x

As Color Fades Away

Chapter Eighty: Epilogue

Two days later…

Breathe Blue instructed. Listen.

"Trying to," Lance said through gritted teeth. Allura had removed her quintessence shield from him and he was exposed once more to the might of all of the Lions crowding in his head. It was very noisy and somewhat painful, making it hard to concentrate.

Make own shield Blue told him.

"How?"

"Water," Allura chimed in. Her hands tightened on his where she was holding on, acting as an anchor – good practice, Blue had told her – to Lance and the Lions. "I create a shield with clouds, yes? Use your own element. "

"Tried that," Lance admitted. "It didn't work." He had summoned up a wall of water like a tidal wave in his mind, but it was too… fierce. Violent. He didn't want to hurt the Lions after all.

Allura hummed in thought. "The sky is vast. Perhaps picture something like that to distance yourself from the Lions' input?"

"Distance?" Lance repeated. Allura might have the right idea. He imagined a beach then, golden sand stretching out till it met the shore where dark blue waves rolled in. The ocean was endless until it met the horizon where it then split into the sky, another expanse of blue.

He put himself on the shore, water lapping at his toes, and pushed the Lions all the way to the horizon.

The clamoring in his head immediately ceased and Lance shuddered out a breath.

The only voice still present and loud was Blue, as she was the ocean waves and she twined about his ankles like the water, gentle and soothing.

Excellent job, my Paladin Blue purred, nuzzling his quintessence with her own. Perfect.

"I think you mean purr-fect," Lance corrected her and her laugh reverberated through him even while Allura groaned at the terrible pun.

"Hey," Lance cracked open his eyes to look at the princess. "It's— Allura! You're pink!"

"And you are blue," she told him with a smile. Lance glanced down and confirmed that yes, he was indeed glowing blue.

"How…?"

"Since you are connected to the Lions you are connected to the Astral Plane," Allura explained. "It is not like when you were in the Plane where you could actively merge with the Lions as you did, but because of that bond you can see quintessence in its pure form."

"All the time?" Lance gulped.

"When you wish it," Allura said. "Although to view another's outside of yourself you must be physically connected to them. Like so," she bobbed their joined hands. "Watch," and she pulled her hands away. "See? You are no longer—"

"You're still pink."

Allura blinked. "What?"

Lance's voice shook as his hands trembled in the space between them. "Allura, you're still glowing."

No fear, my Paladin Blue spoke then. All is well.

"I do not understand," Allura admitted, looking up to the Lion that was crouched next to them. "How is it that Lance can see quintessence outside his own?"

Because Black Lion can Blue answered and my Paladin bonded with Black Lion. Lions part of my Paladin now. Barrier part of him. Stronger than Princess' connection. Much stronger.

"Can he actively use it?" Allura asked, and Lance was grateful one of them was still capable of speech. His stomach was rolling at this newest reveal and what it meant for him. "His blue quintessence?"

Like Lion can? Blue questioned. Water and ice powers?

Lance choked. What? He was going to become like an actual superhero?

The thought was both terrifying and amazing.

No Blue said and Lance was a mixture of relieved and disappointed. My Paladin's body not capable of such. Not Altean. Not magic.

"So he can sense the other Lions and view quintessence at will because of his connection to all of the Lions and particularly the Black Lion," Allura said slowly, "but he cannot actively tap into the elemental nature of the blue quintessence unless he is merged with you as before, correct?"

Correct. Lance felt Blue nuzzle his quintessence again, worried, and he leaned into it, willing his heart to stop its thumping. My Paladin all right?

"Yeah," Lance managed. "Yeah. That just…" He took a deep breath. "So what do we do now?"

My Paladin must learn how to sense Lions. Communicate safely. Blue turned her head to face Allura. And princess must learn control. How to be anchor and pilot.

"How do I turn it off though?" Lance asked, voice small. Because Allura was still pink and he was still blue and as pretty as the glows were he didn't want to be stuck like this.

"When I disengage I picture my quintessence evaporating into wisps," Allura told him. "Is there something similar you might be able to try?" She placed a gentle hand on Lance's knee. "The connection will always be there, Lance. Do not attempt to sever it. Just… cover it."

Cover it. Cover it.

How did he cover it?

He had already pushed the Lions from the beach to the horizon. So maybe if he pictured something with his beach setting… He brought up an image of a seashell, a pure white thing with gentle edges like ocean waves, that had washed up on the beach.

He took a deep breath and envisioned the next wave that came upon the shore to cover it, pushing dark sand up and over, burying it until it was re-discovered by a curious ocean.

The glowing light disappeared in an instant.

Purr-fect Blue smiled at him, sounding out the word as he had and he laughed in sheer delight and Allura's bright laugh joined his.

