Reawakening
Chapter 17: Returning to Life

Ultimately, Lance knew that if Pidge really wanted to kill himself he couldn't stop him. He was still a damn ninja. So he hadn't bothered to try to find a padded cell to stick him in, or even go through the bedroom he'd assigned him and remove any sharp objects. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to show him a little trust.

Trust. Heh. After all that had happened, he trusted Pidge significantly less far than he could throw him... which didn't sound at all unattractive, actually.

Lance wasn't quite certain what to do with himself now—well, other than resolutely ignoring a pile of Alliance information requests that he wasn't at all ready to deal with. Did he just leave his long-lost teammate shut up and alone, and go to the kids he'd known for less than two months? Or did he prioritize the murderous lunatic who'd nearly destroyed Voltron, and leave the team that had given literally everything to stop him to their own devices? Yeah, phrasing it like that is really going to help you make a decision, isn't it? It just underscored why it was so damn difficult. Both options had great arguments for and against.

Maybe he should just say to hell with it all and go hang out by himself.

"That would be fun, wouldn't it?" he muttered to nobody in particular as he walked down the hall. "Could run off and become a famous intergalactic smuggler like the old rumors said. Should've done that in the first place. Way cooler retirement plan."

Every few steps, he glanced back at the door to Pidge's room, expecting it to open despite being triple locked. Good to see his paranoia was as intact as ever. Why shouldn't it be? Better to be grumpy than depressed, anyway. It would be very easy to get depressed.

They couldn't have stuck around just a little longer...

He kept trying not to think like that, but there it was. His own angle on this. He was allowed, want he? Aside from the future being stupid, it hadn't given him a whole lot of personal space. The kids thought he was a slave driver, but whatever—every bit of slave driving he'd inflicted on the cadets, he'd been right there alongside them. And finally he'd gotten to see the others again... just long enough to remind him he was alone here. Still.

Of course, certain cadets had told him he wasn't all alone here. They were right, and they meant well. But it just... wasn't the same. Not right now.

What he hadn't quite anticipated was for his internal debate to resolved by someone else. But when he reached the rec room, where he fully expected to find his cubs—where in fact the cubs had been when he'd checked their voltcom signatures fifteen minutes ago—nothing but a room full of empty furniture greeted him. "Okay then! Guess that answers that question." Sighing, he flopped down on a couch and threw his hands behind his head. "...Can't really blame them though."

Hard to blame them for anything when they'd been dead. At least, for right now. That little honeymoon would not extend too far into whatever came next.

What does happen next?

He hadn't ever stopped to think about that, either. One more war seemed simple enough. What happened after that one more war? They would have to fix Voltron, of course; it was presently sitting fully-formed in Black Lion's den due to the fused interlocks. But what happened after that? He'd never even been all that good at dealing with life after Voltron last time, hence his silly idea to get stuck here in the first place. Now he had to think about life after Voltron in a world he was barely a part of.

Not to mention if anyone tried to throw a big party and call them heroes, he might punch them. And this time when he broke his hand he'd take their jawbone in the deal.

For a fleeting second he contemplated Pidge's solution. Maybe dying would be the simplest thing. He'd done his duty, gone above and beyond and side to side and everywhere else... if anyone had the right to just step away from it and die, surely he did, right?

Yeah, right. You're not even seriously considering that, are you? You're gonna have plenty of time to be dead. The war is over, you have time to figure this world out now. So you'll stop your moping and do it.

What would he have been doing back in the day, anyway? Most likely going out bar crawling, dragging along whoever he could, telling war stories and getting very cheerfully drunk in celebration. Not really an option right now; the team's PR still had some recovery to do. But the castle did have kitchens. And he was in the rec room, all alone.

A slight smirk crept over Lance's face. "Screw it." His attention turned to the room's main holoscreen. "Some things sure as hell can't have changed. I'm gonna find a beer and a football game, and nobody's gonna stop me."

Maybe after that he could think about his upcoming smuggling career.

