Author's note: Thanks for the reviews and encouragement. This whole process really is helping me with my writing. Which is kind of the point, I guess, besides just sheer pointless fun…

Playlist: a collage of sound called "untitled playlist." Imaginative of me, I know.

And, of course, all usual disclaimers apply- don't own Voltron, etc. etc.

Chapter Fourteen:

Collateral Damage

Within minutes of escaping Lotor's ruined compound with Allura slung across his shoulder, Lance knew that something was very, very wrong. And he knew it had little to do with trying to sneak around Castle Doom carrying the scantily-clad Princess of Arus over his shoulder past legions of the universe's fiercest warriors while the last of his bombs exploded around them and his freshly-tortured Commander, ignoring any and all possible injuries, kept pace stoically beside him as if taking a walk in a park… no, there was something very wrong between Keith and Allura, which meant there was something wrong with him, too. They had thrown up walls against the link they had with each other, and he, as a part of that link, felt battered by almost overwhelmingly powerful emotions from both sides. How this had happened, going from mind-speech capabilities to feeling as if he was partially welded to their brains, was something he couldn't handle figuring out right now. He just knew he had to get them out.

The escape part of his plan was going surprisingly well; he could sense Keith coming up behind them, and by the time they had cleared the low wall of the first pleasure garden surrounding Lotor's compound, the three of them were together again; even though only two of them were able to run, they nonetheless moved as one unit, soundlessly, seeking out the sheltering shadows, weapons drawn, alert for Drule guards and traps of any kind.

Allura added very little weight to Lance's shoulder; he had angled her feet first for the sake of balance, but this gave the trio an unexpected strategic advantage. Allura, thrown over Lance's shoulder in a decidedly un-Princess-like manner, gave them a literal set of eyes and ears in the back of their heads. She clutched the blaster Lance had pressed into her hand, trying to keep her grip firm and her arms steady despite the intense jostling that was a natural result of being slung over and upside down while moving at a brisk speed. She was grateful Lance had flung her over him feet first; the scandalous… garment… she was wearing was quite distracting given the bouncing that was occurring, especially from the waist up. She set her mouth in a grim line. She would burn the dress at the first opportunity; to her, it had come to symbolize an awakening of a part of her nature that she did not entirely welcome or understand, a part of herself Keith had tried to warn her about when they had been together in Haggar's laboratory, when she had been sick and shivering and he had kept her warm, had taken care of her throughout what he called her "magical hangover"….

She hadn't really understood him, them, when he had tried to talk to her about how her body might betray her, that anyone's would, under certain circumstances, and that Lotor, being who he was, would know this and would use it to exploit her and hurt Keith like no beating ever could. Keith had known this, had tried to warn her in advance, and had promised that, not only did he understand, he wouldn't hold it against her, that he loved her, no matter what, that love and desire were not always the same… She blinked back tears. Despite all this, she hated herself. She hated her own body for not only giving into Lotor, but for responding to him. She could feel Keith's black rage, as powerful as an exploding volcano, and she knew part of it was aimed at her. She knew she had hurt him, whether she meant to or not, in a way Lotor never could…She shared his rage, and, to be honest with herself, some of her rage was aimed at him. How could he expect her to stand there and watch him be tortured over something as inconsequential as a kiss? Would he have been able to do the same for her, had it been her under the whip? But it had turned into something more than a kiss, scarring them both… She realized she was starting to cry, and furiously gulped back her sobs. She had no time for them now.

Lance gripped her tightly but gently around the waist, finding it difficult to concentrate with the waves of thoughts, feelings, and images washing over him, coming from both his friends. Whatever was happening, whatever was going on between the three of them, they were going to have to get some kind of control over it, and soon. Hell, he would settle just for understanding it, if that was possible. It was making it hard to do this job. Confusion, fear, anger, and self-loathing poured off Allura in waves. And Keith…. Lance was suddenly glad, very glad, that they were on Planet Doom and had a fight on their hands. His Commander's mood was very, very deadly at the moment. Keith was consumed in a whirlpool of rage so intense that it threatened to wipe all sense of self….

