Part 2 of Lance losing a leg and having more in common with Shiro than he ever thought possible
His hand twists in his sheets, his knuckles white in the darkness as the fabric squeaks under the pressure. His toes are clenched, digging into the mattress, and his head is thrown back, gasping as if he can't get enough air in his lungs.
It was dark around him as he spun, panting. There was blood dripping down his forehead, but he paid it no mind. His bayard was clenched in his fist as he shot through a galra soldier who had started towards him.
There was a hall to the right of him, one he felt was important, but he couldn't see into it; it was completely coated in darkness.
He was startled by another soldier that had a blaster aimed at his shoulder. He dodged but fell short with a hiss, a smoking graze left on his arm. He fired two quick shots and turned--
"Lance!"
There was something flying through the air, and Lance could do nothing as it fell, red and flashing.
As an afterthought, he threw himself to the ground, covering his head. Not a second later, there was a deafening boom and a searing pain.
He-
His back arches as he wakes, his breath catching in his chest. The only sounds around him are the sounds of his own choking and the rustling of his sheets.
He can barely see the glowing stars stuck on the ceiling of his room through his blurry eyes, but they calm him. His arms go limp, letting his back thump against the softness of his mattress as he tries to slow his breathing.
"Shit," he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. His other hand runs down his side slowly and he flinches when his fingertips come into contact with the warmed metal of his leg. He quickly pulls his hand away and sits up tensely.
His eyes flash down to his left leg, covered by his blue sheets, and he feels his mind running wild again, feels his breathing picking up.
Stop it, it's okay, I'm okay.
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and doesn't let his eyes stray downward as he stands shakily, still unbalanced from the weight added to his left side. He doesn't bother putting anything on as he exits his room, wobbling through the hallways in his black boxers.
He ignores the clanks in his leg as he walks down the hallway, not even reading the nameplates on the doors he passes as he goes; he knows which one he's looking for.
He stops in front of the door and, without a sound, his presses his hand against the scanner at its side. There's still a flare of anxiety that it'll flash red, that it'll disallow him from his sanctuary despite the many times he's done this.
He's shifted his weight from one foot to another by the time the light at the corner of the scanner flashes green and the door clicks. The door slides open almost silently and Lance steps in, pressing the button at his side that would close and lock it once more.
Groaning is the first sound he hears when the door closes, and he isn't surprised. He walks to the edge of the bed and sees in the light glow of their mechanical limbs a silver hand fisting the pillowcase near Shiro's head. There's already a tear in it, stuffing getting stuck in the crevices of Shiro's hand.
Shiro's face is stained with tears, and where there used to be panic or worry at such a sight, there is quiet acceptance and heartfelt sympathy.
Lance leans over the bed and grasps Shiro's metal hand in one of his own, placing his other on his back, gently shaking. "Shiro, Shiro wake up."
Shiro doesn't stir, but the crease on his brow gets deeper. He gives the man a sturdier shake, nearly jostling the entire bed with the roughness of the movement. "Shiro."
Shiro's body jerks awake and Lance is forced to take a few steps back as Shiro sits up at lightning speed, his back straight as a pole. Shiro's dark eyes search the room in quick flashes and when he notices Lance, he sighs and his shoulders slump a bit. "Lance."
Lance doesn't try to smile as he says, "Hey."
Shiro looks at him for a moment, his white fringe sticking to the sweat dampening his forehead. He scoots over without a word and presses a hand to his chest, steadying himself.
Lance rubs his arm before shuffling over to the bed and climbing in, a ritual by now. They don't speak as they lie down, their eyes towards the ceiling and the sounds of their breathing intermingling.
It's warm with the two of them-- warm and loud and it feels like relief.
~
Lance wakes slowly. He isn't rushed when he opens his eyes, doesn't feel the need to get up immediately. He's calm and his calm days are becoming less and less so he values it.
He feels the warm brush of skin against his arm and looks to the side, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips up. Shiro's face is lax, peaceful, but his hair has flopped into his face, tickling his nose and making it twitch.
Lance watches for a while, but Shiro doesn't stir no matter how many times his nose twitches at the intrusive, fly-away hairs.
He must be so tired, Lance thinks. His smile disappears like a wisp of smoke, turning into a gentle frown. He reaches out and displaces the white hair, not wanting it to disturb Shiro's sleep and thinking that the man could do with the extra rest.
Sometimes he wonders what he did for all of the years he slept in solitude. He shivers at the thought of having to go through something like this alone. He can't imagine staring up at the ceiling all night, nightmares coming alive when his eyes slip closed with no reprieve. Lance can go to Shiro and Shiro to Lance now, but what about before?
Lance feels guilty, to a degree. It shouldn't have taken his own tragedy for him to gain such a simple understanding about his leader-- his friend.
Lance doesn't know how long he stares, but time goes by quickly and soon Shiro's bloodshot eyes are squinting up at him. Lance can't help but smile; Shiro is like a cranky toddler in the morning and it is the single most adorable thing Lance has ever come to learn about him.
"Good morning," Lance greets with a small smile.
