Gasping, Lance jerked upright, his arms flinging forward as if to ward off an enemy. Sweat doused his body and the sheets that twisted around his legs, but Lance didn't care. Surging out of the confines of his bed, his vision burst into kaleidoscopes from the fatigue that racked his frame. Ignoring every alarm bell that his body was throwing his way, he peeled the sheets from his legs and discarded them to the ground without a second thought. Leaning against the wall for support, Lance dragged his hands down his face and moaned. While he rubbed his palms against the skin of his face aggressively, he tried to clear his head. He still heard the calling of his demons, and that terrified him. He didn't want to embrace them again, or dance in their clutches willingly. He was determined to fight. Placing one hand on the wall, he made his way to the Red Lion's pilot's seat and his knees gave way just in time for him to collapse into it.
"Is anyone awake?" He asked aloud, sending a signal to the other Lions.
He didn't care if he had to wake someone, or even if he irritated them. He just needed to hear some else's voice.
"Lance?" Pidge's voice met Lance's ears instantly, and he sagged in respite.
"What's wrong?" She asked, her image appearing on his screen, "You look…."
"Awful?" He supplied for her, a hint of a grin toying with his mouth.
"Well...yeah," she admitted.
"Not used to seeing Lancey Lance look bad, huh?" Lance joked, and the look of surprise she gave him was one that he wasn't likely to forget.
"You're...joking around?" She blinked at him.
"I guess I am," Lance muttered, before sighing and cradling his head in his hands.
"How can I do that?" He had meant to merely think it, but the words left his mouth anyway.
She gave him a sad smile and simply replied, "'Cause you're Lance."
"I have no idea what that means," he deadpanned, but felt grateful nonetheless.
She raised an eyebrow, then seemed to remember the situation.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question. What's wrong?" She repeated.
"That...doesn't matter," Lance announced.
"I disagree," Pidge adjusted her glasses deliberately.
"What I mean is…"
Lance didn't know what he meant.
"Just, talk to me," He finally blurted.
"I am talking to you," She pointed out.
"I mean, talk to me about anything, or everything. I'm tired of being stuck inside my head, thinking only of me. Tell me something about you."
"So, you want me to distract you."
"Just stop being difficult and tell me something!" Lance raised his arms in exasperation.
"If you say so," She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.
"Well, I just beat the hardest level on Killbot Phantasm-"
"Wait, really? How?!" Lance interrupted.
Before his capture, he'd lost to that level time and time again. At that point, he'd thought that it was the hardest thing he would have to overcome. Boy, those were good times.
"Well, you see, it's all about the angle in which you approach it," she explained, her eyes sparkling.
"If you barrell into the level head-on, you'll just keep dying. You have to find a different method."
"Huh," Lance grunted, the advise sounding applicable for more than just the video game.
"Oh! And I invented this new-"
After those words, Lance did not understand a single word that she said next, as a stream of scientific jargon spilled from her lips. Although completely lost, Lance nodded his head and smiled, trying to follow her rapid rambling of the intricate workings of her new invention.
"That's great!" He said, when she ended her in depth description.
"You didn't understand a word I said, did you?" She sighed, but didn't seemed too surprised.
"Sorry, that kind of stuff goes right over my head," Lance admitted, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.
"That's alright," Pidge gave him a lopsided smile and continued, "Though, Keith seemed to get it."
"Well, that's great for him," Lance rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Pidge was doing.
He'd always had sibling-like relationship to her, and she'd never missed an opportunity to try and rile him up or put him in his place. In honesty, he appreciated the fact that she wasn't afraid to treat him the same as she'd always done. It was comforting, and to Lance, it meant that she believed in him. By mentioning Keith, she was trying to agitate his competitive nature. However, at the moment, Lance didn't have the energy to even care.
"Hey...Lance?" With Pidge's hesitant tone, the mood between them shifted, and Lance braced himself for whatever she was about to ask.
"Yeah?" He wondered, the word barely stumbling through his chapped lips.
"Do you ever feel guilty for just...leaving your family behind?" she wondered, chewing on her lip. In that moment, Lance realized that he wasn't the only one with a deep homesickness, and he berated himself for being so caught up in his own heartaches.
