Chapter Text
It was dumb of Lance to take off his helmet.
It was just that so much was happening all at once and he didn’t stop to think about what taking it off could mean. They were in their lions—had been for much too long—and Lance’s arms were aching from all the crazy maneuvers he’d had to pull off, yanking levers this way and that, slamming buttons that he had to lean much too far to reach. He was starting to become sluggish, pulling levers with just a little bit less strength, hitting buttons just a little bit too slow.
“Lance! Watch out!” someone called over the com, and Lance had to hold back a groan as he shoved both levers forward, diving down. Still, something hit him and he went spinning, forcing him to stomp on pedals and pull on levers to stop it.
“Fuck!” he cursed.
“We can’t afford to start slacking,” Shiro reprimanded. Lance grit his teeth.
“I know, I just—my arms hurt.”
“Lance! Pay attention!” This one was Keith. Lance was annoyed, tired of everyone yelling at him, tired of his arms aching and his brain becoming foggy from fighting for what felt like hours. Zarkon’s fleet had caught up with them and they would’ve wormholed out of here forever ago if the castle hadn’t been going through a reboot.
It was stupid—who would’ve thought that castles needed to be turned off and on again, like a friggin’ iPhone? And yet here they were, stranded outside of it as it slowly turned back on, lights outside the castle just barely starting to glow again.
Sweat was dripping down Lance’s forehead, getting into his eyes and stinging something horrible. He couldn’t wipe it away with helmet obstructing him so he yanked it off, rubbing the saltwater from his eyes.
“Lance!” someone yelled, their voice faint now, coming from the helmet in his hands. He dropped it, reaching for the gears just in time to avoid the cruiser pelting towards him. But he didn’t move fast enough to escape the second one sneak attacking him from behind.
It was a suicide mission, apparently, and the cruiser crashed into his lion, sending him careening forward. Lance’s entire body jolted forward, the control panel before him coming up to meet his face. It slammed into him and he groaned, a throbbing ache starting up in his head.
He blinked open his eyes and was met with darkness—his lion must’ve gone out of commission. Groaning, Lance crawled along the floor, reaching out with his hands until he finally found his helmet—it’d rolled into a back corner. He shoved the thing on his head and leaned back against the wall behind him, breathing heavily.
“Yeah, so, something’s wrong with my lion,” Lance informed his team, currently yelling at each other through the coms about the battle.
“What’s wrong with it?” Shiro asked.
“Completely dark in here, can’t see a thing. I don’t know if it’s operational.”
“Good news paladins!” Allura’s voice said, finally reconnecting with them from the castle. “The castle is up and running again—hurry back so we can wormhole!”
“Got it,” Shiro responded. “Someone scoop Lance and bring him back too.”
“On it,” Hunk’s voice said, and then Lance felt his lion moving, likely in Hunk’s clutches. Lance sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. His head hurt like a bitch.
Hunk deposited him in his lion’s hangar and he sighed, staggering to his feet. Something must’ve been really wrong with Blue—her visual screens rarely went out unless something super bad had happened to her. This whole time she’d been radiating waves of concern.
“Don’t worry, Blue,” Lance said to her, staggering to his feet and wincing as his head pounded even more intensely. He groaned. “We’ll figure out what’s wrong with you—fix you right up.”
Blue’s waves of concern didn’t stop so Lance patted her control panel comfortingly, then shimmied a little further along, to where her mouth opening would be.
“Think you have it in you to let me out though?”
Blue leaned down then, her metal mouth opening with a groan. Lance blinked, looking around in surprise. It wasn’t just Blue that was dark—it was her hangar too. Was the hangar somehow connected with her, magically? Reacting to her? Or was the castle still kind of booting up, different sections of it not powered up all the way yet?
“Guys?” Lance said into his com, huffing as he eased his way down Blue’s ramp. His foot met ground before he’d expected it to and he stumbled forward, tripping and falling to his hands and knees. Blue purred at him, anxious. “Calm down girl, jeesh,” he muttered.
“What’s up, Lance?” said Pidge.
“I don’t know man, something’s up with my hangar too. I swear it’s pitch black in here—the castle must still be a little funky.”
“Oh no!” Allura answered. “It shouldn’t be doing that! Can someone go collect Lance? Bring a flashlight, maybe? We’ll need to get the lights in there working again if we want to take a look at his lion.”
“I’ll get him,” Keith sighed, and Lance rolled his currently unseeing eyes. He stood back up and made his way in the direction he thought the door was, his hands held out before him, braced for collision with wall.
“What are you doing?” Keith’s voice suddenly said, piercing the darkness. Lance blinked in surprise.
“Keith, buddy, am I glad to see you! Well, not see, of course. It’s dark as fuck in here. We should install a couple windows or something.”
“What are you playing at?”
“What?”
“It’s not dark in here, Lance! And your lion looks fine! What are you lying for?”
Lance gaped in Keith’s direction, incredulous. “Ha ha,” he finally said, crossing his arms over his chest uneasily. “Very funny, glad you’re suddenly into humor. Seriously dude, can you turn on that flashlight?”
