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As Color Fades Away

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It took an agonizingly long three minutes, but finally Lance fell into a restless sleep aided by the sedative Coran had added to the vein valve.

The Altean and human met each other's eyes over Lance and saw the same grief and horror reflected back at them.

"What did they do to him?" Hunk whispered, more tears trekking down his cheeks to plop onto Lance's upturned face. "Coran, what…" He couldn't even voice all of the horrors he'd just witnessed.

It wasn't just the physical injuries, which were already beyond anything Hunk could have ever imagined before. Lance was beaten and stabbed and burned and broken; barely an inch of flesh escaping the abuse. He was in so much pain, whimpering and crying and his breathing hitching with every gasp even in this state of unconsciousness, although it had become slightly less.

It was a good thing Hunk had already thrown up back in Yellow when they'd seen what he thought had been Lance, because otherwise he'd have done it when he entered Red's cockpit to retrieve him from Shiro.

But suffering from grievous wounds wasn't apparently enough for the Galrans. Lance hadn't been just scared when Hunk tried to lower him into Allura's in-floor bathtub. He had been beyond terrified as soon as he'd realized there was water.

Lance, the boy who would probably turn into a prune if he'd had his way with all the time he spent in lakes and pools, was terrified of water. Hearing him plead had just wrenched Hunk's heart in a way he hadn't been aware was physically capable.

What had the Galra done to him? What had they done?

And although Pidge had forewarned him, he still had not been fully prepared for when Lance's eyes opened and the whites of his eyes had been turned pitch black and blue orbs had sightlessly stared past him, wide with terror and pinpricked with pain.

He and Coran had decided a more steady approach would be best after Lance had thrashed so hard Hunk had nearly dropped him, so while Coran held Lance, Hunk stripped off his outer armor before pulling Lance back into his arms and descending into the tub with him.

Lance had flinched at every sound, every pulse of water. Even when he'd somewhat relaxed as the buoyancy of the water did indeed help with the poison's effects, he had been so scared and still in so much pain. Pidge had been right again that Spanish was the way to pull him out, but Hunk's heart sank as he realized he hadn't heard Lance utter a single word outside of his native language. Not that he really spoke at all.

Hunk's heart hurt anew.

Lance had recognized Coran's voice though. That was good. Lance seemed to be confused, aware one moment it was Hunk and the next struggling again as though expecting something else.

Hunk hated that he wasn't surprised. The injuries alone and their pain had to make coherent thinking hard, but Lance's cheeks were flushed too and the bags of exhaustion that colored his skin were painful to look at. Hunk wondered how much the Galra had let him sleep over those four days.

Both he and Coran had quickly discovered that Lance was most at ease when he could hear them so the two had kept up a steady stream of low chatter and soothing noises. Even talking about the crazy Altean straw had helped and Hunk had to admit it helped him too as he was dangerously close to just sitting down and sobbing. Or throwing up. Or both.

But the water again had thrown everything off. When Lance tried to actually drink something the result had been just as disastrous. It was like… like...

"Hunk," Coran said, voice uncharacteristically grim and interrupting Hunk's train of thought. He was hovering a small medical device over Lance's chest while he fitfully slept in Hunk's arms. "Tell me. Are humans capable of breathing underwater?"

Hunk shook his head. "No. We can hold our breath; some for a lot longer than others, but we can't actually breathe." His stomach curled. He had a terrible feeling where this was going. "Wh-why?"

"Because there is fluid in Lance's lungs, according to the scanner," Coran said.

Hunk let out a choking noise.

He was right.

They had drowned Lance. The Galra had drowned Lance. How Hunk didn't know but multiple times, he was certain, if Lance's violent aversion was any indication.

They'd made Lance afraid of water.

If he hadn't been holding Lance to prevent him from sinking, Hunk's fists would have been clenched in rage. As it was his expression was rather murderous judging by Coran's reaction.