"Shouldn't we have waited for Lance first? I mean, at least to tell him where we were going? He might worry."

"The voltcoms track us, don't they? If he wants to find us it won't be that hard."

"Do you think he will be upset? He has undergone a not-insignificant ordeal himself."

"Uh, he wasn't dead. Besides, he's got to babysit Mr. Suddenly Good Guy."

"In any case. We'll be back. I think he'll understand."

The forest seemed somehow brighter than ever. Bruno had brought them out here from the uncomfortable silence of the rec room, but he was trailing behind the rest of the team. Letting them choose the path. He knew every inch of this place, after all; it would be interesting to see where the others' instincts took them. Right now, unsurprisingly, those instincts were keeping them far away from the scorched half of the forest. There was plenty alive here yet.

It was such a simple thing, in the end. How were they to deal with returning from death? As they struggled to answer that question, surrounding themselves with life seemed like the clearest solution.

Besides, Bruno had a promise to keep...

"What were they like?" Daniel was the first one to ask the question they all were probably thinking. "The old pilots, I mean. You all saw them, right?"

"Dude, why're you asking us that?" Vince shot him a side-eye. "We met them, and you still probably know more about them than we do. ...Well, maybe except mine, who was pretty much exactly what you'd expect a younger Lance to be. Exactly."

"My predecessor was very... interesting." Imam's eyes glowed. "What is 'death metal'?"

Daniel and Vince exchanged glances, then both snickered. "It's a kind of music, allegedly. You wouldn't like it. Frankly it's of minimal artistic value."

"I don't know, we could write a killer song about Kargil." Larmina dropped to her knees and strummed an invisible instrument, singing in a deep growl. "He's giant and rotting, he's evil and blue, the zombie squid emperor is coming for you!"

Imam looked at her blankly, then turned his attention to Bruno, who shrugged. He rather liked some human music, but preferred what they called classical. Something told him death metal was the exact opposite. Then the full absurdity hit; he chuckled, and the Ghostwalker joined in the laughter. It felt good to laugh. What did it matter if they really understood the joke?

"That's more of your royal rebellion in action, right?" Vince smirked.

"Totally." She stood again, leaning back against a thick tree trunk and crossing her arms. "Queen Allura wasn't so bad, though." Then, if he wasn't much mistaken, a bit of a blush sprang to her cheeks. "She actually liked me, so there's that."

"That must have been quite fascinating. To speak with your own ancestor. Though I am sure they all were fascinating... they could hardly be less, to have built such a legacy."

"Yeah." Daniel tilted his head. "So everyone just saw the one who came right before you? Keith told me every former Black Lion pilot had been watching me." His eyes lit up a bit at the mention of his predecessor, though his tone became a little sheepish. "Kind of weird to think about that much of an audience, but hey, we rocked it, so..."

Vince didn't seem to think it was quite that cool, though Imam looked unsurprised. Larmina shrugged. "Guess ghosts have to do something with their time. We gave them a good show, right?"

"We did that!"

For his part, Bruno thought it was best not to address these questions. Not unless they directly asked him to, anyway. His own predecessor was still a matter of great contention. That was only natural. He felt a connection to his fellow Green Lion pilot, but at the same time his first loyalty must be to his team; at the very least he shouldn't discomfort them with it. So as the others lapsed back into silence, he decided it was time to get down to business.

"I think we've come far enough."

"Wait, huh? Far enough for what?"

"Didn't I promise to teach you how to climb trees?" He grinned and extended his claws. "Watch carefully!"

"Um, Bruno," Vince broke in before he could demonstrate. "Not that falling out of trees doesn't sound like a fun morning, but you know we don't have claws, right?"

"Speak for yourself!" Daniel winked and produced his voltcom claws.

"I think those may be somewhat... overzealous for the task at hand, sir."

"You know, Imam, you don't actually have to call me 'sir' when we're just out goofing off. I mean you can if you want to, but you don't have to."

The Ghostwalker nodded. "I understand, sir."

