He's trembling.
That's the first clear thing that Pidge notices before everything recedes back into the hazy focus her mind is since she'd woken up.
Another stab of pain shoots up her side and she gasps, her right hand instinctively going to clutch at it but a strong hand pushes her wrist back down.
"Don't touch it." Lance commands firmly, despite his shaking, and Pidge whimpers out a protest.
"I'm sorry." Lance then says, voice laden with guilt. "I know it hurts but... we gotta keep it in there, 'kay? The others are coming, we just gotta sit tight."
Pidge can barely keep track of his words, everything is so hazy and he talks too fast and she thinks she's dizzy because she feels sick and the world's blinking in and out of focus, but she manages to nod. Swallows the copper-tasting saliva back down the lump in her throat. Ignores the large shard of shrapnel that's buried into her side.
Lance sighs and shifts on his elbows from where he sprawled on the ground next to her so that one of his hands is carding through her sweaty bangs. It's all cloth and anti-water material - is he wearing gloves? His armor? Pidge can't tell and she can't remember anything, but the hand feels nice so she leans into it, drawing whatever comfort she could get from it.
And that's when she realizes she's so cold.
"L-Lance," she chokes out, and the hand in her hair stills as she desperately grabs his forearm. "C-cold..."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry." Lance apologizes and despite the fact that she feels like an icicle, warmth blooms in her chest as he strips off his gloves and arm guards to share his warmth. He doesn't do much to move her - or himself, Pidge notices and wonders why but can't bring herself to fully think about it - but he does continue to card a hand through her hair and lets her grasp his other one.
It's so warm. Pidge never wants to let go of it ever.
Her brain functions are slowly filtering back to her in a sluggish, warped mess, but it's enough for Pidge to remember in fuzzy pieces what happened. A diplomatic treaty for the Coalition gone wrong. Voltron seen as the enemy. The aliens retreating in a panic. Yelling. Lance and a rolling grenade. Screaming. An explosion. Silence.
She protected him. Pidge nearly chuckles to herself in hindsight now because he totally dwarfs her, what could she do to shield him? Well, obviously something, because if she hadn't, their roles would be switched right now.
Wait a minute...
Pidge's eyes widen even though they feel as heavy as lead. Her eyes dart over to Lance's face - who somehow lost his helmet in the explosion - and she reaches a pale hand over to cup his cheek. "O-okay?" she asks.
Lance gives a humorless laugh, and his hand goes to touch hers on his cheek. It's slippery with blood. Blood that's probably not his.
"I'm okay." he whispers, dipping his head low so that it knocks against her armored shoulder.
Pidge doesn't believe him. She can't, because now that coherent thoughts are trickling back to her (and the pain too, but she tries to ignore that), she realizes that he hasn't moved at all from his position since she'd woken up and no doubt he'd be carrying her back to their Lions himself if it's that bad.
"Lance..." she trails off to cough, ignoring Lance's alarmed shout that it's blood, before continuing, "S-stop lying." she tries to reinforce her statement with a lazy slap to his head (which probably isn't advisable because he might have a concussion), but she misses and instead smacks his shoulder.
She can't see Lance's face because it's buried in her shoulder, but he sighs in defeat against it, and says, "I think... one of my legs is broken."
Pidge frowns. "You t-think?"
"Fine, both of them."
Pidge startles, "W-what?"
"If you hadn't tackled me before that grenade went off," Lance barrels on, lifting his head up to meet her eyes. "I probably wouldn't even have legs to begin with. You saved my life, Pidgey. Thank you." His face hardens. "But never do that again."
Pidge swallows, cracking a toothy-red grin. "T-takes one t-to know one, huh?"
"Pidge, seriously?"
She tries to laugh, but more blood comes bubbling up instead and she splutters, spitting it out to the side and wincing when even that slight movement jostles her side.
"Dios, that's bad." Lance hisses. "I would turn you on your side but... I'm not risking moving that." he lets go of her hand to make a vague gesture towards the shrapnel in her side. "Here, we can turn your head though."
Pidge allows Lance to tilt her head to the side, facing him, and breathing becomes slightly less painful in the new position. She licks her lips and frowns at the tangy taste of copper. "T-tastes gross."
Lance gives a strained chuckle. "That makes two of us, Pidgey. I hate the taste of blood." he pokes her face with a finger. "Stay awake, okay? Don't fall asleep."
Pidge nods. "M'kay..."
