As Color Fades Away

Chapter Fifty-Six

The bathroom was empty, Lance was pleased to note. Granted, the only person who could have been in there was Shiro (unless Pidge had forgotten the sign again) and it's not that Lance didn't want to see Shiro but he wasn't sure he wanted to see anyone else right now.

He moved like he was headed to the guillotine as Hunk walked further into the room towards the shower, its cubicle on the far back wall and a small bench just next to it. It was here Hunk gestured for him to sit and Lance did so, grateful as he wasn't sure his legs were going to hold him up any longer.

Hunk joined him, clasped hands hanging over his knees. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Lance shook his head. "I feel sick."

"We can try something else," Hunk suggested. "Maybe just a damp cloth and wipe down the worst of it."

He shook his head again. "I can't keep hiding, Hunk," he whispered. "That's… that's what I told Coran. I have to do this now, or… or I don't think I will."

And he knew, thanks to his time in the mindscape, that hopefully this would be for the best. He'd face it head on and then it would be behind him, just like everything else. It was just… he shivered. This was ultimately what had broken him. He'd suffered through the other tortures with somehow still a spark of hope and determination, but drowning over and over had all but extinguished it.

Hunk gently squeezed a food-goo covered shoulder and rose back to his feet. "All right. Let's start with the water then. Nice and slow."

He made his way to the shower and pulled back the curtain, patterned with rubber ducks. Lance had near died of happiness when he'd found it at the earth store at the space mall and he'd replaced the former dull magenta in a heartbeat. Hunk decided it was probably going to remain pushed to the side unless Lance asked for the privacy, as it dulled the lighting inside the shower and the last thing Lance needed was a dim, enclosed space full of water. Not happening.

The Altean showers were nicer than anything they had back on Earth. There were a ton of dials and buttons that had taken some getting used to. Keith's scream of horror as an entire vat of some type of floral scented concoction had upended itself and left the Red Paladin smelling like a flower field for the entire week still brought a grin to Hunk's face.

This time though there was nothing fancy. Hunk changed the temperature to warm, comfortable but not scalding, and adjusted the flow setting so it was not the pounding stream that Keith had left it as but closer to a sprinkle.

Lance had a clear sightline to the shower and Hunk turned to look at him. "Ready?"

"R-ready," Lance mumbled, left hand gripping the bench so hard his knuckles matched his scar. He was hyper-focused on the shower head, knowing any second it was going to start spouting water. Water that he was then going to go under.

He choked back the wave of nausea at the thought.

Hunk turned the lever and suddenly it was no longer just a thought.

Water was there. It was here. But it wasn't the harsh sound of the jets or even the kitchen faucet as it hit the basin. There was actually hardly any noise, just a very soft sort of hiss, and the trickle was so light it wasn't even rebounding off the floor.

"Come here," Hunk called softly. Lance mechanically stood up, legs still shaking, but he crossed the few feet to the shower where the noise was no louder than before.

Hunk held out his hand, smile soft but concerned and Lance swallowed thickly again before he placed his left hand into the larger grip. Hunk gave it a tender squeeze.

"We're going to put our hands in the water now."

Lance flinched but stood his ground and managed a small nod.

"I'll be right here, the entire time," Hunk comforted. "And we can leave at any time too, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered and that was the go ahead for Hunk to shift their conjoined hands into the warm stream.

Lance startled as the water hit his forearm and back of his exposed hand and he would have jerked away had Hunk's hold not been as strong as it was.

And, he realized letting out the breath he'd been holding, nothing bad had happened. It was just a light pattering of water that made the rest of him shiver at the warmth.

"Estás bien?"

"B-bien."

They stood there for at least a few minutes, hand in hand and letting the water mist over them. Lance felt his breathing return to normal, his shoulders relaxing as no memory tried to pry to the surface.

Hunk shifted then, releasing Lance's hand and the scarred appendage wavered in the stream all by itself. Lance left it, rotating it ever so slightly as the water danced across his skin.

Still nothing bad. Just water. Just a shower.

He could do this.

