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As Color Fades Away
Chapter Fifty-Three
Fortunately, despite several varga of the castle ship being left completely unmanned, there was no cause for alarm. Nothing had registered on the castle's radar as coming within the ten pylon range Pidge had set and all systems were functioning as normal.
Coran still completed a full diagnostic scan of the cameras for any movement that had been detected, but the only signatures had come from Allura's quarters and the kitchens – identified as the mice – and then the mice again as they went to the lounge.
Upon the last final check, both males had given each other relieved glances, and then returned to the lounge where they'd found Hunk, Lance and Allura all sound asleep and Keith and Pidge chowing down on bowls of re-heated chili and with a side of the breakfast muffins next to Lance's couch.
"We're good," Shiro said in way of greeting, although given how both younger Paladins hadn't looked any type of worried he figured they'd already guessed that by his slow walk. "What've you guys got here?"
"Plenty," Pidge smiled at them as she swallowed a bite. "Since we all missed lunch. Help yourselves."
Both men fixed themselves a plate and settled down on the floor opposite the other two as all of the couches and ottomans had been commandeered.
"Is Number Two all right?" Coran asked, shooting a look at the softly snoring Yellow Paladin.
"He said he didn't sleep well last night," Keith said.
Pidge nodded. "Said the same to me this morning. Lance woke up with a nightmare and I'm not sure he honestly slept much again after that."
"We'll be quiet then so he can catch up," Shiro said, lowering his voice. "The only thing on the agenda today is to rest up and…" he frowned.
"And?" Keith prompted.
"We need to prepare for Haggar," Shiro said bluntly. "The barrier didn't work and as we are right now it's not safe for Allura to try again."
Coran nodded. "I agree. We were lucky that the quintessence exhaustion is all that happened; given that we were transported to Lance's mindscape it was a severe wound dealt to him at the start. Remaining in that stasis though allowed both his and the Princess' body to recuperate some of what was lost. They will still need plenty of rest but that looks to be the worst of it." He cast his gaze to the three Paladins then. "Are any of you feeling any ill effects from earlier?"
"No," Pidge answered for all of them. "You?"
"Fortunately not," Coran said. "I know we must prepare, Number One, but we must also allow our bodies to rest. Even though we are not showing symptoms I have no doubts that such an… excursion did indeed deplete our own quintessence levels to some degree."
Shiro inclined his head. "I understand. Nothing strenuous."
"I'm going to go take that shower then," Keith said, clambering to his feet and earning a grateful "thank you," from Pidge. "I'll come back here after for… for whatever." Keith wasn't really sure what he could contribute to preparations for Haggar and he hated the useless feeling that clawed up, just like it had when they were first waiting for word from the Galrans.
He'd fight when the time came, but until then? He couldn't do anything. He absolutely hated it.
Before he could dwell on that anymore he took his leave figuring that if he was going to be useless he could at least do so and not smell like a locker room.
Back in the lounge Pidge turned to Shiro and Coran. "I was thinking then, maybe we could all go over some of the rear shields? I had an idea about configuring some of the panels with the castle's power grid to enforce them. I'll need Hunk later, but thought we could take a stab at it in the meantime."
"I will have to decline," Coran said, looking apologetic. "I had planned actually to begin preparations for Lance's therapy this morning, but I will of course be on stand-by should you need to run anything past."
"That's a good plan," Shiro nodded. "And Pidge, I'll offer what input I can. I'm not much of an engineer."
"But you're good on tactics," she retorted. "Besides, I need someone big to move the crystals around."
Shiro let out a laugh and shook his head as she had the audacity to wink at him. "Fine, fine. How about both of you go grab whatever you need and Pidge, I'll meet you in the generator room? Coran, I'll hang out here until you get back."
"Excellent," Coran said, straightening up. "I'll be back in a couple of jiffies."
"My tablet's in the kitchen still," Pidge said. "I'll clean up from breakfast and lunch," she was already messily stacking plates and bowls into a pile, "and meet you there in… thirty dobashes?"
"Want to add getting dressed to that line up too?" Shiro teased and Pidge looked down, pajama bottoms and sleep shirt greeting her.
"Point," she sighed.
"And Pidge?" Shiro's voice grew more serious. "Keep your bayard on you too, okay? Just… just in case."
Her lips thinned and she suddenly looked much older than a girl clad in pajamas should. "Should I grab my armor too?" Both it and the bayard were in the changing room right before she took the lift down to Green's hangar.
"Maybe bring it back to your quarters," Shiro suggested. "Since all the Lions are still in the hall. But I don't think we need to wear it around the castle." He'd feel safer, certainly, if everyone was armored up but the tension it would raise was not worth it. Besides, they would have more than enough warning with the shields and perimeter alarms if something did happen.
"Okay," she said quietly. "See you in about thirty."
Shiro let out a sigh when she had left, burying his face in his hands. He knew they were fighting a war and certain things were inevitable, but this last week had stripped so much of the innocence these children had been able to still hang on to. And now he was insisting Pidge carry a weapon on her person in the safety of the castle. He hated that it had come to this.
