disconsolate mind trying to push aside the effect of alcohol as he considered his words. "Bad stuff is part of life... but when it shouldn't of happened, that's… when it hurts the most."

Keith hesitated, a driving desire to learn more tempered by a fear of making whatever Lance was going through more traumatic. The wrong question could make things worse and drive Lance father into whatever anguish had consumed him. Inaction, however, was not Keith's style. "Sometimes there are reasons for things we don't understand," Keith said gently. "How could you know something shouldn't have happened?"

Lance's eyes continued to stare aimlessly ahead, but his expression seemed to harden and the muscles in his jaw tensed noticeably. "Because everything could have been different."


A/N: Apologies for the long delay. Windows update managed to revert this story to an earlier version. Revision work, combined with other commitments, resulted in this taking way longer than it should have!

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