Something must have shown on his face because next to him Hunk gave a nod. "All right. Let's get those clothes to the hamper and in you go."

Lance pulled his arm free of the stream and followed Hunk back to the bench, where he was gestured to sit once more. He did so, dripping arm resting over his lap as Hunk tugged off his socks with a grimace. He forced himself not to feel that flare of shame that Hunk had to do this because his hand would not cooperate.

"Coran was not kidding about cleaning," he said, holding one up for Lance's inspection. The castle wasn't dirty, per se, but there was certainly some grime as evidenced by the darker streaks and embedded dust into the sock.

Lance tried to muster up a smile at the attempt, but it fell flat. It wasn't that he couldn't, and that relieved some of the knot growing in his stomach, but that right now he just did not feel like it.

"All right, arms up," Hunk instructed and he pulled off the sticky, wet shirt with a squelch. Lance shivered as the cooler air of the bathroom, not yet warmed by the shower, brushed against his now bare torso. He saw his burn scar on his arm out of the corner of his eye and tried not to look at it. Not yet.

"You got those?" Hunk nodded at his pants and Lance returned it after a second.

Hunk left him to his own devices as he scurried to the cubbies to get shampoo and soap and Lance shakily stood, bare toes curling at the cold metal floor. He had to shimmy a bit to get out of the sweat pants and realized with a pang that he was not going to be wearing his normal casual pants for a while; he wouldn't be able to do the button and zipper or pull the stiffer material up his legs.

And now he was in just boxer shorts and the room seemed somehow even colder than before as he stood there, legs trembling again.

Nudity was not a taboo for him. Growing up in such a small house with so many siblings meant zero privacy and as such he'd never given it a second thought to changing in front of others or someone entering their shared bedroom without knocking. Being roommates at the Garrison and growing up together as kids meant he and Hunk had seen each naked other before as well. There was nothing here that was out of the ordinary but…

His left hand hovered on the waistband and he found he couldn't pull them off.

Hunk returned then from his foray into the cabinets and Lance could feel the concerned gaze. Of the two of them Lance was definitely less shy, and yet here he was, acting like Hunk had on his first day of high school gym class in a crowded locker room.

"What is it?" Hunk asked gently although there was a waver of fear in the tone that only made Lance hunch his shoulders more.

"I can't," he whispered after a second.

"They didn't…?" Hunk trailed off, hating the ice settling in his stomach. Coran had taken care of the physical exam and he didn't say anything and Hunk was pretty certain he would have said something if—

Lance shook his head ever so slightly and the relief left Hunk shaky himself.

"I just… I feel exposed." It was like being back on the table, clothed in almost nothing while Theodek and Haggar had laughed at his discomfort. It reminded him of being led like cattle through the throng of shouting Galrans, blinded and chained, where they had been able to view him but he couldn't see them.

He knew it wasn't the same at all but the nausea was returning and he wrapped his arms as best he could about himself as though it could comfort him. It did not. Plus, he was certain that this transition to water was not going to go as smoothly as he would like and the idea of collapsing naked in the shower and Hunk having to carry him out wasn't very appealing.

"How about I get your swim trunks?" Hunk suggested, placing a careful hand on Lance's shoulder and relieved when the lanky teen still leaned into it. "I can grab the music player too."

Lance inclined his head even as he lowered his eyes. That would help. Hopefully. Maybe. He felt his cheeks color that he couldn't even manage this.

"Hey, none of that," Hunk murmured, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the slender shoulder. He wanted to tip Lance's chin up to keep him from looking down on himself, but any hands by the face were still no-gos, evidenced still by Lance flinching when he'd applied the dishcloth on his own. "It's going to take time, remember? And… and everything you went through? There's no shame in any of it. Okay?"

Lance still would not meet his eyes.

"Lance, miráme," and those dark blue eyes slowly raised themselves up. "Por favor, escuchá. You are amazing, Lance. You went through horrible things," he shuddered, recalling still how the wounds had formed across Lance's skin in the mindscape. Seeing the wounds to dress them had been horrifying enough, but to watch them come into being, to see the agony painted on Lance's face with each reveal had made it worse. "Horrible things," he repeated, "and something like that… it would leave a mark on anyone, Lance. The fact you're here, standing and trying and being so, so brave… that is what matters. You're doing amazing, hermano. You are amazing. Please don't ever think otherwise."