That reminded him though. He still had Lance's bayard down in his own room, settled on his dresser. He needed to return it but at the same time he was hesitant to do so. He knew right now Lance couldn't use it, not the way he would want to. But it was his and perhaps having it back in his possession would give him the physical reminder that he was indeed their Blue Paladin, injured hand or not.
Shiro nodded. Yes. Next time he returned to his room he would retrieve it and give it to Lance. He still needed to talk with Coran and Allura about armor replacements seeing as they had left Lance's behind on the Galra ship. Coran was quite the expert at repairing it when it was damaged so hopefully the creation of it would be right up his alley as well.
Unable to sit still any longer, Shiro got up to do a round about the room. He stopped at Lance's couch first, face softening as he took in Lance's peaceful looking one. He tucked the blanket a little more snugly about him, careful to avoid the arm on top of the coverings with the vein valve attached. The fluid bag was over halfway gone and he wondered if Coran would want to give Lance a second.
He smoothed his hands over the blanket, reassuring himself that Lance was well and truly asleep and as comfortable as could be, before he went over to Hunk. The larger boy's face was slack and free of worry, broken up only by his snores. Shiro re-tucked Hunk's blanket as well and gingerly eased off his shoes, placing them right next to the couch.
Allura was the last sleeping occupant, her face drawn even in unconsciousness and the mice, curled up as they were, were mimicking her.
"Hey guys," Shiro greeted softly as Chuchule cracked open an eye at his approach. She let out a soft, sad squeak, looking distressed.
"What's wrong?" Shiro murmured, carefully reaching out a finger and running it down the furred back.
Plachu opened his eyes and gnashed his teeth at Shiro. Shiro raised an eyebrow. The blue mouse let out what could only be described as disappointment that that wasn't enough and he reached over, grabbed Platt's little paw and mimed putting it in his mouth.
"Oh," Shiro nodded, understanding dawning. "You bit Lance. To wake him up."
Chuchule let out another sad chirrup and Shiro resumed his petting. "It's never a good feeling to hurt someone you care about," he said softly, and something must have sounded in his voice because a second later all of the mice were clustered about his hand and nuzzling their own cheeks against his fingers.
The action made tears spring to his eyes and he hurriedly blinked them back. "We did what we had to though," he continued, trying to speak past the lump in his throat. "To help Lance. That's what is important, all right?" All four furry heads nodded in tandem. "Good." He coughed. "Now get some rest so you give the princess good dreams, huh?"
The mice squeaked and curled back up on the pillow, Chuchule giving Shiro's hand one last nuzzle, and as their faces smoothed out so did Allura's and Shiro smiled softly. He readjusted the blanket over Allura and then went back to the open ottoman still perched in front of Lance.
Not even ten minutes later Coran returned, a large box in his arms.
"What is all that?" Shiro asked as Coran set it down on the coffee table.
"Some bits and bobs," Coran said lightly. He rummaged and pulled out a small orange jar and uncapped it. An almost wistful smile filled his face as the scent wafted up before he held it out to Shiro.
The Black Paladin took a tentative sniff. Cherries, he thought. Maybe almond too? "What is it?" he asked as Coran recapped the jar.
"Novora paste," Coran said, "made from a mixture of novora tree bark and sap and some other little things. It helps with muscle pain and stiffness. I'm hoping it might help relax Lance somewhat as this is no doubt going to be somewhat painful once we are able to begin when Lance awakens."
"How long are they going to be asleep?" Shiro asked.
"Hard to say," Coran sighed. "I wish I had more knowledge on matters such as these, but I know only the bare bones."
Shiro gave Coran's shoulder a squeeze. "We're lucky we have you to know even that much. I honestly don't know what we'd do without you, Coran."
Coran's moustache turned up with pleasure and some of the heaviness from his shoulders seemed to lift. "Thank you, lad. Still, I wish I did know a more accurate answer. I am hard pressed to say who even took the brunt of the quintessence shock as the princess was conducting it but Lance was the recipient. However, I may be able to provide a little more insight than speculation."
He pulled a familiar looking scanner out of the box and clicked it on. A pass over Lance's body had Coran nodding and Shiro watched curiously as Coran did the same to Allura and then to Hunk.
"Hm," he mumbled, flipping through data screens. "Interesting."
"Interesting how?" Shiro asked, peering at the device and seeing only Altean script.
"I'm not sure what to make of this," Coran said. He flipped rapidly through to one screen. "Here is Number Two's data; see the steady line? This device cannot measure quintessence per se but it can detect anomalies within the body. Number Two's systems are all functioning as normal."
He brought the scanner to another data projection. "This is Princess Allura's," and unlike Hunk's she did not have a single steady line. She had several of various levels all over the screen with one larger one in the middle. "I have never seen anything like it," Coran admitted, "but if I had to take a guess I would say her body currently has the other quintessences from the connection flowing through it."
"Really?" Shiro peered closer but all he saw were the lines.