"Do you want a story? You know I've got loads of 'em." Lance offers.
"Sure..."
He launches into a story then, something about him and his siblings back on Earth that Pidge really tries to listen to, refusing to give into the darkness that's threatening to overtake her vision. And it works, kind of, because the story is funny and it keeps her awake.
Until Lance suddenly stops.
Pidge blinks in confusion when she realizes he's paused for too long. "Lance?" she asks, clearing thick saliva from her throat.
A strike of fear shoots through her when she realizes with a start that his head is bent down into her shoulder again - how has she not noticed it? He's shivering violently, and he's taking labored, heaving breathes against her ear. His hand no longer provides the warmth it once did before but is cool and clammy now, trembling hard in her grip.
He has two badly broken legs.
He's going into shock.
Shit.
"L-Lance, hey," she speaks, feeling more awake now that fearful adrenaline's racing back into her veins. She lifts a hand to trace his jawline in the way she knew that soothed him while her other hand squeezes his reassuringly. "Lance, hey. L-look at me."
It takes a few ticks, but she manages to coax Lance into lifting his head up so he can look at her. Now that she also has a better look at him, she can see he's sweating profusely, pupils so dilated that even this close she can't see the blue in his irises, and he's as pale as a ghost.
Pidge doesn't know what to do. It's the first situation in a long time where she doesn't know what to do and it's scary but damnit it all, if Lance doesn't calm down now then he was going to die.
"I-It's okay, it's okay." she begins, because that's a good start right? She can feel another surge of blood coming up her throat and she spends a tick to spit it out and returns her attention to Lance. She strokes her thumb over his cheek in a way she hopes is comforting, ignoring the blood she's smearing on his face while doing so.
"You're okay," she tells him. "Breathe, f-for me, 'kay? B-breathe."
"P-Pidge..." Lance stammers, his grip on her hand tightening. "What- I can't- breathe-"
"Then shut up and breathe." Pidge commands, snappish because Lance looks about ready to pass out and that's bad. She demonstrates for him to the best of her ability by filling her lungs with air. Her side screams in protest and she grimaces, but she pushes through and blows the breathe back out slowly. Lance mimics her, if a bit shakily.
"B-breathe." she says again. Her side flares again and she bites back a whimper, blinking tears out of her eyes. "You're okay, it's okay." she isn't sure if she's reassuring him or herself at that moment.
The longer she coaches Lance to breathe with her, the more her side spasms and at one point darkness encroaches on her vision and nearly overtakes it but Pidge manages to beat it back before it does. If she faints, Lance will freak out more, and then the shock would definitely kill him, which is not happening.
Finally though, after a couple of dobashes, Lance's breathing calms down and his trembling lessens.
"Pidge..." Lance tries again. He takes a deep breath. "I think... I think I'm okay now."
Relief and exhaustion come crashing down on Pidge all at once. "D-don't do that a-again, i-idiot." she chides weakly.
"Sorry, didn't know the shock was coming onto me before it... came onto me." Lance apologizes sincerely. He sighs, dropping his head into her shoulder again like he's just exhausted all his energy, "To be honest, I still kinda feel out of it. But it's manageable now. And besides... I was supposed to be comforting you."
Pidge is growing more dizzy by the tick and her side is killing her, but she lifts her hand to run it through his hair. "G-guess you're lucky to h-have me, huh? A-always gotta do t-things m-myself..."
"Hey, hey, no sleeping." Lance says desperately, and for a moment Pidge thinks he's going to start having a panic attack with the way he's acting. He pats her cheek insistently. "The others are coming, 'member? Don't close your eyes."
"Wasn't..." Pidge mutters because she didn't right? She didn't even notice.
"You were." Lance says. "Don't."
"Won't..."
There's a crack of what sounds like thunder in the sky and it's enough for Pidge to lift her eyelids at - when had she closed them again? A red streak is striking down from the clouds, and a distant roar can be heard in the distance. Pidge stares at it as it approaches closer, taking a tick to comprehend what it is.
Lance actually cries out in relief, watching the thing in the sky too. "I've never been so happy to see Keith in my life." he says.
He grips her hand tighter. "Hey, our rescue's going to be here any moment. No sleeping, okay?"
"Mmhm." Pidge hums, not having enough energy to say anymore.
The last thing she hears before she's slipping into unconsciousness is the sound of the Red Lion touching down and Lance's frantic shouts for her to stay awake.