"I'll... I'll try," came the quiet response and that would have to be enough for now. Hunk knew that the self-doubt that had festered and then grown under the Galran's captivity was not something that could be erased in days, let alone weeks or months. But Lance had already made leaps and bounds and he was improving, practically hour by hour.

"Good," he squeezed the shoulder again. "Wait here for a tick, okay? I'll run down to your room real quick." He was gone a tick later, leaving Lance standing in the empty bathroom with the still quiet hiss of water in the background.

"Come on," he whispered at himself, left hand rolling into a fist while his right hung uselessly. "You can do this. It's just…" his gaze drifted to the shower. "It's just water. Solamente agua."

And besides, he'd always known water was dangerous, that wasn't new. He knew that you could drown, choke… die. It's why his parents had been so strict when they went to the beach, why even at a young age he could perform CPR. He'd certainly been dunked into the water before, grabbed by his ankles by siblings and pulled under the surf.

But it had been different. There had been only childish laughter then and the ever watchful eye of his parents just in case. It had been fun, letting the waves toss him about, seeing how long he could hold his breath until his lungs gave out and he had to surface. He'd spent his entire childhood until they moved to America on the beach and the water, practically a fish his mamá had joked.

He'd loved the water. He… he still loved it. Or, he wanted to. He didn't want to let one bad experience ruin it. Then again, bad wasn't quite right. Traumatic, really. He winced but it was true. And trauma wasn't something a band-aid could fix. It took time. And patience. And the courage to stand back up and try again.

And that's what he was doing. Although, perhaps, a little more suddenly than he thought it would happen. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the drying food goo crack and knew that there was no other option.

And, maybe just like the mindscape, this was for the best. His plan to tell Hunk and Coran about his attempt had been thwarted and instead he'd found himself spilling the dark secret to everyone. But in the end, it was probably for the best. He certainly felt better. He had to just picture the shower like that. Not quite planned but maybe it was what he needed.

The sound of the door swinging open drew his gaze from the water and Hunk smiled at him, a pair of trunks in hand and not, Lance sighed gratefully, like the ones in his mindscape.

"Do you want the music on?" Hunk asked, setting the recorder on the sink ledge and turning around to give Lance privacy as he switched out his bottoms.

"The one from last night?" Lance asked, tugging at the drawstring to tighten the shorts. They hung slightly looser than he remembered.

At his request the soft sounds of an Altean symphony sounded about the bathroom, not quite overriding the water but drown— Lance stopped that thought before it fully formed. He couldn't think like that. Not when he was about to…

"Estoy listo," he murmured and Hunk turned around.

"Just about," Hunk said. He brought his own hand to his neck and Lance realized those bandages were still in place and also covered with goo. But what lie beneath was even worse than that. He lightly touched them himself, closing his eyes.

Before he could hesitate too much he dug his index finger under the roll and pulled, shredding the damp cloth on one side. The scar was bumpy beneath and he tried as best he could not to flinch as he tugged the remaining wrap away and let it fall to the floor.

"Now let's get all that goo of you, huh?" Hunk did not make any kind of deal out of the action although Lance could see the beam of pride sent his direction. He appreciated it as somehow, even with the swim trunks now, he felt laid even more bare.

Lance's feet propelled him back to the shower although he stopped right before the shallow rim to step in.

"How about you put your hand in first?" Hunk tried. "That wasn't bad." He did so himself, sleeve rolled all the way up to this elbow and Lance joined him. The water was still nice and warm and felt pleasant on his chilled skin. He shuddered out a breath as Hunk placed his other hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently.

"Okay," Hunk said gently. "It's time to get in."

"H-Hunk..." His legs felt like those of a newborn foal and were frozen in place.

"I'm right here and not going anywhere. You've got this, Lance. You can do this."