"Mhm. And if you look at Lance's…" A new screen popped up showing a single line but lower down on the chart. "He has a single level but his system is functioning at low levels, and I can only imagine it previously dropped to the bare minimum, hence our venture into the mindscape. I think that while the princess is suffering from quintessence overload, Lance has the opposite with quintessence exhaustion."
"How can we fix it? Just rest?" Shiro asked.
"Mainly, yes," Coran said. "For Lance though his body burned through what little energy he had stored. If you don't mind holding another few dobashes I'll run and grab some nutrient pouches for Lance. Those should help speed up his recovery."
"Of course," Shiro said. Pidge he knew wouldn't mind waiting a little longer.
Coran was back relatively quickly and attached one of the nutrient packs to Lance's valve along with a secondary fluid pack as the first was near drained. "I'll keep an eye on their levels," Coran said, fussing with the blanket. "I imagine the princess should awaken within the next varga or so and hopefully Lance will be up and moving by dinner."
"I'll go join Pidge then," Shiro said. "Everyone's in more than capable hands here." He gave Coran one last smile and hurried to the engine room.
Coran was just settling in, unpacking his box of supplies, when Keith wandered back, hair still damp and now in his regular Earth clothes. He looked a little lost and unsure and well that just would not do. Coran had seen the efforts the most reclusive member of their team had been making and it warmed his heart. He wouldn't let any sort of doubt creep in now.
"Over here, my boy," he called, patting the ottoman next to him and after a pause Keith joined him. "You are looking, and smelling, refreshed," Coran smiled, relieved when it drew a small match on the boy's face.
"I guess I feel a little better," Keith said. His eyes lighted upon the items spread out on the table. "What are all of these for?"
"Hopefully some basic therapy exercises," Coran said, "once Lance wakes up."
At the mention of the Blue Paladin Keith turned to look at the sleeping subject and then at the rest of the room's occupants. "How much longer are they going to be asleep?"
Coran chuckled. "Number One asked the same thing. You two are quite alike." Keith flinched ever so slightly at the comment and Coran's eyes widened in alarm. He had seen the close bond the Red and Black Paladins shared and had never observed any discontentment between the two. What had caused such a negative reaction?
"What is it?" he asked, lowering his tone.
"It's nothing," Keith said quickly. "Don't worry about it."
"It is my job to worry," Coran tried once more with a blip of humor but Keith's face remained flat. "Has something happened between you and Number One?"
"What? No!" Keith protested. "It's… it's not that."
"Something is bothering you, Keith," Coran said, the name rolling interestingly off his tongue and he realized he was not certain if he had ever said it before. "Please, allow me to assist."
Keith cast his gaze back to Lance and Coran saw him take a deep inhale. He waited patiently.
"She said the same thing," Keith finally said. "Haggar. She said Shiro and I were alike."
Coran only tilted his head, knowing there was more coming.
"She said," Keith continued quietly, turning bright purple eyes to meet Coran's, "that me and Shiro made Lance feel… insignificant." He swallowed thickly. "Is that true, you think? Did I… I make Lance think that?"
"Oh, lad," Coran said, carefully laying a hand over Keith's knee. "No. Please, do not think anymore on those witch's words."
"I put him down so much though," Keith said, averting his eyes back to Lance's slumbering form. "This… this rivalry he made up, I thought it was one big joke. I treated it like that. But Lance didn't. He was doing it to be friendly and I just… I saw it as a stupid competition. And every time I beat him at something – beat him at everything," he amended, face lined with pain, "I thought he'd knock it off and stop trying. Thought maybe he'd grow up."
"Keith," Coran murmured.
But Keith wasn't done, the words spilling out now. "I never thought about how it would feel to constantly be knocked down like that and never… never offered a hand back up. I should have though. I should have."
Coran shifted his hand to wrap about Keith's shoulders and the boy leaned into the touch even as he remained rigid.
"I should have," Keith repeated. "I know what it's like to… to think you're not worth anything. And if I made Lance think that then I...I'm a horrible person," Keith all but whispered.
"No," Coran said firmly. "No. Keith, look at me." The small boy did so and Coran was unsurprised to find tears lining his eyes. "You are not a horrible person," Coran stated. "You are the farthest thing from it, my boy."
"But I–"
"You are not. You are a very, very talented young man, Keith. And," Coran sighed, "we have all recently come to see how Lance views himself. It is through no fault of your own that Lance came to judge his own merit based off of not just your talents but the rest of the team's. It is… a miscommunication, really."
"A really bad one," Keith muttered.
"But nothing that cannot be fixed," Coran said gently. "Why, the fact you are here even saying such things shows me how much you wish to make things better with Lance."
"What if I can't though?" Keith whispered. "Pidge and Shiro, they tell me to give it time. To… to be myself. Like that'll fix it."
"I think they are absolutely right." Coran gave Keith's shoulder a squeeze. "You need only speak with Lance. I can tell you with certainty that he will listen and he will understand."
Keith nodded and the broken expression gave way to a resolute one. "So…" he asked, "when will he wake up?"
Coran chuckled at that. "I am not sure. Hopefully before dinner. He is most certainly suffering quintessence exhaustion and rest is the only true remedy for it."