Whose sense of self? Lance wondered. His, or my own? Where are the boundaries?

As they rounded the perimeter of the last wall surrounding the west side of Castle Doom, Lance looked at his watch. He dropped to one knee and said, softly, "We have to stop here." He put Allura down gently on the ground against the wall, he and Keith covering her with their backs, blasters drawn. "This is the last bit of cover between here and Red. From here on out, it's crawling on our bellies over a mile or so of rocky terrain. It was as close as I could get Red without drawing too much attention."

Keith's mouth was set in a grim line. "I'm not sure that's possible, Lance," he said, glancing down at Allura for the first time.

"I can crawl," she said, her eyes flashing. "My knees and arms work just fine, thanks."

Her words were punctuated by the sound of fighters overhead, launching from the far side of Castle Doom by the hundreds.

"Great, just great," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"I got one of the hangars, you know," Lance, said defensively. "And that was hard to do, you know. And time consuming. I could probably have gotten all the hangars, at least partially, but it would have made me even later getting to you guys, and it looked to me like I was barely in time, anyway…" he hissed, pressing himself even more tightly back against the princess.

Keith counted to ten, trying to quell the rage he felt. Then he did it again, also flattening himself against the princess as much as possible. Much more and we'll smother her, he thought grimly. "Look, Lance, I'm not criticizing. Just stating the facts. Her ankle's shredded, has yet to be examined properly, or set, and she'd be cut to shreds trying to crawl anywhere in that…" he gulped. "Dress. Plus, I'm still in my Voltron uniform, and I already stand out like a snowflake in the dark. Might as well put a big shoot me sign on my back…"

Allura, strangely silent, collapsed back against the wall.

"Allura?" Lance asked uncertainly. "You ok?"

"Haggar," she said, eyes closed tightly in concentration. "I can sense her looking for us. With her magic. I'm trying to shield us, create some kind of bubble for us with my mind… it's hard to explain, there's so much of this I don't understand, and I'm still not recovered, mentally, from Lotor's attack back on Arus. And," she flashed Keith a dark, hurt look, "one of us is putting up one hell of a wall."

Keith said nothing.

"How long before she finds us, Allura? Can you tell?" Lance asked, tersely.

"Not long, I'm afraid. I'm not very good at this mind powers thing yet." Her shoulders drooped in defeat. "I'm sorry I'm such a liability. Can't walk, can't use powers I don't really know I have, and besides being a big old piece of Lotor bait, now Haggar wants me, too…"

"Allura." Keith addressed her directly for the first time since they'd entered Lotor's compound. "Please do not refer to yourself as bait in the same sentence as the word Lotor, ever again," he said, anger making his voice flat. Lance whistled softly, nervously. He knew Keith to be the kind of man who did not yell when he was angry. Instead, he got quiet. Deadly quiet. "And you are not a liability," Keith added, fighters circling overhead. "We will find the solution. Lance, how long will it take you to crawl to Red Lion?"

"Alone, it took me twenty or so minutes, but I was going pretty slow and careful. With you two, maybe fifteen? If Allura can…." He had been about to say, "keep up", but thought better of it.

"And in a flat-out run, carrying Allura?"

"I dunno, Keith. Ten minutes? Twelve?"

Keith shook his head. Not good enough. He and Lance looked at each other.

"I can be back, with Red, as fast as that," Lance affirmed. "But that leaves you here, plus it might alert the Castle, and those fighters. Pidge clued me into one hell of a cloaking system, but I'm not sure how that will work, here on the ground…. probably have to drop it to do a pick-up," he said, looking at Allura, who was concentrating so hard, eyes closed and mouth set, sweat was breaking out across her brow. "We might have to fight our way out," he concluded.

"And have all the forces of Doom at our backs while we fly hell-bent for Arus?" Keith asked.

"The boys are ready for it," Lance countered. "I've had them on stand-by."

"But we don't have Black, and that means no Voltron," Keith hissed. "We'd be bringing the legions of Doom back to Arus."