And then fear sank in. Because besides the terror and pain of the action itself drowning came with its own set of complications. Like pneumonia. Which involved water in the lungs. Hunk mentally hurried through his checklist of symptoms. Fever? One glance at Lance's flushed cheeks confirmed that, although it could just as easily be from infection. Shortness of breath? Again, multiple injuries could be the reason, but it was there too. Fatigue? Most definitely.

"He might be sick," Hunk blurted out.

"Sick?" Coran repeated.

"A human illness," Hunk hurried. "I can't be sure since there's so… so much, but he might be. Do the pods heal things like that?"

Coran shook his head. "I am afraid not. They cannot heal poisons or illness; only physical wounds. And given that Lance has saliidda in his bloodstream – and my readings show there are near lethal levels – we would not have been able to place him into a cryo-pod anyway until it had been removed. Also…"

The advisor trailed off, his face seeming to age in a matter of seconds. "There is another complication. Druid magic does not mix well with the healing chamber and in Lance's state I do not want to risk the pod malfunctioning."

"Druid magic?" Hunk repeated.

Coran gave a short nod. "I trust you have seen his eyes? I am afraid I am not as fluent in their magics as I wish I was, but that is definitely a result of a Druid."

"So he can't go into a cryo-pod until they're fixed?" Hunk asked, voice small. He tightened his hold on Lance then, wishing a hug could just make everything better the way it used to when they were kids.

"Unfortunately so. But if we are unable to figure out how to remove the magic we may have no other choice." Coran's voice dropped. "He is in very, very bad shape, Number Two. If he does not get into a cryo-pod soon he may..." Coran's eyes closed as if in physical pain himself. "The wounds on his hands and feet are beyond my skill level. He may lose them… and even should we get him into a pod soon, I cannot say for certain they would be able to heal them either. The damage is… extensive."

"What?" Hunk breathed, glancing down at the limbs in question. Lance's feet were submerged in the tub, but his hands were pillowed on his stomach. It was difficult to make out due to the sheer amount of blood that covered them, but there were definite gaping holes, the sheen of bone faintly glinting in the gore and even more blood and uneven flesh down his wrists and arms. Manacles still clung to the base of each wrist and Hunk dazedly wondered if they were going to have to cut them off.

The right was particularly gruesome. The limb looked almost dead; the tan color of skin replaced with shades of black and blue and the entire thing was twisted in a way that limbs definitely weren't supposed to go. More cuts and blood covered it but the most damaging seemed to be a rough burn that had scalded the flesh from the base of the hand up to near the elbow.

There was also something… something different about the injuries that dominated both of Lance's inner arms Hunk thought. The right one was mostly covered up by the burn, but the left one sported a gash that was wider at the top and trailed to a thinner line that appeared to have been hastily healed, if the bruises dotting around it and the uneven coloration were any indication. The cuts ran from the very base of Lance's hand to about mid-arm and seemed to vary in depth, as by Lance's hand they were bleeding freely and the skin was ragged and the penetration deep while it was less severe further down.

There was not a single injury like them anywhere else. Cuts and bruises and gashes and burns covered near every inch of skin, but none matched these wounds.

Hunk glanced up to see Coran carefully scanning Lance's right forearm, his face more pinched than it had been. As if summoned, Coran looked up to catch Hunk's gaze.

"Coran," Hunk started, licking his lips as he felt the feelings of even deeper dread stir his stomach. "What… what weapon would have caused these?"

Coran, bless him, answered clinically although the sheen to his eyes only confirmed Hunk's growing suspicions. "It is not from any knife or blade I am familiar with," the Altean said. "The injuries are much more severe – deeper, I would say – towards the hands as if more force was used. I'd say based on the wound that whatever instrument was used was… was dragged along the length of the arm in a downwards motion."

The Altean's expressive eyes met Hunk's then. "Hunk," he said gently and the use of the boy's first name made the situation all the more dire, "these injuries… I do not entirely understand the human body's physiology, but in an Altean we have a vital vein that—"

"Humans do too," Hunk interrupted, his heart lodging in his throat as tears made their appearance again.

