Sam dreamed of home, a backyard barbecue soaked in sunlight. Colleen sat nearby in a patio chair, talking about politics with a neighbor, her voice rising and falling in lighthearted passion. His children played with the dog in the grass. Sam himself manned the grill, providing sustenance for his family and friends. Lance was there at a picnic table surrounded by his teammates, his skin a healthy, beautiful brown, no longer scored with bruises and cuts, his expression free and clear of clouds. He laughed at some joke Hunk had made, then caught Sam's eye over the grill and smiled at him, too, soft and happy and young and bright.

Sam woke with tears on his face. He heard a hiss of released air, felt a passing sensation of cold. He stumbled forward into the arms of his children. He fell to his knees, couldn't take it in. Katie sobbed into his shoulder, muttering "Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad" in a fervent chant. He buried his hand in her hair, then looked to his right, blinking as he failed to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Matt?" His voice came out rough, raspy. "Is it really you?"

Matt nodded, his face screwed up as he tried to speak and could not. More tears slid down Sam's face, and he wrapped his arm around him and crushed him to his shoulder. Both of them. Both of them here, and safe. Were they safe? Was Sam safe, too? Was any of this real?

They were both changed, his daughter and his son. Katie was older, harder, a look in her eyes that spoke of a warrior and not a child. Matt was scarred, the softness in his face long worn away. His hair was longer, hers was shorter. Sam could feel the definition of their muscles under their backs, in the way they clutched him. But they were still his. They were still his children, no matter what else changed.

"What..." Sam gasped, but couldn't complete the thought. "What..."

"Matt was liberated by a group of rebels," Katie choked out. "We found him by accident, looking for allies... They're the ones who told us about Berav'iv. They knew it was a trap, told us not to go. We went anyway, of course. But we had to be ready. I'm sorry it took so long."

Sam shook his head and held her tighter. "No, no, don't be sorry. I'm just glad you came. If it had taken any longer..." He shuddered. He wasn't at all sure that Lance would have been able to hold on for even one more day.

Lance. Sam jolted, his throat tightening up, and tried to lean back. "Where... Lance is... Where?"

They understood. Katie slid under his shoulder to support him, and Matt pressed against his side. They raised him to his feet and turned him so he could see Lance, trapped in a translucent pod. He still looked terrible, too gaunt, too marked, but his face was serene in slumber. Sam gasped, not sure he believed it.

Katie's arm squeezed around his waist. "He's getting better, Dad, I promise. I know he still looks bad, but it's better than it was. He needs a while longer, Coran says, but when he's healed, we'll all be here to catch him, I swear."

Sam nodded, still a little jerky and confused with reaction. He reached out, his feet moving, and his children guided him closer so he could place his hand on the pod over Lance's face. Sam smiled, yet more tears spilling over and down. "He's such a good boy," he murmured. "He tried so hard, and he gave so much. And they made him hurt so, so badly. I can't..." He drew in a shuddering breath, then looked to Katie. "I'm proud of you, more than I can say." To Matt. "And of you. I...I'm so happy to see you. Thank you for rescuing me."

They hugged him tight, for as long as he wanted. Eventually they led him out of the room, saying that he needed to clean up and change, then eat and meet the others. Only Katie and Matt had been present for his release from the pod so as not to overwhelm him. But they wanted to show Sam the ship, everything they'd been doing and learning and creating, the relationships they'd been building. Sam wanted to see it all, too.

Before they passed out of the room, he looked back at the pod and the sleeping boy and offered one last smile. "I'll see you soon, Lance," he murmured, and he hoped it was true.

The halls were broad, beautiful, and brightly lit. The contrast was so great from the places where Sam had been held for more than a year that he felt somewhat exposed and vulnerable. He found himself sticking close to Matt's side, while Katie clung to his waist. Matt led him to a bedroom that reminded Sam of a military barracks. It was plainly lived in, and a freshly made cot had been set against the wall opposite the bed alcove.

Matt gave him a sheepish smile. "We thought you wouldn't mind rooming with me for a while, just till you get your feet under you. Plus the ship is kinda full right now, at least the normally inhabited parts."

Sam blinked. "The...the other prisoners?" Matt nodded. Zalyk, Kiran, Braxia. Everyone else. They had all been rescued.

Lance would be so pleased. He would be sad, though, that he hadn't been there to help his friends acclimate to their new quarters.