Larmina snickered. "You know, the voltcom armors had pretty pointy fingertips." She called hers up and wiggled her fingers at the others. "Bet they're there just in case you have to climb a wall all ninja-style or something."

The others summoned their armor too, confirming her observations. Daniel banished his weapons with a dramatic sigh. "Boring. Probably works better, but boring."

"Hey, boring is better than cracking our skulls open." Vince shrugged. "Guess I'm out of excuses. Let's see it, Bruno."

He chuckled. "It's like the Academy climbing wall. If you can find natural handholds it helps. Claws just allow more flexibility." Gauging the largest of the nearby trees, he put his hands on two knots in the wood to start, then made his way up to the lowest branch. "You see?"

The others exchanged glances, then Larmina turned to one of the other trees and dug her fingers in. "Last one up is a rotten chicken!"

"Hey! That's not even the right insult!" Vince picked a tree of his own, scrambled halfway up the bark, then lost his grip; he slid back down, leaving several deep claw furrows behind. "...Yep. Awesome."

Imam laughed and helped him up. "I think you are letting competition get the better of you, my friend. This is more her natural skill set; there is no shame in being beaten. Come, I will climb with you."

After watching for a few minutes to be sure nobody was breaking anything on themselves, Bruno returned his attention to his own tree, heading up about twenty more feet. An excellent vantage point to watch the others fall and bicker. There really was an odd charm to that. Though he quickly noticed one of the most prolific arguers was missing. Looking around in confusion, he finally located the black-armored human... climbing up in his own chosen tree.

Of course. Why wouldn't he?

"You don't lack for ambition," he observed as he watched their leader making his way between the branches.

"Nope! Not even a little! Besides, I wanted to talk. I did notice you ducking my question earlier."

Hmm. "I wasn't ducking it." He offered a paw, but Daniel seemed determined to make it up by himself. "I thought it might not be meant for me to answer. My predecessor caused great damage."

"Yeah, and you're the only one of us who's seen him not insane. Obviously meant something to you, you went to him. After we came back, I mean."

Ah. Yes, he'd done that. It had been partly Green Lion driving him, though not entirely... he nodded. "He was kind. Sad. Nothing like the cruel demon we faced. But you already knew that. Didn't you? He was one of the past pilots. That evil couldn't have been his true nature."

"Well y—agh!" For a moment he had to concentrate on his climbing, as a small branch snapped beneath his foot. "I don't know how you make this look so easy!"

"Practice." This time the paw he offered was accepted. "You'll improve. But I think you're a bit preoccupied right now."

"Maybe." Daniel pulled himself up on the branch and shook his head, lowering his voice. "Something's just been... bothering me. When I first came here, I was so certain commanding Voltron was my destiny. My right, you know? Black Lion smacked me down pretty hard about that, about feeling entitled." A sheepish grin spread over his face. "He wasn't wrong, but that's the same reason he called me. I thought it was my destiny. He said I had faith."

Bruno nodded slowly. He remembered wondering himself why the impulsive, cocky human had been chosen to lead. But he'd learned, hadn't he? "Clearly he also had faith in you. And not unwarranted."

"Heh." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I aced it, right? But I keep wondering. I thought I hated Pidge so damn much. He turned on Voltron—he turned on the same thing I wanted more than anything, the place and the team he had. How could anyone do that?" Sigh. "But Keith said something that's had me thinking, and then you..."

Interesting. Daniel wasn't usually one for great thoughtfulness, but then, Bruno had noticed he'd taken Pidge a little more personally than the rest of them. "Go on."

"He had faith. He had faith in Voltron, faith in the Force. Lots of it. And it blew up in his face, literally." His violet eyes lowered. "I can't stop wondering how much of a jackass I could've turned into, if I'd had what I thought was my destiny ripped away like that..."

"...If you'd had your faith broken," Bruno realized.

"Yeah."

A reasonable thing to wonder. He chose his words carefully; he didn't want to seem dismissive. "You can't dwell on that, Daniel. There are too many variables. But consider. You'd have had to fail to have had that destiny torn away. You did not fail. That speaks well for you."