"Then—"

"Don't tell the others," Hunk pleaded. "Not… not until we talk to Lance. To… to understand." Because Lance wasn't suicidal. Even when he was upset, frustrated or in one of those lower moments where he saw only flaws when put up against others, he would never, never, consider taking his own life. He was a fighter. He didn't give up. Not like this.

There had to be something else there, some other reason or cause for these wounds.

Because Lance...

No.

He wouldn't.

Coran nodded. "That is my assessment as well. Perhaps not is all it seems. It would be unwise to jump to conclusions and cause undue panic amongst the team and additional suffering on Lance's behalf. We will keep this between us for now until we are able to speak with Lance." Hunk felt a trickle of relief that Coran understood as well; that the older, wiser person held the same opinion. It validated his own.

The Yellow Paladin looked back at Lance's arms again and tasted bile though he held it back through sheer will, hurrying his eyes to a new site. They landed back on Lance's face, which compared to the rest of him was practically pristine. If he didn't look past that he could almost pretend Lance was just sleeping.

Not that he'd almost died.

That he might have...

But even if he ignored that looming problem for now, it didn't eliminate the observation Coran had initially made in that Lance's hands and feet might be beyond repair. Sure, the technology up here was light years away from what they had on earth and between him, Pidge and Coran and using Shiro's arm as a model they could probably make some really neat prosthetics. But he didn't want Lance to have to have those. Lance, who thrived on touch and feeling, couldn't have some metal attachments that felt nothing. He just couldn't.

"We must focus on what we can do now," Coran said, interrupting Hunk's morbid train of thought. "The sedative should hold for maybe about a varga and I don't dare give him more until we flush out more of the saliidda; it can have a very nasty side-effect paired with other medications but Lance's body and mind needed the rest."

"What do you want me to do?" Hunk asked. He had the basic medical training the Garrison had insisted on, but he doubted knowing how to stop a bloody nose was really going to help in this instance. There was just so much blood. It had already leaked into the water and turned the blue surface into a muddy purple in places.

As if noticing that, Coran crossed over to the lever to activate the drain, and began to fill the tub with new fresh water from the spout. He came back with two towels that reminded Hunk almost of silk, but more durable.

"Before we can do anything we need to clean him up," Coran said. "Come, bring him over to the spout." Noticing Hunk's widening eyes Coran was quick to assure him, "We won't put him under it, of course. But we have access to the freshest source there."

The bathtub really wasn't all that big – about the size of a jacuzzi whirltub just much deeper – but it still felt like it took eons to cross over, Hunk gliding as smoothly as he could so as not to jostle Lance and Coran carried over the bag full of nutrients to place it on the ledge once they were situated, careful not to pull against the valve in Lance's arm..

"All you need to do right now is just continue to support him," Coran said, wetting one of his towels under the water. "I will handle the rest."

Hunk hummed an affirmative, honey eyes tracking as Coran's first gentle pass with the towel on Lance's shoulder turned the entire thing red with a mixture of both dried and semi-fresh blood, revealing what appeared to be both a cut and a laser burn.

Coran gave a low chuckle that was anything but humorous. "It appears we are going to need quite a few more cloths." He glanced at Hunk, concern swimming in his eyes. "This may take longer than I had thought. Are you all right to continue holding him?"

Hunk may be a leg of Voltron, but right now he was representing the arms of a friend. He nodded. "For as long as he needs me to."

Coran's face softened. "I had no doubt. Then let us continue."

And the water around them swirled with blood.

xxx

Shiro ended up having to resort to scissors. He sent a silent apology to Coran for the destruction of the uniform, but he was out of options, and quite frankly the suit wasn't likely to survive much longer anyway.

He'd taken Keith straight to the infirmary where they kept the basic supplies well-stocked for when the Paladins chose not to go into the cryo-pods. His concern was mounting by the minute as Keith remained well and fully unconscious despite the rough handling and was lying now on one of the medical exam tables, haloed in the dim back-up lights that had kicked on once they'd all boarded the castle.

Shiro had been able to unclasp the armor plates, which were burned and warped badly on the back and the power lights had gone out on the torso pieces indicating heavy damage, but removing Keith from the black underamour was not happening. The material was practically glued to the younger boy's back, melted Shiro thought with horror, and no amount of tugging was loosening it. It did elicit a moan though and Keith's eyes fluttered beneath his lids.