"No worries." Lance smiled. He began to strip himself of the remaining weapons he carried, unstrapping lazon rifles, releasing blasters, pulling knives from his boots, and gingerly easing his backpack to the ground beside the two of them, keeping only one blaster for himself. He shoved it into the back of his belt. Tossing Keith a comm. unit, he said, "Pidge figured out a way to tow Black. He thinks he can get the Lions to attach long enough to get you into Black, and we can fight these bastards before we're even halfway to Arus." Lance paused. He did not want to ask the next question, but he felt it would be irresponsible not to. "Keith, I have no idea what Lotor did to you or how badly you're injured. Can you fly?"

He thought he saw Keith smile in the darkness. It was a dark, bitter smile. "You saw me…how did you put it to Allura? Make Lotor kabobs? And you ask me that? That's a week of double P.T., soldier." Lance thought he was kidding. Maybe.

"Well, hell Commander, a guy's gotta ask. And watch out for my ordinance, sir. I'm only letting you hold it 'cause it might slow me down."

Allura's head snapped up, eyes unfocused and hazy. "She's found us."

Lance was gone before she finished speaking.

VVVVV

They sat with their backs against the wall, waiting for Lance to come for them in Red Lion. Keith crouched, his back towards Allura, with a pile of weapons and explosives underneath him. He fingered the sword Lance had given him, attached to his belt now. He would have to ask about it later. It was meant to be a protective stance, but as he felt the waves of misery and self-hatred pouring off the Princess behind him, almost boring a hole in his back, he began to feel more and more like a jerk. How did one begin a conversation with someone who'd been through all of…that…with you? And was sitting there, miserable and injured, in ways he couldn't even see, to go through even more? More fighting, more killing, more promises he couldn't keep?

"Then don't make any more," she whispered, sitting up closer, as close as her extended leg would allow. "Don't promise to protect me. It's enough that you want to. Teach me how to do it myself." He could hear anger there, in her voice, and it was hard not to react, to take it personally. He had failed…she was blaming him…

"Get over it, Keith," she whispered. "If I'm blaming anyone it's myself. So you failed. I failed. So what. People fail. My father died, promising to protect me since the day I was born, and he died, so he failed. Alex…" she choked out, "promised me too, to protect me, and died failing to do so, his love for me on his lips. Your fiancée died, and she promised to love you forever before she did, I know she did, because I know the kind of man you are. I know you feel it like a failure, like abandonment. I can imagine how that hurt." She plunged ahead, despite his hiss of pain, of warning, that she was bringing up a forbidden subject, but she didn't know what lay before them, and she was determined to break through the black wall he'd built around himself. "I know words are hard for you, and it's your bad luck that I don't need your words to talk to you. Or maybe it's my bad luck. I don't know anymore." Allura pulled herself up into a ball as much as she was able, pulling her legs up against her chest gingerly, mindful of her ankle.

"I am miserable," she said, finally. "Do you know how I feel, sitting here, looking at your back? Do you know what you look like, what I see? Can you guess, through that black wall of rage you're hiding behind? Your uniform is in shreds. You have whip marks about three to four feet long up and down your back. They are bleeding. Most of the bleeding is fresh, and it has seeped through your once-white uniform. It hangs in red tatters down your back. In places, your uniform is welded to the few of the whip marks that are scabbing over, and they will have to be pulled loose, and then you'll bleed again. And all of this because of me? I have no idea what else he did to you physically, but I can guess how you hurt inside. How betrayed you feel. You told me… …you warned me, you knew…you told me not to blame myself, that my body would react, that it wasn't my fault, but Keith…" Allura was sobbing openly now, rocking herself with her arms around her knees, "it was my fault, he did it because of me, and when I tried to stop him hurting you, I hurt you even more... the goddess asked me, she came to me, I asked her to help me to fight, to use the last weapon I had left, my image, my body…. She asked if I dared to test our love…and I'm afraid, Keith, because it's all I have left…I'm afraid it's not strong enough, that I failed, that we failed…and I hate myself for it, for what I did, for what you had to see, that it's ruined, like my planet, like everything else…"

He turned back to her, watching her rock herself and crying against the wall. She had this way of choking and sobbing at the same time, and still being able to talk. He thought about that. He knew her crying and her sorrow much better than he knew her smiles and laughter. He didn't know what kind of flower she liked, for instance, or what her favorite color was. Basic things that people should know about each other first before they found out the shape of their worst nightmares.