He grinned at her and she returned in, pride and love shining from her jeweled eyes.

"Let us do this," she said, "Together."

"Together."

And Lance knew they could.

xxx

Twenty-one days later…

"I killed a child."

Shiro's voice was heavy, thick. Keith did not interrupt except to squeeze Shiro's flesh hand where they had entangled them.

True to Shiro's word he had begun to open up to Keith about his time in the arena and as Haggar's project. The memories had been coming harder now, faster, as if they had been waiting for permission, for a safe place to be discussed. They had devoted two nights a week, although sometimes more if Shiro really needed to say something urgently, for Shiro to talk and for Keith to listen and be there.

They would go to Shiro's room, turn off all the lights save the emergency ones as Shiro had found it easier to talk in the near darkness, sit together on the floor and Keith would support Shiro through whatever new demon had been dragged into the light.

Keith knew that Shiro was talking to the others too, particularly Lance and Allura. A month ago he might have felt… not betrayed, but hurt, because Shiro had been all he really had and he would have thought they were stealing him away. Now Keith was just grateful Shiro had such a support network to be there for him. He was grateful that he too had such support. Just knowing that if he did ever want to talk about anything, they would all listen. They wouldn't judge.

Keith hadn't been aware he had been suffocating until suddenly he wasn't.

Now it was time to return the favor, to remind Shiro that no matter what he had gone through he was no less than a hero in their eyes. That what the Galra had done and forced him to do did not define him. That it was okay to not be the leader. It was okay to be hurt and scared. They loved him no matter what.

And Shiro's memories scared Keith, he'd admit it. But they needed released and he was going to be there for Shiro as Shiro had always been there for him.

"I didn't want to," Shiro continued quietly. "They'd tried to make me do it before and I refused. But that child… they…" his voice broke. "They destroyed him. Tortured him to death right in front of me. He… he kept crying for his mom."

Keith pressed his forehead against Shiro's arm and squeezed his hand tighter.

"I couldn't… I couldn't let another go through that pain. I knew they would do it again. So I…" His prosthetic clenched, metal creaking. "Right through his heart. One blow. Instant death. I… I don't think he felt anything."

His shoulders trembled. "They put his body in my cell after. To… to keep me company." Shiro shook his head then, barely noticeable in the low lighting. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"

"Shiro, talk to me," Keith interrupted, his own voice thick. "Please. It's okay."

Even though nothing about this was actually okay. What the Galra had done… what they'd forced Shiro to do… It was revolting.

"He was there for days," Shiro whispered. "The smell…" He shuddered. "They fed him to one of their beasts, eventually. Got to watch that too."

Keith shifted his arms then to hug Shiro around the side and Shiro let out a shaky sigh, returning it. "No more," he said quietly. "I can't… no more. Not today."

"Okay," Keith murmured. "Okay."

And in the quiet darkness they held each other.

xxx

Twenty-seven days later…

"You are all set," Coran smiled. "How does it feel? I made a few modifications based on… well, I made some changes. The double-layered panel on the undersuit I was worried might be a bit stiff, but it is much more durable to blade attacks now."

"Good," Lance said, twisting in the uniform. His voice wavered a bit though and he swallowed thickly, the armor heavy on his shoulders and not just from its weight.

Coran's expression softened. "And how do you feel?"

"A little sick, to be honest," Lance admitted. "Coran, I… I don't know if I'm ready."

The last time he'd worn armor…

Well, it had been when he was captured.

Having his bayard back had been one thing. To be fully suited up again, to be a Paladin of Voltron, was entirely different.

Coran's hands descended on his upper arms and squeezed below the armored plate. "You are more than ready, Lance," he said gently.

"What if I let them down?" Lance worried his lip, meeting jeweled eyes. "What if I mess up again? What if—"

"There is nothing you can do that will ever let us down, dear boy," Coran cut in. "You are our heart. And we believe in you with all of ours."

Lance blinked back hot tears.

"Come, let us put the helmet on and complete the look," Coran said, bustling over to the last piece of armor. He looked to Lance for permission and Lance inclined his head, Coran's hands brushing against his cheeks before the helmet was settled atop his head and pulled down.

Coran made a sound of approval. "There," he said, standing back. "Take a look at yourself."

Lance pivoted slowly to the large mirror that Coran had set up in his dubbed "uniform department." His eyes widened as he took in the figure staring back; blue and white Paladin armor near glowing. He stood up a bit straighter and sent the reflection a small but sincere smile. It grew as he formed his bayard, switching it from blaster to pistol and then back.

