Chapter Text
The moment the training bot clocked him in the nose, Lance knew he was off his game.
Again.
He hit the mat with a grunt, eyes swimming with unsolicited tears as the ceiling lights of the training deck blurred. His limbs were too fast and too slow all at once, reacting in ways he couldn’t control. He blinked, trying to will the world into focus.
"Lance! Get up!"
He rolled onto his knees, panting as he buried his aching face into his hands.
He didn't want to get up.
After weeks of nothing but restless nights and relentless fidgetiness, Lance wants nothing more than to just lay there and never get back up. But the issue is, even if he were just to collapse prostrate on the ground, he knows the itch beneath his skin would come to haunt him sooner or later, the same itch that's been plaguing him for so long now. If only he could vacate his mind for a day. At this point, maybe only a blow dart to the head would suffice, one tinged with something that could plunge him into some sort of medically induced coma, free of thinking, somewhere he could finally get some real rest—
Great. He thinks his nose is bleeding—
For weeks now, it's felt like his mind has been just running and running in circles. Everyday, he exhausts himself trying to stay on track. It's as if his train of thought has completely derailed, as if it's constantly jumping tracks or coming to a spontaneous screeching halt whenever he gets close to catching it, only to randomly start chug-a-lug-a-luggin again once it's no longer needed—
Is his nose broken? He didn't think so. It's bleeding a lot, though—
And that's not to mention the maybe forty other trains all flying off the rails in his head, simultaneously blaring their horns at him as they come reeling to the forefront of his mind, intercepting any intelligible thoughts he may have had and making it impossible to focus on anything coherent—
This sucks so bad—
“Lance, behind you!”
Too late. The bot's foot came down hard—only for Keith to lunge and intercept it with his blade, sparks flying as metal scraped metal.
"Are you trying to get killed?" Keith snapped as he yanked Lance to his feet.
Lance opened his mouth—probably to say something clever—but no words came. He just stood there, swaying slightly. His heart was pounding from more than just exertion.
Ugh. He tasted blood.
The simulation powered down a moment later, Shiro’s voice cutting in through the speakers.
“Training aborted. Everyone to the briefing room. Now.”
The silence in the room was heavy as they filed in.
Hunk cast Lance a worried look. Pidge looked confused. Keith was all doom and gloom, leaning against the wall— but that was sort of typical for him.
Lance slumped into a seat and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, trying to push back the ache building behind his eyes. His other hand held the rag Coran had offered him to his actively bruising nose, soaking up the remnants of blood still seeping down his upper lip and chin.
His mouth was dry. His limbs buzzed with restless, jittery energy. And everyone was staring at him—and not in the good way. No, the way they looked at him now didn't feel like admiration, didn't make him want to flaunt his skills; it made him want to wither down, smaller and smaller until he disappeared entirely, or at least until he was small enough to escape their stares—kind of like in that one movie where the weird scientist dad's invention turned his kids ant-sized.
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, that's what it's called. What an odd concept for a movie—
Anyway.
To put it in other words, Lance was miserable.
And he refused to meet Shiro's disappointed stare as the man leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed.
“What happened out there, Lance?”
Lance blinked down at nothing, unseeing. “I dunno. Guess I was just…off.”
“You’ve been ‘off’ for weeks,” Keith shot back.
Pidge perked up, “Keith's right. You've been zoning out during drills, talking over people and then forgetting what you were say—”
"I don't talk over people!"
Pidge gave him a blank stare.
"Sorry," Lance said sheepishly.
"You've been losing things," Hunk continued for her. "Like the other day when you left without your helmet—"
"That was one time!" Lance squawked from behind the handkerchief.
"No it wasn't. It literally happened again today—hence the nosebleed." Pidge crossed her arms, sighing. "Seriously, you're all over the place, dude."
Lance threw his free hand up, exasperated. "What is this? Complain about Lance time? You know, generally you wouldn't do that straight to the person's face. Normally, people would wait to smack-talk someone until they can do it behind their back."
Shiro stepped in. "Guys, that's enough." He paused, turning to Lance, "But they're not wrong. You've been really out of it recently. Have you been sleeping properly?"
"Yes!" Lance insisted, but then he hesitated, "I mean...Well..."
"Lance," Allura chimed in, "as a Paladin of Voltron, you're responsible for maintaining your health, and that includes getting proper rest."
Suddenly, Lance felt a wave of anger flush through him.
