A/N

Hey there! I present to you chapter three! Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, favorites, and follows! They've really encouraged me, and I can't wait to share the rest of this story with you all! This story starts right around the beginning of season 7, while they're traveling back to Earth, in case you get confused.

Thank you so much!

Scarface still expected him to activate his Lion. Of course, Lance had already told him that the connection was a two way transaction, and the Red Lion wasn't cooperating. Not that Lance blamed her. If Lance was an elite Altean piece of almost indestructible technology, he wouldn't work with Scarface either. However, Lance was Lance. Broken, useless Lance. The one everyone mocked. The one who sacrificed himself for everyone else. The one who died for his friends. But was he really that Lance anymore? Could he be? After all of this, could Lance go back to Voltron and jump right back into his role? Could he still crack jokes and laugh like nothing had ever happened? All Lance cracked at the moment was bones. Slumped against his cell wall, Lance tried to block out the memory of the Galra operating on him. They were healing him, and though they had numbed everything, they left him awake. Maybe as another form of torture, maybe as a warning. Either way, Lance couldn't get the images out of his head. Everytime he closed his eyes, they appeared without bidding, and everytime he opened them, he was reminded that he was still in Hell. Shifting uneasily, he lifted the tattered remains of the simple shirt they had given him. When they captured Lance, they'd stripped him of his armor and he'd woken in a plain shirt and pants, both the dullest shade of gray. They'd stolen the colors that he wore like they'd stolen his personality. Or maybe, in the end, he'd given it to them. For so long, Lance had fought. Hard. The only words he'd spoken were insults and jibes, his meaning filled with arrogance and his tone coated in venom. But slowly, as they ripped holes in his walls, he'd given in. He practically allowed them to stroll right in and steal his resolve. He should fight back. And he would. If he could stand. Sighing, Lance ran his fingers across the jagged, appalling scars that ran along his sides. They would always be there, always be a reminder. And those weren't all the scars he'd received. Who even knew how many wounds had been inflicted on him in the amount of time that he'd been there? Certainly not Lance. He didn't even know how long he'd been in captivity. That was another thing that unnerved him. It could have been months. Or just days. He didn't know how long he slept, and what little food they did give him arrived sporadically. Running a shaky hand through his greasy, blood coated hair, Lance tried to think of something better. Something much more pleasant. While he often spent his periods of isolation dreaming about his family and Cuba, this time, Lance's mind moved to his friends and Voltron. Had they continued in their quest to Earth without him? Probably not. They needed the Red Lion, even if they didn't need him. That alone gave him some hope. His thoughts moved fluidly, from Hunk's bright smile and warm embrace, to Pidge's laughter, and to Shiro's protectiveness. He thought fondly of Coran's ever present energy and encouragement, and Allura's glittering eyes and deep compassion. How he missed them. He even missed Mullet Boy, Keith, who had become more of a friend to him than he had ever thought possible. A smile curved on his lips as he thought of the time they'd been stuck in that interdimensional game show hosted by Bob, some supposed cosmic being. When asked which Paladin each of them would choose to go back to Voltron, Lance had chosen Keith. After all, now that Shiro couldn't lead them, Keith had started to really step into his responsibilities. And who had Keith picked? Lance.

"I just don't want to be stuck for all eternity with Lance."

At the time, that comment stung. But now, it actually made Lance laugh. Maybe he really had lost his mind. And even though his core burned from the feeling, it made Lance feel so much better. The good memories that he cherished with his friends flooded his brain all at once, and before long, Lance's spirits lifted tremendously. Thinking of riding on a hovering cow away from a space mall cop, playing video games with Pidge, holding Allura, sitting for hours with his team as they played Monsters and Mana, and the endless hours of laughter brought him to a much better place. A place where he could be Lance McClain, if only for a moment. Suddenly, his cell door opened, and a Galran guard popped inside. Utterly confused, Lance watched in shock as the guard tore off its helmet to reveal the white hair and multi-colored eyes of Allura. She was in Galran form, but it was definitely her. Blinking, Lance wondered if his recollections and fatigue had induced a hallucination.

"Allura?" His voice rasped, eyes wide.

"Lance! I'm so glad we found you! Come on, we don't have long," Allura urged, offering him her hand.

"Are you real?" He asked in disbelief as she pulled him to his feet.

"If I wasn't real, do you think I'd be able to touch you?" She pointed out, pulling him out of the cell.

"Are the others here?" He wondered as she dragged him down the corridors. He was panting, and hardly able to keep up with her, but he'd never been more eager to run.

"Of course. They're waiting in their Lions and are running a distraction. We need to hurry before we're caught," She huffed, a strand of white hair falling into her face. In all his life, Lance had never been happier to hear her accented voice.

"Red is in a bay somewhere around here," Lance told her as they rounded a corner.

"I know, Pidge has the schematics."

"Pidge is on coms with you? I suppose they all are," Lance shook his head at his stupidity. Of course they were all on coms. This was a mission after all.

"Almost there," Allura informed after they ran through several more halls. No one had intercepted them, which was a relief and a source of anxiety. Missions never flowed so easily. Especially rescue missions. Lance had run plenty of those to know. Usually, if no one intercepted them, soldiers with large guns were ready to ambush them as soon as they entered the bay. However, when they did reach the bay, no one stopped them. They ran right up to Red and all they had to do was activate her, run inside, shoot down the doors and fly to freedom. The thought led Lance to being hasty, and much too sloppy.

"C'mon Red, it's me, let's go!" Lance called, touching her paw. Nothing happened.

"C'mon, I need you to let us in!" Lance yelled louder, and more desperate.

After two minutes of trying to connect with the Lion, Allura shifted nervously and hissed, "Hurry Lance! We don't have much more time left!"

"I'm trying!" Lance shouted, slamming his hands against the metal of the Lion. Presently, a door to the docking bay opened to reveal a figure clad in red shooting at Galran guards. His back was to Lance, but he knew exactly who it was. As lasers shot past the fighter, he slammed his hand on the button to trigger the door, and after it sealed, shot the button for good measure.

"Lance, come on, we need to go!" Keith shouted as he raced up to them, and pulling off his helmet.

"I thought Allura said everyone else was in their Lions," Lance frowned.

"Yeah, everyone but me, Allura and I were the best to infiltrate. Now let's go," Keith stated brusquely, shoving past Lance and waiting for the Red Lion to lower her head.

"What happened to your scar?" Lance froze, a gnawing fear rising in his brain.

"Scar?" Keith turned to face him, dark eyes confused.

"Yeah, the scar you got from fighting Shiro's clone? The one that's supposed to be right on your face," Lance narrowed his eyes, certain now that something was wrong.

"It healed," Keith snapped in irritation.

"Healed? It just magically healed?" Lance blanched incredulously.

"Look, we don't have time for this," Keith snarled impatiently, walking back to Lance and getting a little too close.

"You act like Keith, and you look like Keith, but you're not Keith," Lance decided, with fury and despair raging within him. If this wasn't Keith, then the girl standing next to him was not Allura, and that meant that he wasn't leaving.

"Lance-"

"This isn't real," the boy from Cuba decided, closing his eyes. Just as he felt Keith's hands grab the collar of his shirt, everything seemed to melt away.

When he opened his eyes, he was still lying on the operation table, straps digging into his skin and wires attached to his head. Scarface stood over him, a scowl on his lips.

"You won't hold up much longer," he hissed, just before waves of electricity jolted through Lance's body.