"Dude, didn't you ever listen to Captain Andrews? Failure builds character."

"I'm not sure we could handle you with more character." Pause. Had Daniel, of all people, really just invoked the one instructor more painful than Captain Morton? "And truthfully I rarely listened to Captain Andrews. Her obstacle courses were enjoyable. Her screaming was not. You listened to her?"

"Only long enough to decide to stop." He smirked, then became serious again. "But maybe you're right. I mean, I didn't go there. Just a little creepy to think about, you know?"

"I know." Bruno reached out and patted his shoulder. "Let it go here, Daniel. We have plenty of time for worry. For now we were successful. Be here with us. Breathe. Live. You don't need to fear what could've been."

"...Yeah." Another sheepish little grin. "You are right. Thanks for the backup, Catman."

Even now that nickname made him chuckle. "Always."

It was nearly sunset when they trooped back into the castle. Oh, they'd considered going in for lunch, but ultimately skipped raiding the kitchens in favor of a lesson on local fruits and berries. For a hulking cat creature who looked like he could disembowel people on a whim, Bruno really had that child of nature thing going.

Nothing wrong with that. Larmina liked nature. It was wide open and wild and free and all that stuff. It wasn't the flow and freedom of the dojo, but it wasn't half bad either. Also, she'd totally out-climbed the other guys, which was a definite plus. But nature or not, wild Arusian shadeberries were not lunch, and she joined in plundering the main kitchen with great enthusiasm.

The castle staff was plenty used to this by now. It had been the only way to sneak meals in between classes half the time.

Carting their spoils to the rec room, they found Lance. He was kicked back in a recliner sipping a beer—not his first, judging from the cans on the table next to him—with three different football games up on the holoscreens. Their commander looked just as surprised to see them as they were to see him. And that was pretty damn surprised.

The slave driver's human after all?

"Busted..." He looked chagrined, briefly, then swept his gaze over them and shrugged. "Eh, whatever." Saluting them with his beer, he leaned back again and took a long drink. "You guys been having fun? I've been watching the Galactic Gridiron Marathon."

Nature was nice and all, but despite herself Larmina was suddenly jealous. "And you didn't invite us?"

Imam's eyes were locked on the monitors; he looked fascinated. Did Ghostwalkers play football? "In fairness, we were not here to be invited."

"Seriously. What've you been up to all day?"

"We've been climbing trees," Vince smirked. "You couldn't do it with that much beer in you."

"Dude. This barely even counts. Future beer is awful. I keep hoping I'll drink enough that I'll stop realizing how awful it is." He certainly didn't seem drunk. Just loose. Yep, actually human. "There's about five hours left to go, if you guys want to join in."

Daniel arched an eyebrow. "Sure. Share your drinks? I mean, if future beer is so bad and all."

Dammit, he beat me to it! Larmina shot him an indignant look on principle.

"Oh no you don't. I'm not going to corrupt the fine upstanding youth of the future with the terrible sin of alcohol." For a moment he plastered on a sardonically pious look, then rolled his eyes and gestured to the couches. "On the other hand, maybe I am. You're old enough to die for the Alliance, you're old enough to celebrate with a beer. Just this once, though. Next time you'll have to sneak it out of the kitchens like any other self-respecting eighteen year olds."

Was this what it was like to be lion pilots during peacetime? Larmina could definitely get used to it. Probably wouldn't really last, but might as well enjoy it while she could. With a silent thanks to Blue Lion and Queen Allura, she grabbed her dinner and flopped into a chair. "So who's winning?"

Shrug. "No idea. I've recognized exactly two team names all day."

What she was also noticing, much to her own irritation, was one glaring absence in the room. From their surreptitious glances around it looked like the others were noticing too. But it didn't seem like anyone was inclined to ask. Not that she really cared where their sudden supposed ally had gotten to, but still. Weird. She'd thought the boss was supposed to be babysitting.

"You are certain you do not mind our company, Commander?" Imam asked as he picked a seat. "You have been through a great deal recently as well."