"Hey, buddy you waking up?" Shiro asked, stopping his movements. But he stilled after a few ticks and Shiro went back to his examination, trying to hurry.

Most worrying were the dark patches that had leaked through the shirt. Shiro ended up having to take a pause to discard his own upper armor and wash his hands, as all of it was well coated in Lance's blood. He had enough medical knowledge to understand that he did not want to cross-contaminate.

He managed to slide the scissors down the side and sliced up the shirt with ease. He found out his fears were confirmed; the inner layer of the underarmour seemed to have melted against Keith's back.

God.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," he apologized, grabbing a towel and a large glass of water. "This might sting a bit." Might sting a lot. He dampened the towel and then placed it against the shirt, rubbing gently. The material loosened with a bit of water and he pulled up on the corner, gently trying to tug the section free.

That definitely woke Keith up. He startled with a gasp, eyes flying open and a curse on his tongue.

"Easy, it's just me," Shiro said, dropping the shirt and hurrying around to the front of the table so Keith could see him more easily. "You're okay, it's okay."

"What the hell, Shiro?" Keith gasped, his hands fisting around the edges of the table and eyes blurring with reflexive tears.

Before Shiro could apologize, could reach out and try to comfort Keith through his pain, those purple eyes hardened and locked on to his with such an intensity they almost burned. "Is Lance—?"

"Coran and Hunk are helping him right now," Shiro cut in. His stomach clenched in worry. "We're all back on the castle."

Keith struggled to sit up. "I need to—"

"You're not going anywhere right now," Shiro said, easily pushing him back down with minimal force to his head. "We need to get you patched up first. Your back is pretty bad." Really bad. "Just... hold still for me. I'll go as quick as I can."

Shiro returned to carefully peeling up the shirt, Keith quietly hissing but otherwise doing his best to remain stationary, twitching a few times as a particularly difficult piece was pried up and one time even letting out a small whimper before he cut it off, pressing his face against his inner arm.

Shiro's heart broke.

Keith's pain, his tolerance... it made him think back to the two of them, sitting on the curb to the agency and Keith trying so hard not to cry and admit how much he hurt and what had happened. Shiro's hands unconsciously tightened on the ruined shirt. He forced both them and himself to relax, taking a steadying breath.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Shiro asked, pushing away those old memories and concentrating on the ruined, reddened flesh. Mostly second degree burns, possibly a low third in one place right at the center of Keith's back, with a smattering of first degree superficial ones on his shoulders and right above the tailbone.

"Fireball," Keith muttered between clenched teeth. "From Haggar."

Shiro froze in his ministrations. "You fought Haggar?"

And a fireball? That explained a lot.

"Tried to. Didn't do much." Keith let out another low hiss as Shiro tugged on one of the last pieces. "If Pidge hadn't shown up…"

"Pidge fought Haggar?" Shiro suddenly felt light-headed.

As it was, he was still trying to figure out how Pidge was there and not up in her Lion with the others.

Keith managed an actual small grin around his pain. "She was awesome Shiro. Fooled Haggar with her holograms and then zapped her."

Keith gave another moan of pain as Shiro pulled more of the ruined shirt away and the sound dragged him from his thoughts. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured. "Almost done with this part."

"...Did you fight Haggar?" Keith asked after a moment. He may be in rather excruciating pain, but he hadn't missed Shiro's reaction to the fight. And it would make sense, given the fact she had come from Shiro's direction.

Shiro gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Fight might not be the right term."

And at that Keith rolled slightly so he could look at Shiro over his shoulder, concern filling his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"But are you all right?" Purple orbs had narrowed into a calculating gaze now and Shiro felt the barest hint of pink dust his cheeks. He was supposed to protect Keith, comfort him, not cause him to worry more. But that's all he'd been doing recently; talking about the arena, breaking down at the sight of the bloodied lab table...

