This is a sequel to a fic I posted in August, called "Pulling You Back to Your Feet", where Lance's leg is amputated in tragic circumstances. If you hadn't read it, I advise you to do so (after checking for possible triggers in the author's note, of course). The sequel is much more lighthearted and does not feature anything gory or dark, but it does revolve around the recovery process of an amputee, so things like nightmares and phantom pains are discussed here in detail.

Fire.

His leg was on fire.

Well, not precisely: his leg was on fire while being stabbed with a thousand icy daggers and run over and over again with the world's sharpest sandpaper, all at the same time.

Oh, god, please make it stop.

He had to make it stop.

He had to get out of there or the entire building would collapse on him.

Would that make the pain stop?

No, he wasn't allowed have this kind of thoughts; he had to get out of there, he had a family to go back to, he had to be strong for them, but everything just hurt so much and –

Lance's eyes flew open and he gasped when they were met with nothing but darkness. He fumbled desperately for something to hold on to, but in his panic all he managed was to roll himself out of wherever he was and land on the cold, hard floor – right on his left kneecap.

He would have screamed had the fall not knocked all the air out of his lungs, so he simply lay there for a few moments and tried to remember how to breathe, letting his burning eyes adjust to the darkness around him. The room was dimly lit by a line of faint, blue emergency light, and after a minute or so he was able to make out the layout of his bed – the bed he'd just fallen from after waking up from…

What was it that roused him? The pain? A nightmare? Lance's mind was too fuzzy to remember what the dream was about. However, judging from the waves of agony traveling up and down his bad leg, he could take an educated guess.

He hoped the pain would subside now that he was awake and more or less aware of his surroundings.

He tried to move, gingerly folding his legs so he could sit up.

Something that felt like lightning shot up his left leg, sending currents to his waist and lower back as well.

It was like being electrocuted.

Bile rose in Lance's throat and he reached for the trash can by his bed, but his aim was lousy considering he could barely see anything and his entire body felt like jelly, so all he managed was to knock it down, missing his head by inches.

Well, at least he tried to do it the clean way.

Lance barely managed to keep his head off the floor as he curled around himself, arms grabbing his abdomen, gagging and coughing and crying because he was making a terrible mess and it did nothing to elevate the pain that now reached his head as well. Every time he retched he felt as if someone was hitting him with a baseball bat between the eyes.

At some point – minutes or hours later, who even cared – it was over. At least, the vomiting part was over – the pain in his leg was still there, sharp and steady with the occasional spasm every now and then to make things interesting.

Lance used his very last powers to roll to the other side so he wouldn't lie in his own puke, pressing his pounding head against the cool metal of the base of his bed. Tears kept slipping from his eyes, but he didn't have enough energy to wipe them off. What difference would that make, anyway? He was already the definition of pathetic. Barely a day out of the pod, hooked on painkillers that Coran had strictly ordered him to take every few vargas, and already breaking apart because of a leg that wasn't even there anymore. He knew this was how phantom pains worked, and yet he couldn't help but hate himself for falling for the trick his body played on him.

Everyone kept telling him, from the moment he was out of the pod, that he was a hero.

Well, hero was the furthest from how he felt right now.

He felt cold, and hurt, and nauseous, and tired, and alone.

He wanted his mother.

Lance scrunched his face. Great. Another reason to burst into tears – as if he didn't have enough already.

He needed to call someone. He was clearly unable to get back to bed on his own – at least until his leg stopped hurting so bad, and who knew when that would be – but he couldn't stay on the floor all night, surrounded by the stench of vomit; he'd get sick, and he had already spent enough time at the med bay. Coran deserved a break from him.

He couldn't take another dose of painkillers either, because he had taken one right before he went to bed, and Lance had a feeling that wasn't too long ago. Although it was rather tempting, he didn't think poisoning himself would be smart at the moment.

There was a panel of emergency buttons at the side of his bed – he could reach them from here if he just moved the trash can a little – each button the color of a different paladin, as their rooms were all connected to an inner intercom system. There were buttons for Allura and Coran as well, added after the current paladins arrived at the castle for the first time.

Who should he call? His first thought was Shiro, because as much as it was embarrassing to admit, he was the closest thing to the parental figure Lance missed so much right now.

But Shiro had his own fair share of nightmares, Lance realized gravely. He had also lost a part of himself – and in much dire circumstances, to be honest. The last thing Lance wanted was to disturb his leader's already disturbed sleep schedule, especially with such a painful reminder of his own demons.

Hunk, then. He might be hysteric at first, but the yellow paladin knew how to get his shit together when necessary, and he was pretty good at comforting others. Perhaps he'd even manage to concoct some kind of tea that would make Lance feel better – he always came up with things like that.

Yes, he could call Hunk. He felt bad for waking him up – he and Pidge have already been dedicating all their free time to design a new leg for him, and they needed their rest. But Lance needed his friend and he needed him now.

Just as his hand reached for the yellow button, his leg spasmed again. He cried out, hand slipping off the panel as he pulled it back, grabbing his left thigh as if that could help in any way – but the touch only made the pain worse. It was as if his fingers were made of white-hot iron that pierced into his flesh and set it on fire from the inside.

Lance wailed, letting go of his thigh as his hand dropped to the floor and his vision went white. Was he about to pass out? Please, let him pass out, he couldn't bare this any longer…

"Lance? You called?"

He just wanted it to end…

"Oh my god – Lance! Lance, are you okay?!"

Someone was talking. Someone was there. He didn't have even have the power to turn his head to see who it was. Could that person make the pain go away? Lance tried to ask, but nothing but a choked moan came out.

"Lance, please say something, you're freaking me out."

Lance blinked several times, torn between the will to pass out and the need to ask for help. His vision gradually became clear and he realized the room was no longer dark – whoever came in must have turned on the lights.

And then there was a shadow over him. Someone was hovering by, worried face examining him carefully. Lance craned his neck slightly to meet their eyes. Small, pale face, framed by shaggy auburn hair and a huge pair of glasses…

"Pidge?" Lance croaked, wrinkling his forehead. "What're…" his tongue was too heavy to produce anything longer than that. However, it seemed to be enough to satisfy the green paladin, who sighed in relief as if she'd thought he was having a stroke or something.