Beverly's favorite color had been blue. Her favorite flowers had been buttercups. It frustrated him, because buttercups didn't grow in New York City, and they were hard to find in flower shops. He knew. He had tried. She liked to eat in bed on Sunday mornings, strawberries and coffee balanced precariously on a plate at her elbow, the newspaper spread out all across the bed, wearing his T-shirts, which dwarfed her, instead of nightgowns. She had never been shot at, or kidnapped, or held prisoner. The view from their apartment window was full of busy streets and people with homes and jobs to go to, not of a world turned to ash. When she cried, she did it softly, trying to hide it, and sometimes it would be several minutes, or even longer, before he realized and moved to her to pull her into an embrace. Beverly crying was the worst thing in his world, a year and a half and several lifetimes ago, before that fateful plane crash, before the Garrison had recruited him to chase a myth and a dream…

He turned to Allura. She was sobbing over the sound of Drule fighters overhead, holding herself because no one else had for so long, since her parents died, earlier, even than when his did, and because he was bad at this, so bad…He pressed himself flat against the wall beside her, whip marks stinging, and gathered her awkwardly into his arms. "Ssshh," he told her, as he had always whispered to Beverly when he finally clued in to her tears. The stench and darkness of Planet Doom hung around them like a shroud. "I'm so bad at this," he whispered through her hair, her ridiculous, jewel-encrusted hair. "Please be patient. I'm so bad with words, with feelings." He rocked her some more. "Lance will be here soon, and we'll have to fight some more, and it will be hard, and scary, but you're a fighter, Allura, and we'll be fighting together," he whispered, still rocking. "But I want to know some important things first."

"Whh… whh… what?" She sniffled, wiping her wet face across his sleeve.

"What's your favorite season? I like fall, because everything's as alive as it will ever be." She looked at him, shocked, as if waiting for the punch line. "Do you have a favorite flower? A favorite color? A favorite book, or writer?" She was still gaping at him. "I was just thinking that we're getting it backwards. People should know these things about each other. Before they see fighting and nightmares and death." He took a deep breath. "My favorite flowers are roses, preferably red. I like the color blue, my favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird, and I like the poetry of John Keats. What about you? Do you have any of those things?"

She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, but at least, thank god, she'd stopped crying. "There are no seasons on Arus, since Zarkon's first annihilation when I was little. No flowers, either, but I remember some from my mother's garden, when I was very little. I think they were lilies. They were white, with yellow centers. I like blue, too. It reminds me of my mother's eyes. I've only read books about Arusian politics, etiquette, and military strategy. I don't like them. But I love John Keats, and his poem 'To Autumn.'" When she turned to him, she could easily have leaned in to kiss him, but she didn't. "I guess we have that in common, at least," she said sadly, as the soft whir of Red Lion's cloaked presence announced itself nearby. Then the Lion itself appeared, opening its mouth into a kind of ramp. He could have sworn it was purring. Lance peeked his head out.

"Guys?" he said, impatiently. "We've got about two minutes before those Drule fighters clue in." He ran down the ramp, ready to grab the Princess once again, but Keith stopped him with a gesture.

"No, Lance. I've got her this time." Instead of throwing her over his shoulder, he scooped her up against his chest as he carried her up the ramp and into the purring Lion.

VVVVV

"Well, hey, wow," Lance said, eyeing the cockpit dubiously. "I didn't realize it had two jump seats."

"Maybe it didn't," Keith said cryptically. Pidge and Hunk thought the Lions had the ability to somehow anticipate their needs and make accommodations for them, when possible.