Shiro just continues squinting at him, then he scrunches his nose as if in distaste. He frowns in a way that bloats his cheeks and Lance wants nothing more than to squish them... so he does. Happily.
Shiro looks a mixture of irritated and confused as Lance grasps his puffed cheeks in between his palms and squeezes, forcing Shiro into making a sleepy ducky face. Shiro's eyes are glaring when Lance starts snickering, but he still looks like a tired hamster so it has no effect.
"Lance." Shiro's words are muffled and Lance's snickers become even louder because oh my god he sounds so pouty!
"Sorry, sorry," Lance apologizes through his giggles, giving the man a break and removing his hands.
Shiro just huffs and moves onto his back and reaches his arms up above his head, stretching. His body goes taut for a second and his eyes squeeze shut before he's relaxing again with a small sigh.
"Good sleep?" Lance guesses.
Shiro's eyes flicker to Lance and he gives Lance a crooked smile, "Yeah."
Lance can sympathize, he doesn't know why they even try to sleep apart anymore.
Lance moves to get out of the bed but a twinge in his thigh has him hissing. He moves the blanket away from his lap and looks down at where the prosthetic meets his skin. He rubs gently at its redness and it's warm to the touch.
Shiro sits up and looks with a frown, "You shouldn't be walking on it so much."
Lance lets Shiro get close and watches as the man gently presses the pads of his thumb into the tender flesh. "Your body has to get used to the added weight, you have to rest."
Something pangs in Lance's chest when he looks at the leg for an extended period of time. "Can't we just throw me into a healing pod for a few hours and call it a day?"
"Sorry, but the healing pods can't make you stronger, Lance," Shiro says, pulling his hands away and leaning back on his palms.
Lance eyes Shiro's bicep and gives Shiro a meaningful look, "You sure, Adonis?"
Shiro rolls his eyes and gives Lance a small push, "Get out."
"Fine, fine, I can see when I'm not wanted," Lance says with a dramatic hand to his chest. He stands and twirls with a flourish. "You bed me and then you leave me. You are a cruel man, Takashi Shirogane, a cruel, heartless man."
Lance grins, winking and sticking his tongue out when Shiro gives him an unimpressed look. "Don't worry babe, I'll be your booty call any time!"
Lance has to duck to avoid the torn pillow thrown at his head.
~
Lance has been banned from training for a while, and he hates it. He hates watching everyone work while he's forced to sit out, hates the jittery feeling he gets when he sees Keith practicing with his bayard. He hates the looks they cast him during group practice.
He wishes he could have enough self-control to keep himself from coming to every practice, but he can't, he has an innate need to feel like he's a part of something; like he still has a use despite all of his broken pieces.
Allura still hasn't really said anything to him, but sometimes he hears her talking to Coran late at night. Once their conversation was about searching for a new paladin and he's sure it wasn't the first nor the last time the topic has come up. His heart squeezes when the thinks about it, but he always moves on. If he loses Blue, he'll take it in stride.
He'll smile at the new paladin and introduce them to his beautiful girl, his faithful companion. He wonders if the new paladin will call Keith out on his terrible haircut or if they'll be the one trying Hunk's food-- if they'll be the one Shiro goes to when he has a nightmare.
In stride, Lance, in stride.
"Is your leg bothering you?"
Lance looks up and Hunk is hovering over him, hesitant and concerned.
Lance smiles, shaking his head, "Nah, it's good."
Hunk looks relieved, "That's good, do you want to try these cookies I made?"
"Are they cookie cookies or are they..." Lance makes a face, "...cookies?"
Hunk laughs, "You'll have to tell me." Lance shivers at the thought of a warm, chewy chocolate chip cookie being turned into a purple monstrosity, but he still follows Hunk.
The cookies don't exactly look appetizing, but they aren't purple and Lance sees that as a win. They're actually remarkably close to Earth's own brown-colored delights, but they're much more yellow and the chocolate chips--which he quickly surmises are not chocolate at all-- are a deep blue color.
They don't look poisonous so Lance wastes no time fitting a whole one in his mouth-- much to Hunk's horror-- and chews thoughtfully. The texture is soft, nearly reminiscent of cookies but a little spongey, and the taste...is surprising.
Lance looks at Hunk, his cheeks stuffed with space cookie, "Hunk! This is so good!"
Hunk's eyes light up. "Do they actually taste like cookies!?"
"Uh...no," Lance says flatly. When Hunk's face drops, he wraps an arm around his shoulders and grabs another cookie. "But, they kind of taste like vanilla ice cream. They're seriously good, dude."
Hunk breaks off a piece of a cookie and puts it in his mouth. After a second he smiles, nodding with an ecstatic look."You're right!"Hunk moves and grabs his notepad off of the counter to the side and picks it up, mumbling, "I might actually be able to use the recipe to make actual ice cream..." He looks up at Lance for a second. "Thanks, Lance."
"'Course," Lance says. He grabs another cookie, "I'm just gonna take this and leave you to do your culinary genius."
Hunk only hums and Lance takes that as his cue to go.
He takes a bite out of his cookie and thinks he doesn't want anyone else to take his place in the kitchen with Hunk. Not now, not ever.