"There he is," Coran said proudly, meeting Lance's eyes in the mirror. "There's our Blue Paladin."

xxx

Thirty-six days later…

Lance stood on the edge of the shore, letting the water skim his toes while Hunk stood right next to him, a steady, comforting presence while the others were further back, supporting him but letting him have space and some measure of privacy.

He could do this.

He just had to take a step.

Just one.

His feet remained rooted on the soft sand.

He had been getting better and better with water. Showers were still shorter than they ever used to be, but he was capable of taking them on his own now without Hunk or even Shiro and Keith on stand-by in case he collapsed. He had even been able to close the curtain about two weeks ago and while it had darkened the interior of the shower stall it had been manageable.

The faucets didn't startle him anymore and he could ingest liquids at any temperature again, although in small sips rather than gulps. Choking was still a lingering fear he hadn't been able to entirely shake, but as long as he was careful he hadn't done so since nearly inhaling a milkshake Hunk had made courtesy of Kaltenecker and then heaving it all over the floor when he found he couldn't breathe.

He'd made it into Allura's tub twice, the first time nearly passing out from holding his breath even though the water hadn't risen past his hips, but he had gotten willingly into a body of water, with Hunk and Shiro on standby for all of the five minutes he'd forced himself in.

The second time had gone much better. Allura had volunteered the mice to hold soap bar races and having something to concentrate on – and mice on soap bars was hilarious – was helpful indeed. Hunk and Pidge had joined him in the water to help referee the matches while the others were a very engaged audience – Keith was surprisingly, and yet not, really into racing and had been a very vocal fan – and Lance had had so much fun the fear had been forgotten.

Hunk had been so proud he'd baked a cake for the occasion, claiming it was for Plachu who had won the tournament, but given the fact he insisted Lance get first piece they all knew who it was really for.

But an ocean now? That was sort of a big step.

The ocean planet they had docked on had beaches that highly resembled Earth's, except they were more orange than golden sand and the waves tinting towards purple. Allura had asked Lance before they'd come down if he wanted to try a larger body of water and he had been feeling confident and determined then, bolstered by all of his recent successes.

Now that he was here though it was a bit more daunting than he thought it would be.

"¿Estás bien?" Hunk asked quietly.

He wanted Lance to find his love of the ocean again. So, so badly. And like the shower sometimes Lance just needed a chance to see how capable he was. Hunk knew Lance could do this. But he would not push him, literally or figuratively. Lance needed to come to this decision on his own.

Lance jerked his head. "Y-yeah. I just…" he swallowed, throat bobbing. "Can…?" his hand twitched at his side.

Without a moment of hesitation Hunk wrapped his own about it and gave it a squeeze.

Lance took a deep breath and let it out. Just a step. And then another.

He could do this.

"Okay. Estoy listo. Vamános."

And he plunged one foot forward, toes squelching into the sand and water immediately flowing over his skin. It was cold, but not ice cold. Chilled. The sun however was shining brightly and was warm, just as Hunk's steady hold was.

Next step.

Lance pushed through the gently rolling surf, the water moving from his ankle towards his knee and then licking the hem of his swim trunks.

He kept going.

The water rose higher, hitting his navel now. Only then did he stop as it lapped higher up his chest, rising higher still when Hunk shifted next to him and sent ripples angling at his neck. He flinched at the spray but stood his ground.

Hunk said nothing but Lance knew he was there. They stood silently, the sun beating down from above and the chill of the water turning comfortable.

Nothing else happened. Just the quiet sound of the waves rushing over the beach and the chopping noise as they smacked upon one another in the actual ocean.

The ocean wasn't for standing in though.

It was for swimming.

Lance took another steadying breath, gazing at the expanse of water. He could feel Blue in the back of his mind, fainter from distance but thanks to the created barrier still always a light presence even if he could not speak to her. He could feel her love towards the water, her excitement and desire to become a part of it.

He had been like that too.

He still was.

It was time to hammer home that Haggar had not won; she had not taken his love of the water.

"Hunk," he said quietly. "I'm… I'm going to dive under."

Hunk's beaming smile without a hint of trepidation warmed him from the inside out. Hunk believed in him.

Lance believed in himself too.

Hunk released his hand and Lance took one last steadying breath, holding it in tight.

This was it.

And he dove.

He didn't go deep as the water was barely five feet high at this point, but he did go under.

And unlike the churning chamber Theodek had tortured him in the water here was calm below, just as an ocean should be. There was no salt either and Lance's eyes didn't sting in the least as he took in the underwater landscape of sand and larger pebbles that glittered below the purple waves.

It was beautiful.

He struck out, propelling his body forward and feeling the currents move past him, hair waving gently in the movement.

It felt natural. Peaceful.

It felt right.

