"I swear, if one more thing breaks in this castle…" Lance muttured. He was fixing a healing pod for, what, the fifth time? After the castle malfunctioned, Coran taught him how to fix them. In fact, he taught them all how to fix it, but Lance seemed to be the best at it. He'd been proud of it at the time, but now he sincerely regretted that no one else could do it. It'd gotten old after the second time.

"It's part of your responsibility of being a paladin, Lance," Shiro reprimanded. Lance bit back a thousand retorts about how he'd never asked to be a paladin- they'd all heard that too many times as is. Instead, he sat back with a sigh and pretended not to notice the concerned look that Shiro gave him. "You need a break?"

Lance really wanted to say yes. A break sounded heavenly. But in Shiro's question he could've sworn he heard a hint of disappointment. If he quit now, he'd look weak.

"Nah, I'm almost done," Lance said with a strained smile. He dragged his focus back to the healing pod before he could gauge Shiro's reaction. He wasn't exactly lying. Within ten minutes, the pod was finished. "See? Done."

"Good." Coran waltzed into the chamber before Shiro could respond. "I've got one more job that needs to be done today, and I believe you're just the paladin for the job, what with your knack with the pods."

Lance resisted the urge to groan. If Coran noticed his dismay, he didn't say anything. Rather, he pulled up a screen and handed it off to Lance.

"It should be simple to fix, not too different than the healing pods. It's at the end of the west hall, you'll know it when you see it. Now, off you pop!" Coran patted his shoulder and bustled out of the chamber, leaving Lance staring at the instructions in confused silence.

"You sure you got this?" Shiro asked.

Lance exhaled deeply. "Yeah, it'll be fine." He stood up and brushed himself off. Guess I'm headed to the west hall.

It wasn't long before he made it to the hall. It was one of the longest corridors in the castle, so he still had a long ways to go. He didn't go this way often, but things were starting to look familiar. That should have reassured him, but instead he found himself getting nervous. The further he went, the faster his heart was racing. Lance didn't even know why he was freaking out. What was even down here? Why was he so scared? What could possibly make him so-

Without warning, Lance's heart stopped.

Oh.

In front of hirm was the airlock, the one that Lance had gotten trapped in, the one that he'd almost died in.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

No use. Lance was on the ground in an instant, hyperventilating and with an erratic heartbeat. He was crying too- when did he start crying? Was this what a panic attack was like?

"Deep breaths Lance. Deep breaths," he muttered to himself.

Slowly, Lance calmed down. His cheeks were stained with tears, and his lungs still burned, but he was in control again. Of course, that was before he remembered what he was here to do. He almost started hyperventilating again.

"Come on, Lance. It's just a room. Panel's on the outside, don't even have to go in." He dragged himself to his feet and stared at the panel. Instantly, images of it locked and counting down flashed through his mind.

Oh god, oh god.

He wasn't suffocating, he was just fixing the airlock. There was nothing to be afraid of. Over and over again he told himself this, until he could look at the panel again. It was a simple task, nothing to be crying over. With shaking hands, he removed the face of the panel, revealing the mess of wires hiding behind it. Several months ago, this wouldn't have made any sense of this. Now, he understood what they told him loud and clear: whatever was broken was only accessible from the inside of the airlock.

Okay, okay, that was fine. Lance's hand was most definitely not trembling as he held it to the sensor, and he didn't jump when the first door opened. Rather, he calmly stepped through to the other side. He stayed placid until the door closed behind him. There he collapsed in a panic.

Immediately, Lance was in a different moment. The room- this room- was bathed in blood red light. Alarms blared over and over. In between the ear-splitting alarms, a voice was speaking- counting down. Lance screamed and sobbed, banging on the door. The voice was still counting.

"Three."

Terrified, he latched onto something, anything, he could get a grip on.

"Two."

Lance ignored the tears streaming down his face.

"One."

Lance closed his eyes and prayed.

"Zero."

The door was open.

Lance was dying. Torn in two, suffocated, ejected into freezing space, take your pick. He was dying, and he never even got to say goodbye. Not to his team, not to his family, not to Earth. He was dying, and he hated it.

"Lance? Lance!"

Lance shrieked as he felt something on his shoulder.

"Lance? Lance, it's just Shiro!"

The images faded away. The alarms died, and the red melted away into the chrome of the inactive airlock. The endless void of space morphed into a door, a door that separated him and and the expanse.

"Lance, it's okay."

Shiro was with him, his hand on his shoulder and his forehead creased worryingly.

Lance took a deep shuddering breath, still quivering. "No, it's not okay. I almost died, Shiro. Not just like 'you could die any second' kind of dying, either. If Keith hadn't gotten there right then, I'd be freaking dead right now. Dead."

Shiro looked at Lance with wide eyes. Lance didn't know how he expected Shiro to react, but what he didn't expect was for him to smile bitterly and sit down next to him.

"Lance…" he started, then sighed. "I know what you mean. I was with the Galra for, what, a year?" Shiro leaned his head back against the walls of the airlock, a hard look in his eyes. "Every day, I almost died. Every damn day, I thought I wasn't going to make it. I… I don't know what to tell you. I know you didn't ask to be a paladin of Voltron. I know it wasn't your choice. I know that any day, one of us could die- let me tell you, I've spent days wondering what'd we'd do if one of us didn't make it back to Earth. I know that it doesn't get better with time. These kind of things, they stay with you. They follow you your entire life."

Lance stared at Shiro. "Shiro, I didn't… I'm sorry."

Shiro shook his head. "Don't be. It's not your fault. And, it's not like I'm dealing with this alone. This, Voltron, everything, is helping me. It's not perfect- you and I both know that no one here is going to come out of this like we came in. But however messed up we are right now, we're doing alright. I hope you know that. I hope everyone knows that."

Lance exhaled. "I hope you're right, Shiro. I hope so." He wondered if he'd have that same wistfully regretful look that Shiro held in his eyes five, ten years from now. They looked at each other, and for a moment, an understanding passed between them. An understanding that, despite all odds, things were okay.

Neither of them saw the pain in each other's eyes as they looked away.