Pidge was difficult to pin down. They were made of secrets and walls and prickles, and then sometimes, through all of that, enough trust and earnestness radiated out to power a sun. Shiro wondered if the others felt the same urge to protect them that he did. He wondered if, like him, they ever worried about what that might mean, or fretted over the thought of a bias there. Pidge wasn't a weak point in the team, any more than any of the others were—they all had their obvious weak points and their more subtle ones. He worried about all of them often. Sometimes he worried the most about Pidge.

Pidge was his infiltration expert as well as his shield arm—quite literally his left hand in the shadows. It was a difficult and a vulnerable job, for many reasons. Pidge had to rely on subterfuge and tricks and tech, and they were good at all those things. But such skills could prove to be a double-edged sword, both to themselves and to the rest of the team.

Shiro begrudged not one member of his team their secrets. At first, he'd hoped there wouldn't be any, but there was no way that could work. They couldn't afford to hide important things from one another, and yet they needed space, too. Sometimes they needed secrets that two, or three, or even four of them might share, and hide from the rest, because that was what kept things running. Sometimes there were the secrets all of them knew, but pretended not to. Some of them were better at balancing all of it than others, but they were all learning.

Still, perhaps more than the others—certainly sooner—Pidge and Shiro had begun finding and carrying each other's secrets, and he didn't know what to make of that.

One big secret, Pidge had let out on their own, and that had gone over fine. But he didn't use their other name again, and he didn't mention it to the others. He had no idea if any of them knew it, and he didn't plan to ask.

Then there was the way that Pidge kept brushing up against some of his darkest moments. They knew what he'd lost in his crew, more than anyone else could. And as the two of them searched for Pidge's father and brother, bits and pieces of what he knew of the Galra came out into the open. Pidge always listened closely, face all hard lines and determination, to whatever Shiro had to say. Sometimes they hugged him—tight, desperate hugs that said so much about how sorry they were, how much they cared about him. He was always a bit taken aback by that. Pidge even knew what he'd done to their brother, and had forgiven him for it when he still couldn't entirely forgive himself. He didn't think he'd earned quite that level of faith, and couldn't bring himself to rely on it. Perhaps that was why he had yet to tell the others that particular story.

Sometimes, now that they and Hunk had figured out how to translate it, Pidge would plumb any and all depths of the Galra's network that they could reach, endlessly searching for hints of how to find their family or weaknesses Team Voltron could exploit. They learned things that they didn't tell anyone but Shiro, and then only when he came to visit them during long hours of database trawling in the middle of the night.

On such nights, Pidge sat in front of their screens, motionless, and muttered out fragments of cruel truths that they'd sussed out from soulless reports of Galra conquest. Dangerous ones, sometimes, or potentially useful, or worrisome, or just sad. Shiro would sit quietly and gather the pieces they dropped. He didn't want to leave Pidge to face it all alone, so he stayed. Pidge didn't tell the others about those nights unless they discovered something worth sharing, and Shiro followed their lead.

Those nights usually ended with Pidge falling asleep right in front of the screen. Shiro kept a close eye, but they always seemed too exhausted for nightmares. He'd watch their peaceful breathing for a while, until he was sure they were well and truly out, and then carry them back to their dim room. He'd watch from the doorway as Pidge settled, then breathe out a soft "good night" and go to his room, ready to fight for sleep himself.