"Dinner?" came a panicked, sleep-slurred voice. "Is it dinner already? How long have I—?"
"Calm down, big guy," Keith snickered as Hunk bolted to sitting, hair sticking out in every direction. "It's only been like an hour."
"What? Really?" Hunk heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Still time to make something edible then." His honey eyes turned then towards Lance and his voice lowered. "How's he doing?"
"Recovering steadily," Coran replied. "And yourself, Number Two?"
Hunk yawned loudly and stretched his arms up, back cracking. "'m good. Nap definitely helped." He turned his eyes to Keith then. "Thanks for the help, man."
Keith gave a small shrug. "It was nothing."
"Now don't say that," Hunk said, throwing his feet over the couch and upon realizing his shoes were off retrieved them from the floor and shoved his feet into them. "I mean it and Lance does too."
Hunk looked to Coran then. "Say, Coran, how do you think Lance's stomach would be for something a little heavier?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Hopefully something resembling potato stew," Hunk grinned, tying the last lace. "Not too watery but should still go down easy and packed full of other good stuff." His smile dimmed some as he looked at Lance, thin arm appearing even more so in the over-large hoodie. "He needs it."
"I think it would be worth trying," Coran said. "And I do have more gamibolap if this stew disagrees."
"Awesome." Hunk draped an arm about Keith's shoulders then. "Keith, you're with me."
"I am?"
"You like cooking, yeah?" and Keith gave a small nod. "Then come on. We're going to need a lot of those green potato things and they do not peel easy."
Neither Coran nor Hunk missed the way Keith's entire posture seemed to soften at the inclusion and Hunk gave Coran a wink over the dark head. He steered Keith from the room, going on about the potatoes and trying to recall aloud if they had anything possibly carrot-like in their stores.
Coran was left alone with two sleeping and equally dear to him individuals. He picked up his scanner again and beamed at the results. Allura's strange fluctuations had nearly settled back into a single line and Lance's had risen significantly. Most excellent of news.
He settled in on Hunk's vacated couch, a book in hand about Altean body composition to read in the interim until they awoke. The book would not be quite accurate, but given the similarities between Altean's structure and the humans it would be his best resource for now.
Not even a half hour in he heard a series of chitters and squeaks and he looked over the edge of the book to see Allura slightly stirring and the mice bouncing eagerly atop a pillow.
Closing it with a quiet snap he made his way over just as Allura's eyes were peeling themselves open. "Coran?" she mumbled, pressing a hand to her temple and wincing.
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently as she slowly sat up.
"I have a terrible headache," she said, closing her eyes against even the still dimmed lounge. "What happened?"
"A quintessence overload," Coran said. "Do you recall? You were attempting to—"
"Lance!" she cut him off, eyes flying wide. "Is Lance all right?"
"He is fine, Princess," Coran soothed. "Resting just across from you."
She frowned. "He has not yet awoken?"
"He suffered a rather severe quintessence depletion," Coran said. "But he will be all right. Given my last scan I would advise he should awaken within the varga."
Allura took one of Coran's hands in her own. "Thank you for looking out for us, Coran." The mice, ignored still, squeaked indignantly and Allura turned her bright gaze to them. "And thank you, my dear friends, for your assistance. You truly saved the day." They chirruped happily and rushed to nestle into Allura's loose hair.
"Is there anything pressing at the moment, Coran?" Allura asked.
"Not at all, Princess. The defenses are up and no abnormalities from earlier. Numbers Two and Four are preparing dinner and Numbers One and Five are seeing to some shield modifications."
She nodded. "In that case I may retire for a quick shower to see if I can ease this headache away."
"Here," Coran said, digging into his jacket pocket and handing over a Glornack seed. He had taken to just carrying them on his person for now. "Take this with a full glass of water."
Allura beamed at him. "Thank you."
"Take your time, Princess," Coran advised. "Dinner I imagine will be in about two hours."
"I shall see you there then," she said, despite her head pain elegantly rising to her feet. "Truly, thank you Coran. And," her eyes lowered. "I am sorry I was unable to create the connection."
"There is nothing to apologize for, Allura," he said kindly. "We will find another way."
She did not look entirely convinced but inclined her head. "We will," she finally said. "In the meantime though I shall try channeling on my own to improve myself."
"Not tonight," Coran cautioned. "Your body is still recovering from earlier, Princess. Please, take it easy."
"A long bath then," she acquiesced and all of the mice save Platt, who looked rather distressed at the mention of the word, squeaked in joy. "Yes," she said to them as they projected their thoughts to her, "I will get the floating soap bars for you. And Platt, none of that. You have not had a bath in over a week."
Coran smiled fondly as Allura headed towards her chambers, still speaking to the mice. He had found the connection between the little creatures and his princess a bit alarming at first, but they were all a good sort and he knew they brought comfort to Allura. And he would do anything to always make sure a smile was on Alfor's daughter's face.
He retrieved his scanner and brought it up over Lance once more, relieved when the levels were closer to what Hunk's had been earlier.