Matt showed him a bathroom connected to the room, a change of clothes laid out for him. "We'll wait in the bedroom for you," he said, and Sam appreciated it more deeply than he could say. Somehow, Katie and Matt both knew without being told that he needed his privacy, but he didn't truly want to be alone.

Cleaning and bathing himself in privacy was a privilege, one that Sam would never again take for granted. Matt had also provided a razor and shaving cream, or at least items that looked close enough for government work. Sam took his time shaving, revealing the face underneath the mess. When he finished, he stared in the mirror for a while, growing accustomed to himself again. He was thinner and frailer than he had once been, and gray had almost completely taken over his head. He looked like an old man. Felt like one, too.

Shiro was different, too, when Sam finally saw him in the dining hall. He was broader and more muscular than Sam remembered, even out of that full-body armor he'd been wearing on the mountain. The white streak in his hair and the scar across his face had aged him at least a decade, not to mention all the responsibilities that piled on his shoulders. In between mourning for the lost innocence of his children, Sam had time to regret what had happened to Shiro, too. He'd had a few weeks to get used to the idea, but it still stung to see the bright young pilot of the Kerberos mission looking like this.

Sam crossed to the boy without hesitation and pulled him into a hug. Shiro clutched him back just as hard. Small tremors ran over his shoulders. "They said you were dead, Champion," Sam said softly. "I didn't know what to believe. Thank God for Lance telling me the truth, otherwise I would be on the floor right now."

"Thank God for Lance for a lot of reasons," Shiro murmured. "It's so good to see you, Commander."

"It's Sam." He pulled back and held him by the shoulders, giving him the brightest, happiest smile he could muster. "Lance is your subordinate, right? He calls me Sam, now, after a great deal of struggle. Can't have you calling me Commander. It would be weird."

Shiro laughed moistly and swiped at his eyes. "Fair point. Okay, Sam. It's good to have you aboard."

Finally, he was able to meet the others, Keith and Hunk, Allura and Coran. He felt like he knew them already from Lance's stories, but it was good to see their faces and shake their hands. He could see why Hunk was Lance's best friend right away. The big boy was kind and emotional and overwhelmingly sweet, and his smile was another sort of sunshine, just like Lance's. He held Sam's hand in both of his and thanked him tearfully for being there for his friend in that awful prison. Sam smiled and shook his head, patted the back of Hunk's hand, and told him that Lance had done far, far more for him than he had ever done for Lance.

The food was good, filling but a little bland. Miles better than the prison loaf, in any case. Hunk said he would make something more tasty for Sam as soon as he had recovered a little more from his ordeal. Other people filtered into the dining hall over the course of his meal, and Shiro and the others took care to introduce them all to Sam. Kolivan, the leader of a group of Galra rebels. A few members of Matt's resistance group, which was separate. A scientist named Slav. Everyone was very careful not to overwhelm Sam with too many new things and people at once, which he both appreciated and found slightly exasperating.

All of it felt surreal, a little distant. He kept expecting to wake up and find that this was all another dream, that he was still trapped in that underground prison holding a gasping, agonized Lance in his arms and trying to hold him together. Or, worse, that Lance had been a dream, too, and Sam was still alone, still forgotten, still lost in despair.

The others seemed to feel the same. Their laughter was a little too high and tinkling, their smiles a little too forced. They were all wearing happiness like clothes instead of feeling it in their bones. Something was missing, some hole needed to be filled. They were all trying, but they all felt it, that absence, that need. There were clouds over the sun that were not yet lifted.

The next few days continued to hold that same sense of absence, of unreality. Sam spent some time walking around the castle-ship and familiarizing himself with his new surroundings, talking with his children and their teammates and allies, visiting the freed prisoners who were waiting to go home or to find refuge elsewhere. There was a lot of talk that went over Sam's head, a lot of diplomatic processes and plans for future battles that were sure to come. The castle zipped around the universe, delivering a few prisoners to places where they would be safe, but most of them did not want to leave until they could see that Lance was healed and whole. So, like the rest of them, they waited.

Far more often than anything else, Sam gravitated to the room with the healing pods. Cryo-replenishers, Coran called them, though no one else seemed to use that technical term. Sam was rarely alone. Coran was there most often, though he only stayed for a few minutes at a time, checking the settings on Lance's pod and looking at him longingly for a moment, then leaving to see to his other responsibilities, of which there seemed to be many. Allura, on the other end of the scale, seemed to restrict herself to only one or two visits a day. The others all ranged somewhere in between.