Shiro wanted to say yes. Of course he was. He'd barely even fought her after all and other than a few glancing blows and swipes he hadn't even been injured.

But he knew that wasn't what Keith was asking.

And it was so much more. Haggar had taunted him, both with her words and Lance's screams. She'd mocked him and made him feel as helpless as he could recall feeling strapped down to that table, her whispers in his ear and his own screams echoing.

Being forced to listen to Lance's torture, to be unable to help, to fight back... that had been worse than any physical wound she could have inflicted and Haggar knew it too.

"Not really," he eventually sighed, unable to lie to that piercing gaze and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Not anymore. "But let's not worry about me right now, okay? Later," he said, almost feeling the protest. "Right now you, Lance, and getting us all somewhere safe are my priorities."

And now to figure out how to treat Keith. What he needed was a pod but those weren't available. Shiro ordered Keith to remain still and walked over to the medicine cabinet, scanning labels that Coran had been kind enough to re-label in English.

One item was a burn salve. It wasn't enough, nothing was going to be enough, but it was going to have to do for now.

Shiro returned, already regretting the next part. "I'm going to wipe down your back, okay? And then I have some salve to put on until... well, until a pod opens up."

Keith grit his teeth. "Just do it."

Shiro gently wet one of the clean clothes with cool water from the infirmary sink and brushed it against Keith's back.

The boy jerked, nearly upending himself off the table.

"Sorry, sorry," Shiro apologized even though he knew Keith didn't want to hear it.

Once he'd wiped down the worst of it, some of the burns blistering and bleeding now, he went for the salve. It tingled against his fingers as he dipped his hand into the jar and he carefully wiped them against one of the lesser burns on Keith's shoulder.

Keith shivered.

Shiro put most of it onto a cloth and went to do the rest. As soon as he touched down though on the largest, darkest, burn, Keith jerked again, a strangled moan pulled from him.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice tight and clogged with tears.

Shiro didn't say anything except to apologize again.

"There, all done," he said far, far too many minutes later. "I'm gonna help you sit up, all right? I need to bandage it."

Keith gave a small nod and Shiro very carefully helped him to sit, pulling on his arms and doing his best to avoid the laser burn there. Keith's front was much better off, peppered only with a couple bruises and another laser burn on his stomach.

Bandaging took but a few minutes even with Shiro applying them liberally as he wanted Keith's back very well padded, and wrapped a few about the smaller laser hits for good measure.

Leaving Keith sitting on the table, he hurried to get the Altean equivalent of aspirin (which was a seed from a Glornack tree) and a glass of fresh water. Keith tossed them back and then...

He made to hop off the table.

Only quick reflexes on Shiro's end halted that and he pushed Keith back fully onto the table, legs dangling over the edge.

"Uh uh, where do you think you're going?"

"To help," Keith said, not shirking in the slightest. "To see Lance." To make sure the other boy wasn't... wasn't...

Shiro shook his head. "You need rest. You were completely unconscious, Keith. You're exhausted. You need sleep. And healing. Your back is a mess and if we had the cryo-pods available you'd be in one right now."

As if to emphasize the castle's current lack of power the already low lights flickered around them before returning.

"There is no way I'm sleeping right now or staying here," Keith said once everything was settled. "You can't honestly believe that, Shiro."

Shiro sighed, running a blood-stained hand through his hair and unknowingly placing streaks of red in the white. "I know."

"Then why would you even suggest it?"

"I can't be worrying about you and Lance," Shiro said, the words coming out harsher than meant them to and he sighed again. He just wanted Keith to rest. To heal.

"I'm fine."

"You were unconscious for over twenty minutes. You do not get to decide if you're 'fine' or not," Shiro said, "I do. And I say you need to be resting."

"You can't make me." Keith went to cross his arms, winced as the movement pulled against his back, and instead settled for clenching his hands into fists.

Shiro let out another heavy sigh. Keith winced, guilt filling his face. He hadn't... hadn't meant to hurt Shiro, he just... he couldn't just stay here, doing nothing, while Lance was...