Keith was silent for a very, very long pause. And then: “Oh no.”
—
“What do you mean, he might be blind?” Pidge was saying, somewhere to Lance’s left. They were all gathered in the common area, Keith having grabbed his arm and dragged him through the pitch black halls effortlessly. Just a few minutes prior Lance had deluded himself with the thought that Keith’s Galra genes let him see in the dark.
It was probably accurate to say Lance was in shock. He was hunched over himself, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes staring at the floor. Or at least, they should’ve been. Instead it was just dark.
Lance wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not. Well, surely he must’ve been, but he just couldn’t feel it happening. He could hear everyone talking around him, hear their voices combining and arguing and bickering over his head and he just wanted to lay down. The easiest solution to this problem would be for everyone to stop pretending that everything was all right and turn on the lights.
“I need to go in a healing pod,” Lance muttered. He felt dizzy and he wasn’t even standing. He sunk even lower over himself with a groan.
“He might have a concussion,” Pidge pointed out. “He said he hit his head, didn’t he?”
“Why was your helmet off, anyway?” Keith suddenly barked. Lance turned away from him.
“Maybe the healing pod will fix him right up,” Hunk suggested. “I mean, it heals us all the time, right?”
“Well, yes, but…” Coran said uncertainly.
“Either way, he does need to go in the pod,” Allura pointed out. “It can take away his concussion at the very least.”
Someone with gentle hands helped Lance to stand, helped to lead him towards the healing pod room, and Lance knew it was Hunk. Hunk had always been a gentle giant.
“I’m scared,” Lance admitted. His words came out garbled, his tongue feeling thick. The whole hitting his head hard enough to (possibly) blind himself was finally getting to him.
“It’s okay,” Hunk said. “It’ll all be okay, let’s just… let’s just get you there, all right?”
“All right.”
They were already there, apparently, though Lance had thought they still had a few more turns to go. Guess not.
Hunk helped him into the pod, and a few muffled beeps told him that Hunk was setting it up. And then the temperature was going down and it was pulling Lance down with it—before he knew it, he was asleep.
—
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Pidge’s voice said distantly.
“The concussion is most certainly gone,” Coran replied, equally as distant. “The rest, however…”
Lance groaned. He could feel the sleep stripping away from him, could feel himself shivering and the sudden need to get out of the healing pod. And then he remembered everything: hitting his head, the dark—endless and everywhere, surrounding him, dark, dark, dark—
Lance gasped, ripping his eyes open, and they darted around uselessly, moving and moving and taking absolutely nothing in. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see. His chest was heaving, gulping oxygen that was doing nothing for him, possibly fogging up the glass in front of him, but he couldn’t be sure because he couldn’t see it, he couldn’t see anything.
His eyes grew hot as they filled with tears but Lance held them back; he would not cry. Crying would cement the fact that he was… that he was blind. He couldn’t let that be true, couldn’t let that be reality, and so he didn’t let the tears fall.
“Pidge?” Lance said uncertainly, his voice echoing loudly around himself. He couldn’t be sure that Pidge was even here right now. What if he’d dreamed her voice? Or what if she’d actually said it, but left since then?
A loud, mechanical sound whirred around Lance and he flinched, stepping back and bumping his shoulder against the side of the pod. He froze, took a deep breath, and felt out with a hand. The glass surrounding him was gone, and suddenly there was a hand in his. Lance felt his breath hitch in surprise.
“Don’t worry Lance, we’re here,” Pidge said softly, and then she was leading Lance forward. He stumbled over the lip of the cryopod, cursing as he fell forward, and hastily righted himself.
“Who’s we?” he whispered. He felt the need to whisper, felt like he had to be quiet, not knowing who was around him. It was kind of like school, like making himself the center of attention. He loved it when he initiated it, loved it when he joked in class and made everyone laugh, loved talking loudly and gesturing wildly not just for his friends but for the people around him. But it wasn’t so fun when he didn’t choose to be the center of attention, when he didn’t know who was watching. It wasn’t fun when someone cracked an egg over his head in the middle of the cafeteria and everyone laughed.
And now Lance didn’t know who was here, didn’t know who was around him.
“Everyone,” Pidge said. “We’re all here. For you. Right guys?”
“Right,” their voices chorused, and Lance whipped his head to the right, realizing they were all standing clustered over there. He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t think of anything to say. That was new.
“You hungry?” Hunk said, his voice overly bright. Lance blinked in his direction.
“I guess.”
Everyone was completely silent as they made their way to the kitchen. Hunk had taken over for Pidge, his hand resting in the middle of Lance’s back as he guided him.
“I made pancakes, Lance,” Hunk said as they walked, finally breaking the silence. “I know you asked me for them weeks ago but I finally found the last of the space ingredients last night! I’ve been making them all morning.”
“That’s awesome, buddy,” Lance said, forcing a smile onto his face. He may not be able to see it, or anyone else, but that didn’t mean they weren’t able see his expression. He’d have to force himself to be happy, or at least look it. He was like, the only one who could ever lighten up around here. He’d have to still be Lance, still be the happy guy, the moral support. It was all he was good at.