Lance felt his lips quirk up into a closed-lip smile as he gazed about the underwater landscape.

He was home.

He came up about a minute later, not willing to push his luck, popping out like some dolphin and an arc of water streaking out from his flying hair. Around his gasping for air he grinned at Hunk and just like that Hunk's entire body relaxed and Lance found himself swept up into a bone-crushing hug a moment later.

That was apparently the cue for the others as Lance heard them break into the water with delighted shrieks and yelps.

Lance laughed in sheer delight and dove back under the cresting waves.

xxx

Sixty-two days later…

"They're so ugly."

Keith's hands tightened on the plum-like fruit he'd been inspecting, eyes flicking over to the alien girl who had made the comment, her friend nodding along.

"Can't believe he hit on you," the friend said, voice high and reedy. "Please. Like you'd go for that. Those scars are hideous."

Keith's fingers sank through the fruit's soft flesh. He glanced up fully then, hoping that it was only his unnaturally good hearing that was picking up the cruel comments, but nope, Lance's shoulders were tensed next to him and a dark flush was creeping up the back of his neck, past one of the scars that had generated such a comment.

Lance had been trying so hard to come to terms with the scars, particularly the burn ones wrapped about his neck and taking up his entire inner right arm. While in Paladin uniform they were entirely covered, but in just Lance's causal clothes? The ropy burn necklace and his scarred hands were on full display and the tail end of the mark on his wrist that his shirt didn't entirely cover.

Appearances were important to Lance, more than Keith knew they'd ever be for most of them, and he knew Lance had debated gloves for his hands and a scarf of some sort to hide his neck, but he had taken the brave plunge and chosen to keep them visible. They were a part of him, right? he'd told them with a tight smile. He need to learn to live with them.

He was trying to get back to a sense of normal. And for Lance that meant flirting with the pretty alien girls. He'd been building his confidence back up, but every situation had been in full armor and not a single mark visible. This was the first time he'd gone for it while out and about in normal clothes, testing out his (very lame, Keith thought) pick-up lines while they were at a marketplace and picking up supplies.

But some people, while beautiful on the outside, were clearly beyond ugly on the inside. Like the two girls making snide comments about Lance, moving to describing and shuddering about the scars on his hands and clearly aware based on their smirks that Lance could indeed hear them.

Keith growled. Fuck them. He would fix this himself.

He had barely shifted, reaching for his knife, when a dark, scarred hand clamped down on his wrist.

"Don't," Lance's voice was pitched low, both in warning and to hide the thickness of beginning tears.

"Lance—"

"They're right." Keith had to strain to hear him. "They are ugly." He raised his eyes to meet Keith's, a smile that didn't reach his overbright eyes. "Let's just go. Please."

Keith didn't want to. He wanted to make those aliens regret their comments but Lance didn't want a scene. And he didn't want to make this any worse for Lance than it already was.

He gave a curt nod, dropping the mutilated fruit back into the bushel and turned to follow Lance from the stall.

"Hey!" the alien cried. "You have to buy that!"

Keith narrowed a glare so hot that the girl took a step back. "It was rotten." His hand went to his knife and she gulped although he didn't unsheathe it. "But you? You're even more so."

And Keith stomped away, although his anger died away as he took in Lance's drooped profile waiting for him.

"Don't listen to them," he ordered.

Lance let out a light laugh that only sounded sad to Keith. "Already forgotten. Come on, we still need to get fruit for the list."

Lance didn't try to flirt again.

xxx

Seventy days later…

"You named it what now?" Lance stared at Pidge with exaggerated horror.

"Muerte Verde."

"Are you trying to kill it on purpose?" Lance hunched protectively over the small plant he'd helped Pidge pick out following a brief mission on a planet that specialized in horticulture. The one they'd chosen was a green succulent that the shopkeeper had promised only took a little water to upkeep, perfect for someone like Pidge. "What kind of name is that? How did you even learn that word? I didn't teach it to you."

Pidge's Spanish lessons were going all things considered rather well, although she was horrible at suffixes and remembering the feminine and masculine terms. He had been selecting different categories of vocabulary to teach her and while colors had just happened he most certainly hadn't taught her how to say death.

"I asked Hunk," she shrugged. "I needed more creative insults to yell that Shiro wouldn't scold me for every time."

"You are incorrigible," he told her.

"Ooh, big word, bonita boy."

Lance shuddered. "There are so many things wrong with what you just said. However," he preened, "yes, I am a 'niño bonito,' although face it, I'm more guapo than anything."

"Nah, I'll stick with bonitOH," Pidge emphasized the correct ending with a grin and Lance stuck his tongue out. Her face sobered. "You are though, Lance. No matter what anyone says."