"Let's make a deal then," Shiro said quietly. For as much as he wanted Keith to sleep for the next week undisturbed, he also knew if he were in Keith's shoes he would absolutely rebel against the idea. That, and despite the circumstances, Shiro felt the rush of pride and familiar warmth it brought at how determined Keith was to see Lance. It was a far cry from where the two had been a week ago and the relief such clear concern brought was a balm.

"You are in no condition to be moving about," Shiro continued, "and don't argue. I'll help you to the main lounge where you will wait for me while I check in with Allura and Coran and then report back. Fair?"

"...fair," Keith responded quietly.

Shiro gave him a soft smile. "Good. Let's get going then."

Shiro hovered as Keith pushed himself off the table and it was a good thing as upon standing Keith very nearly toppled right back over. He said nothing though, just took one of Keith's arms and carefully brought it around his waist, his shoulder too high to stretch Keith's injured back up to, and then secured his own arm very, very gently across Keith's lower back where the burns were less.

And moving both quicker and slower than either would like, they headed for main room.

xxx

"Pidge!" Allura exclaimed as the girl joined her on the bridge. "You are hurt!"

Pidge glanced down at herself, eyes widening as she took in the state of her armor. Blood was splattered against her chest plate and in spots down her arms. Her leg braces had fared the same, messy streaks from ankle to knee.

"That's not mine," Pidge said, voice rising in pitch with each word as Allura hurried towards her. "That's not mine. It's... it's..." Oh God...

"Lance's," Allura finished for her, gait slowing now that she knew Pidge wasn't in immediate danger. Her jewel eyes though still traced over Pidge, scanning for any wounds that did belong to her as the littlest Paladin seemed rooted to the spot. They softened as Pidge struggled to unclasp her armor, hands shaking and eyes still wide in horror.

"Here, allow me," the princess said, easily locating the latch and pulling the entire chest piece off over Pidge's head. Pidge hurried to unclasp her leg plates and shrug off her gloves, which felt wet to the touch and fell to the ground with a little plop.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Pidge repeated, even as she yanked off the arm guards and they joined the growing pile of bloody armor. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Pidge—"

Honey eyes, frightened but still calculating underneath the fear, fixed on Allura as she interrupted her. "Shouldn't we be wormholing right now?"

She desperately needed to focus on anything other than the blood and who it came from.

"In just a dobash; we are waiting for the system to finish charging." As Allura spoke the lights all around them shut off and back-up emergency kicked on, bathing them in a cool blue light. "And that should do it."

Allura moved back to the console, pulling up the coordinates that the tracker had collected. If all went well – and quite frankly she thought they deserved at this point for something to go right – they would wormhole jump to the third quadrant of the system, traverse it to the second, and then wormhole jump again to a safe location she had picked out for them to recharge and heal.

And to Allura's great relief, the first jump was met without issue and there appeared to be no signs of any other vessel jumping with them and Pidge quietly reported all readings for the ship remained steady. She slumped against the console as the castle straightened itself from the hole, deciding she could afford a dobash to retake control of herself before she piloted through the quadrant, which was still rife with debris.

Her legs were still shaking from her encounter with Zarkon. She had honestly thought that was the end for her. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the sudden tears that had cropped up at the memory. She had prepared for the worst back when she had been caught on the infiltration mission with Shiro, but at that time Zarkon had wanted her alive.

Now he seemed to want her dead.

If Blue had not come back online at that moment, roused to life from sheer love and such a thought warmed Allura despite the horror of the moment, she would not be standing here.

"Allura?"

And it spoke to how distraught she was that the Altean jumped nearly a foot in surprise at the sound of Pidge's soft voice and it showed how upset the human girl was too as she didn't even raise an eyebrow or make a comment about the reaction.

"Are you okay?" Pidge asked bluntly.

"I – yes, of course," Allura replied, wiping at her eyes. "Perfectly peachy."

By the look Pidge gave her, made even more intense without the cover of glasses, she did not do a very good job of lying.

"It has been a very long quintant," Allura acqueised quietly. "I shall be better once I am certain everyone is safe."