Coran had barely gotten back to his research when a muffled groan sounded from Lance's couch and he was over there lickity-split, removing the vein valve without even a pause from the nearly empty bags. Lance didn't even seem to take notice of the action as he turned his face more into the back of the couch.
"Headache, lad?" Coran asked gently and Lance startled slightly.
A muffled sounding "Coran?" was asked into the couch and Coran chuckled lightly. "That is indeed my name. Are the lights still too bright? I can dim them some more."
Lance rolled his face free of the upholstery then, eyes squinted. "Coran?" he repeated. "What… what happened?"
Because he had this crazy, crazy dream where they all ended up in his mindscape and he told them all about… about it and they had understood and hugged him and then he had smiled of all things and there was just no way all of that was true.
"I think you know, Lance," Coran smiled. His hand squeezed Lance's left still atop the blanket and that was all it took for Lance to feel his eyes sting with tears.
It had been real. It really had. He felt his lips curl up then into a small smile that felt right and that solidified the truth.
"I'm so proud of you," Coran murmured. "And it is truly a delight to see you smile again."
Lance felt it grow wider even as a tear tracked down his face. He struggled to sit up, having to burrow out of blankets and Coran relinquished his hold on his hand. But Lance didn't let it remain that way for long. "Coran?" he whispered, licking suddenly dry lips, because he had asked so much of Coran already but he wanted it, needed, it. "Can—?"
"Of course, lad," and without any further prompting a pair of strong arms wrapped snugly about Lance's back and pulled him in close. Lance sniffled, lifting his own to loosely press against Coran's back.
A hand rubbed circles on his back and Lance burrowed his face fully into Coran's shoulder, breathing in the unique scent that made up the advisor – something both spicy and sweet and possibly almond.
"Everyone," he asked, voice distorted in Coran's jacket, "everyone really…?"
"Mhm. We all love you, dear child. And it is my dearest wish that you come to love yourself as we all do."
"You sound like Blue." He blurted it out without thinking but Coran just laughed lightly.
"I take that as a high compliment. The Blue Lion has shown to have impeccable taste and a wisdom and insight that not many can rival."
"Thank you, Coran," Lance said softly, pulling back from the embrace so he could meet Coran's jewel-toned eyes. "Muchas gracias. For… for everything." It wasn't enough, nothing ever would be, but it was what he could offer right now and he felt that delightful warmth fill him at the words and the memories behind them.
Coran gave him the fondest of smiles and Lance found himself returning it, relief and joy shining in the action.
"How is your head?" Coran asked, moving back to his original query. "The princess had a rather steady headache upon waking herself."
"It hurts a little," Lance said, but he kept his hands at his sides. He may have made some apparent leaps and bounds just this morning, but anything coming in range of his face and forehead, even his own hands, sent prickles down his spine. And really, the headache wasn't that bad. Nothing like what it had been after he'd fainted trying to get out Allura's bed on his own.
"I have a Glornack seed," but Lance was already shaking his head. Not yet.
"Do you wish to lie back down?" Coran asked. "Perhaps close your eyes for a little longer?"
But Lance didn't want to go back to sleep. He was awake now and feeling… energized wasn't the right word, but something close to it. He wanted to do something. Make sure that the progress wasn't some fleeting thing.
"I have a suggestion," Coran said, seeing the spark enter Lance's eyes. "You may of course say no if you are not feeling up to it, but I do think it would be good to try."
"What is it?" Lance asked, stomach knotting in anticipation. Or hunger. Or both. Dios, he could not wait until dinner.
"I have here," Coran said, gesturing to the coffee table across from him, "some items that might help your hand."
Lance stiffened and without meaning to he glanced at his right hand, which had come to rest in its now familiar spot against his stomach and just below the hoodie pocket. The fingers were limp although if he really tried he could make his index finger twitch ever so. But otherwise they did nothing except tremble.
"I believe the sooner we can start on this the better," Coran said quietly, "but we will go at whatever pace is most comfortable for you."
"What… what if it doesn't work?" Lance asked, pressing his left fingers against the back of his right.
"We will not know until we try. And," Coran met Lance's eyes, "we must give it time, lad. Time and patience and hard work."
"Okay," Lance breathed. He'd promised Hunk he would try before he considered other options. And he had wanted to prove to himself that he was getting better. This would be a good test.
"I don't want to do anything strenuous to start," Coran said. "I thought we might begin with a hand and arm massage to reinvigorate your muscles there, and depending on how that goes some possible light finger exercises. Does that sound all right?"
Lance felt a faint "yes" issue from him and Coran sent him a reassuring smile. "We can stop at anytime. For now, come, let's sit at the table."
The table was too low to sit comfortably on the couches from so Coran dragged two cushions free and set them up next across from another. Lance tentatively took a seat and Coran sat opposite him. He placed his shaking right hand on the table and Coran nodding approvingly.
"I will need to remove the bandages," Coran said gently.
Lance inclined his head, trying to hold back the shudder.
Coran's hands were feather light, hiding the strength Lance knew was behind them, as he pulled the edge of the wrap free and unwound its length from Lance's hand. Revealed beneath it was more mocha skin but also a white and pink colored starburst that had Lance's stomach clenching.