"You called me on the intercom?" she said. "And when I answered, you didn't answer, so I figured I'd check in… Lance, what the hell is happening? Why is there puke all over the floor? Are you sick?"

Pidge. He didn't want her to come here. He wanted Hunk… his hand must have accidently pressed her room's button when it slipped. No, she shouldn't be here. Pidge was like a baby sister to him – he didn't want her to see him like that.

He closed his eyes again as fatigue took over him, gesturing shakily at his left leg.

"You leg hurts?" Pidge sounded puzzled. "But I thought Coran gave you painkillers."

"Didn't help," Lance slurred without opening his eyes.

"Shit." There was a faint rustling sound as the girl scratched her head. "Well, I don't really know anything about those things… I'll go get Coran, he'll probably know what to – "

Lance's leg burst into flames again. He yelped and reached for Pidge's hand, grabbing it so hard he must have hurt her, but he didn't dare to let go as if that would send him falling forever. "Don't go!" he begged. "Please… don't…"

"Okay, okay," Pidge said, eyes wide in surprise with a hint of panic. "I'll stay. I'm not going anywhere." She used her other arm to rub circles around Lance's back, hoping to comfort him in some way. She's never been in this situation before, and saying she wasn't a tad scared would be a lie.

Lance shuffled closer to her and buried his head in her lap. He was so sticky with sweat she could feel it through her pajama T-shirt. "'m sorry," he mumbled in a broken voice that made Pidge's eyes sting.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said. "I… I can't imagine how painful this must be. I wish I could do something about it."

Lance sighed, muscles relaxing the slightest bit. "At least you're here."

Pidge blinked rapidly as the stinging in her eyes grew worse. "Yeah." Unlike then, when she didn't stay by his side, because Shiro had told her to go.

Pidge wasn't stupid. She knew he was trying to protect her, to spare her the horrific sight of Lance's amputation because she was… a girl? The youngest person in their group? Never mind the reason, the bottom line was that Pidge wasn't with her friend – her brother, as she'd come to think of him over time – when this happened. She wasn't there to hold his hand, to wipe his tears, to tell him everything would be alright.

Well, it was time to fix this. As long as Lance needed her, she had no intention to leave, even if it meant sitting on this cold floor all night.

Lance tensed again under her touch, probably due to another wave of pain. He didn't make any sound though, and Pidge wondered whether he was holding it or simply didn't have the power to voice his suffering anymore. She rubbed his back again, although she was starting to worry for real. How long did those spells of phantom pains usually last? She had no problem spending the night here, but she couldn't imagine what it would be for Lance to be in such pain for so many hours. What if he threw up again? He could dehydrate...

"Lance," she said in what she hoped was a calm voice. "I'm not going to leave you, but I do think we should call Coran on the intercom. He must know a way to help."

Lance remained silent for so long she thought – or hoped – he'd fallen asleep, but then he spoke, voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to cause him any more trouble."

"Oh, but waking me up in the middle of the night is cool?" Pidge wanted to slap herself the moment the words left her mouth. "Argh, sorry, bad joke. Really bad joke. I didn't mean it like that." Wow, she was bad at this whole comfort thing. "Anyway, I don't think Coran would mind. Alteans have a shorter sleep cycle anyway." She had no idea if that was true, but it sounded like the right thing to say.

Lance sighed again. "Fine," he surrendered, and Pidge wasted no time reaching for Coran's button on the bed panel.

The advisor answered after a few seconds. "Show yourselves, you dirty Snarflafs!" he screeched, making Pidge instinctively jump away from the bed.

"Um… what?" she asked, staring at the panel dumbfoundedly.

Coran cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry about that, I was just having the most peculiar dream… er… what can I do for you at this fine varga, Number Three?"

"Actually, it's Pidge. I'm in Lance's room. Can you come over?"

"Pidge? I do not understand. Where is Lance?"

"He's…" Pidge looked down at the shivering boy curled at her lap. "He's not doing great. Leg hurts, a lot. He said the painkillers didn't help. I… don't really know what to do."

Coran sighed. "Ah, poor thing. Let me think… yes, I just need to make a quick stop at the infirmary and I will be at your place in a jiffy. Thank you for informing me, Number Five."

"No problem. Thanks, Coran." Pidge patted Lance's shoulder lightly. "He'll be here soon."

Lance only moaned in response.

Barely five minutes later the door slid open and Coran stepped inside, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two of them, plus the mess on the floor. His moustache fluttered slightly. "Well, this look like a job for one of our cleaning robots," he said and pressed something on his watch. "Alright, let's get to work. Can you sit up for me, my boy?" he kneeled as far as he could from the dirt and rested a gentle palm on Lance's shoulder.

Lance opened one eye with effort. It was pale and framed by a bag so dark it looked like a bruise, and Pidge's heart broke a little. Seeing how exhausted Lance was made her almost equally exhausted.

Coran smiled sadly. "I know you want nothing but sleep, but I have just the thing for that. I promise. I just need you to sit for a quick tick."

Lance released a long breath and pulled himself up with grimace, supported by both Pidge and Coran who held him by the armpits and back. Once he was more or less upright he pitched to lean on Pidge, head lolling to rest on her shoulder. She held back a grunt – Lance wasn't exactly lightweight compared to her, but she was determined not to show any discomfort.

"Very good." Coran opened the small medical kit he'd brought along. Inside there were a single syringe and a couple of gauze pads. "Now, this sedative will both elevate the pain and help you sleep. It should take effect in a couple of dobashes."

Lance didn't reply, but bowed his head slightly down in what could be taken for a nod.

"Alright. This will only sting for a tick." Coran pulled Lance's left pajama sleeve to expose his arm and cleaned the place with a piece of gauze. Then, he injected the sedative. Lance didn't even stir.

"Excellent, my boy. Number Five, can you hold this for a bit?" Coran pressed another gauze to the place of the injection and nodded at Pidge. She brought the arm that wasn't currently squashed by Lance's waist and held the gauze in place so Coran could pack his kit.

The room's door opened again, revealing one of the castle's many robot cleaners. It swooshed its way to the pool of bile and started working, making some rather disgusting suction noises. Pidge looked away.