Sam hated to see the guilt on Shiro's face, though he understood it to a certain extent. Shiro was the leader of this group of young people, so he felt responsible for everything that happened to them. Sam tried to talk him through it a couple of times, tried to mitigate it, but he was unsure of his success. More wrenching to see was the guilt on young Keith's face, far deeper and more paralyzing than Shiro's. That, Sam did not understand, and Keith was unwilling to talk about it at first.

Finally, though, he broke under Sam's gentle interrogation. He looked into Sam's face, his eyes glistening and mouth twisted. "It was my fault," he whispered.

Sam leaned closer. "What was that, son?"

Keith grimaced harder, then turned away, unable to meet Sam's eyes. "It was my fault Lance got captured." His voice was rough and broken. "I took a hit and went down, and he came back for me. I told him not to, I told him to run, but he wouldn't listen. And then..." He cut off, clenching his jaw. "It should have been me in that prison, not Lance. It should have been me getting tortured, starving, getting my legs broken. I wish it had been."

"Keith..."

"Maybe they wouldn't have even hurt me. Red is known for chasing after me in all sorts of situations. They were probably trying to capture me to bait their trap, not Lance. The other prisoners..." His voice broke, and he rubbed his hand over his face. "They said the Galra tortured Lance to make Blue come faster. Maybe they wouldn't have..."

"Keith." Sam stepped closer and slowly, carefully put an arm around his shoulders. The boy tensed, but didn't throw him off. He stared at Lance's face inside the pod. "Keith, you can't think that way. You can't assume that things would have been better or worse if they'd gone a different way. You don't know. We can't know. All we can do is deal with what actually happened, not regret what could have been."

Keith nodded sharply, once. His chin quivered. "I know, I just..."

Sam squeezed his shoulders. "I know it's hard. But this was not your fault, and you must not think so. Besides, how do you think Lance would feel if he knew that you thought that about yourself? He went after you, you said. Would he have wanted you to be in that prison while he was free?"

"He should have," Keith whispered. "He should have regretted putting himself in my place. He should have wished every single day that I was there instead of him."

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't think he did. I've only known Lance for a few weeks, and you've been his teammate for months, so you probably know him better than I do. But I can tell you this with absolute certainty: the boy I met in that prison would have never, ever wanted anyone else to suffer in his place. He told the rest of us not to try to protect him, not to get in the way when the guards came for him. One of his friends tried to hide food for him once, and the guards hit her, and he was the most upset I'd ever seen him up till that point."

Keith stared at him, his face longing, as if he was drinking in the details of what had happened to his friend while he was out of reach. Sam gave him a smile, small and sad, and held him tight against his side. "You can ask him when he wakes up if he regrets saving you, if that will ease your mind. But I don't think it's necessary. I think we both know the kind of person Lance is."

Keith nodded and looked back to Lance, thoughtful and quiet. He stood there for a while longer at Sam's side, and Sam was grateful for the company.

Hunk and Katie's guilt was different, more complicated to talk them out of. They were under the impression that they should have been able to reach Lance faster, that after they learned where he was and the particulars of the trap Haggar had set, they should have been able to build the trap-busting device for Blue much, much quicker. Sam asked for the entire story, the entire process, step by step, listened to all of the research they had done, all the materials they had needed to gather, the various world and allies they had needed to visit in order to get it all done. At each step, he asked if they could have possibly done it any faster, or if there were factors beyond their control.

Each time they had to admit that they might have been able to speed it up by a few vargas at most, and most often not even that. They had already been operating under maximum urgency and speed, just knowing that Lance was in Galra hands. Sam knew that, and slowly, he was able to convince them of that as well.

"But even a few vargas could have added up," Hunk protested at the end, sniffling. Katie was pressed into Hunk's side, and Sam sat next to her, his hand resting on the back of her neck. "If we had gotten there quicker, even just a day earlier, it would have been one less day that Lance had to go through horrible, horrible pain..."

"If you had gotten there a day earlier, Haggar might not have been there," Sam said. "She left most of the dirty work to her minions and only came at the end. So it was a good thing that you were able to catch her in the counter-ambush, too, wasn't it? I know there are still Galra factions to fight, still generals out there, including that son of Zarkon, but the main central command has fallen apart. That's a good thing. Lance has a good head on his shoulders. He would agree with me."