He edged one foot forward, toes hitting the cold rim. He picked it up and placed it inside the low tub, the ground there somewhat warm from the water. Next foot, he told himself as he hung back from the threshold.

That foot joined its twin and he stood now in the tub but still a pace from where the water was pouring down. Hunk's hand remained a reassuring weight on his back; not pushing or prodding.

He turned to eye the spout that was still wetting his hand. It looked so much more imposing up close, and really, he resisted the urge to sob, he was thinking of shower heads as imposing? As threatening? It was the same as it always was. It was him who had changed.

"Why don't you turn away from it?" Hunk proposed. "That way the water won't hit your face."

It felt backwards to Lance, who had been appalled to find that some people took showers facing away from the water stream (Hunk) but it did make a lot of sense at this moment. He pivoted his feet so that he was turned away from the stream now and his damp left hand fell at his side and Hunk's hand slid from his shoulder.

He took one last deep breath. Just water. It was just water and Hunk was here and he was absolutely not going to drown in the castle's bathroom.

He took the final sidestep into the stream and immediately stiffened as water droplets struck against his back, gentle as they were.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hunk assured from just a foot away. "Deep breath. In and out. You've got plenty of air, I promise. The water isn't going to hit your face."

Lance obeyed, breathing heavily out his nose and he kept his mouth tightly clenched as rivulets ran down his front water made its way over his shoulders.

"Hunk," he whispered, shaking again.

"You're doing great, Lance. You are. Just keep breathing, nice and easy. Focus on me. Or the music."

Lance did so. His eyes drifted closed but he opened them with a start as in that new darkness the water had morphed into something else. He shivered even under the warm stream.

"Do you want it a little hotter?" Hunk asked, noting the shiver. Lance did always take showers that would steam up the entire room.

"I don't know," came the response, so quiet Hunk almost missed it. "Hunk, I…"

And Lance looked so small then, shoulders hunched and hands pressed against his stomach as though trying to curl in on himself while standing. Hunk wanted nothing more than to go in there, wrap him in a hug and make it better. But he could not. Lance had to do this on his own. Hunk could offer his support from here but Lance needed this.

Independence was important. He'd seen that when Lance had tried to stand for the first time, when he made small decisions like toothpaste flavors. He had been robbed of those things by the Galra and he needed to regain it if he wanted to move forward. Hunk wanted to help, but this was where he had to stop. Coddling Lance would not help him get better.

"How about a washcloth?" Hunk picked the item up and Lance's favorite bar of coffee-scented soap. It was like with the teeth brushing from that morning: if Lance was given no other choice he eventually would have to take one, whether that be accepting the items or calling it quits.

Lance's eyes cut over to him from where he'd been staring into the opposite wall and Hunk did not miss the fact that the droplets on his cheeks were not from the shower spray. He felt his heart clench and his resolve nearly wavered as a new tear slipped further down. But no. Lance had to do this. And Hunk had to let him.

"Here," he pushed the items forward and Lance ever so slowly reached out to take them, his left holding the soap bar and the cloth draped over his right. He brought the soap bar towards his face and took a delicate sniff. It had definitely been the right choice, Hunk congratulated himself, as some of the tightness in Lance's shoulders eased at the familiar scent. Hopefully the shampoo would have the same effect.

Lance carefully lathered the washcloth, which was barely damp but he was too afraid to turn and get a spurt of water in his face to chance it. Small steps here. Very, very small ones.

But despite how much he wanted to get away from the water he was still in it. Trying. The word echoed about his head as he placed the soap bar in the dish and then lifted the washcloth to his face. That's all he had to do. Try.

The cloth was a little coarse even with the soap and he winced ever so slightly as he rubbed it against his cheek. But it did not morph into Haggar's hands and so he continued, food goo sliding away.

He ended up rewetting the cloth by holding it next to his shoulder where the water was streaming over and down his front. It worked better than he'd thought and he relathered the cloth and trailed it over his shoulders.