Lance ignored him. He'd had enough magical weirdness to last him quite awhile. It might not make it go away, but at least he could ignore it. Or try to. He opened a storage compartment behind the pilot's seat, pulling out an extra blanket and a med kit. He tossed them to Keith, saying, "There's pain meds in there," before turning to Allura and, with a courtly bow that would have done even Koran proud, offered her his battered leather jacket.

"Your Highness," he intoned, only slightly mockingly, "as much as I admire your attire, it would be my greatest honor if you would accept this humble, but most treasured possession, to adorn your Royal person."

She slid into it eagerly and zipped it shut all the way up to her chin. As she rolled the sleeves back several times so it didn't cover her hands, she gave Lance the first genuine, lighthearted smile that had left her lips in days. "You have no idea how good this feels, Lance," she told him, the happiness in her eyes making him feel a little lightheaded.

"No problem, Princess," he replied softly, forgetting, momentarily, that he was possibly about to have to fight his way out of Planet Doom's circling fighters and planetary defense systems.

Keith felt a little differently about the looks exchanged between them. "Lance?" he asked, as he and Allura strapped in. "Do you want me to drive?"

"Are you kidding? Hands off my baby, Commander. You've got your own ride coming." He swung himself into the pilot's seat, the safety harness coming up around him automatically. "Besides, red just isn't your color," he added.

As he slipped into his white Voltron helmet, a striking contrast with his sleek black suit, he seemed to become almost a different person, the cocky old Lance giving way to someone a little different, someone older, more confident. "Let's go, Voltron Force!" he cried out, pulling back on the control bar at the exact same moment his Lion roared. As Lance let out his customary whoop, Red Lion shooting upwards in a streak of flames, Keith looked over at Allura. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so enraptured, and fought back a stab of envy, wondering if it came from finally being off Planet Doom, from the sheer joy of flying, from Lance, or from some combination of the three. Perhaps it came from the three of them being together, no longer trapped and land bound, but soaring upward towards Arus, towards what was becoming home, even though they would have to fight their way there. Isn't that how it's supposed to be, though? Don't you have to fight to get what you want? He looked at Lance and Allura, and felt his own face splitting into a grin, and wondered just what it was that he wanted, and how hard he was going to have to fight to get it.

VVVVV

"I thought this thing was supposed to have an unbeatable cloaking system," Lance complained as he burned his way through two Drule fighters headed straight for them in a game of aerial chicken.

"Take it up with Pidge," Keith complained, hating the feeling of being strapped into a jump seat like some…some… passenger during a firefight.

"We are passengers," Allura reminded him, "and I think Haggar found some way to break through. Probably because of me," she added, muttering darkly.

"Would you stop doing that?" Keith said, annoyed.

"Which part?" Allura snapped at him. "Reading your thoughts? Or blaming myself? Because, believe me, Commander, I would love to be able to stop doing either one of them…"

"No offense, people, but please shut the hell up while I am trying to get us out of here. And I mean verbal AND mental bullshit, please." Lance pulled sideways on the control bar as Red Lion swooped around a line of Drule fighters in a double-helix formation, lion torches and lasers making contact with the enemy as he blazed through their midst.

Allura did as he asked. Normally, she would have slapped him for it, or tried to, but she was a bit shocked to discover that instead of being frightened, she absolutely loved what Lance was doing. Instead of clutching her safety harness and closing her eyes in fright, she found herself leaning out as far as she could to get the best view.

"Hell YES, Lance!" She found herself yelling when he flew directly between two smaller Drule fighters, almost brushing the tips of their wings, while the three or four Drule fighters chasing them crashed directly into the two they had just barely slipped by.

Keith stared at her. She was practically squirming in her seat like a kid on a roller coaster, just before it went over the edge.

Under the weight of Keith's open-mouthed stare, she realized what she had done, what she had said, and blushed prettily. "Oh, sorry, Lance, I forgot to 'shut the hell up,' as you requested," she said, contritely.

