Terminal Velocity • Voltron x Terminal List

V

"You've been talking to Keith about me?" Lance asked, his body growing tense.

"Just- we're worried about you, Lance," Pidge said, her voice small, and it was hard to remember that she wasn't a kid anymore, that none of them were kids anymore.

"No, dammit. He's just- he's just a kid, and... please, give them back, let them come back to me," Lance screamed, pulling Raphael close. His blood soaked into Lance's shirt, but that didn't matter-

"...and...Lance?"

"Sorry," Lance said, realizing that Pidge must've been calling for him. "I zoned out for a second. What about the results?"

Pidge was silent, which meant it was bad.

"Just tell me, Pidgeon," Lance said softly. He closed his eyes.

"You have a tumor, Lance," Pidge whispered, and he could hear her red eyes and held-back tears, the tears she'd already shed today and the tears she'd shed tomorrow. "About the size of a walnut...in your head."

"A tumor, huh," Lance echoed. His eyes were still closed, his arms behind his bed. He felt relaxed. "All right."

"All right?" Pidge asked, horrified. "Lance...this...this will kill you, and..."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Lance said offhandedly, wincing as the memory of his first death triggered a phantom pain. He'd jumped in front of a blast to save Allura, and he'd died for it. The only reason he'd lived another day was because Allura had used some Altean voodoo to bring him back from a place people don't come back from. Every day since then had just been borrowed time.

"Don't joke about that," Pidge said, and she was definitely crying now and he felt a bit bad about it. "If you die, there's nothing we can do to bring you back this time. The memory stuff, and the headaches, Lance – that's not going to go away, it's only going to get worse–"

"How much time?" Lance interrupted. He didn't feel any of Pidge's concern, worry, anguish. Lance had never really cared about himself, not as a kid, not with Voltron, and especially not with Alpha Platoon. He'd always known that he was replaceable and that his main value was in how he could serve others. If Lance took a bullet to the arm while he went back to pull Rizavi out of the wreckage after an IED had gone off? Fine. If Lance ended up in a healing pod again, but Hunk didn't have to? Good. Preferable, even. If Lance ended up with no ice cream because he gave it to his younger sibling? Great.

If Lance had a tumor, but he had just enough time to finish out his mission of justice? That would work.

"How much time do I have?" Lance repeated when it was clear that Pidge couldn't work up an answer for him.

"Two months, maybe," Pidge whispered, and Lance just nodded to himself.

"So what you're saying is I need to pick up the pace."

"Lance! Please," Pidge begged. "Please, just...stop what you're doing. Or don't stop," she added, sensing that he'd been about to reject the suggestion, "Just...put it on hold for now, okay? Go see a neurologist. I can set something up, I've got friends who would keep quiet, okay, and maybe...maybe they can do something, slow it, or remove it or...something..."

Lance was quiet for a moment. "It's going to take a little bit of time to get to the location in Mexico," he said, "so I'll be off the grid for a bit. In the meantime, keep digging into RD-4895 and Capstone Industries and what the hell our military is doing with them. I'll contact you once we're wheels down."

"Lance!"

He hung up. Opened his eyes. Stared at the ceiling.

Knowing he had a brain tumor the size of a walnut didn't really change anything for him. Made things a little easier, actually, because now he understood why he was getting the headaches.