His own expression dimmed. "Keith told you, didn't he?" He shrugged after a moment. "It's fine. Really."

But his hand had gone to his throat, subconsciously covering up the scar.

"You don't like it," Pidge said softly.

Lance's eyes cut to the side. "No," he admitted just as quietly. "But… It is what it is. Not like I can get rid of it."

"Hypothetically, if you could, would you?"

"I… I don't know," Lance said after a few moments. "I'm… I'm trying to accept myself. And that means accepting this," his fingers tapped on his throat. "I'm trying not to see it as what… what Haggardid but what I overcame. A battle scar, right?" His lips turned into a rueful smile but fell a moment later. "But… but if I could? Yeah. I would."

Pidge took one of his hands in her and gave it a squeeze.

Lance smiled at her, more sincerely then, and squeezed it back.

xxx

Eighty-four days later…

"Ha!" Lance cheered, dancing nimbly away as he landed a strike against Shiro's chest, getting in past the normally iron-clad defense. "Take that!"

"You should save the celebrating for later," Shiro told him, smirk on his face.

"Yeah? Why's—"

Lance cut off with a yelp as his legs were swept out from beneath him and he hit the training mats hard.

"You might get tripped up."

Lance blinked up at Shiro before he moaned, covering his eyes with his sweaty arm. "You did not just do that."

"Do what?" Shiro asked innocently. Lance lowered his arm and leveled a glare. "I really have no idea," Shiro shrugged. "Perhaps I should takedown some notes?"

"I will hurt you," Lance groaned, even as he accepted Shiro's hand up. "Those are awful."

"Says the self-proclaimed jokester," Shiro teased.

"My puns are funny," Lance retorted. He sighed then. "Fine, okay, those were really good. I'm just jealous I never got to use the tripped one before."

"You'd have to actually trip someone first."

"Ouch, burn, Shiro. You're really mean."

"Does it make you want to go for another rematch?"

"I'm actually pretty wiped," Lance admitted.

"No sweat," Shiro said. "Even though, you know, we're both really sweaty."

"Shiro, Dios help me I really will hurt you. You're taking the whole space dad dad jokes thing too far."

Shiro only laughed and after a second Lance joined him, even as his ribs protested the shaking.

Shiro had been helping him with his hand-to-hand combat after Lance had expressed, somewhat embarrassed, that he'd like to improve upon it. Shiro thought it was a great idea and he and Allura had actually been holding training sessions for all of them, but he always made sure Lance got a one-on-one slot with him.

Today had been an actual staged fight for Lance to practice some of his new moves, but, like normal, Shiro did not go down easy. Take that back; he didn't go down at all. It might have really bothered Lance in the past – feeling that he was the weak link, that he wasn't good enough, why wasn't he getting this? – but he knew better now and Shiro was a great teacher. He had landed a hit strong enough to knock Keith down in their last group practice to his great delight so he knew he was improving.

"I'm really proud of you," Shiro told him as they exited the padded training room. "You've really come a long way."

"…yeah?"

"Yeah," Shiro reached over and ruffled his sweaty hair and Lance was beyond pleased with himself when he only swatted the hand playfully away.

He had come a long way indeed.

xxx

One hundred and twelve days later…

"Are you sure you're ready, hun?" the six-armed alien smiled gently. "We can do this another day if aren't."

"I…" Lance swallowed thickly. His hand touched his throat, tracing the ropy scar. "I…"

"Can you give us a minute?" Hunk asked the alien. "Please?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need."

"Lance," Shiro's voice was gentle, "do you want to do this?"

They were all clustered in an alien version of a tattoo parlor, the work here done with tiny lasers rather than needles. Absolutely painless, the tattooist had said, with only a numbing tingle left behind that would dissipate in a few varga.

They were there to cover up Lance's neck scar.

The problem, they'd come to realize, was not that the scar existed. It was that it was clearly a scar created by torture. Others realized that too. Even if aliens weren't looking at it with horror they were looking at it with pity, and that had been the case with every planet they had visited when Lance was not covered up by his Paladin undersuit.

Unfortunately it was not something that was ever going to stop and each time it happened, despite Lance's insistence he was fine, his shoulders had hunched a little more. He may have been coming to terms with it and what it meant, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It didn't mean it wasn't a blow to him every time someone whispered or tried to sell him something to cover it up with.

Lance was strong. They all knew that. He had shown them time and again just how strong he was.

But even strong things can break.

It had come to a head at a dinner with the heads of a kingdom they had assisted a week before, all of the Paladins dressed in flowing robes provided by the hosts. Lance had been strutting about like a peacock in his blue version and had turned his sights on one of the lord's daughters, who had been fawning over him just hours before when they'd come out of the Lions after quelling the threat.