She couldn't see Lance's grin, but it was a mile wide. "It's ok, Princess. Cussing and yelling doesn't count," he said.

As Lance continued to dodge and weave through Drule fighters, Planet Doom shrank behind them in the distance. Thank the goddess, Allura thought, wondering if a prayer fell under the "mental bullshit" category.

Probably not, Keith projected at her, smiling at her raised eyebrow. Two can play at this game, he couldn't resist adding.

"Or three," Lance yelled, "even though one of them, the one who's flying and blowing shit up, requested the other two stop it."

"It's just a prayer. We need all the help we can get." Allura snapped back, before she sensed, rather than saw, the massive energy burst pulsing from one of the planetary defense system satellites. "Lance! The satellites!" she screamed. "They're about to release…"

Red Lion shuddered and spun as a massive burst of laser energy hit it squarely on the side. Allura was sitting on that side, and she screamed as she got the worst of the impact, her head rocking back and cracking against Red Lion's side. Lance swore, grappling with the controls, touching flat screens all around him as he got Red back under control. "Shields took a hit, but she's holding," he told Keith, pulling back on the control bar in an attempt to shoot upwards out of satellite range. "I'm cutting non-essential operations to hopefully give us some speed."

Keith, aware of the stupidity of his actions, released his harness and was in front of Allura, shaking her, calling her name. "Allura! Can you hear me?" She was out cold. He thought about his options. He could try sticking her with a standard-issue stimulant from the med kit, if he could find it, or, he could try something old-fashioned… "Allura!" he yelled, shaking her one more time before he…

"Why don't you try reaching her mind-to-mind before you slap her, Commander?" Lance asked sharply. "Maybe if we both take turns yelling at her…"

ALLURA, he projected, feeling instantly ashamed at his panicked reaction, at his failure to carefully think things through. He could hear Lance doing the same, yelling her name in his head while Keith tried to talk to her; ALLURA, IF YOU CAN HEAR US, PLEASE WAKE UP…

She groaned a bit and sat up. "There's no need to yell," she said, rubbing her head.

Keith reached around and ran his fingers over her scalp, finding it impossible to feel through the rubies and firedrops woven into her hair. "Damn jewels," he muttered.

"I'm ok," she snapped. "Strap yourself in, please. I don't want you hurt any more on my account," she said softly, looking a little guilty.

"Cancel that, Commander", a voice broke in over the comm. system. "The cavalry has arrived."

"Sven!" The three of them exclaimed, all at once.

"Who's got Black?" Keith snapped, instantly back into "Commander" mode.

"Black is attached to Green by a force field devised by our young wizard here, Pidge," Sven explained. "Hunk and I will run interference in Yellow and Blue Lions while Red moves in under Black. Pidge will then activate the force field below Black Lion, joining the two Lions long enough to let you transfer, Commander. Pidge swears there's a way, a hatch or something, that will appear when you're ready."

"I'm doing it already, guys," Lance said, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Those satellites of theirs pack a nasty punch, by the way. I think we evaded the defense systems on the ground because the air was too thick with fighters, but I wouldn't be surprised if those kicked in, too. Hopefully, we're out of range," Lance explained, talking easily the entire time as he guided Red Lion under Black. "Ok, Pidge, do your thing," he said, satisfied.

They heard the metallic clang of contact and looked up to see, just as Pidge had promised, a hatch with a keypad beside it.

"Be careful, Keith," Allura said, as he punched the button on the keypad. Sure enough, an opening appeared between the two connected Lions, and Keith found himself looking up into the cockpit of Black Lion.

He looked down at Allura as he hoisted himself up. "I always am, Allura," he answered. "Take care of her, Lance," he said, deadly serious.

"I always will, Commander," Lance returned, just as solemnly. The hatch between the two Lions shut; Lance kept his eyes on the battle before them as he told her, "Hang on, honey, things are just starting to warm up."

Allura leaned forward, excited in spite of herself. "Don't make me any promises you can't keep. Show me, Lance," she commanded, eyes huge as Red Lion swooped forward to join the fray.