Bit by bit he scrubbed away not just the food goo but the stale sweat that had adhered to his skin from one too many panic attacks. He turned his attention to his right arm and sucked in a sharp breath as under the heated water the burn scar seemed even more red and poignant.

It would be so easy to slide back into the memory; darkness and burning and cruel laughter. But he didn't want to. He tried to focus instead on the conversation he'd had with Coran; of gentle hands skimming over the flesh with such care it made his eyes water even now.

From there he forced himself to go back to his neck, gingerly pressing the cloth to the scar. It felt weird, but it did not hurt. He wished if he could just scrub hard enough he could make it go away and for a second he debated trying before reality knocked. He had to accept that it was there and nothing was going to change that.

"Ready to try shampoo?" Hunk asked as he finished up his washing and Lance hated that he cringed at the thought. Because shampoo meant he needed to get his head wet and that meant, like it or not, he was going to end up with water on his face. Right now only the back of his hair had been hit by the spray and not so much that it caused his bangs to drip.

The food goo was still there though, drying his hair into sticky spikes, and was the main reason he'd had to take a shower in the first place. But it wasn't just the water that was causing him fear. No, it was hands. Even his own. They would be in his hair and that was not an image he could so easily shake.

"You've got this, hermano," Hunk murmured, cutting into the sensation of phantom hands carding his bangs back.

Lance didn't trust himself to speak so instead he held out his hand for the shampoo bottle. Hunk did him one better though and squeezed a dollop into his palm. Lance had many shampoos, as he enjoyed picking them up planet-side and the different scents, and Hunk had selected one of his favorites that smelled like gingerbread.

He breathed it in, trying to relax as he very, very slowly tilted his head back and felt the water stream rise until it was hitting the top of his head. But then it trickled over and saturated bangs dripped into his eyes and nose and mouth and he felt his chest seize in remembered panic of water filling his lungs and the pain as he choked on it. No. No no no no. He stumbled blindly forward, eyes clenched shut, and struck cold porcelain. He slunk down against, and even the last bit of rational thought he had; that he was just in the shower and even out of the water stream now, was doing nothing to calm him.

He couldn't do this. More water dripped from his bangs and he shuddered. He couldn't. He couldn't. It was pathetic and cowardly but he couldn't. It was too much.

Hunk was saying something but Lance couldn't quite hear him, crouched against the furthest spot from the water and trying not to cry. Pathetic he heard Haggar hiss and he moaned, pressing his hands as best he could to his ears as though then he wouldn't be able to hear her. That only smeared shampoo, cold and thick, on his face and he winced back from it as well.

Hands were there then and he shrunk away from them, even though these were large and warm and gentle as they settled on his shoulders. He was tipped forward, his forehead pressed against a familiar chest and one arm came to circle about his bare back. Even with the shampoo scent so strong he could still detect engine grease and honeysuckle. Hunk. He choked out a sob and Hunk's name and leaned further into the embrace.

"I've got you," Hunk whispered. "I'm here."

"I'm s-sorry," he whimpered. "I…"

"Don't apologize," Hunk said, tears in his voice. "I'm the one who is sorry. I'm so sorry, Lance. I thought…"

He thought this was what needed done, for Lance to move forward. But it had been too much, too quickly.

He'd miscalculated and Lance… Lance was so determined to try and prove himself that of course he wouldn't have refused.

"You're getting w-wet," Lance stuttered as Hunk had clambered in fully dressed.

"It's fine. Needed a shower anyway."

Lance let out another breathy sob.

"I wanted to," he whispered. "I w-wanted to. I just…"

"I know. I know."

"I… I want to try again."

That surprised Hunk so much that he nearly teetered over from his awkward kneel on the wet floor. "What?" he asked dumbly.

"I want to try again," Lance repeated, words more firm. He looked up then and despite the fear in those ocean eyes there was a familiar glint of determination that Hunk had seen time and again whenever Lance had gotten knocked down and pulled himself up to prove that he could do it.

Hunk gave a slow nod, pride mixing with worry. But ultimately he settled on the first and would save the latter for if it was needed. "Okay then." He released his embrace and rose, offering a hand down that Lance took without hesitation and pulled him back to his feet. "I'm going to step back out," he said and Lance nodded. "I'd turn around," he said after a second. "Once I move the water is going to come down."

