- Day two of imprisonment -
(Present time)

Lance woke up crumpled on the floor with a headache. His body protested mightily at his position, protesting even more when he tried to correct it.

He looked down to see the source of this, and immediately his breath hitched.

He was covered in burns, all in various stages of degree that mottled his mocha skin.

His bullet wound on his right arm was surrounded by charred, cracked and blackened skin that lead to blistered red skin. While the third-degree burn was numb, he could feel every flare of pain that shot through the second-degree burn which encompassed the complete area inside the hole.

The rest of him wasn't faring much better, as it was littered with second- and first-degree burns that announced their presence with incredible pain.

Lance suppressed the urge to be sick as the scent of burned flesh diffused around him, inhaling short, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

He lifted his head to the ceiling, closing his eyes as if that would help him ignore what he had just seen.

Sure, things could be much worse, he assured himself, pointedly ignoring the stench. Everything's fine. It's okay. There is a silver lining to this situation, I'm sure of it. He paused, taking in a deep breath. I just have to find it.

When he opened his eyes again, making sure to keep them straight ahead and not at his injuries, he realized that he was alone. He knew the only reason for that was because torturing him while he was unconscious would be a waste of Haggar's time, and that as soon as he made one sound, she would be back in to continue the job, but even then he decided that it counted.

I wonder what the rest of the team is doing right now, he wondered. It was a good distraction. Pidge and Hunk probably have escaped already because of this, so that's another silver lining that I can add to my list.

Suddenly, the silence was broken with a scream that tore through the metal wall of his cell, breaking through his thoughts. Lance winced at the sound as it grew louder and more strained.

His heart ached for the prisoner next to him since he knew what they must be going through. He wouldn't wish that sort of suffering on anyone.

The sound had continued for about fifteen doboshes until he couldn't stand it anymore.

He had to do something. He was done just lying around. He had to help, even if it meant drawing attention to himself.

I will not be a witness to someone else's agony when I have the power to stop it.

"Stop. S - STOP!" He yelled at the top of his lungs and his voice cracked from the lack of water. "LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

Immediately, the screaming halted, and Lance was filled with a sense of victory that had an undertone of dread. He had accomplished what he meant to do, but he knew what was coming, and the fact that it would cost him.

And he was okay with it.

It's all for them. You suffer so they don't have to.

The door in front of him slid open and Haggar and her druids stepped through. Her sickly yellow eyes bore through him as she said, "You're selfless, I'll give you that." She bent down and took his chin in her hand, this time caressing his cheeks gently. "But. . . ." She grinned as one of her nails carved a red line down his cheek. "You're selfless to a fault."

Behind her, the robed druids' hands filled with dark energy, ready to amplify her own.

"A person with no instinct for self-preservation will be an interesting experiment for my studies," Haggar said, standing up. She raised her arms, which were crackling with corrupt Altean magic. "After I break you, of course."

And the cycle of pain began again.

. . . .

- Somewhere in space -

Pidge was bored out of her mind. She had been piloting the Green Lion straight ahead to the place where she hoped the castleship would be for a day now, but she still was happy that she and Hunk had escaped without a scratch.

When they had been dropped off at one of the work stations in the ring that surrounded Zarkon's ship, the overseers had underestimated their intelligence, since they were apparently only 'lowly human children', not worthy of any extra surveillance. Even though the overseers had been told by Haggar herself that she and Hunk were paladins of Voltron, they still underestimated them anyway.

Pidge giggled. Little good that did them, she laughed. Man, I bet they're going through hell right now because of that mistake.

She remembered how when their backs were turned, she and Hunk had snuck off right under their noses, trying to find their way back to Lance, but how they found the Green Lion instead of him.

Both of them had been reluctant to leave him there - especially Hunk - but she had persuaded him that they could always come back, as they had left the Yellow Lion there to use as a tracker.

Now that she had had a day to think about it, Pidge was beginning to regret leaving Lance a prisoner. He had sacrificed himself to save her and Hunk despite what she had told him, trusted in them enough to give them a means of escape, and she hadn't returned the favor.