At some point she noticed Lance's breaths had gotten slower, deeper. She glanced down. Her friend was still pretty sweaty and pale, but seemed finally asleep, body slumped and relaxed.

"Wow. Works like magic," she pointed out.

"Altean medicine has its tricks." Coran stood up and stretched his back, cracking it a few times. "Anyway, I think our boy can use a change of clothes before we put him back to bed."

Pidge's cheeks burned. "Um… I…"

Coran laughed. "Oh, I did not mean for you to help me! I can handle it on my own. You are free to go, my dear girl. Thank you for the help."

"I didn't really do anything," Pidge said, carefully standing up after making sure Lance was leaning safely against the bed.

"You were here for Lance when he needed you. I wouldn't call that 'not doing anything'".

"Yeah… maybe." Pidge rubbed her eyes, feeling worn out all of a sudden. Well, she had beendragged out of bed in the middle of the night.

"Go to sleep, Pidge. Do not go to your lab, not until after breakfast." The advisor waved a finger at her face. "I will know if you go there! I have eyes all over the castle!"

"Why would I go to the lab now?" Pidge asked mid-yawning.

"Because this is what you do most nights. And also, I imagine you'd like to finish working on the prototype for Lance's leg as quickly as possible." Coran winked at her. "That is a very nice thing to do, but it should not be at the expense of your sleeping hours."

Pidge smiled tiredly. "I do want to finish it soon… but don't worry, I'm not planning on going there now. Promise."

"Well, then I shall bid you good night."

"Good night, Coran."

In her defense, Pidge did go straight to her room. However, despite the exhaustion she felt, sleep did not come until the wee hours of the morning. She kept thinking of Lance, of his pain-stricken face, the way he clung to her like a lifeboat.

Her hand fisted around the blankets.

She may not be too great at the comforting part, but her brain was pretty damn brilliant, and she was going to use that brain to help Lance.

She was going to fix this. She was going to fix everything.

-x-

Lance panted, sweat prickling on his face and neck as he crossed yet another hall, only two more to go until he reached the kitchen. He was getting pretty good at handling his crutches, but walking with them for too long was still exhausting, both for his right leg – which had to work twice as hard, carrying all of his weight by itself – and arms, that grabbed the crutches so hard they became sore (he was definitely expecting to get some nice triceps by the time he got his new leg, otherwise, what was even the point).

But Lance was hungry, and there was no way he was going to sit in his room all day and ask people to bring him snacks and stuff, even when his entire body ached from hopping on one foot all the time. Since he was unable to participate in missions or even train until further notice, he needed something to keep himself occupied.

Lance hissed and adjusted his grip on the crutches as his sticky palms slipped over the handles. He was already mid-way through the hall when the castle's PA system came to life with Allura's voice.

"Paladins, as part of a routine check of the castle's systems, we are going to perform a wormhole jump fifteen ticks from now. Please stay where you are, preferably seated or holding onto something, until the jump is over and the castle is stabilized again."

"Oh come on!" Lance squawked indignantly, turning his head in all directions. Why did she have to do it now, when he was stuck in the middle of an empty hall with no chairs or banister or anything of that sort!? Well, technically, there were some hand grips on the walls for cases of zero gravity, but they were installed close to the ceiling – much higher than Lance's reach, especially when he was wearing his everyday clothes and not his jetpack.

"Think, Lance, think…" he muttered, vaguely aware of Allura's voice counting down ticks in the background. He could walk the rest of the hall and hope in the next one there would be something for him to grab – but he was way too slow with these stupid crutches, he'd never make it on time.

He had no choice but sit on the floor, then. He leaned his crutches against the closest wall, leaning his palm on it as well as he was preparing to lower himself to a sitting position. It was so much harder with one leg; he kept trying to bend both knees only to realize the left one wasn't bending anywhere.

"Three, two, one…"

"No! Wait!" Lance yelled to no avail. Before he knew it, the lights above him flickered, and the entire castle shook – he barely had time to yelp before a violent force tossed him forward and sent him rolling on the floor like a soccer ball, only miraculously not bumping his head against the opposite wall.

It was over as abruptly as it started, leaving Lance sprawled on the floor, panting and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as if it could tell him what the hell just happened.

He struggled to swallow his panic as he forced his hands to move, feeling around his body to assess the damage. Nothing seemed broken or dislocated – although he did feel like he's been in a fistfight and would not be surprised if he found at least ten new bruises tomorrow – but his heart still skipped a bit when he felt around his right thigh, relaxing only when he wiggled his toes inside his shoe and realized his foot was still attached to the rest of him.

He released a long breath, chest sinking. He knew it was stupid – no one was going to lose a leg from stumbling down the hall – but he couldn't control it. He also knew he should probably get up and crawl back to take his crutches, but there was a certain weakness in his stomach telling him to wait a minute or two before trying.

He sighed again and closed his eyes. How pathetic. He was lucky nobody was around to witness this ordeal.

"Oh dear – Lance! Are you alright?!"

Lance's eyes snapped open. Oh, for the love of quiznak.

He heard steps running toward him, and barely managed to lift his head before the princess' worried face popped in his vision. "Why are you on the floor? Are you hurt?" she demanded.

"Only my pride," Lance mumbled and used his elbows to sit up, holding back a curse when his right shoulder throbbed painfully – he must have landed on it wrong. His cheeks heated despite himself. Why, why did Allura have to find him, of all people? Had he not suffered enough humiliations for one day?

"What happened?" Allura glanced around, eyes lying on the scattered crutches at the end of the hall. She wrinkled her forehead. "You fell." It wasn't a question.

"Oh, so you're smart enough to figure that out, but not enough to give people more than a fifteen-second warning before you flip the castle over their heads?!" Lance barked. "Some of us aren't very mobile these days, in case you forgot!"

The hurtful look in Allura's eyes made Lance want to bump his head against the wall for real this time. He brought his hand to his hair, pulling it backwards in embarrassment. "Shit… I'm so sorry," he said, throat burning with self-loath. "I shouldn't have talked to you like that."

Allura shook her head, looking regretful. "No, you are absolutely right. I'm the one who was wrong. I should have thought about it before I decided to wormhole. I should have been… more considerate."

"Hey, it's okay. No hard feelings. I'm just…" Lance sighed, drooping in his place. "I guess I'm just tired, and my arms hurt from these stupid crutches, and I took it out on you. It's really not your fault."

Allura gave a careful smile. "Were you on your way to get some rest?"

"Actually, I was going out for a snack." As if on cue, Lance's stomach grumbled loudly, and he blushed.

Allura laughed, a sound so beautiful it made Lance's chest tingle. "I can join you, if you'd allow me," she said. "Wormhole jumps always make me hungry, too."

A snack date with the princess? Perhaps him falling in the hall wasn't as bad as he thought. "Sure. I just, uh, need to find a way to get up first."

"Please, let me help!" Allura was suddenly way too close to him, grabbing his arm as if she planned to pull him up. "I can give you a – how do humans call it, 'piggy-back' to the kitchen? It's the least I can do!"

Lance nearly bit his tongue. "No thank you, I can handle it!" he squawked. "Just – just fetch me those crutches, if you don't mind."

Allura frowned. "But you just said your arms hurt."

"They can handle it," Lance said with effort, determined to save what was left from his dignity.

"Alright," Allura said, though she seemed a bit disappointed. She went and brought Lance his crutches, and to his immense relief, he managed to stand up on his own, with some help from the wall.

In the kitchen they met Shiro, who stood near the counter with a towel wrapped around his neck, drinking from a water pouch in large sips. He was wearing his training clothes – a light tank top and sweatpants. Lance thought – not without a hint of jealousy - he looked like a goddamn commercial for protein shakes.

"Hey guys," he welcomed them, wiping his mouth with his palm. "What's up?"

"Just looking for some food," Lance said, limping heavily to the table. The walk here after being ping-ponged around the hall and bruising every inch of his body exhausted him more than he'd thought, and he was eager to sit down. "Although we didn't earn it like you. Well, maybe Allura did."

Allura slapped his arm affectionately. "Stop it. Nobody has to 'earn' food around here." She grinned at Shiro. "Did you have a good training?"

"Excellent training. You did the jump just when I was finishing up." Shiro opened the refrigerator and took out three green rolls, tossing two of them at Allura and Lance. "Hunk made some burritos earlier. It was supposed to be dinner, but I couldn't help it. He'll probably be mad at us when he finds out we grabbed some before time."

"He'll just make more to blow off steam," Lance said and took a bite from his burrito, which was delicious.

"Yeah, probably." Shiro nodded at Lance. "How are you? How's the leg?"

Lance flinched unconsciously. Even though it has been nearly a week since he was out of the pod, people still asked him how he was feeling every time they met him. He knew it was out of true care, but it was starting to get on his nerves. He did not a constant reminder of his situation – he was damn well aware of it.

"It's fine," he shrugged. "Y'know. As long as it doesn't decide to wake me up in the middle of the night." He shivered at the memory.

Shiro smiled sympathetically. "Yeah, that can be pretty tough." Lance knew he was talking from experience and his food got stuck in his throat. He doubted Shiro had had anyone as kind or caring as Pidge or Coran to help him through the pain during his captivity.

To his relief, Shiro didn't push the subject any further. He turned to Allura instead. "How was the system check? I hope everything went well."

"Oh, it went extremely well," Allura said. "The upgrades we made turned out very useful – the wormhole jump was much faster and smoother than before."

Lance wouldn't exactly call what he'd just been through 'smooth', but he chose to keep chewing silently instead of pointing that out.

"I'm glad to here that," Shiro said. "We needed those upgrades after the last mission. It's been a close call; too close, if you ask me."

Lance froze. He knew Shiro was talking about the mission from two days ago. Although the plan was to sneak into the Galra ship, get the intel they needed and sneak out, things have gone to hell as usual and all four lions ended up being chased back to the castle by an entire enemy fleet. And since Allura was able to start the wormhole jump only after every lion was back at its hangar, the castle took some heavy fire until then – one of the engines was almost entirely destroyed before they finally managed to escape. Like Shiro said, it was too close.

And all Lance did during that time was sit at the bridge with Coran and Allura and listen to his friends' distress over the comms and hate himself because there was nothing he could do to help. He couldn't even get in his lion and provide some back-up fire, hold back their attackers for a while. Shiro, Allura and Coran had strictly forbidden him to participate even in the simplest missions – forming Voltron was clearly out of the question – and there was no way for him to escape from them,not with one leg, anyway.

He didn't argue with that. He knew they couldn't take any risks in his current state. Even if he was able to sit inside Blue and fly her, he was still in danger of getting hit or worse, captured by the Galra. Blue could be damaged or downed and then he'd be in a serious problem. He knew it was safer for him, safer for everyone, to stay in the castle and avoid any trouble.

Acknowledging that didn't make him feel any better, though.

There were times in the past when he felt useless, but now… it was worse. He was incapacitated. Damaged. Broken.

And what good was a broken paladin for anyone?

Lance put his half-eaten burrito on the table. He'd lost his appetite.

Shiro tilted his head. "Everything alright, buddy?"

"Yes." Lance didn't even have the energy to sound convincing. He wringed his hands. "I just feel bad for not helping you guys back then. I should've done something."

"Coran and I were handling it just fine," Allura said gently. "You deserve to rest, Lance. You are still healing."

"That's right. There's no need for you to push yourself," Shiro leaned on the counter. "You…" he swallowed and stared at the wall for a while, as if looking for the right words. "You've already pushed yourself enough for us," he said quietly, eyes wandering to Lance's missing leg with a small, sad smile.

Lance quirked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? It's not like I lost it during battle or some heroic shit like that. It was just bad luck."

Both Shiro and Allura stared at him with eyes so wide it was as if Lance had just declared he was joining the Galra. He blushed. "What? This is just the way things are."

"You were on a mission," Allura said slowly, looking agitated. "You went to that planet to save those people."

"And you pushed that alien out of the way when the room started to collapse," Shiro continued. "Remember? I mean…" he huffed and shook his head in disbelief, "If this isn't 'heroism', then I don't know what is."

Lance fought the urge to pull his hoody over his head. He already regretted bringing that up. "I guess, when you put it that way… nevermind. It's not important." No matter what the circumstances in which he lost his leg were, nothing changed the fact that it was gone, and that he'd never be whole again.

"It is important," Allura insisted. She reached out a hand and placed it against Lance's cheek – his heart nearly fell to his underwear – looking at him so intently he had no choice but meet her jeweled gaze. "In case you hadn't realized it yet, you are a valued member of the team, Lance. There is no need for you to try so hard to be a 'hero', because the fact that you're here, as part of Voltron, already makes you one. But first and foremost, you are our friend, and you should never, ever doubt that. Because then…" her eyes glimmered. "Then I'll be extremely sad."

"Allura…" Lance mumbled, feeling a bit awkward with this sudden burst of emotion, but also very warm inside – a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.

Another hand – much heavier – landed on his head then and ruffled his hair. "Listen to your princess," he heard Shiro say. "And stop underestimating yourself."

"Okay, okay," Lance said, wincing as the pressure from Shiro's metal arm nearly sent him face-planting the table. But before that happened, the older boy pulled him to a one-arm hug.

"Seriously," Shiro said in a low voice. "I'm glad you're okay. And you're going to get better. Just… let us help, wherever we can. That's what friends are for."

Lance smiled, letting out a small sigh of content.

-x-

"Can you make my leg glow in the dark?"

"I think it's going to be hard to sleep like that," Hunk said from his place under the table, where he was kneeling tinkering with a cable that had caused a malfunction in one of the lab's many computers.

"Oh, right." Lance scratched Platt, who was napping on the table, under his chin. "Can you make it shoot lasers?"

"We've been over this, Lance," Pidge said without looking away from her laptop. "No lasers. It's not safe to turn a part of your body into a firearm. You do not want it to backfire - literally."

"But Shiro's arm can do all kinds of cool stuff!"

"Are you serious?" Hunk tried to lift his head to glare at Lance – but it hit the table instead, making the large boy release a stream of pained curses. "Shiro didn't exactly have a choice, you know."

"Mmm, you make a solid point," Lance stretched in his chair, squinting against the light. "Well, then at least add a cool signature to it, like 'This leg belongs to Lance, the coolest, bravest, handsomest sharpshooter in the universe'."

"Isn't that a bit long?" Hunk asked. "It will cover everything."

"Okay, then 'coolest sharpshooter' would be enough."

"If you ask us one more thing about your leg, I'm going to write 'stupidest idiot' in capital letters all over it," Pidge said mid-typing.

Lance tried to reply, but Platt decided at the exact same moment to barrel himself at his stomach, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

Pidge smirked. "Good boy, Platt." The mouse's ears flattered happily as he curled in Lance's lap.

Lance groaned. "Traitor."

"Fixed it!" Hunk finally rose from beneath the table (with a protective hand over his head), looking sweaty but very pleased with himself. "Now we can finally run your calculations, Pidge."

"About time." Pidge jumped from her seat. "I tried to install the program on my laptop in the meantime, but it was taking forever."

"Well, once I restart this computer, it should be a piece of – hey! No touching!" Hunk barked and waved a warning finger at the three other mice, who sniffed the model standing at the center of the table curiously. They squealed at Hunk's yelling and scattered away, finding refugee in Lance's lap, where Platt was already sound asleep.

"What do you think, guys?" Lance shifted in the chair so he could breathe more easily with all this extra weight on him. "D'you think it's going to make a decent leg?"

The mice chirped and yawned in response.

Lance turned to look at the model again, glowing in pale blue over the table. It didn't really look like anything at this stage – it was just a primary skeleton, Pidge and Hunk had explained, and they still had many layers to add before it even started to resemble a human limb. They weren't just making him a prosthesis he could put on and take off whenever he wanted; no, they were aiming for something much more advanced. It was going to be a natural extension of his body, connected to his nerves directly like any other part of him. He'd be able to bend, stretch and move it any way he wanted – even wiggle his toes (they promised there would be toes) if he felt like it.

It was going to take time, they had told him, but it would be worth it in the end.

Lance hoped they were right.

The door to the lab opened behind them. "Hey, Hunk, can I borrow a screwdriver?" Keith came in, lacking his jacket – meaning he'd been training before he came here. "The electricity panel in the training deck came off. I need to put it back in place."

"It came off?" Hunk squinted at Keith suspiciously. "How, in God's name?"

"Keith must have 'accidently' blew it off mid-training," Pidge said with a devious smile.

"It was an accident!" Keith flared. "I was waving my bayard too hard and – look, can I have that screwdriver or not?!"

"Careful, Keith, you're going to cut someone's leg off if you keep messing around with that sword," Lance stretched his neck backwards to stick his tongue out at the other boy.

Keith's mouth tightened into a thin line. Lance expected a furious comeback, but all the red paladin did was bite the inside of his cheek and shake his head, as if he was about to say something but regretted. Then, he turned around and walked out of the room.

"Dude, your screwdriver!" Hunk called, waving the tool over his head. Keith didn't answer, nor came back to get it.

Pidge whistled. "That was bleak."

"What?" Lance crossed his arms. He had no idea why Mullet was acting so emo – more than usual, that is. "I'm not allowed to make jokes about it? It was my leg."

"Yeah, but Keith was the one who… you know." Hunk pressed his fingers together nervously. "He's been pretty upset about it."

Lance's shoulders dropped. "Really?" He hadn't seen Keith much during the past week except for meals, and even then the latter would usually finish his plate before everyone else and leave the table under some excuse. Lance assumed he just preferred to spend most of his day in the training deck because, well, that was what he always did.

But perhaps Keith had truly been more withdrawn than usual, and Lance simply hadn't noticed.

Was he avoiding him on purpose?

Pidge sighed. "He won't tell us anything, but I think he feels guilty because of what happened."

"But why?" An uncomfortable feeling started to crawl into Lance's stomach, even with four fluffy creatures curled on top of it. "It's not like he did it on purpose. It had to be done. He – he actually saved me, when you think about it."

Hunk shrugged. "Maybe he's just traumatized. Even if it was the right thing to do, that doesn't make it a particularly good memory." He paled a little, as if to prove his point.

Lance looked down at the sleeping mice, deep in thought. He had been so busy with his own struggles since losing his leg, he hadn't noticed other people might be struggling, too.

Well, it was time for him to do something about it. He just needed to find the right moment.

-x-

Lance swayed at the entrance to the common room, barely able to keep himself upright. He'd been planning on making it to his room, but his right leg was cramping so bad he doubted he'd be able to. He had to let it rest, just for a while, and the common room was the closest place for that when the pain became unbearable.

He just had to make it to the couch. Just a few more steps. Come on, Lancey-Lance, you've done harder things before.

He grunted like a workhorse and dragged himself forward, counting his steps. Five… four… his right leg trembled as if it was made of rubber… three… two… come on, one…

The moment he was close enough, Lance let his crutches fall to the floor and collapsed on the couch with a heartfelt groan, one arm draped over his face. The muscles in his right leg screamed as he pulled it to the couch and he held back a cry of pain, even though he was alone in the room.

Or, maybe not. A moment later he heard the doors to the common room slide open. "Oh. Hi," he heard Keith say, his tone surprised. "I… didn't know you were here."

"Is that a problem?" Lance asked, not bothering to lift his arm. "I don't bite, y'know."

Keith's boots approached closer to him. "Hey," he heard the red paladin say over his head, "Are you feeling okay? You seem kind of drained."

Lance gestured at his right leg lazily. "Muscle cramps. My right leg's working too hard."

Keith hummed. "I can massage it for you if you want," he said. "I'm actually pretty good at it."

Well, that was unexpected. Lance removed his arm from his face and opened one eye to look at Keith. "Is that because you train all the time and get sore?"

"Yes," Keith said bluntly.

Lance huffed and shut his eye. "Fine. Go for it."

Keith kneeled near the couch and started to work on Lance's leg, pressing and pulling just at the right places. Lance yelped and whimpered, "Ahhh, Mierda, this is torture!"

"Great. That means it's working," Keith said, unmoved.

Lance snored. "This is so weird, man."

Keith's cheeks pinkened. "No it's not! You're just making it weird by saying it's weird!"

Lance laughed. Messing with Mullet was too much fun. "Hey, I didn't say you were bad at it, I just pointed out the awkwardness of the situation."

"Shut up and let me work," Keith hissed, "Or I'll leave you here to hurt and whine."

Well, that kept Lance quiet for something like five minutes. Then, he spoke again. "Dude, you gotta stop doing that."

Keith looked at him questionably. "You just said I wasn't bad at it."

"No, not the massage. That actually helped a bit. I mean," Lance released a long breath, "You gotta stop blaming yourself. For what happened. I know this is what you do – And don't try to deny it because Hunk and Pidge told me."

Keith pulled his hands back to his lap, cheeks darkening again. "Telltales," he muttered.

"What, do you really expect Hunk to keep anything to himself?" Lance shifted to a half-sitting position, leaning on his elbows. "Anyway, that's not the point. My point is, this wasn't your fault. It had to be done one way or another – it was only a question of who would do it."

Keith looked at his lap for a while before speaking again. "I know I did the right thing," he said quietly. "But… that doesn't change the fact that I hurt you. It's one thing to inflict pain on someone you fight, someone bad, but when you're forced to do it to someone you care about…" he shuddered. "This is the kind of thing that would give you nightmares for a long time."

Lance quirked an eyebrow. "You have nightmares?"

Keith's eyes widened in abrupt realization. "No, I didn't mean that literally, no," he sputtered. "Just… forget I said anything."

"Why?" Lance insisted, now sitting fully upright, right leg touching the floor while the left one dangled uselessly in the air. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Keith. Even Shiro gets nightmares."

"Shiro's been through stuff," Keith said quickly.

"We've all been through stuff," Lance pointed at his chest, "...said the fresh amputee."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say!" Keith finally stood up, hands fisting. "You are the one who- who lost a limb! You shouldn't be sitting here comforting me! But you are, and you make all these jokes and just…" his shoulders dropped in defeat. "If you can be so casual about it, then I don't get to have nightmares. That's how I see it."

There was a long silence as Keith's words echoed in the room, sinking in.

Lance inhaled deeply.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say," he said. "I mean, that was just a steaming heap of bullshit – even for the second-dumbest person on the castle."

Keith looked like he'd just been punched in the face. "Second-dumbest?" he nearly screamed.

"Yeah," Lance said and raised both hands, counting on his fingers. "Pidge and Allura are the smartest, then Shiro, then Hunk, then me, then Coran, then the mice – and then you."

A vein in Keith's forehead started to pop dangerously. "The mice are smarter than me?"

"Of course they are! They can do stunts! Can you do stunts?"

Keith was clearly on the verge of exploding from effort to compose himself. "Wait, so who's the dumbest? You just named everybody on the castle."

"Kaltenacker."

Keith's mouth opened but nothing came out, and eventually he shook his head and plopped on the couch next to Lance, head in his arms. "I'm going to rip your other leg off," he grumbled.

"I thought you didn't make jokes about it," Lance said. Keith flinched and turned to look at him, only to meet his crooked grin.

"I… don't really understand where this conversation is going," Keith said tiredly.

Lance sighed and leaned back, lowering himself to a lying position again. "I'm just saying, you don't need to feel bad just because you feel something. If something bad happened, and you're so traumatized by it to the point you have nightmares, that's legit. And if you want to make jokes about it, that's legit too. That's simply how you cope with stuff. But you should always feel comfortable talking about it – yes, even with me. I know we're rivals and all, but holding a 'who suffers the most' competition is just too much, even for me."

Keith wrung his hands. "I guess it's pointless to ask if you have nightmares too."

"Dude, of course. Basically every night. I keep coming back to – to that room. W-with the pole that fell." Lance shivered and curled a bit into himself. "And then there's the phantom pains, which are a bitch. But," he added in a slightly stronger voice, "You never appear in my dreams. Not as the bad guy, anyway. If that makes you feel any better."

Keith blinked. "It actually does…?" His body relaxed slightly. "Yeah. I'm glad to hear that."

"Finally." Lane crossed his arms behind his neck. "Dude, you saved me back there, okay? You saved all of us. I'm not sure I could do it if I were in your place. So stop sulking around and enjoy me finally complimenting you, because I don't know if that's going to happen ever again."

"Thanks… I guess?"

"Besides, if you want to make it up to me so bad, you can be my servant until I get a new leg. It's really annoying, hopping on one leg every time I want to go somewhere – if only I could lie bed all day and have someone bringme whatever I want, whenever I want…"

"Ask the mice," Keith said with a hint of a smile. "Didn't you say they were smarter than me? I'm sure they'll make much better servants."

Lance snickered. "Well played, Mullet." His face sobered suddenly. "Speaking of, I actually do have nightmares about you, but it's more about your haircut than anything… I dream of you chasing me around with scissors and trying to cut my hair into a mullet – "

"Aaand you just lost all your massage rights." Keith got up, heading to the door. "Good luck with the muscle cramps."

"Hey! My leg still hurts! I thought you cared about me!"

He winced as all he got for an answer was a door slamming. And yet, Lance couldn't hold back a grin when he shifted on the couch, trying to find a comfy position for a well-timed afternoon nap.

-x-

"Ready?" Shiro asked.

Lance stared at the new addition to his body, unable to tear his eyes off it even though it made him want to throw up. "Yes? No? I don't know, man."

They were all at the infirmary, waiting for him to try his new leg. Hunk, Pidge, Coran and Allura had worked earlier to attach it to him (after putting him under, of course; it was supposed to hurt at least as much as when it was amputated, and he was not going to be conscious through it again). Now he was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, still unable to believe his brain could give an order to bend his left knee or move his left ankle in circles and it would actually happen.

The prosthesis was blue, just like he'd asked, with some white around the knee and ankle that stood in nice contrast for his paladin armor. It had the exact shape and curves as his flesh leg (yes, including toes) – in fact, had blue-and-white skin been a thing among humans, he doubted anyone would notice it was a prosthetic limb unless they touched it, as it was made of… well, Lance still didn't fully understand what it was made of. It was created with some super-advanced technology combining 3D printing, Altean medicine, Olkari engineering (they had made a quick stop in Olkarion to receive some consulting) and… quintessence from the Blue Lion, apparently. To Lance, that was the best part: although he had no idea how it fit there (not even after Allura explained twice), it was pretty cool to know that the essence of his lion was now part of him not only spiritually, but also physically.

Also cool: it was water resistant, fire retardant and bulletproof. And it was only a tad heavier than his right leg, because apparently the Olkari were experts in manufacturing stuff that were both durable and lightweight. Lance nearly felt the need to apologize to Shiro, whose arm was clearly heavier (but not really, because Shiro's arm could turn into a kickass weapon, after all).

And moving it was just so surreal. He couldn't feel anything with it – he tried digging his fingernails into his 'shin' and it was like scratching a door (the texture was somewhat like metal, but softer – it was hard to explain) – but somehow, when he thought about the movement, it just happened, and he knew it was happening. It would sure take him a long time to get used to this new sensation.

But first he had to stand up.

And take a step.

In front of everyone.

He kind of regretted the audience now, but felt bad asking them to get out. Besides, he needed someone to catch him if he stumbled. When he stumbled. Oh, stumbling was definitely going to happen.

Shiro smiled and patted his left shoulder. "That's okay. Take your time," he said. "In any case, I won't leave your side. Promise."

"And I won't leave your other side," Coran said and positioned himself at Lance's right. Lance tried to smile, but his face muscles weren't cooperating for some reason.

"And I'll make sure I catch you falling on your face," Pidge said, raising her phone for emphasis.

"Pidge!" Hunk squawked. "That's terrible!"

"Hey, I made this leg, I have full documentation rights," Pidge said and winked at Lance, who felt as if a tiny iceberg melted inside his chest, make breathing a bit easier.

He planted his palms on the bed, trying very hard not to tremble.

It was time.

He lowered his right leg to the cool floor.

Then, he did it with his other leg.

He rose to a stand. Both knees straightened at his command, held his weight.

Everybody in the room held their breath.

He inhaled deeply, exhaled, and brought his right foot forward.

His left foot remained steady on the floor.

He brought it forward, too.

The room span as he lost his balance with a yelp. He bumped into Shiro, who quickly caught him around the waist while Coran grabbed his shoulders. The two men pushed him back gently to the bed, where he sat gulping for air, trying desperately to soothe his racing heart.

"That went well," he wheezed, vaguely aware of Shiro who sat down with him and kept an arm around him, as if fearing he'd fall again.

"Are you kidding?" Hunk said, eyes wide. "You managed to stand up without falling – that's freaking impressive, if you ask me."

"That is correct," Allura sent him a warm smile. "Recovery takes time, Lance. This is just the first step – literally. And we all believe in you."

"We don't have time for me to learn how to walk again," Lance said bitterly. "We have a universe to save!"

"Relax, buddy," Shiro said. "The universe can wait, okay? Your health is more important than any mission. And it's not like we're completely grounded – we have four more lions and the castle, ready for every emergency. You just need to focus on healing and not stress over it."

"I can help you train if you want," Keith offered.

Lance made a face. "I'm not even close to walking yet, Mullet, what makes you think I can fight the gladiators?"

"No, I mean – help you practice walking. The training deck can transform into pretty much anything we want – if it can make an invisible maze, I'm sure we can arrange a handrail or something, and you can use it to balance yourself. We can also measure your progress this way."

"We can, actually," Coran placed a thumb under his chin, "That should be very easy to program. Marvelous idea, Number Four."

Lance raised his eyebrows. "Wow, Keith, you're full of surprises."

"I have ideas too, you know," Keith murmured, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"For now, how about you try and take another step?" Shiro said encouragingly. "You can lean on me this time."

Lance smiled gratefully. He knew he had a long way to go before he could walk like before. But he also knew he had a family of people who'd be there to catch and support him every time he fell – and with them by his side, he could do anything.

-x-

Lance jumped backwards and pivoted to avoid the gladiator's punch, but apparently he misjudged his steps as he felt a sudden pull deep in his stomach – the kind you'd feel on a rollercoaster, a split second before it began its dive – when his right foot slipped on the floor and he stumbled, yelping, sending his other leg to block the fall even though he knew it was too late at this point –

Except that it wasn't, because the moment his prosthetic foot met the floor it stuck to it like a magnet, and it only took a few waves of his arms to stabilize himself and return to a standing position.

He looked up at the control room, shocked. "Did you see what just happened?!"

Pidge turned on her mic, a smirk on her face. "Yeah, we may have added a stabilizing mechanism to your leg at the last minute, just for fun."

"They probably knew you were going to fall on your butt every five minutes," Keith said. He had joined Pidge to help supervise Lance's close combat training – although so far he'd only managed to get on Lance's nerves with his relentless, condescending comments.

Lance's face broke into a huge grin. "You're awesome." He narrowed his eyes at the red paladin. "I was talking to Pidge, of course. You suck."

"Not as much as you," Keith said, unimpressed. "That was really sloppy, and we're not even past level six."

Lance became red. "Asshole! I'm still getting used to my leg!"

"Which has a stabilizing mechanism! It's supposed to help!"

"I'm this close to leaving you guys," Pidge muttered. "I have better things to do than listen to your bickering."

"Oh, it is on," Lance moved to a fighting stance. "You think you know better than me, Mullet? Then come down here and have a taste of this!" he stomped his left foot several times.

Keith snorted, but got up from his seat. "No problem. But don't come to Hunk and Pidge later crying and begging for a new leg."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Will you ever get tired of this?"

"Nope," Lance and Keith said simultaneously.

Lance's heart pounded in anticipation as he waited for the other boy to arrive at the training deck. He was sore all over, sweaty, panting, and absolutely worn out.

And he was enjoying every second of it.

-x-

"Okay, I have good news and bad news," Hunk said, voice strained as his large body barely fit inside the air duct he and Lance were currently crouched in.

"Please tell me it involves us getting out of here soon," Lance said, trying very hard to control his breathing. He hated tight spaces so much.

Hunk touched some buttons on the hologram above his arm. "Well, the good news is that the weapon we're looking for is here in this room." He pointed down through a narrow opening in the air duct. "The bad news is, it's so well-guarded the entire room is booby-trapped, like, if we so much as throw a pin down there, a bunch of guns are going to come out of the walls and spray it like nobody's business."

"Classic Galra," Lance muttered. "If only we had a pin… hey, can't you throw there a snack bar or something? Let them waste their fire so we can come down next."

Hunk pouted. "Do you simply assume I always carry around snack bars, even during super-important missions like that?"

"Yes."

Hunk bowed his head down. "You're right. I do. But, um, I already ate it on the way here."

Lance groaned. "Can't we just ask Pidge to neutralize the security system?"

"This one has backup, so it'll take a while. It'll be much easier to steal a card from one of the soldiers and just walk through the door."

"Don't you think it's a little too late for that?" Lance flared. "Dude, I am not crawling all the way back! There must be something here we can get rid of – " he stopped, eyes widening in realization. "Hunk, step away from the hole."

"Eh, what are you doing?" Hunk asked, but Lance shooed him away, waving his hands. "Lance, you're not seriously thinking about coming down there, did you not hear what I just – "

But Lance already shoved his left leg down the hole, and a tick later, all hell broke loose beneath them.

Hunk gasped and scrambled backwards as their ears were filled with the screeching sound of hundreds of bullets shot simultaneously, hitting the walls and each other. It was over in about ten seconds, after which Lance slowly brought his leg back, squinting to examine it in the weak light. "Huh. Not even a scratch. The Olkari are pretty amazing."

Hunk stared at him for a long moment. Then, he croaked, "That was fucking brilliant. And extremely dangerous, don't you dare do it again, you hear me? I'll fucking kill you."

Lance grinned proudly and gestured at the hole. "You're welcome. Shall we?"

-x-

Lance inhaled and exhaled, trying to force himself to tear his eyes off the mirror and just go, but his body simply didn't comply.

They are going to find out at some point, he told himself for the thousandth time. Better sooner than later, right?

And yet, he was terrified of their reaction.

It has been several days since they came back to Earth. He did get to spend some time with his family, but it was scarce – there were so many meetings to attend and plans to make, he barely managed to get a full hour alone with his parents and siblings. And when he did see them, he was either wearing his armor or the Garrison uniform, which included long pants and boots – so, save for his face and hands, they didn't actually see any part of his body.

However, today was the first day-off the paladins had since they came back. Shiro had told everyone to go and spend it with their loved ones, make up for the precious time they lost.

Lance's siblings immediately decided to go to the beach. And since he didn't have any excuse to help him get away from it – heck, he didn't want to, he'd missed Earth's beaches so much, there was nothing in the universe that could compare to them – he had to go with them. Which also meant to dress accordingly, because no one went to the beach wearing full military uniform.

He had to wear a swimsuit.

Which would leave his left leg exposed.

He hadn't told them yet. He was going to, but… he just hadn't found the right moment. Mamá and Papá were so happy to have him back, he didn't want to sadden them. He didn't want to scare Silvio and Nadia, who have already seen enough war and loss in their young age.

Well, today he'll have to.

His stomach rolled.

"Lance, are you coming?" he heard Veronica call through the door of the private dorm the Garrison had assigned each paladin. "We're all waiting for you."

Lance swallowed. His throat was dry. "Y-yeah, coming," he said, hating how his voice shook.

He took another deep breath, gave himself one last look in the mirror, and walked away before he had the chance to change his mind.

He opened the door and went to the lobby, where his family was waiting.

"Ah, finally!" Marco called and pointed at him, making everyone turn. "What the hell took you so…" his voice died down when Lance came closer, eyes tracing his body and widening as they reached his legs.

There was a deafening silence, only interrupted by several surprised, choked gasps – Mamá, Rachel – as everyone's eyes focused on the blue prosthesis.

Lance scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, that's… a thing that happened," he blurted. "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier… it-it happened a while ago and I just…" he swallowed again, his face uncomfortably warm. "But it's okay! My friends really did a great job with this, I mean, it's even better than the original," he tried to laugh, but no one joined him so it was more of a nervous cough, "And it's not – it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm pretty used to it by now. So," he lowered his gaze to the floor, "Now that you guys know, everything's cool."

He kept his eyes down until a pair of shoes appeared in his visual field and he felt a cool hand on his cheek. He raised his head. His mom stood in front of him. Tears shimmered in the corners of her eyes, but she was smiling.

"It's good to have you back," she said. "All of you."

She pulled him close and he let himself melt into her embrace, keeping his eyes shut even when he felt more and more arms around them.

For the first time since he left Earth, he felt truly at peace.

He was whole again.