Pidge toed the ground in her socks, looking somehow even smaller than normal without all of the armor. "About that… I'm sorry for disobeying you. For... for not leaving when you told me to. But I... I couldn't. I'm sorry. I know you were scared, but I..." Pidge's voice dropped to a whisper. "I was scared too. And I needed to help. I needed to do something."

"Oh Pidge," Allura sighed. "I should have never issued that order. I am sorry as well. I let my fears get the best of me. I have no doubt it is thanks to you and your courage that things ended as well as they could have."

Pidge felt her face darken at the praise. Her? Courage? She hadn't felt very brave then; she had been as scared as Allura by everything happening and then that fear had grown when she'd found Lance, cringing and screaming on the floor as the collar lit up around his n—

"You are hurt." Allura's voice cut through the memory that had grabbed hold of her. And then her face was gently being lifted and a dark hand was inspecting the wound left by the exploding crystal.

"It's nothing," Pidge said, color coating her cheeks as Allura turned her face this way and that. It really wasn't. Just a small burn; nothing compared to what Lance was suffering.

"It is still something," Allura said. "And you are bruising too." A finger traced a mark blossoming on Pidge's forehead and Pidge vaguely recalled her head rattling around in her helmet following the explosion she and Greeen had been involved in. "I require your presence to observe the proximity alarms while I am engaged in piloting, but once we have reached the second jump you are to report to medical."

"Some ice will do the trick," Pidge said. "Really. I swear Allura, I'm all right."

"If you so insist."

"And you?"

"Me?"

"You're shaking." The words were delivered bluntly but there was fear, worry behind them.

Allura looked down and glared at her legs, which were still trembling slightly, and unable to hide behind flowing skirts thanks to her battle outfit.

"Oh, that." She waved a hand, trying to dismiss it, to dismiss the memory that had caused it.

Farewell, Princess.

"Just a side effect from piloting the Blue Lion," Allura fumbled an excuse, not yet willing to share the lingering horror that had settled in her stomach. "It has been a long time since I piloted any craft since the castle and..." she trailed off as Pidge fixed her with a look that said she very much did not believe Allura's reason.

Allura let out a soft sight and tried to muster up a smile. "I shall explain later. But I assure you, I am all right."

"If you so insist." But Pidge offered up a small smile to take the sting from the words and moved to her station.

Allura made her own way back to the console to pilot the castle to safety. Her hands clenched on the controls and she moved as quickly as she could through the quadrant. Because only then, when they were somewhere safe, would she be able to check in on her team. Her family.

"Faster," she murmured under her breath. And as if hearing her plea the castle sped to attention, planet pieces and space rocks racing past the windows.

And they flew.

Author's Notes:

Well this was fun to write! I always enjoy popping around to all of the characters and getting to hit everyone in one chapter (minus Lance, but he got nearly all of last chapter) was quite the indulgence. I hope you enjoyed the check-in as well!

A big thanks to everyone who popped by the Q&A! I had a lot of fun and I hope y'all did too! You can still view the document (link on profile) if you'd like to see our discussion. Quite a bit more writing questions than I thought there would be (I was honestly anticipating going "spoiler!" and not answering a bunch :p). If you missed it or would like to attend another one, let me know if you have that interest and I am more than happy to set one up (different time too for those in very opposite timezones).

I won't ramble too much today. Just as always a huge thank you to the amazing reviewers. Seriously, you guys were awesome last chapter and I have never felt more loved (I really needed that too because the return to my HP fanfic was less than lukewarm XD). So yeah. You guys are awesome. I still don't what what I did to deserve all of you and your beautiful, encouraging comments. I have apparently accidentally written over said lovely reviewers with an edit and I'm much too tired to go back and grab y'all again, but thank you from the bottom of my heart!

If you enjoyed the chapter I'd love to hear your thoughts. Favorite scene (we did jump around quite a bit!), quote/line (I personally just loved Shiro being all flabbergasted that everyone fought Haggar :p), question, concern, favorite part about autumn (cooler weather and the beautiful *colors*; fitting for this fic, eh?), etc. Thank you all so much!