~
Lance's favorite thing to do when he can't sleep is sit in one of the glass-covered pockets that are hidden in crevices dug into the sides of the ship and stare at the stars as they pass them at a snail's pace.
Tonight he sits here cross-legged in only a pair of pajama pants, the reds and whites of the stars they pass twinkling in his eyes as if they're waving off their unhurried departure.
He doesn't know how long he's been sitting here, but he thinks it's been a while because his toes are frozen and his arms are stiff as they haven't moved since he sat down.
There's a soft sound of padding feet behind him and he looks, finding Shiro standing behind him in only sweats, water dripping down his bare, scar-ravished torso. His right arm is lifted, rubbing a towel on his damp hair.
Neither of them say anything as Shiro comes to stand next to him, looking out into the vast expanse of space. The alive sound of breathing is the only one Lance can hear and, for once, the excess sound doesn't bother him in his haven.
"It's late," Shiro speaks finally, his voice soft and unobtrusive. Lance nods a bit. Not an answer to the unspoken question, he realizes, but he doesn't move to remedy his nonanswer.
After a second, Shiro drops his towel by his feet and sits by Lance with his knees up and his arms crossed over top. Lance thinks he can see a bit of gold in his eyes when the stars reflect in them.
He knows they don't need words to understand each other anymore, but he still feels a need to fill the silence. "Did you just get out of the shower?" That was stupid, of course he did.
Shiro gives him a side glance and a small, amused smile, "Yes," he says, "I wanted to train before bed."
"This late?" Lance asks, mimicking his previous question. Their eyes meet and they both know Lance isn't really looking for an answer. Lance's hand strays down to pull at his left pant leg and Shiro quietly presses an arm against his and Lance stops, letting his hand rest near Shiro's instead.
"Allura had something to talk to me about; it took longer than expected," Shiro says. Lance gives him a side glance.
He looks down at his hands and bites his lips. Hesitantly, he says, "...It's about finding a new blue paladin, isn't it? Because I haven't been able to work with the team."
Lance can't bring himself to look at Shiro, but he can feel the man's gaze on the side of his face. "Lance...what are you talking about?"
Lance's hand clenches into a fist and he still doesn't look up as he says, "I know that Allura is thinking about it. I...I can't really blame her, can I?"
"Lance," There is a hand on his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye he sees Shiro leaning into his space. "we aren't going to replace you."
Lance's lips are sealed tightly as, to his horror, tears start to leak from his eyes. "Don't sugarcoat it, Shiro, please."
"Lance...Lance look at me," Shiro forces Lance to look at him with a firm tap on the cheek. His tears come faster when he meets Shiro's painfully kind eyes, "no one is replacing you."
Lance sniffles, "Why?"
"What do you mean 'why?' We wouldn't replace you because you can't do everything while you're still recovering. That would be ridiculous," Shiro says in a soft, convincing tone.
"Then why was Allura saying she'd look for someone to Coran? I heard it," Lance says. He wipes his eyes roughly on the back of his arm, uncaring that his skin would become sticky with tears.
"She... may have been considering it when you looked like you weren't going to recover," Shiro says slowly as if cautious, "but you are recovering."
"So she isn't looking anymore?" Lance hates how pathetic he sounds.
"No, she isn't. She wanted to ask me about integrating you back into your training regime," Shiro tells him with a gradual smile.
Allura wants him to train with them again? She doesn't want to replace him?
Lance laughs mirthlessly, "Great, now I sound like an asshole."
Shiro rests a hand on his arm, "You aren't being an asshole, Lance," he makes sure to hold onto Lance's gaze as he continues, "you just went through something traumatic and you're going through new emotions that you need time to learn how to handle. She understands. We all do and we won't ever hold it against you."
"But I'm a paladin of Voltron, what good am I if I can't handle my emotions?" Lance asks, his shoulders curling in.
"You deserve to lash out, Lance. You deserve to be upset and sad and angry, you deserve to feel what you feel and being a paladin of Voltron doesn't change that." Lance's brow furrows as he looks at Shiro helplessly.
"Did you ever go through this?" he asks.
He begins to regret his question when Shiro's eyes seem to darken and he's about to take it back when Shiro replies, "Yes. I would have hated for any of you to see me like that."
"...Was it that bad?" Lance prods gently.
Shiro's lips purse and he nods, "It wasn't pretty." Shiro heaves a hefty sigh and closes his eyes. "It wasn't pretty, but it was and is normal and I can't fault myself for it any more than you can."
Lance nods. "So I'm not being replaced?"
"No," Shiro responds patiently, letting his eyes open once more and smiling, "we're all waiting for you to get well again."
Lance gives a hard sniff. "Thank you, Shiro."
Shiro wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a one-armed hug, resting his cheek on the crown his head. "I should be the one thanking you."
"For what?"
Shiro holds him a little tighter as he says, "Everything."
And as Lance looks at the stars that zoom past the ship he thinks that this is what healing feels like.
Due to the purge on Tumblr, Link to Part 1 and full work(Titled Running Man on Ao3) will be posted in reblog. Links to both parts can be found on my profile on my Ao3 Story list page or under the tag Running Man