"I'm sure. Kind of gotten to like you little punks." He winked, then looked away. "...And seriously, it's good to see you guys. Don't expect me to admit that again any time soon, but it is."

"Of course not," Bruno chuckled, then finally asked the question they were all grudgingly wondering. "...Where is Pidge?"

Lance grimaced. "Sleeping, or faking it. I've checked in on him a few times to make sure he's still alive, but beyond that, well... I'm not quite ready to go there yet."

...Even more human.

"Can't blame you." Larmina looked for something reassuring, then decided maybe reassurance wasn't what was needed here. "Deal with him later. Deal with football now. I'll teach you team names."

The others exchanged skeptical glances again. But why not? The boss had taught them how to fly the lions, how to be the Voltron Force. Now that Voltron had won, maybe it was their turn to teach him some things. To prove that the future really wasn't so bad after all, once you got to know it.

Daniel was the first to follow up, scowling at the drink he'd acquired. "...And I'll teach you where to find beer that isn't awful. Bet they stocked the castle with this junk just to discourage drinking on the job."

All eyes fell on him, and everyone seemed to decide at the same time that yeah, this was Daniel, there was no real reason to ask how he would know about it. "I'll totally take you up on that."

As the others started tossing out ideas and settling in, Larmina cracked open her first ever beer and took a big gulp... and nearly spit it out. It really was pretty bad. Or maybe it's just an acquired taste? This merited further experimentation. Maybe they all had more to learn.

He'd told Pidge to get in touch if he needed him; he had expected to be waiting more on the order of hours than days. But the longer it took, the more Lance knew he should check in, the less he wanted to. The former pilot knew the castle, he could take care of himself, right?

You just don't want to go open that door and find him dead. But you don't really think he's dead. So stop being such a chicken and go hunt him down.

Three awkward days later, he finally went looking, and found Pidge in the crypts. Of course he would be! He kicked himself for not thinking of that before. Not that he'd really come to any conclusions about how to deal with this at all. There was no getting around the fact that this young man had put them through hell.

No, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't young anymore.

If that hadn't been abundantly clear enough already, it was all written in his eyes as he looked up. "Hey..." He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Hunk's tomb, arms crossed on his knees; it looked like he'd been crying.

"Hey." It was hard not to snarl at him. He'd defiled Voltron's power, what right did he have to be here? But at the same time, it wasn't as if he were here insincerely. No. Whatever he'd become, whatever else he'd done, there could be no question Pidge had mourned the others deeply. Too much so. Just because he'd been an absolute jackass about it...

He still glared. Plenty. But there was a limit to how long even Lance could just stand there and look angry. You barged in on him, you can't just walk back out. Might as well say something. "So how are you... adjusting?"

A slight frown told him Pidge recognized that for what it was—an attempt to fill the silence. But he apparently shared the sentiment, because he answered it anyway. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. I keep forgetting to eat." A shudder ran through him. "Can't really forget to sleep, it forces the issue. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately," Lance agreed softly. He knew a little something about that. "Sounds inconvenient."

"A little. It's not all bad though. Having a concept of a future again is... interesting."

Part of Lance was reconsidering coming down here. It had been so much easier when he could hold onto the hatred Pidge had so richly earned. He was alive to atone for his crimes, to make himself useful, and that was all. Just a damn tool—in every sense of the word. It was easy enough to hold onto that in theory. But seeing him, speaking to him, hearing the anguish in his words? It was impossible not to feel a glimmer of sympathy...

And he did understand, a little. What he'd said out there on that battlefield ran both ways. He knew what it was like to wake up to a world where everything was different, where all he had were memories and a mission to cling to. But to not sleep until that point? For the only mission left to be seeking out a death that wouldn't come?

What would I have done? He didn't want to think about that; the mere question chilled his blood.

"You were immortal," he said finally. "And now that you're not you start thinking about a future?"