"We're not leaving you."

Guilt rose in her, knowing that she had willingly left him, that she hadn't kept her promise.

When we go back for him, I will find a way to keep my promise of beating the sense back into him, she thought.

She had observed that for some reason, Lance had become way more reckless, as if he didn't care whatsoever about what happened to him. This thought made her recall the tear tracks that she had seen on Lance's face before they left on their self-appointed 'mission', and she came up with a question.

"Hey, Hunk." Pidge swiveled her pilot's seat around to face him.

"Hmm?"

"How well do you think you know Lance?"

Hunk tapped his chin with his index finger. "Huh. Interesting question. Pretty well, I'd say. Why?"

"Have you ever heard or seen Lance cry?"

Hunk paused before saying, "No, I don't think I have." He frowned. "That's strange. Everyone cries, right? I think it's just that since he seems so happy all the time, I just can't picture it." He looked up at her. "Have you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, he wasn't actually crying, but I saw evidence that he had been earlier. If anything, I just wonder why he tries so hard to cover it up, that's all."

. . . .

- Day four of imprisonment -

Lance had stopped trying to cover his emotions up, mainly because he couldn't feel them, along with many more of the third-degree burns that he had accumulated. He had lost his sense of time, and with it, any feeling other than emptiness and pain.

The witch had deliberately left as many blistered burns as she could do that he would be in constant pain as lot as possible.

The fact that his mind had been tampered with so many times didn't help, and neither did the fact that there were no windows, or even a slab of metal to serve as a bed. Then again, he was in the middle of space, so even if there were any, it wouldn't make much of a difference.

To him, the time was elastic - seconds felt like hours, minutes felt like days, and days felt like years, but no matter how long it had been, Lance was determined not to betray his team. His friends. No matter what.

. . . .

- Day six of imprisonment -

"Wake him up."

Haggar's voice cut through the fuzz that surrounded him, only seconds before long fingers with sharp nails grabbed his hair and tugged.

He didn't make a sound.

"Since our normal methods haven't been working, I'd say we should try something new." She bent down onto the ground beside him, still holding his hair between her fingers, and stared him dead in the eyes. "You better hope that you don't have anything that interests me in those memories of yours."

Her terrible yellow eyes began to glow, and in an instant, he felt a presence at the edge of his mind. Just it being there made him shiver, because it was a foreign being in his own mind, a place that had been a safehaven for him throughout his whole ordeal.

Even worse, he could barely control anything in his own body anymore, and he was forced to watch as a playlist of his memories was shown to Haggar. What little energy he had was focused on sorting his memories, restricting the flow as much as he could so that she would only see ones that she couldn't use against him or Voltron.

Suddenly, one caught her gaze. "What is this?" She used her power to grab on to the memory and replay it again.

Lance remembered the moment well. It was the first time he had gotten his prescription for anti-depressants, which had run out a while ago during his time in space.

"You sure are interesting, little paladin," Haggar sneered, examining the memory. "I'm sure none of your teammates know about this, do they?"

"Shut. . . . the hell. . . . up," he rasped, throat raw and irritated.

"Found a weak spot, haven't I? Let's see how many more there are," she hissed. With this insight, she rifled through every single event of his life that he couldn't keep from her with a more keen eye, picking out his hidden insecurities, doubts and fears from within them and stashing them to use against him.

He tried in vain to sort through them and withhold them from her, but because he could only sustain a few at a time, he failed.

When Haggar left him for the night, having gleaned all she could out of the information that was available to her, he was completely exhausted. He lay spread out on the hard metal floor and fell into a fitful sleep, his tears pooling beside him.

(A/N): Well, it's 2:18 AM (while I'm writing this, at least) and I'm completely dead inside. To no one in particular, I have one question: why do I do these things to myself? I know the consequences of my actions but I do it anyway!

At least I don't have school tomorrow, since I'm finishing this uo on Saturday, because if I did. . . . I wouldn't get anything done. Wait, I don't get anything done either way!

Hold on, why am I complaining here? Time to cue my second catchphrase:

Until next update :)

(sleep is for the weak, right?)