She had seen the scars – all of them on display in one form or another – and while she had not turned cruel like the girls at the fruit stand she had become polite, turning her attentions onto a flabbergasted and quickly becoming enraged Keith in which Shiro had to step in before any punches could be thrown.

Lance hadn't left the party, putting on a brave face and reminding himself that it was a part of him and to accept it, but the whispers had circled. Allura had been asked, rather loudly, by the somewhat inebriated lord what had happened to disfigure her Paladin so and that had been the final straw for Lance, who had ducked away back to the ship, Hunk following.

Perhaps if they had asked the same of Shiro's scar things may have been different. But while large and prominent, Shiro's mark was not the same. It, to his revulsion when he'd asked, had been called attractive. Girls love a battle scar, the lord's daughter had explained, after he'd stepped between her and Keith and she'd set her sights on him instead. When Shiro had stiffly told her that Lance's was the same she had frowned in disbelief and inquired as to how exactly, someone got such a scar like that in battle. Shiro had shrugged her off and gone back to the ship as well, seething with disgust.

The others had followed, even Allura, who had been frostily polite in her good byes. They'd all crowded into Lance's room where Hunk had already been, curled up on the bed with Lance and holding him as he had cried. Self-inflicted scratch marks had covered Lance's throat as though he'd tried to claw it off.

Lance had sobbed out that he was being stupid and he was fine and he didn't care, but it was clear that he did. He'd tried to convince himself that he didn't care what others thought of him or what they saw. He accepted himself. He wanted to accept himself.

But he couldn't lie about it anymore.

And, if he was honest, he hated it too. It wasn't pretty. He thought it was ugly. It was hideous. And as hard as he tried to see it as a battle scar, as something to acknowledge he overcame in the face of torture, he was more often reminded of the pain and fear he'd felt each time the collar had lit up, burning and sizzling his skin and mingling with his screams. Those nightmares and memories would never fully go away.

Coran had been the one to carefully suggest a tattoo. Plenty of Alteans had them, he explained, as some chose to carry their Altean markings to other parts of them and when you had a child, he'd swallowed then, hurrying on, it was custom to give yourself their colors as well.

There would not be any tattoo that could completely cover up the scar, but they could transform it into something else, something not so obviously a mark of torture.

And so here they were, at a highly reviewed shop in which the proprietor actually specialized in cover-ups for slave trade victims. In order to not make this all about the neck scar Hunk had volunteered to get a tattoo himself and Keith had said he wanted one too.

Then Pidge had wanted one and Shiro had balked because there was no way he was letting her get a tattoo, but then Allura had said she was also going to get one and told Shiro it was a "rite of passage" in Altean culture and gave Pidge the go ahead herself. Lance had been near tears and had clung to Hunk's arm at the show of solidarity.

To Shiro's relief and surprise, none of them had chosen to go for some large giant back tattoo or arm sleeve. Instead, Hunk had the artist laser on a small yellow version of Voltron's symbol on the underside of his left wrist. Pidge had requested the same in green.

It had started a chain reaction as Keith had gotten red and then Lance had tentatively volunteered his own arm and gotten one in blue. Allura had requested one in pink and Coran had jumped in and gotten an orange version.

And Shiro, despite his own reservations, had gamely handed over his arm for a black symbol. Hunk had grinned and said he'd known Shiro would get on board; it was why he had gotten it on his left wrist so they could all match. Between Shiro's metal prosthetic and Lance's burn scar a few right arms were out of commission. Shiro had knocked him over the head with said prosthetic grinning all the while.

Doing that had been the right move as the atmosphere had gone from a pre-surgery vibe to relaxed and fun. The owner had even brought out drinks – a sort of chocolate and strawberry smoothie – and refreshments while they waited on each other.

Hunk had stopped the tattooist after he finished Lance's symbol in blue before he started on Shiro's, whispering something into the alien's ear. There had been an assortment of raised eyebrows as the tattooist pulled Hunk and Pidge to the side, inking something else onto their wrists just below the Voltron symbol.

Lance had started crying when he saw "WWLD?" permanently added to their skin and despite his protests – that such a mentality had almost gotten Pidge killed – they'd held him and reassured him that they still stood by the message, by Lance's compassion, and they were proud to wear them.

But their Voltron symbols were all completed now and it was time for the big one.

"I… I don't know," Lance whispered to Shiro's question. "I… I want it gone, but…"

It felt like a weakness. He had been trying so hard to accept his new appearance and push past the dark memories and this seemed like a cop out. A step backwards. It was like telling Haggar and Theodek they had won. That he was weak.