Lance nodded and did so, standing with his shoulders braced as when Hunk did climb out of the shower the spray covered his back. He stiffened slightly but took a breath and the tension bled out of his shoulders.

"More shampoo?" Hunk asked.

"I think I have enough," Lance replied, bringing his left hand up to his ear and scooping the goop into his fingers. He stalled then, letting the water continue its warm cascade down his back.

Was he ready this time?

Because he clearly had not been before.

He took another deep breath. He was going to tip his head back. Water was going to touch his face. But he could step forward at any time. He could still breathe. No one was holding him under, no one was going to shock him for failure to comply.

He could do this. He couldn't remain scared and so the only option left then was to not be.

He braced himself this time as he took a step further back into the spray, letting it hit the top of his head and then, as it soaked into his hair, dripping down the front.

He held his ground as water streamed over his face, lips pressed tightly closed but eyes wide, arms trembling at his sides as he forced himself to not retreat. Not this time.

"You're doing great," Hunk called, voice pitched low.

Lance would have liked to answer back but he didn't dare open his mouth as water passed over to drip off his chin. He stood in that position for a couple minutes letting the water fall about him with nothing of note happening save now all of him was pleasantly warm.

Shampoo time. He cast his eyes to his left hand where a decent amount still clung to his fingers. These were his hands. Not Haggar's. And he was not going to be frightened by himself.

He brought his left up and pressed his fingers into his hair, wet but still stiff from the food goo. And he knew from prior experiences with food goo in his hair that it needed actual scrubbing and a gentle wash wasn't going to cut it.

He'd really dug himself in deep.

Brushing his hand across his head he spread the shampoo across the top and then he pressed his fingertips down into his scalp, breath hitching at the sensation. It can be used for pleasure as well, Haggar's voice filtered through his mind as hands massaged his head as she explained the effects of the saliidda. He had tried to protest and she had merely smiled and whispered But you enjoyed it.

It had gotten worse from there as she used every opportunity to caress his hair, his face, distorting the gesture. He hated that he had let her. He hated still that he continued to do so. Just like water she had taken a comfort and twisted it into something to fear instead, something that made his skin prickle and unease churn his stomach.

But he was getting better. He had to remind himself of that. Hugs were okay again, hands on shoulders or knees or his back. He was able to press his face into an arm or shoulder and have others do the same without summoning up memories of yellow eyes and purple hands. This was going to be the same. He was going to somehow turn water, turn touches to his face and head, back into what they were supposed to be.

Haggar was not going to win.

He dug his fingers almost painfully into his hair then, working the shampoo into the thick locks and generating a lather. He tentatively brought his right up then, using the force from his arm to help disperse the shampoo. It wasn't as effective as the left but it was still doing something and that was what mattered.

He looked sideways to Hunk, who was peeling himself out of his shirt, jacket already on one of the towel hooks, as he'd determined he had a few moments to do so.

Hunk caught his eye and grinned. "You got enough suds? You look almost like Allura with all that white. Just missing the pointy ears."

Lance found a small smile tugging its way onto his face at the light teasing. He'd witnessed the jokes and laughs being shared amongst the others but they'd avoided roping him directly in, which he supposed made sense given how he wasn't quite reacting as he normally did.

In response he carefully tipped his head back and let the water begin to clear away the shampoo, keeping his left hand positioned to avoid letting any run into his face and sting his still open eyes.

A minute later the feeling of bubbles were gone and he ran his hand through the clean hair, relieved when nothing was conjured up.

"You did it," Hunk beamed.

Lance shook his head though and Hunk's smile wilted. "Conditioner," he said simply and Hunk perked right back up with a laugh.

"Of course. How could I forget?"

Lance stepped out of the water as he accepted a new dollop in his hand of the same scent and brought it up to his hair to let it set.

"Do you?" he asked after a moment, still slowly massaging it in.

"Do I what?"