"And you think I don't know that?!" he barked, punctuated by the sound of his bloody rag hitting the table as he slammed it down with a huff. And that's rich coming from the person that wakes them up at ungodly hours for 'drills' all the time and has them training day-in and day-out with little to no breaks between sessions, he barely resists adding.
Everyone froze at the sudden outburst.
And just like that, the anger was gone just as soon as it arrived, seeping from his body like the trickle of blood already dripping from his nose again.
Lance deflated, sitting back in his chair with a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout."
The silence prevailed for a moment longer before Shiro spoke up once again. "Lance, what's going on with you?"
"I...It's nothing. I'll just get more sleep, okay?" he mumbled, his hold on the handkerchief going white-knuckled.
Keith was suddenly next to him, grabbing Lance's wrist and pushing the hand holding the rag back to his nose. Lance made a sound of protest, but Keith spoke first. "It's not nothing."
Lance stared up at him, wide-eyed.
"You're clearly struggling."
"Tell us what's going on, Lance," Shiro urged once more.
"Yes, maybe we can help, Number Three," Coran encouraged, twisting his moustache between his pointer finger and thumb.
Lance looked away, a flush of shame rising hot in his chest.
And maybe his hands were trembling a little—just a little.
The thing is, he didn't want to tell them. And it's not because he didn't trust them. He really did—with his life, even. But he just didn't see how telling them would help. He didn't want them to look at him any differently, or to pity him, or whatever. And it was hard enough accepting that he couldn't handle this on his own, even after years of dealing with the same issues.
Still and all, what choice did he have? They weren't going to let this go now, so he's probably better off just confessing.
So, Lance took a breath and finally admitted: "I don't have my meds."
Silence.
He sort of expected that.
"Meds?" Keith repeated after a few more excruciating seconds of nothing.
"Yeah, well..." Lance shrugged, forcing a laugh. "It's not like they make Space Adderall. I've been left to my own devices since leaving Earth."
"Wait, Adderall?" Pidge frowned, "Like for ADHD."
This time, Lance let the silence speak for itself.
"Oh."
"Yeah," Laughed huffed another laugh, this time more genuine. "'Oh.'"
Another pause in which Lance sighed, running his free hand through his hair.
"When we left Earth, I didn’t have them with me—the pills, I mean," he continued. "Which, well, obviously, because I feel like that'd be weird, you know, carrying them around everywhere. And I really only had to take them in the morning, so I always just kept them in my room—but, well, if we wanna get technical here, I guess I could've kept them on me, like, theoretically it was possible because they came in these little foil packs, like the kind gum comes in, so really it wouldn't've been difficult to keep in a pocket or something. Weird, but not impossible. But then again, leaving them in my room helped me not lose track of where I put them or forget to take them—except now look at where that decision got me, huh? In space, unmedicated and a complete and utter mess. 'Cause you’re not supposed to just stop taking medication like that, and—”
He paused; another tickle on his upper lip, more blood dripping down from his nose. At some point during his tangent, he had started gesturing with his hands wildly, inadvertently removing the handkerchief from his face again.
Keith grabbed his wrist, once again forcing the cloth to Lance's face with a chiding: "Quit that."
Lance made a frustrated noise, "See, that's the thing. I can't. I can't just 'quit that' when I'm not even doing it on purpose."
Keith backed off quickly, mumbling a quiet, "Sorry."
"It's—" Lance blinked, slightly surprised by Keith's fluster. "It's fine."
Hunk reached over slowly and put a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Dude, why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
Lance felt another spike of anger, a sour stab in his stomach. He had to resist the urge to shrug Hunk's hand off. He didn't want to hurt his closest friend's feelings, but he felt about ready to crawl out of his skin, his knee bouncing beneath the table.
“Oh, well, let me think," Lance tilted his head, pretending to actually ponder his answer. "It's embarrassing, it's just sort of pathetic, and, frankly, how do I even go about bringing it up?" He counted off, unabashedly spiteful. "‘Hey team, the Blue Paladin is struggling to do basic tasks because he can’t remember what he’s doing or sit still long enough to be helpful’?" Lance laughed, bitter and sharp. "Yeah, that would've gone over well."
"Lance..."
Again, the aggravation melted away.
He ducked his head, neck burning in humiliation. "Sorry, I just—I thought I could manage," Lance eventually worked up the nerve to admit. He took another deep breath. "And I didn’t want to slow anyone down.”