"I guess you're right. I just...I really missed him, man. I missed him so much." Hunk sighed, and Sam reached over Katie's back to ruffle his hair.

"He missed you too, big guy. I don't know how many times I was talking to him and he'd say something like, 'Hunk says that,' or 'This one time Hunk and I.' Lance loves you all very, very much, and I'm sure he'll tell you so as soon as he wakes up."

Hunk drew in a deep, shaky breath and slumped over to rest his head on top of Katie's. "Yeah. I can't wait to talk to him again." Katie snuggled a little deeper into his side, and Sam pressed closer too, and all three of them were as peaceful as they could be, for the moment.

Less peaceful was the argument with Allura. Sam hadn't meant to have one. She happened to stop by at a moment when Coran was also there, and they chatted offhand about the itinerary after Lance woke up, the different planets they would visit to take home the prisoners who had a home to go to. And Sam spoke up, asking a question he thought was completely reasonable and uncontroversial.

"Where is Earth on that list?"

Allura paused, standing as still as if she'd been struck by lightning, then slowly turning to face him. Her face was solemn and still, her eyes regretful. "I am...truly sorry, Sam. There are no plans to return to your home planet at this time."

Sam frowned. "Why not? I understand that you need these children to fight your war, but surely they can be allowed to visit their families for a few days or a week. Especially Lance, who has suffered so much. He needs to see his siblings and talk to his mother, perhaps get some psychiatric help if there's time."

Allura shook her head. "It's too dangerous. As far as we can tell, Earth is still being treated as a backwater planet by the Galra. They know that the blue lion was hiding there, but we've been distracting them with battles and missions far afield from your galaxy. If they realize that that planet is important to us, it will become a target. We cannot return, not until the Empire is less of a threat."

Sam felt his eyebrows bending. "I thought the Empire was less of a threat. Its two greatest leaders have been brought down, haven't they?"

"Yes, Haggar and Zarkon are both out of commission, as far as we know, but we have no proof that they are dead. They could come back at any time. And there are still many powerful leaders within the Empire, all hand-groomed and trained by Zarkon. They will be just as ruthless, just as cruel."

"Then we'll find a way to visit in secrecy and hide our tracks," Sam said. "You have all this technology. There must be some way."

Allura sighed. "I assure you, Sam, if there was a way, we would have found it."

"Then try harder!" That same anger that had energized Sam when facing Haggar was creeping into his bones again, bringing him up on his toes, his shoulders rising. This wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And Sam had had enough. "Lance was tortured, Allura. Tortured. Do you know what that does to a human? To a human teenager? He needs to go home. He deserves it. Even if it's just for a few days, just to recharge and remind himself of what he's fighting for. He gave up so much for this war. For you. You can take some risks for him, too."

Allura swayed back on her feet and rubbed a hand across her forehead. "I understand that you want to visit your wife, but..."

"This isn't about me!" Sam was screaming now, and Coran moved as if to put himself between them, but he seemed to reconsider and hold back. Good. Allura was the leader of this ship as a whole, but Sam was the oldest of the humans, with the most life experience and technically the highest military rank amongst them. He should have some say in how his people were treated, and Coran had no right to interfere.

Sam's hand flung out, indicating Lance and the pod where he floated, serene and silent. "Look at that boy, Allura. Look at him. He's better now physically, he's almost healed, but you can still see the marks that were left on him by his time in that prison. You remember what he looked like when you brought him in. They beat him. They starved him. They made him scream. They broke him, after he fought so, so hard to not let himself be broken. He gave everything he had for this cause, everything, and when he wakes up he's going to give everything to it again. Because that's who he is. He's a hero, a damn fine one, but he's also a child, and you are using him up in this war."

Allura didn't want to look at Lance. Sam could see that. Her eyes kept starting to move toward the pod, then flickering away, downcast and aimed at the floor. Sam felt some twinge of sympathy in his heart for her, truly. She was young, too, far too young to be the supreme commander of a rebel military force fighting a tyrannical empire that spanned an entire universe. But Sam could not spare Allura the truth. He had to think of Lance, and she needed to, as well.