"Forget your own conditioner?"

Hunk blinked at him and then burst into laughter.

That was not an answer. "You forget, don't you?" Lance pressed, trying to keep his voice light and concentrate on that rather than the water pattering behind him. "You know how bad that is for your hair."

"Hey, I'm doing better than Keith," Hunk protested. "I don't even think he uses shampoo."

Hunk laughed again at the look that crossed Lance's face. That was more like it. It was also a delight to him to see Lance taking any sort of interest in his appearance again. He knew how deep the scar wrapping about his best friend's neck had cut into him and not just literally.

It was still going to be a battle back to normal, Hunk had no doubts about that. But this was an excellent first step and it even kept Lance in the shower longer.

Lance's smile faded as he shifted to go back into the spray to rinse out the conditioner, but he did it with barely a flinch, carding wet bangs to the side without the earlier hesitation. A minute later his hair was a gleaming dark chestnut once more and that was apparently enough for Lance as he fumbled his hand behind him to shut off the shower head, still not turning to face it, which Hunk knew was for the best right now.

All was quiet then save for the last pattering of water striking the draining puddles on the floor. Lance lifted eyes to meet Hunk's.

"I did it," he murmured, a note of pride in the words.

"You did it," Hunk smiled and he held up a big fluffy blue towel, a matching yellow one already draped over his now bare shoulders.

Lance stepped into the towel and Hunk folded it about his shoulders and it swamped about him. Alteans apparently only had one size towel and they were bigger than the standard beach towel.

"Gracias, Hunk," Lance whispered, his left hand going to tighten on the towel's edge to pull it together. "I… I couldn't have done this without you."

Hunk pulled him into a gentle hug and Lance rested his head upon his shoulder with a contented sigh.

"You are welcome," Hunk said softly. "But there's no need for thanks, Lance." His arms tightened. "We're all in this together. And the only thanks I need is to see your beautiful smile again."

He felt it then, Lance's lips pull up against the plushness of his own towel. "Still," Lance whispered. "Thank you."

Hunk gave him one last squeeze before he stepped back. "Are you still up for dinner?"

Lance's stomach grumbled at that and he winced, reminded now that all he'd eaten today was the bowl of gamibolap for breakfast.

"Let's go get dressed," Hunk said, adjusting his towel more securely about his shoulders, "and then go get some food. Hopefully the stew is done by now, if you'd like to try some."

"I would," Lance nodded. And he felt that he would actually be able to eat it. Maybe even try a drink of water. After the shower, which despite a bump had ultimately been successful, he felt more prepared to try. He'd managed a torrent of water cascading onto his head after all. What was a little drink compared to that?

Hunk picked up Lance's discarded clothes, leaving his own shirt and vest to drip dry before he moved them to his hamper, and the two made their way in a companionable silence down the hall to the rooms, Lance shivering slightly as the colder air struck his still damp hair and legs that weren't covered by the towel.

"Do you want any help?" Hunk asked as they paused outside Lance's room.

"Socks," Lance mumbled, a light stain appearing on his cheeks.

"Happy to do so," Hunk said. "I'll come by in a few minutes then, okay?"

Lance nodded and let himself into his room, the door closing behind him with a hiss. He stripped out of the towel and swim trunks quickly, trying not to let his eyes linger on the reflection in the mirror.

He pulled out fresh shorts and a new pair of sweats, tugging them on with his left hand although he couldn't quite tie the drawstring as tight has he'd like. For shirts he was still cold and so he grabbed another long-sleeved one in deep indigo.

His eyes were drawn to the burn scar on his arm, nearly covered except for a sliver at his wrist. He looked at the roll of bandages sitting still on his bed and then shook his head at himself. No. He could do this. No more hiding.

He debated his jacket but it didn't really go with sweatpants and a wry grin tugged at his face. Look at him, choosing fashion over warmth. The smile faded though as despite his best attempts he caught sight of the mirror and the boy staring back.

He looked different though, from the last person who had gazed at him from the surface. He found himself drawn to it.