"You're not slowing us down," Pidge tried, but Lance just shook his head.
"Clearly I am," he gestured around the room. "See? We stopped training to have this stupid conversation. We could be doing something actually important, and instead we're here wasting time discussing how mentally deficient I am."
Allura, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, spoke up at last. "To be quite honest with you, Lance, I'm not yet familiar with what you call ADHD. However, although I may not understand it completely, I can assure you that it is important, especially since it's been negatively affecting you in this way."
“Allura's right,” Shiro said firmly. “This isn’t something you should’ve had to deal with alone. And we're going to fix it.”
Lance looked up, startled. “What? How?”
Pidge tapped her chin. “What if we can make a replacement for your meds? It probably won’t be an exact replica, but Coran and I can try to work something up. I mean, we have Altean tech and Earth data to work with. I have a feeling it won't be impossible.”
"Really?" Lance asked.
"Sure," Pidge shrugged. "If you told us what exactly you had been taking back on Earth and precisely how much, there's no reason we can't try to figure something out."
Coran beamed. “Always wanted to try interplanetary pharmaceutical alchemy!”
"Huh," Lance gave a weak smile. “Lucky me, then.”
By the next morning, a glowing teal capsule sat in a dish in front of him.
Lance sat cross-legged on the infirmary bed, knee flapping up and down, eyes darting nervously between Coran and Pidge as they carefully presented the small, round pill.
Coran adjusted his goggles with a meticulous air, leaning closer expectantly.
Lance swallowed hard, the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest like a vice.
He'd be lying if he said the uncertainty of this makeshift Altean formula didn't slightly terrify him. How reckless was it, really, to try an untested stimulant on a human brain, made for an entirely different physiology?
Yet again, despite the swirling doubts, a flicker of hope lit inside him. Maybe, just maybe, this could help him regain some control, and he could go back to actually contributing to the team and their mission at large.
“This first version is based on Altean stimulants known to improve focus and alertness,” Coran explained, his tone serious but calm. “We’ve diluted it considerably to account for human biochemistry. It’s not perfect, but it’s the closest we can get.”
Pidge glanced up from her tablet, giving a reassuring nod. “We’re starting with a really small dose. If it’s effective, we can adjust the formula. If it isn’t… Well, we’ll learn something, fast.”
Lance let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “You guys make it sound like I’m about to jump out of my skin.”
Shiro stepped forward, his presence steady and comforting. “If at any time you feel uncomfortable or strange, just say so. We’re here to help, not to push you beyond your limits.”
Lance nodded, catching Keith's eye over Shiro's shoulder from where the boy stood off to the side, his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face.
"What are you huffing and puffing about over there?"
"Nothing, just..." Keith trailed off.
"Just what?" Lance prodded.
Keith looked away, indignant, but when he spoke, his voice was low, tinted with unease. "This is safe, right?"
In spite of everything, all the uncertainty and discomfiture of the situation, Lance found a wide, teasing grin spreading across his face. "Aw, Keith," he cooed, barely containing the giggles bubbling up from his chest. "Are you worried about me?"
Keith's face darkened. "Not anymore."
Lance raised a brow, still smiling. "So that means that you were?" he asked.
Keith ignored him, looking over at Pidge. "I hope this pill works. Maybe he'll finally shut up."
The Blue Paladin put a hand over his heart. "Uhm, ouch. Way'ta be insensitive, pendejo."
"Too soon, man," Hunk joined in chiding Keith, shaking his head with a tsk.
"I...Uh, sorry," Keith murmured, frowning.
"You don't mean that," Lance rolled his eyes teasingly.
"No, I do. I mean it," Keith insisted, and if Lance's eyes weren't deceiving him, the boy's face really was a little red.
The Red Paladin seemed genuinely upset now, which Lance thought was hilarious. "Alright, fine. I believe you."
Keith still looked pouty.
Lance laughed a little again.
Allura cut in, clearing her voice. "Hate to interrupt, boys, but, I think it best if we get this over with so we can move on with today's scheduled duties."
Lance felt better now, less nervous about the whole situation even as Coran motioned for him to hold out his hand, placing the small teal capsule into his palm.
“Version One,” Pidge said proudly. “We’ll monitor your vitals. Make sure you eat something after this, and report if anything seems off or if you feel like things aren't working.”
Lance looked at it. Then at her.
"Cheers," he said.
Then popped it in his mouth.
He was ready to fight for control of his mind again.
Even if it fought back.