He could almost feel the knife sinking in, hear the crowd's screams above his own and Theodek's laughter.
"You're not there, Lance," Coran's voice cut through the haze and chants of 'Kri Za Kri! Kri Za Kri!' "Listen to my voice. You're here, in the castle. You're safe."
Lance followed the accented tones, shuddering as he came back to himself and the lounge came back into focus. Coran had placed his own hand over Lance's, hiding the mark from sight. "Are you with me, Lance?"
"I'm here," he whispered, barely cutting off the apology before it could escape. He knew Coran did not want him to apologize for that.
Coran squeezed his hand carefully removed his hand, the mark once more laid bare. Lance's breath caught as he looked at it, really looked at it, but he remained firmly seated in the castle this time.
"All right?" Coran asked and Lance managed the barest of nods. "It would be best if I could remove the bandage on your arm as well, but we can go without if you would prefer."
Lance's entire hand spasmed at the thought of the burn scar that marred his entire inner forearm.
Coran nodded, decision made. "We shall leave it—"
"No," Lance gasped, even as he screwed his eyes shut like a child. "N-no. I can do this. I…"
"Lance," Coran's hands settled back over his own. "You do not need to prove anything to me or to anyone here, dear boy. When you are ready—"
"I need to do this," Lance interrupted. "I… Coran, I can't… I can't keep being scared." A sob seemed to choke him then. "I want it to stop. And if… if…"
"How did you sustain this wound?" Coran questioned instead and Lance brought tear-lined eyes up.
"What?"
"Let us talk about it first," Coran said. "And we shall determine then if you are ready to see it."
Lance trembled even as he knew what Coran was saying made sense. Talking about things had helped. Telling them about the drowning and his attempt to… to kill himself – and he felt himself shudder out a breath that he could admit it and move past it – had made it more bearable.
"Theodek gave it to me," he said after a moment and he vaguely wondered why he was still capable of saying the Galran's name when he could barely even think on Haggar's.
"And who is Theodek?" Coran asked gently.
And Lance realized in that moment he had never told them. He thought he might have stuttered the name out once or twice but he had never explained. "A Galran," he whispered. "A commander. He… he helped her hurt me." His eyes scrunched shut and his voice grew even quieter. "I killed his brother."
Coran hummed and gave Lance's hand a squeeze. "And how did he give you this wound?"
"He was mad," Lance found himself saying. "That I tried to… to kill myself. He was in charge then. He said if I'd died he would have been held responsible. So he wanted to make sure I… didn't do it again."
Coran waited patiently as Lance swallowed back his tears. He could do this. It wasn't even like the mindscape where he had to to make the wounds go away. This time he wanted to. He wanted to get it off his chest and hope when it was done he could breathe just a little easier.
"He ripped my arm open. I think. I couldn't see," Lance admitted. "I don't remember a lot of what he said then. It… hurt a lot. And I think I started blacking out. But then he…" And this time Lance couldn't help it as his shoulders shook and Coran rubbed a soothing thumb over his hand.
"He burned me," Lance managed. "He cauterized what he'd done. He said… he said he saved my life. I just remember," a tear dripped down his cheek, "remember thinking I wish he'd ended it instead."
Coran left his seat across the table and came around to bundle Lance into his arms instead. "I know I am very glad he did not," Coran murmured, "but I hate that you had to suffer so."
Lance's left hand gripped the front of Coran's jacket as he felt hot tears slide down his cheeks. "I thought I was going to die," Lance whispered. "And I was okay with it. I thought… I thought if he did it then it wasn't so bad. And you'd all be s-safe."
"Oh, Lance," Coran's hug tightened. They remained in the embrace for several long minutes as Lance's sniffles slowly faded and Coran rocked him ever so gently.
"Pienso que…" Lance cleared his throat. "I think… I think I'm ready now."
"You are being very brave," Coran said tenderly.
"I don't feel like I am," Lance mumbled.
"That is when you know you are," Coran smiled. "Take it from someone who has lived a very long life in your Earth years. You are the definition of brave, Lance. You do all in your power to protect others and care and love with your entire self. There is nothing more brave than that."
And to Coran's relief Lance did not try to protest or disagree. Instead he hiccupped another sob and gave a tiny nod and Coran's heart swelled.
"Let's take this off then," he said. And at Lance's barely there "'kay'" Coran pushed the unresisting oversized sleeve up to Lance's elbow and slowly unwound the bandages that lay beneath.
This scar was not a pretty one, Coran would admit that. It was a mess of pink and brown puckered skin that stretched in about an inch-wide line from the boy's wrist to his elbow and Coran internally cursed that the pods had not been able to lessen this mark.
Coran brought his hand down atop the scar, feeling the ropy texture. He pressed his fingerpads against it. "Does this hurt?"
"No," Lance shook his head. "No pain."
His eyes were fixated on Coran's fingers as they traversed up and down his arm. It didn't hurt but it did feel… odd. His flesh was still sensitive and every little bump that Coran encountered on the scar made his breath hitch.