This version of himself… the haunted look had disappeared, the dead eyes restored with a spark. His skin was a warm flush from the shower and the bruises of exhaustion were all but gone. He pulled his lips into a smile, nothing large, but it was sincere.

He looked… he looked like himself.

The only thing that still screamed out wrong was the thick brown and red line encircling his throat. His left hand moved to touch the ropy texture but this time he did not flinch away. He hated it. It looked as ugly and horrid as it felt and he hated it and all it stood for.

But it was also a part of him. And, he took in a sharp inhale, he didn't want to hate himself. Not a single part and this scar was as sure a part of him as anything else.

He'd never love it. But he could accept it as he had other pieces and truths about him. That he could do.

He let out another breath, feeling a lightness course through him at the decision. He would not cover it up and try to hide it anymore. That was what Haggar would want; for him to hide his shame and fear so it would fester and crack him apart from within once more. He didn't ever want to feel that way again; that cloying darkness where revulsion and feelings of worthlessness ran deep. No. He wouldn't go back to that. He was better than that.

A soft knock sounded on the door and Hunk let himself in, eyes widening as he spotted where Lance had seated himself. But Lance met him with a smile and a radiated sense of peace.

"I'm going to be okay," Lance said softly, meeting his eyes. "I am, Hunk. I…" he pressed his left hand over his heart. "I feel it. I know it."

"Oh, Lance," Hunk crossed the space in under a second and swept Lance off the stool and into a fierce hug, which only tightened as Lance returned it with his own.

"Dinner?" Lance asked after a moment and Hunk let out a laugh of pure joy, swinging his arm to hang about Lance's shoulders and pull him flush to his side, delighting as Lance let out a soft, sweet laugh of his own and snuggled into his side.

"After socks," Hunk said, remembering his original reason for retrieving Lance. Lance sat back down on his stool and Hunk made quick work of pulling them onto the scarred feet. This time though Lance did not hold himself with that tight, scared air, but rather almost impatience as his stomach growled again and Hunk could not help laughing just because.

One day. One day had transformed Lance from a boy terrified of his own reflection to this happy, hopeful one.

And if all of that had happened in one day… Hunk swung his arms back around Lance's shoulders as they headed for the kitchen. If that was the result of one day…

The future was looking bright indeed.

xxx

Author's Notes (Apologies: a lot to say this week. Please read all the way through!)

Shower scene! I actually had a number of ways I had this going, complete with different people entering the scene to how Lance reacted to the water to how successful it was on its first attempt. But ultimately I decided this way was for the best as it shows Lance's growth and courage and ultimately his ability to find a measure of peace within himself. We're getting there!

Also, Lance is the weirdo for showering facing the spout and that little bit was based on a random discussion with a coworker in which I discovered that people do indeed face the water. Like, ow? All that water in your face? I figure though for a water lover like Lance that would be his desired direction. I'll stick with Hunk though. If you have a tick please do let me know in an informal poll in the comments which direction you face in the shower. We'll conduct our own study xD

Also! HAPPY BIRTHDAY COLOR! Color turned one year old on Wednesday. Crazy, right? Right. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me to this point. Your continued support means the world to me. I'm doing a little celebration contest over on my Tumblr, icypantherwrites, for the occasion where you can win a one-shot! See the Tumblr for details!

Speaking of Tumblr, for those who are not on it and did not see my announcement, I will be going on an indefinite hiatus for a little while. I will still aim to update Color weekly but I need to step back for personal reasons (and now added to that even more personal things involving my dog). Again, see the Tumblr post for more details.

I won't comment really on season five here so I don't spoil it for anyone who has not seen it, but… hot damn. Blew seasons three and four of the water and I'm very excited as to the direction this is going. Lots of good plot (with explanation!) and answering some earlier questions raised. Not all, but enough to the point where I feel sated. I did take a stab at my own oneshot for how I think season six should start off called Lost and Found and featuring Lance, Shiro and Kuron if you want to take a look!

Thank you as always to those who take a moment (or several!) to review. I truly appreciate it. Love and hugs to you lovely people!

Please do drop a review below. I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter!