Don't know where this came from, but it is an awesome show, so I just had write about it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy.

Anyway, there is a term you may or may not know, but just to be safe, I'll put it here.

Greenie or green- references a young and/or inexperienced soldier.

Lance sighed and closed his bedroom door behind him, blinking as the darkness consumed his room. His clothes were still tattered and beaten from the fight, his wrist throbbing painfully as the watch hugged it. His dark hair covered his eyes, but he saw through the black bangs into his room. He stared at his bed for a while, then at his desk before walking toward the window. He glared down at the ground for a moment, everything bathed in darkness expect for the occasional light shining from a window or streetlight. He unhooked the lock on the window and pushed it open, letting in a cool breeze.

"Way to go hero."

Lance closed his dark eyes and moved away, wrist throbbing as he brushed his hand against the wall. He had refused Octus' help with it; his wrist would heal up soon enough anyway. He had fought through worse and come out fine.

But he had really screwed up this time. I put Ilana in danger. She almost died because of that thing…and whatever that-that thing sent can't be good. Are we in more danger now? And what about Ilana, how is she holding up?

I screwed up.

I screwed up.

Lance shook his head and plopped himself on his bed, trying not to think of how Xishi had its tentacle wrapped around Ilana, about to break her-

Stop.

"You were weak you know, letting that thing get inside you."

"I know that." Lance's voice sounded loud in the empty and quiet room and he looked toward the window again, lost in thought, "I know."

It's not the first time…but it will be the last.

Lance blinked when he heard the knocking on the door but ignored it, calling out that he was going to bed before leaning against the wall near the window. The voice still haunted him, still whispered in his ear. It had been years since he had heard the voice. It was loud and rough but playful, with just a touch of nervousness. It was back when Lance had been green, when they had all been green and new and so afraid of what was happening but to determined to show the older and more seasoned soldiers that the young could help hold up Galaluna. That even the young, as rash and reckless and foolish as they tend to be, can stand tall and defend their homes.

What little good it seemed to have done now…even though it had been years. Even though the foolish and young had learned and grown and were no longer as naïve to the nature of war and things they did not understand but thought they could feel. This unbelievable knowing that came with not knowing. It confused Lance to no end, but he knew that once he had a weapon in hand and someone to protect he would be fine. It was his purpose, his reason, and without it he seemed lost.

He had almost lost it tonight…because of his foolish mistakes. And it brought back the voices. All the voices that were dead and gone. An echo of the past that had gripped him and held him, a constant shadow as he tried to let go of his past. A looming shadow that-

"How long you gonna sit there moping Lance, before you realize a few things." Lance smirked at the voice and shook his head again; unaware of the knocking that he had started again at his door. It was loud and incessant, but the past was too much of an allure.

"I don't know. I-I have to protect her. I have to…it's all I can do."

"People like us Lance? We have to protect a lot of people. We can't screw up no matter how much we want to huh? It kind of sucks."

"Lance, where the hell are you? Base is in an uproar. Some of those beats of managed to work their way in and we need you now!"

"It's not so bad, is it? I mean, once we get back to base it'll be fine, right? Just-Just have to stitch me up is all. That-That's all right? Right? Come on, say something! Ugh- Just-Just tell me why-"

"It's fine Lance…don't look so down. Can't save everyone right?"

"Lance I-"

"It's all I can do…" Lance repeated, clenching his hands even as his nails dug painfully into his hands. He gritted his teeth and moved toward his bed, shaking his head at the knocking he had finally noticed. "I'm fine, just go!"

More voices came, no longer just the rough but playful voice of people long dead. Some were clip and curt and sterile, offering no condolences because there were none to give. Others were kinder and more understanding. They offered words of comfort and of old days and saying simply, "That it's war".

He hated that phrase. They really had no idea. No idea at all. It pissed him off, to think that they could somehow relate to losing someone in combat and just expect to know that loss. There was no substitute. You had to be there. You had to hold your comrade as he died, even when he asked you how it looked and you had to lie and say it was fine. Even when your comrade talked about all the things they could do when the fighting was over even the both of them knew that they just couldn't. Had to listen as your comrade gave to his last words, his final thanks, or sometimes just a terrible silence that told you when it was over and that he was gone.

Then guilt. Guilt would come and eat you alive. It would tell you how you were a failure and how you should have been there to protect them. It gives you what you deserve, and Lance knew he deserved it. He was reckless and green and new and at the time, he lacked the right skills. And slipping up now would mean more than just a cut or bruise.

They could all die.

So he did not want to hear empty words of comfort that had been handed to him so long ago and would be handed to him if he opened that door and let Ilana or Octus in.

"So I need to get it together already. I can't keep screwing up." And that's all there is to it.

"Lance? Lance…I don't know what happened out there but-" Lance closed his eyes at Ilana's voice, drinking in the sound, telling himself that he had to protect her, "I just hope you're all right. Let me…" There was a pause. Lance held his breath, waiting for the words that Ilana was trying to find from the other side, "I'll…be there too. I mean, I- thank you for protecting me and just-well-I'll try to protect you too." Lance blinked, surprised, but the footsteps were echoing down the hall before he could force his legs to move. His shoulders relaxed and he shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I have to protect this. With everything I have." Lance said, a ghost of a smile on his face. He pressed himself against his pillow and let his eyes slide shut. The voices were still there, all telling him things that were of no help or did help but in small ways that Lance couldn't see yet. Ilana's voice was there now, telling him thank you and saying she'd protect him. And the rough but playful voice let out a bark of laughter, louder than an echo, as if he were standing in the same room as Lance. Lance was tempted to look, to see the briefest mirage of a ghost that had long since gone, one that only came when Lance thought of him and everyone else that was gone. But he shook his head to himself and refused the ghost. He knew what it was saying, and maybe, maybe he'd get it. Really understand it. Whatever it was.

He'd know it when he knew.

Until then he would protect Ilana and Octus and maybe all of Galaluna, but mostly just these two. There was Earth as well, but it was almost incidental. Really, it was just these two, who had managed to worm their way into his life, whether he wanted them there or not. And he'd protect them with all he had.

There was one more bark of laughter from the rough and playful voice. It was deep in Lance's head, echoing as he slipped off to sleep. But he was promising, to himself, to the voice, and to Ilana and Octus.

There would be no more ghosts.