There was a murmuring then and some inhalations and Lance belatedly realized he'd said that last bit out loud. He felt his face flame.

"Lance," Hunk murmured, squeezing a scarred hand in his larger one. "Hermano. You are not weak. Doing this does not make you weak. This is you making a decision. You had no choice in getting that scar but you have a choice now. Doesn't matter what it is. It's your choice and whatever it is it's the right one. Understand?"

"Sí," Lance hiccupped.

"Number Two I think summed up all of our thoughts," Coran said, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder. "It is entirely up to you, my boy. What will make you happiest?"

"…I want it gone," Lance said, voice small.

The tattooist came back then, gentle smile and an even gentler touch as one of his many hands tilted Lance's chin back to expose the scar more fully.

"As you know it won't hurt," the alien said, "but it will tingle. Hold as still as you can for me. It will not take long." Lance swallowed heavily and gave the barest of nods. The tattooist hummed and began.

"It looks beautiful, Lance," Allura said quietly as the artist swiveled the stool Lance was perched on to reach the side of his neck, the faint buzzing of the laser the only other noise in the room.

"It really does, hermano," Hunk said, voice thick. Not even twenty dobashes later the tattooist was holding up a mirror for Lance to look, stepping back with a fond smile as Lance's breath caught and tears filled his eyes.

Lance had requested ocean waves. The tattoo did not so much as cover up the scar as it worked with what was already there; taking the ropy lines and turning them into ocean foam and ripples, all dark lines that blended with the burn and complimented Lance's own tan tones and working over the worst of the reds into a tinted brown. It was both a reminder of what he had overcome at the Galras' hands and a testament to the fact that despite how hard they had tried to turn his love of water into a fear he had taken it back. It was still a scar but Lance had transformed it into his.

"Gracias," Lance whispered, trembling fingers lighting upon the crest of a wave. He looked up to meet the eyes of the alien who had created it for him. "Gr-gracias."

"It was my absolute pleasure," the tattooist said. His voice grew more serious, if not softer. "However, it is I who should be thanking you for all you have done to protect this universe. This," one of his hands came to rest atop Lance's own on the scar, "is the mark of a strong heart."

Allura smiled gently and placed her own slender hand on Lance's chest above the rapidly beating heart. "It is a beautiful, strong heart indeed."

xxx

One hundred and twenty days later…

"Great job team!" Shiro sounded over the comms. "Let's bring it in."

"I could go for another round," Lance grinned, even as he directed Blue towards the designated landing zone where Allura and Coran were waiting for them with a picnic lunch following their training on the empty planet they had visited. "Right, Blue? "

Lion ready Blue rumbled, mischievousness in her tone. Lion wish scare Red Lion again.

"Ugh, no," Pidge groaned. "No more. We surrender."

Lance could feel Green's agreement and he grinned, sending back a push of a flashing one hundred, which was his code for being awesome to the numbers oriented Lion along with a bit of smugness. She and Pidge had been so convinced with their cloaking they would be the winners in this game but Lance and Blue were the winners by a landslide.

Like, one hundred to forty being the second highest score.

Oh yeah. He felt Green's sigh but a flash of approval and congratulations.

They had been practicing stealth maneuvers, using the planets tall rock spires to play a giant game of Lion hide and go seek with everyone seeking each other and tagging one another with the Lions tail cannons that Hunk and Coran had rigged to shoot different colored washable paints.

Most of the Lions were covered in a bevy of blue splatter.

In addition to stealth it had also been great practice for Lance to practice his sensing abilities in more extreme circumstances and separating the signatures from one another. And he had to pat himself on the back, he'd done a pretty good job. He'd lost Black a few times; she and Shiro more adept at using the Plane to distort the signal and there had been a few instances of where the Lions had overlapped and Lance had gotten confused, but ultimately it had been a success. He'd even gotten better at individually reaching out to the Lions to "talk" to them, although he kept it to mostly simple ideas to avoid being overwhelmed as it often left him with a headache, Black especially.

"Good job, Lance," Keith said as Red touched down next to Blue. "You really got us." Red and Keith had the least amount of hits next to Green and Pidge due to their speed in getting out of spots when found, but Blue and Lance had gotten the jump on them once and watching the Red Lion leap into the air like a startled cat had had Lance and Blue both in stitches. Getting pegged by Yellow while they floated out in the open had been so worth it.

"Thanks, Keith," Lance chirped. He didn't rub it in like he might have before at having actually usurped Keith in something. They had come so much further from that; their rivalry completely friendly now with good-natured ribbing and challenges. It made Lance's smile widen even though no one could see him.

"I made a special something for the winner," Hunk said, Yellow coming in with a rumbling thump on Blue's other side. "I thought it was going to be Pidge so they're peanut butter flavored."