"Ready to try a massage?" Coran asked after another moment of making certain that the action truly did not cause any actual pain.
"Ready," he replied, even as his stomach clenched.
Coran returned to his side of the table and opened up a small orange jar, showing it to Lance. "It will help," Coran said simply. "I believe you will find the aroma pleasant as well." He dipped his fingers into the jar and removed them with a dark brown paste. He pressed the mixture against Lance's hand and Lance nearly jerked back at the tingling sensation. But it was not unpleasant and he watched as Coran set about smearing it all over his hand, rubbing it gently into the flesh although he did not quite feel it as strong as he knew he should.
Coran did the same to his arm all the way up to his elbow and Lance found himself slowly relaxing as Coran continued his ministrations. This wasn't bad at all. Coran's hands were warm and the paste did smell good and the actions didn't hurt.
"All right," Coran said after a few minutes. "I'm going to begin now. If you feel any actual pain please, tell me at once." And unlike earlier that morning Coran knew that he would most definitely be able to stop it.
Coran started as gently as he could, knuckles kneading from the base of Lance's wrist up the inner forearm, soothing out the tension that Lance still held. He pressed firmly but not too hard, repeating the motion again and again before switching to his thumbs and doing the same.
Lance did wince a few times when Coran pressed against his wrist, so he returned to that area and more gently soothed it before reapplying the pressure, making circles with this thumbs on both the underside and top of the wrist.
He turned his attention to Lance's hands next, starting with the palm and working his way out to each finger, tugging at them gently and keeping his touch light. It was easy to fall into the rhythm and Lance offered no complaint, his hand becoming more and more compliant in Coran's hold.
Coran gazed down at the dark skinned hand and he was so easily able to picture another; even more slender and with a silver band that its owner refused to take off. His hands ghosted over Lance's index finger, skipping over the small patch of skin as he had grown accustomed to doing.
He could recall the last time he had held her hand in his, a shaking trembling limb filled with sorrow and pain and regret. Her other had gripped his with the last of her frail strength, fading quickly while he could do nothing except murmur prayers and pleas.
It had not mattered, in the end. She had passed with one last gasp and his name on her lips.
He had not thought of her in so long and his grip tightened about Lance's hand to try and ground himself. Now was not the time.
It was never the time.
She would have liked Lance, he thought, trying to blink back traitorous tears and concentrate on the blurred hand in front of him. Perhaps their son would have even been someone like Lance. Coran liked to imagine so.
"Coran?" and it took Coran longer than it should have to trace the distressed sounding voice back to Lance. He realized then that he had stopped his movement and was merely holding Lance's hand tight within his own.
"What is it lad?" he managed, forcing a smile to his face and trying to blink back the rest of his tears.
"What's wrong?"
And although Coran had seen Lance's compassion so readily given, this was his first time being on the receiving end of those deep ocean eyes that seemed to want to peer right into his soul and make it better. It was rather breathtaking and Coran almost forgot for an instant as to why this was happening.
But then he collected himself and mustered up, "It's nothing, lad." This was not what Lance needed right now; an old grieving man who had not expected such a familiar routine to bring those emotions straight to the surface.
Lance's left hand, tucked in his lap, moved then to clutch onto Coran's that was still holding onto the boy's right. "What's wrong?" he repeated and Coran found he could not look away from that bright gaze nor find it in him to deny his own hurts again.
"I'm sorry," Coran apologized quietly, giving Lance's right hand a tender squeeze. "I became lost in a memory. Of my wife. Neleenia."
And oh, Alaaran, he had not said her name aloud in decafebes and it was just as beautiful and heart-wrenching now as it had been nearly one hundred years ago. Or, ten thousand and one hundred.
Lance's eyes widened and then seemed to fill with a sadness all their own. For he knew as well as Coran that the advisor and Allura were the only remaining Alteans left. Which meant that…
"She passed many, many years ago," Coran murmured. "Before… before the destruction of Altea."
"I'm so sorry," Lance whispered.
"She was always rather frail," Coran said. "And her hands were in constant pain from tremors. I did all I could to ease that for her." He rubbed his thumb over Lance's.
He sensed Lance's question and sighed. "The cryo-pods are amazing pieces of technology but they could not help her. Her pain was not from an injury but from a disease that despite all Altea had to offer could not find a cure."
"I'm so sorry," Lance repeated and he tightened his own grip as best he could. "Coran…"
"It is all right, dear boy," Coran sighed. "It was a long time ago."
"That doesn't mean you can't… can't be upset about it still. You loved her."
Coran managed a smile. "With all my heart. She was the love of my life. She still is."
He sighed again, not surprised when he felt the story spilling for his lips. Lance had that effect on people, he supposed, and those dark eyes were gazing at him with such shared heartbreak that Coran could not stop.
"We were returning from a mission to Mystirialdal, a planet known for its beautiful flower gardens. Alfor often allowed Neleenia to accompany me on ambassador missions and her sense of adventure knew no match," he smiled fondly. "Why, she would have gone to every corner of the galaxy and stopped upon every planet to explore it if she had her way. The amount of trinkets and souvenirs that filled our home… it would make Number Five's stash pale," he chuckled.
