A/N: Heh… hey, guys. Sorry for the whole two weeks and four days wait. Stuff happened, and chapter four is being a real pain.
Anyway, welcome to chapter three! Just really quickly, I'd like to give a special thanks to SpiritFighter208, 2014, bigtimedreamer101, Gravtron1, Guest, and Serafinaster for reviewing, and all the new people who favorited/followed this! Every time when I open my email and see a Fanfiction notification, I get this really warm, fuzzy feeling inside. You guys make my day!
Warning: This chapter will contain some feels here in the first segment. But if I'm being honest, I can't really tell what's feels when it comes to MY writing. So is it feels? I don't really have a clue.
Second Warning: This chapter deals with treating wounds. I'm being honest again; I know next to nothing about medical treatment. I get all of my information from searching the internet; Google being my main source of help. So really, since I don't know much, it probably won't be very graphic or icky. If anything is inaccurate, please, say so in a review!
Anyway, no more talking! Let's get going!
Shiro's breath hitched and his eyes widened as the Green Lion was surrounded by purple light, disappearing instantly. Panic crashed into him and he whipped around, locking eyes with Coran.
"Bring them back! We have to bring them back!" He said frantically.
The castle suddenly shook dangerously. Shiro stumbled, grabbing onto a console nearby. He looked up at the viewscreen, a small part of him hoping that the Green Lion would be there. Instead, dozens of fighters were ganging up on them, a relentless shower of blasts raining upon the castle.
"The shields are down to thirty percent! We can't handle this anymore!" Coran shouted over the alarm.
Shiro's heart clenched up and he could hardly move, only able to just stand there tersely. He watched dazedly as Coran swung the castle around and opened a wormhole, hurtling toward it at full speed as the fighters zoomed after them.
The wormhole closed with just seconds to spare. Shiro's stomach lurched as it always did when they entered the tunnel, but he hardly noticed. He felt weak, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the console. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground, a small sound of despair escaping him.
They were gone. They were both gone. Matt and Pidge. They vanished.
Shiro's vision was blurry as tears began falling, but couldn't bring himself to care. He stared dejectedly at the floor, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
He felt a hand on his arm and he looked over to see Coran sitting next to him, sympathy and grief shining brightly in the Altean's eyes. Shiro tried to smile at the kind gesture but failed; it came out as a pained grimace. Coran only squeezed his arm gently and nodded, before leaning his head against the console and stared off into the distance.
They sat in silence that way for a few minutes. The doors then hissed open and in rushed Lance, Hunk, and Allura.
The three of them looked wild and panicked, tension lining their figures. Shiro watched as the Yellow, Blue, and Red Paladins scanned the Bridge hurriedly. Lance looked at Shiro and stepped toward him, his hands clenching together at his sides.
"Where are they? Why isn't the Green Lion in her hangar?"
There was so much raw desperation and confusion and such plain fear in Lance's eyes that it hurt. Shiro pressed his lips into a thin line to keep a sob from escaping.
"Shiro? Where are they?" Two tears slid down the Black Paladin's cheeks. He didn't want to have to say this, he so genuinely didn't.
"Shiro…?" Lance's voice was soft and Shiro swore he could feel his heart cracking.
"They disappeared. The Galra fired some sort of laser and they were gone." There was a tremor in his voice. More tears came faster now and Shiro hugged his legs to his chest, absently feeling like a young child again.
He dared to look up and wished he hadn't. Lance looked as if someone had punched him in the stomach. His eyes were wide and disbelieving; beginning to glisten with unshed tears. Allura was silent but her body was rigid. Hunk had a hand covering his face, and Shiro heard the muffled sobs that came from the Paladin. It hurt to hear that. It hurt.
He ached to turn the castle around and give the Galra cruiser a piece of his mind. He wanted so badly for everything to work out for once for them, that maybe, just maybe, they could go a full day without incident.
You're not lucky enough for that. You know you're not. Just accept it already.
Shiro watched as Allura stepped up to the main controls and rested her palms on the pedestals. She gazed ahead, her eyes seeming to refuse to show one clear emotion.
Hunk drifted to him and Coran and lowered himself to the floor, setting his helmet aside. Coran leaned over and put an arm around Hunk's shoulders; the Yellow Paladin accepting the touch and resting his head on the older man's shoulder as he continued to weep.
Shiro glanced up and around him and saw Lance standing in the same place. He was staring at Pidge's chair, a hand covering his mouth. His other hand hung at his side, his head lowered some.
With a grunt Shiro pushed himself up from his position, his limbs still tingling a bit from the adrenaline he had felt perhaps twenty minutes before. He moved across the bridge to Lance's side, glancing at Pidge's chair.