"I am wounded, Hunk," Lance grinned, no offense actually taken as despite his new ability he hadn't thought he'd be able to counter Pidge's cloaking as well as he had. "Yellow, be a dear and give your Paladin a smack for me." He channeled the thought to the Yellow Lion and was rewarded a second later by a pulse of glee and Hunk's loud shout as Yellow shifted the arm rest to give Hunk's arm a swat.

"Lance!" Hunk sounded only amused though.

The comms went silent then as the Paladins began to exit and head for the food. Lance remained sitting in Blue for a moment longer, trying to calm the slow headache that had been building from using the connections for so long.

My Paladin all right? Blue inquired, wrapping her quintessence about his with a loving caress.

"Just a little headache," Lance admitted. "But it's fine. You, beautiful girl, did amazing today."

My Paladin did amazing she purred. My Paladin best Paladin.

"You're very biased," Lance told her, patting the top of the console as he stood.

Not biased if true.

Lance just laughed, sending a wave of affection towards his Lion that Blue wholeheartedly returned. "I'll see you again soon, Blue. Time to go see what delicious concoctions Hunk and Keith made for us today."

He patted the console one last time and headed for the exit ramp, helmet already off and resting against his hip.

As he exited out of Blue's mouth onto the ramp he gazed down at his family from his higher vantage point, soft smile lighting his face.

He had yet to release his connection to the Lions and so the scene below was awash in different colors of quintessences that shone against the gray, rocky landscape.

Coran was a brilliant orange, currently working with Hunk, shining golden yellow, to unfurl a large blanket while inquiring as to what rituals exactly to follow for this "picnic" that Hunk had devised for their lunch.

Keith was a burning red and pushing away Pidge, covered with a snapping, inquisitive green, who was trying to get into the large basket after the dessert treat Hunk had made with her in mind.

Allura's soothing pink was a quiet presence as she stood by while Shiro, starlight black glimmering, handed her plates and utensils to set out while the mice waged a game tug-of-war with a dropped spoon by their feet.

Lance raised his own hand, covered in a pulsing blue wave, and held it to line up with the other colors.

Orange. Yellow. Red. Blue Green. Pink. Black.

Lance looked again at his own blue. Haggar had fought so hard to take it, to distort it into darkness and shadows.

But she had failed.

Her darkness had nothing on the colors that made up his family; their warmth and love and support.

Haggar had tried to make his color fade away.

She had only made it shine brighter.

Lance descended the ramp then and went straight to Hunk, pulling him into a tight embrace that Hunk returned wholeheartedly, not even questioning it. Coran was there then, holding tight to both of them and then Pidge was wriggling her way in and Keith hesitated for the barest of moments before he latched his arms about Pidge and Lance. Shiro and Allura joined in, completing the group hug.

Everyone was laughing and smiling and positively glowing with their colored quintessences mingling all about, lunch momentarily forgotten in light of the impromptu group hug.

Because they could feel it too, Lance knew. They could feel the love and strength in their bond. The pulse of the heart that drew them together. The warmth and support and the knowledge that no matter what happened, no matter what life threw at them, they were in this together. They were a family.

And their colors shone bright indeed.

Author's Notes:

There's a lot I can say here but I'm going to keep it short(ish) and sweet (unlike this chapter, Dios, but everyone wanted a final one-on-one with Lance and I couldn't refuse them). Color has been… beyond what I ever imagined. It may have started from my desire to have a dark whump fic, but it has become so so much more than that. It became a story of acceptance. Of love. Of family. Of support. It has touched me in a way no story I've written has done before and I know it has resonated deeply with some of you as well. It seems unbelievable to me that it has come to an end, but all things must.

Thank you to all of those who have supported me on this journey. Whether you've been here since the beginning or you joined up in the middle or towards the end, thank you. Thank you for your love. Most especially for your comments, which are what kept me going. Special thanks to those who have been here nearly week after week without fail with a comment to brighten my day. I know who my "regulars" are and believe me, your constant support through this saga has been appreciated more than I can ever say.

And so, one last time, I ask that you please leave a comment below. Doesn't matter if you're reading it at the final publish date or a year from now, I will see it and greatly appreciate it. Comments are truly the best way to tell an author thank you and that you appreciate their time and efforts. As you may have guessed, Color has certainly taken quite a bit of time and effort. Almost 430k words will do that.

Color may be over but I'll still be around-ish (although fyi I am moving mainly to AO3; I will still post here but that is my main site now). Feel free to subscribe to me or check me out on tumblr, icypantherwrites, for what I'm up to.

Thank you all so much again. I look forward to hearing from you one final time.