At last, Allura steeled herself, clenching her jaw and physically turning her body to face the pod. She straightened her head, her fists clenched at her side, and looked at Lance's face. For a few long moments, she stood there, just staring. Sam watched her face, watched the emotions play over it, the struggle, the longing, and the surrender.

Finally, she turned to face him again. Her expression was still again, hardened in resolve. "You're right. Lance deserves anything that I can give him, and I will do my best to do so."

Sam nodded, relieved, and took a half step back as his shoulders fell down.

"We'll give him the choice." She looked back to the pod again, then glanced at Coran, and back to Sam. "When he wakes, we'll explain everything and let him decide whether or not to take the risk. In the meantime, I will ask Slav to work on a solution for a stealthy visit to Earth. If anyone can do it, he can, and he is oddly fond of Lance."

"Thank you," Sam said softly. "I appreciate the effort. Lance will too."

She gave him a brisk nod, then turned and left the room. "I'll speak to Slav now."

Then there was only the waiting.

Everyone wanted to be there when Lance woke, but Coran restricted it to the core group, the paladins and the Alteans, plus Sam. Even Matt chose to wait to see Lance till later. Zalyk and Braxia and few of the other former prisoners were in the hall outside the healing pod room, waiting for permission to come in. They had pressed Sam's hands in theirs as if they could pass their good wishes on to Lance through his touch.

At last the pod released, and Lance stumbled forward, eyes half-open and face slack. He fell into the arms of his best friend, who clutched him close and immediately started to cry. Lance raised his head and looked around with widening eyes that soon began to glisten. His hands clenched in the back of Hunk's jacket, and the others crowded around. Sam hung back from the group, a lump in his throat as he watched Lance reunite with his team.

Everyone wanted to touch Lance. Everyone wanted to be close to him. Hunk was unwilling to let him go, but after a long moment Shiro was permitted to take over. He folded Lance into his arms and held him with his hand on the back of his head, rocking them both gently. Pidge wrapped her arms around Lance's waist from the back, and Keith stood as close as he could manage, a hand on Lance's shoulder and a wide grin on his face despite the tears that poured from his eyes.

Everyone was crying now, and Lance kept looking around, his breath rapid and body shaking. "Is this real?" he asked, then again and again. "Is this real? Is it really real?"

"It's real, my boy," Coran said with a break in his voice, leaning forward to take Lance's head in his hands. "It's real. You're here. You're safe now." Behind him, Allura's hands were pressed over her face, and her shoulders shook with sobs.

Lance blinked, still struggling to take it all in, bewildered and overwhelmed. Then his eyes met Sam's across the room, and he blinked again, once, very hard. "Sam!" A cry of relief, of need, and Sam crossed the space between them in three strides.

The others parted to make way as Lance stumbled out of Shiro's grip, his arms outstretched toward Sam. "Sam! You're really here?"

They slammed into each other. Lance's skinny arms wrapped around Sam's shoulders while Sam picked him up around the torso and spun him, sobs breaking free of his throat. The Altean technology had relieved some of the starved gauntness in Lance's face and healed his injuries, but he was still far from the solidly built though slim young man Sam had met that first day. It was easy to lift him, almost too easy. Lance buried his face against Sam's neck and cried.

"It's real? We're free? We're here? Both of us?"

"It's real. We're both here," Sam said, voice choked and a little desperate, but he was sure it was the truth. He felt that a film had been lifted from the world, the last shreds of unreality fading away. The clouds were gone, the sun was out, and everything felt sharp and solid and present in a way Sam hadn't been sure of since Haggar and her goons first hauled him out of the mountain.

Sam was here, and Lance was here. Sam set Lance on his feet and held on tight for a moment, then backed off so he could smile in his face. He could barely see him through the tears, but he knew this face, as dear to him as his own children's. "We're here. We made it. You did such a good job, and I'm so proud of you."

He pulled him in again, breathed in deep, let it out, and closed his eyes. Lance clutched at the back of his shirt, shuddering in his arms. Lance was wounded and scarred by his experience, emotionally if not physically. They had a lot of work to do, a lot of discussions to have. Sam was going to be there for Lance every step of the way, and he would also be there for Katie and Matt and Shiro and Keith and Hunk. That was set in stone, no matter what else happened.

But for now, Sam's heart was light. He knew where he was, who he was, and he was glad. There was only one more thing he needed to say.

"Welcome home, sunshine. I'm glad you're here."

The End