Such a smart kid…
"Lance," He murmured, resting his hand on the teenager's shoulder. The response he got was one he did not expect. Lance turned on his heel and pulled Shiro into a crushing embrace, his body slumping as he shuddered. Shiro stood stunned for a brief second before returning the hug, wrapping his arms around Lance and relaxing just the tiniest bit. He felt that as much as Lance needed the reassuring contact, he needed it too.
Shiro felt his shirt dampen a bit as Lance began to tremble, his grip loosening as he cried.
"Shh…" He whispered, tightening his hold on Lance. He hardly caught what the teenager had said, but all the while he still did.
"It- it's my fault."
"No!" Shiro exclaimed, pushing Lance back so he could look him in the eye.
"No," he said again, quietly. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. If I had been more careful then Pidge wouldn't have gotten captured in the first place and none of this would've happened." Shiro's voice tightened and he looked at his feet, an onslaught of emotions waging war in his brain.
He had been so stupid! During all of the missions they had set off on, Shiro had always been afraid that one of his friends might be captured. But out of everyone, it had to be Pidge…
"It's nobody's fault," Allura spoke up, coming to Shiro's side and looking meaningfully at him. He dimly realized that Hunk and Coran had moved too, Coran's arm still slung around Hunk's shoulders in a comforting way.
"The Galra snuck up on us unexpectedly and we weren't prepared. Their objective was to obtain a Paladin, not a Lion. They succeeded. We can't blame ourselves but those who have committed the wrong."
Shiro felt anger slowly boiling up in him and he couldn't really figure out why.
"And how are we supposed to find them? For all we know they could be halfway across the universe!" He said, voice rising.
Lance made a strangled noise in between a moan and a wail.
Allura's expression was dark. "I don't know. We're currently heading for a small system called the Ant'ixox system. It's about half a light-year from our previous spot. There I can send out some sweep scans and see if we can catch their signature."
"When are we going to be arriving?" Shiro asked.
"A few vargas. I can't send them while in a wormhole tunnel; we have to be in one solid place to do it."
"That doesn't help us." Shiro snapped, clenching his fists. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and looking back at Allura. "Sorry. Just with everything that's happened…"
Allura nodded somberly, fidgeting with her hands.
The group fell into a saddened quiet. There was nothing to do but think, and Shiro hated that idea. Thinking too much lead him to so many what-ifs, and he didn't like what his imagination worked up.
So he thought about the happy moments. He thought about Matt and his horrible habit of rambling, of Pidge and her quirky smile as she tapped away at her laptop. He thought about all the times Pidge had convinced him to pull a master prank on Lance as payback for something. He thought about the hilarious way that Matt had constantly tapped his fingers on his console, driving his father up the wall.
Shiro smiled softly at the fond memories. The Holt siblings were spectacular in his eyes. He trusted both of them with his life and knew that they were perfectly capable of protecting themselves in battle. They were fighters, strong to the core.
But the image of the two of them being in the middle of unknown space, alone…
No. He wasn't going to abandon them. He'd find them and he'd bring them back.
He had to.
Pidge stirred and moaned, grabbing feebly at the fabric of Matt's shirt. Matt looked down at her and swallowed worriedly. She needed medical attention desperately, but he was no doctor and he didn't have any supplies…
The Green Lion rumbled. Surprised that he could somehow understand what the Lion was trying to explain to him, Matt shifted Pidge oh-so-very carefully from his lap to his arms. Standing, Matt almost crashed to the ground as his legs slowly woke up. Muttering, he moved to the back of the cockpit, trusting the Lion to steer. There on the left wall, he found a glowing green button. Avoiding hurting Pidge even more, Matt pressed the button and felt impressed as a large panel in the wall unfolded into a medical bed.
Gently, Matt laid Pidge down onto the cot. He sighed and brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. His head tilted downward, he watched her simply breathe.
He had always hated seeing her injured, whether it was a bee sting or a scraped up knee. Seeing her sick was even worse because with injuries he could at least help her to a certain extent. But with illnesses, he could only stand and watch as she struggled.
Now, to his horrified dismay, she was injured and sick. She was highly feverish and had who knows what internal damage thanks to those thrice accursed Galra.
Matt pinched his nose and let out another sigh. He needed to keep his cool if he were to help Pidge win this fight. Raising his head, he looked around for some indication from Green, as if to say, 'Medical supplies right here! Come and get 'em!'
The Green Lion rumbled again, eager to soothe her Paladin's pain. Matt looked at the ceiling and raised a brow. After a second he looked at Pidge, discomfort knawing at the back of his head. He didn't want to leave her alone, even for the shortest of minutes. He sighed and a small part of him said he'd regret this choice, that something would happen, but Matt ignored it.