Pidge hesitated. His tentativeness was so strange, remembering the confident genius he'd once been—never mind the hateful monster he'd become. "I was immortal... but I wasn't alive. I couldn't see anything but how I'd failed, what I'd lost. How badly I wanted to die." His voice broke a little. "What can you even call that? But now... I can try to make things better, I can do something that matters... I can... hope." A soft, painful laugh. "Hope for a redemption I won't likely earn is better than no hope at all."

He said that so easily, and it tugged at Lance's heart. How did it come to this? Really? "Why didn't you just come back here when you first woke up? We could've done... something, surely..."

Pidge looked away and shivered. "It took me two years or so to get off of Galra. I had a huge field of scrap to work with, but digging through it, finding the right parts and what could pass as tools, trying to put together something remotely spaceworthy all by myself? I was so afraid I'd be stuck there forever." A flicker of fear had returned to his voice. "By the time I managed to get away, I was already too far gone."

...He hadn't even thought about that angle. Of course he'd had to find some way off that hellhole they'd left behind. But at the same time... they had returned to Galra. Five years after the battle, they'd gone back to place a memorial. What if he hadn't found a way to escape? What if they could've found him then, headed all this off? What if, what if, what if.

So many what-ifs. Which also sort of put the lie to the idea that Pidge being an irredeemable jackass was an inherent truth.

I can't. I can't hate him... no matter how hard I try... he was accepting that now. Maybe he didn't have to fight it. Maybe that hate would only hurt him too. After all... we're all we have left. He looked at Pidge, and for a moment he could see that cheerful young warrior again. His brother. We're all that's left of our world.

"...Hey." He offered his good hand, part of him still disbelieving his own body's actions. "C'mere."

Pidge tilted his head, standing slowly. "Did you need me for something?"

He had to phrase it like that. Lance stared at him, swallowing back the swells of emotion trying to choke his words before he could speak them. "Yeah. Yeah, I..." He shook his head. "I'm not apologizing, Pidge. We did everything we could. Everything we could possibly have thought to do."

Nod. "I know you did."

Yeah. Maybe he really did, now that he didn't have the insanity hanging over him. "But... I am sorry. I'm sorry for what happened to you." He put his hand on his shoulder, feeling the startled flinch. "And I'm still not letting you off for what you've done. But I'll be here to help you try to come back from it. You know, if you want."

Pidge looked up at him, eyes wide. "I..." Then he looked at Lance's hand and nodded. "I'm going to need all the help I can get, aren't I?"

"You really are." His eyes narrowed. "On which topic, I'm not the only person involved here."

From the way he paled, he obviously knew what that meant. But it was time. Time to bring the Force, the whole Force, together—no matter how hard it would be.

Being the Voltron Force with nothing to fight was starting to get weird. It wasn't a bad kind of weird. But they'd had so little free time, what with the Drules and the crazy immortal breathing down their necks, that things like hobbies had only been squeezed into spare moments. Now, with a break in training, no combat, and no classes, they couldn't just fake figuring out what they had in common anymore. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was making for some long silences while they tried to figure it out. They couldn't climb trees all the time.

Not even Daniel felt much like playing Lion Force lately. "Know what would be fun today? A movie marathon. We could lock ourselves in here with every bag of popcorn we can scrounge up..."

"That would be enjoyable. You have my vote."

"I'm game."

"Sure, why—"

Right then the door slid open. And as Lance stepped into the rec room, a silence immediately fell over the group. He wasn't alone. A slim figure in black and gray trailed behind him like a shadow, his green eyes fixed resolutely on the floor.

Uh oh, here it goes... so much for the carefree movie marathon.

"Hey, kiddos." Lance's voice was firm, though not cold or angry. More like he knew damn well this was going to go badly and wanted them to think twice about meeting his expectations. "I think it's about time you all formally met the guy who killed you, and I know that's gonna be awkward. Deal."

From the look on Pidge's face, he was looking forward to this even less than the rest of them. He probably wasn't wrong.