Even so, it was hard. His throat felt thick. All he wanted to do was sink against the wall and cry like a baby, but he didn’t even know where the nearest wall was. He wanted to cry and scream and rant about the loss of his eyesight, something that wasn’t supposed to just happen to him! He couldn’t survive without being able to see, he just knew it! And he certainly couldn’t defend the universe! Soon enough he’d be kicked off the team and forgotten, maybe abandoned on some alien planet to try and adapt to his new lifestyle.
“I got whipped cream down a couple days ago, but I was leaving it for a surprise. You’ll have to tell me how it tastes.”
“Sounds great,” Lance agreed.
Hunk sat him down at the table that they all usually sat at. He heard the sounds of chairs being pulled out as everyone sat down, heard Hunk setting dishes on the table, heard silverware clinking against plates as he handed them out.
“Alright everybody, dig in!” Hunk proclaimed. Lance sat still, his chest suddenly heavy, as he heard movement: people helping themselves to pancakes and forks scraping against plates. He swallowed thickly. He didn’t even know where the pancakes were.
He inched one hand forward, trying to subtly find the pancakes. He didn’t want to ask for help. It was ridiculous, right? But he felt embarrassed. He shouldn’t need help with something as simple as serving himself breakfast, and yet…
“Here.” Lance flinched as Keith leaned over him for a moment before the smell of hot pancakes wafted up from below him. He could feel the heat of them on his chin. “Whipped cream?” Keith grunted. Lance nodded, stiffly, and a moment later Keith cleared his throat. “It’s all on your plate now, just…”
“Right,” Lance whispered. His fork was next to his plate, which was good, and he used it as best as he could to eat his breakfast. As best as he could meant about a quarter of a pancake and hands sticky with syrup from having to reach forward and rip whatever he was trying to cut with the side of his fork, but it didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t really hungry.
“Thanks for the pancakes, Hunk,” Lance said, standing up. “They were delicious. I’m really tired though, so I’m gonna…”
“Wait, we’ll walk you to your room.” This was Shiro. Lance just shook his head.
“No, I—I got it. I know where it is.”
“Lance…”
“I need to do this,” Lance said firmly. There was a moment of silence. Allura cleared her throat.
“As long as you think you’ll be fine, Lance,” she said, and Lance nodded, shoving out of the chair and taking a careful step back from the table.
“I will be,” he promised. And then he turned around and inched back the way he’d come in, his hands outstretched in front of him. He reached the wall sooner than he would’ve expected, sucking in a breath when he jammed the fingers of his left hand into it, but he took it in stride and swung through the doorway on the right side of the wall he’d hit. He kept his hand along the wall the entire time he walked.
Lance knew where his room was. He’d picked it out his first night here—it wasn’t his fault Keith also knew the best placement of rooms and had chosen the one directly across from him. In this situation alone, they’d been in agreement.
But now… well, Lance had never had to get there in the dark before. He still felt like he should be able to open his eyes and see. The fact that he couldn’t see—would never see again hadn’t dared to sink in. No one had brought it up at all since he’d come out of the cryopod and he didn’t know what that meant. Did they just not want to bring attention to it? Were they already in the midsts of replacing him and trying to keep their distance by avoiding the topic?
It didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that Lance was really quite useless without his eyes. His bedroom should be right around here, one of the doors on the left, and yet… There were a lot of doors. And they all felt the same. Hell, they all looked the same. Lance had always just known which one was his, somehow.
His savior came in the form of Keith. Again.
“Hey,” his voice said, somewhere down the hallway behind Lance, surprising him and making him jump. Lance turned around, hopefully glaring at wherever Keith was standing.
“What do you want, mullet?” he demanded, but the heat wasn’t really there. And he’d never see that mullet again, anyway. He swallowed.
“I just felt ready for a nap too,” Keith answered. “Walk together?”
Lance wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t a coincidence. But he also knew that he really wasn’t going to be finding his room anytime soon, so he shrugged. “If you want.”
Keith caught up to him and they walked side by side. He didn’t guide Lance like Hunk and Pidge did, just walked steadily by his side while Lance trailed his hand along the wall. And then he stopped.
“We’re here,” he said softly.
Lance nodded, not even having the energy to shout, “I knew that!” His entire being felt weighed down.
“Right,” he said. Lance turned around, stepping forward after the doors swished open loudly.
“Lance—I just, do you want… do you want to, um, talk?”
“Nah, I need a nap,” Lance said without turning around. And then the doors closed behind him, and he sank down against them, his face crumpling. Still, no tears slipped out. He would be strong. He wouldn’t cry.
People lost their eyesight every day, right? If they could get through it, so could Lance. He didn’t need to be a crybaby about it. And obviously no one else on the crew thought it was a big deal either, seeing as they hadn’t felt the need to bring it up.
No, he would stay strong and tough it out. He would practice harder, maybe even train with Keith. He’d get so good that they would have to be stupid to kick him off the team. He would prove that he could still be good, still be worth something. And he would pretend to be happy while doing it.