"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He murmured, but Pidge remained unresponsive. Leaving the cockpit, Matt maneuvered through the Lion until he found a tiny room. There were large containers looking like coolers up against the walls. Opening one, he peered inside. It was filled to the brim with bottles and boxes and packages of all sorts, ready to be of use. Matt whistled softly at the large amount.
Looking through the contents of each container, Matt gathered the supplies he expected he would need. Bandages and disinfectant were among the things he picked, along with painkillers and cold compresses.
With his arms full and impatience burning in his chest, Matt made his way back to the cockpit. Pidge was in the same position as when he left, unmoved save for the uneven rise and fall of her breathing. Matt frowned. Walking back a fantasy of a sort had risen in his mind that when he returned, Pidge would be awake and perhaps even lucid. That didn't appear to be happening soon.
Matt shook his head and set his supplies on the bed beside Pidge. Looking her over with growing worry, he set to work tending to her fever. Brushing some of her hair out of the way, he laid a damp cloth on her forehead, along with her neck and collarbone.
Then, he turned his focus to the cuts and slashes crisscrossing her abdomen. Grabbing a moistened cloth, Matt dabbed gently at the dried blood coating one of the cuts. Pidge suddenly jerked and cried out, her left arm swinging up, accidentally hitting him in the nose and knocking him back a step.
His nose stung and Matt brought a hand to it. It came back red. He huffed and moved back to Pidge's side and tried to soothe her. She quieted after a minute, her breathing labored. Matt bit his lip and picked up the cloth again, being as gentle as humanly possible when he brought it to the cut. Pidge, this time, didn't react and Matt let out a breath of relief.
Being delicate, Matt cleaned away all of the dried blood. It sickened him while he worked; to have to see so much of it. It was his sister's blood, of all people. He didn't want it on his hands in any situation.
With the wounds clean, Matt applied disinfectant and wrapped the cuts securely. Then, with a sigh, he shifted his gaze to her mangled right arm. It was obvious that her shoulder was dislocated, and the position her arm was in indicated some sort of break or fracture. How was he going to fix that? He hardly knew anything about medical treatment as it is.
With a tired sigh, Matt grabbed another roll of bandages and set to wrap the part of her arm with the break. He did so tightly, making sure that it would keep things still until he could get her real help.
With that job finished, Matt looked to the last matters. The bruises under her eyes worried him, but bruises would fade with time and usually didn't cause anything serious. At least, that's what he hoped.
The burns on her chin didn't look too severe. They were red and a bit swollen, as to be expected, but didn't show any signs of being second or third-degree. With another bite of his lip, Matt put a bit of disinfectant on them and laid a damp cloth over the wounds.
Looking over his handiwork, Matt's gaze picked out the bruises on Pidge's neck. He froze, staring at them.
He had never thought about what had really happened when she was their prisoner. The rescue and the escape had taken over his mindset, and then suddenly they were somewhere else, in a random section of space…
She had wounds. She could've received them anywhere, in any way, by anyone…
The arena.
No. No, no no!
They threw her into the arena. Used her as entertainment to satisfy their disgusting craving for bloodshed.
No! Stop it! That's not what happened! You don't know what went on; you're assuming things!
The Druids. The creatures that were whispered about among the prisoners and arena fighters. The things that poked and prodded and strapped people to tables to experiment on them.
It was them. He knew it; it was them.
They choked her. They had let his little sister dangle from their hands and choked her, as the air was closed off from her lungs, as she struggled and kicked and tried to get free-
Matt let out a scream of anger and swung his fist at the wall. A jarring pain rippled up his arm as his fist made contact, but he didn't even register it. In his mind's eye, a Druid screeched and dropped to the ground as it clutched its face. A thin smile holding no mirth crept onto his lips.
The smile dropped after a few seconds and he moaned, running a hand through his hair. The sudden flare of anger ebbed away to a dull throb. After everything that had happened, he was so weary. Every inch of him seemed to ache and his whole body felt heavy.
With a tired groan, Matt lowered himself to the floor, sitting against the wall that folded into Pidge's cot. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.
Distantly, he heard the Green Lion rumble softly. A warmth was beginning creeping through his limbs and fill him, and Matt could somehow tell that the Lion was doing him a favor. He was finally going to get some rest. An instinct did try to fight it off, telling him that he needed to get up, he needed to take care of Pidge, make sure nothing happened to her. He was so comfortable though, and he could feel the Green Lion supporting him. Maybe he could just sleep for a few minutes, then he would help Pidge some more…
Matt gave away to the warmth and fell asleep.
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