"Neleenia insisted she accompany me on this mission as she was… she was pregnant at the time and would not be up for traveling much later."
Lance's eyes widened. Pregnant? Coran… had Coran been a father?
"Upon our return trip she went into early labor," Coran said, eyes misting. "Four decofebes early. We had very few medical supplies aboard the ship and of course no doctor. And Neleenia… her body was so weak. We did what we could but… she passed before we could make it back to Altea."
"Oh, Coran," and Lance felt his eyes filling with tears as well.
"Our son," and Coran choked on the word, "did not make it either. Our son, he was so small… he never even awoke."
Coran's shoulders hitched and Lance had had enough. He shifted around the table, his right hand still ensconced in Coran's, but settled on the man's side and brought his left arm up wrap as tight as he could in a hug.
Coran brought their conjoined hands to his chest and Lance leaned further into the embrace, pressing his face against Coran's arm.
"You remind me of her," Coran said thickly. "I imagine… I imagine our son may have even looked quite a bit like you."
Coran freed one of his hands and dug underneath his shirt collar, removing a necklace with four rings on it; two silver and two gold. Lance picked his face up to watch as Coran fumbled with one hand to press a ring of each color together and they made a little click and glowed Altean teal when he was done.
"Here," he murmured, bringing the ring towards Lance.
Inside of the rings a picture had formed, likely some form of Altean technology. Lance traced over the two figures standing next to one another, feeling like he was looking at some fairy tale. Coran appeared slightly younger, his hair long and tied elegantly over his shoulder. His arms were wrapped about a dark-skinned Altean, her a few shades lighter than Allura's, ebony hair in smooth ringlets pulled back with a pink sash and a few loose tendrils framing her face highlighting the jade markings on her cheeks. They were dressed in Altean formal wear and a sweeping balcony stood behind them, stretching out to glimmering flower fields.
"She's beautiful," Lance whispered. And if he took away the Altean markings and imagined her face to be rounder she even resembled his middle sister, Maria.
"The most beautiful woman in all of Altea," Coran sniffed. "Not even the queen could hold a candle to her." He snapped the rings apart and the picture disappeared in a burst of light. "It is perhaps better this way," he said softly. "Had… had they lived I would have only lost them both in the Galra attack. At least this way… I was able to mourn her passing. I was able to find joy again in Alfor's daughter, who I love as though she were my own."
"I'm still sorry," Lance whispered, "that you had to lose them at all."
"Thank you, dear boy," Coran said tenderly. They remained in silence for a moment until Lance felt Coran take a deep breath and his voice leveled back to normal. "I think we should perhaps end today's session. How is your hand feeling?"
Coran released it from his grip and Lance took it to himself and straightened up. His hand was warm and smoother than normal, thanks to the balm. He tried to move his fingers and they only still twitched but the tremors had faded some and the pain in his wrist felt more like a good ache than a bad one.
"Better, I think," Lance said.
"We'll begin some exercises tomorrow," Coran smiled although it did not reach his eyes yet. "And I do promise to not go to pieces on you."
Lance shook his head. "I'm… always here to listen, Coran. I know… I know I could never replace him, but I…" Lance's left hand clutched Coran's jacket. "I… love you. And I know I—"
"I love you too," Coran murmured and this time he pulled Lance into a hug. "You are a son to me, Lance, if you would allow it to be so."
Lance nodded against Coran's chest. "Sí, y-yes," he choked out. "Yes."
"My son," Coran said tenderly and Lance didn't even stiffen at the address. There was nothing possessive about it, no intent to own or to hurt. It just was. "My son," Coran repeated and there were tears streaming down his face but this time of joy and he hugged Lance just a little tighter.
"My son," he whispered one last time. "Thank you."
xxx
Author's Notes:
All hail Coran, the gorgeous man, who is gorgeous through and through. This apparently turned into his chapter (and easily the longest one of this story holy quiznak, debated cutting it but nope, y'all get this monster) and I regret nothing. I actually have a couple of headcanons I like for Coran's family, but this one fit best given the circumstances both here and in canon because it is (to me) the only possible reason why we have not yet had *anything* showing Coran's grief from what happened to Altea because his biggest loss was before its fall. I also adore the relationship Coran and Lance have and really, really wanted to make that big. Also, anyone able to guess who Neleenia's design is based off of? Think Disney :p
As you can see/guess, the next few chapters are likely going to be similar to this; bonding moments and healing and recovery with some angst thrown in there – all for healing purposes, of course. I know they aren't quite as exciting for some of you (as evidenced by last chapter traffic) but I do hope you enjoy and I would love to hear from you. *nudges towards review button*
Thank you so much to all you amazing reviewers! FF is glitching (again, seriously?) so I cannot see any more recent comments from the last two days on site, so shout outs are absent. Sorry guys! Just know that if you reviewed last chapter I am giving you giant hugs of thanks! Because of the glitch I am not currently able to respond to comments either and I sincerely it gets fixed in a timely manner I will do my best to do so.
Hope to hear from you down below!