Exchanging skeptical glances with the others, Daniel bit back his first inclination to snarl. That talk in the forest was still on his mind. But not even Bruno had moved to greet the new arrival. He shifted warily in his place on the couch, eyes still on the others; it seemed he was waiting to let his team react. Larmina was bristling, her eyes smoldering with disgust, while Imam gave off an icy calm that wasn't hostile, but wasn't welcoming either. Vince just looked nervous. And as for their leader, well...

He stood, drawing a deep breath. He hadn't forgotten. He sure as hell hadn't forgiven. But he could understand, couldn't he? He could understand the former Green Lion's rage at having his faith shattered. And the rest? Well... he had been ready to stay dead himself if he didn't have a team to go back to.

I don't have to like him. But maybe I kind of get him.

"...Hey." He stepped up to their new teammate—that was what he was, right?—and offered his hand. "My name's Daniel." Of course he knew that already, no matter how much he'd ignored it. But it seemed like the place to start.

A look of surprise greeted the gesture, then a hesitation. Then finally he nodded and shook the offered hand. "I'm Pidge." His voice was very soft.

"So we'd heard." Daniel looked back at the others, watching with varying degrees of skepticism. That's right. I came back to lead this team; bring on the awkward leadership moments! "This is Larmina, Bruno, Imam, and Vince." A glare, two nods, and a slightly sheepish wave accompanied the introductions.

Pidge looked over them, wary but focused, then looked back at Lance. The boss didn't seem at all inclined to bail him out. And finally he... laughed? It was a painful sound, not the least bit humorous. "What am I supposed to say now, it's nice to meet you? Or should I jump right into the apology that won't be anywhere near enough?"

"Might as well get started," Larmina scowled, "you can keep—"

It wasn't Bruno who cut her off, which might have been expected. Imam placed a light hand on her shoulder to silence her, then looked at Pidge. "You must say what you feel you need to say. Your task is to lighten your own burden as best you are able. Our task is to choose whether to forgive once that is done."

He didn't look like he found that very comforting, but nodded. "Then I'm sorry." He paused, averting his eyes again. "...I'm sorry... and I was going to come in here and fall all over myself apologizing for every bit of it, but what's the point?" His low voice was becoming stronger, but colder. "You know what I did. You saw it, you fought it, you died to it. Repeating it now is narcissistic self-flagellation. I didn't come here to lighten my burden, and I didn't come here for your forgiveness." He looked up again, green eyes suddenly flashing, meeting each of their gazes in turn with a look of fierce determination. "I am sorry. Whatever you need me to do to prove that, I will do it. But I know words are useless."

...Well then!

A very long silence fell over the room. How were they supposed to answer that? The look Lance was giving his old teammate was wry and almost affectionate. He supposed that meant Pidge was gonna Pidge. And apparently that meant even when he wasn't insane, he was a bit of an arrogant jerk. On the other hand, he kind of had a point. What were you expecting him to say? "Hi, sorry I killed you, I brought the popcorn"? Yeah, that would go over great.

He looked back at the others, each looking varying degrees of thoughtful, shocked, and irritated. About in the ratios he would've expected, no less. What he didn't expect was for Vince to be the one who found his voice first. "Sure. I can deal with that. Can you guys deal with that?"

"I can deal with that."

"Indeed, my friend."

"...Fine, sure. If you guys can deal, I can deal."

Daniel grinned at the others and turned back to Pidge. "Well, guess that's settled. We can deal with you! We keep hearing insane idealism is a Voltron Force thing, and all."

"It is," he answered as if by reflex.

"Excellent." Then maybe nobody will punch me for this. But it felt right, even if the others probably weren't ready. Hell, he wasn't sure he was ready. And yet it had to be said. "...Want to watch some movies with us?"

He was pretty sure at least two people behind him did indeed want to punch him, judging by the sound of couches squeaking. But it was Pidge taking a step back in shock that he focused on. "...No." His voice was soft again. "I don't think... no. But thank you."

He's not ready either. Daniel tried not to let his relief show as he nodded, stepping back himself. "Maybe another time."

Nod. "Maybe."

That was all they could ask for, wasn't it? They were going to have plenty of time.