"All the time," He admitted softly.
She looked slightly relieved, but then continued, "I mean, I didn't even tell my mom I was going to the Garrison. I didn't think about her much at all, honestly. I was so caught up with finding my dad and Matt, and I left her all alone."
Lance leaned back in his chair, in a whirlwind of thought.
"I didn't think about my family either. I didn't stop to think about the consequences, or what the Garrison might have told them about me. They must think I'm dead by now," For a moment, just a moment, he let his self-pity overshadow Pidge's feelings, and when he glanced back her, he noticed the strained look on her face.
"Oh! I-uh, I didn't mean that your mom might think-"
"No, it's ok," she waved off his desperate attempt to salvage his statement.
"I mean, its logical right? That she'd think I'm dead. And she's all alone. She must have been devastated."
"Hey, your dad should be with her by now, right? She knows that you're all alive now," he told her, trying to keep her from being overcome by her guilt.
If anyone knew about all-consuming guilt, he did.
"Yeah, but, for, a year? Two years? She thought we were all dead. I can't imagine how she felt," Pidge's voice cracked, and Lance paused, realizing just how vulnerable she was.
Her eyes fell on her hands that were tightened into fists on her lap. Gulping, she seemed to be fighting the tears that threatened to overflow, and Lance knew he needed to abandon his own issues in order to console her.
"Hey," Lance said gently, "Hey, look at me."
With great uncertainty and reserve, Pidge lifted her chin and met his gaze. Her caramel eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting starlight even though she was on the verge of breaking.
"What you did, you did because you thought it was right. You knew your dad and brother were alive, and you weren't going to let anyone tell you otherwise. Your determination led you here, and though it may have been hasty, and not very well planned, it turned out pretty well. Your mother would understand, and when you see her, you can apologize and hug her until someone has to pull you off," Lance chuckled a little at the image, and Pidge couldn't help but smile.
"What if she wants to kill me?" Pidge asked, suddenly very afraid of maternal fury.
"Oh, I'm sure at one point she felt that way, but I think with all of the factors she'll probably just cling to you as much as you'll cling to her."
"Maybe," Pidge wiped the palm of her hand along her eyes, and inhaled shakily.
"What do you think your family will do?" she tilted her head, and Lance gulped.
"They'll probably be nice for about five minutes, then they'll all start trying to kill me," he joked, though sadness thickened his tone.
"With the way you talk about them, they seem pretty cool."
"Yeah," Lance let a bittersweet smile fall upon his lips, and his eyes cast sideways, to where the stars shined through his screens, "I hope they're doing alright."
"I'm sure they're doing just fine, if they're anything like you," Pidge comforted, and Lance brought his focus back to her.
"What makes you say that?" He inquired.
"Well, you're a survivor, after all," a light sparkled across her irises, "And I think your family might share some of your strength."
"Strength?" Lance scoffed in disbelief and arched his eyebrows.
"Uh, yeah. I mean, you lived through a month and a half of captivity, you've almost died who knows how many times, and you actually did die that one time," Pidge, a tough match to Lance in stubbornness, pointed out.
"Yeah, but that one time Allura saved me," Lance argued, and Pidge shook her head.
"After you saved her life," she shot back.
"Well, I'm sure someone else would've figured out a smarter way to do it," Lance declared.
"Don't be so sure," Pidge scolded.
"How would you have done it?" Lance demanded, certain that she'd spout something about angles and scientific theories.
"The same way you did," she replied smugly.
"Well...that's stupid," He folded his arms and regarded her sternly. "You're not allowed to act so rashly."
"But you are?" She gave him a reproachful look.
"Yeah, cause I'm not as important to the team as you are. I'm expendable," Lance explained, and in response, he'd never received such a murderous glare.
"You say that again and I will personally get into the Red Lion and hit your head against a wall until you recognize your self-worth."
"So violent," Lance tsked, but a grin burst through his attempted serious expression.
Pidge rolled her eyes and brandished her fist, "I mean it."
Except, Lance heard the laughter in her tone.
"Hey, stop looking at me like that, I really do mean it," She snapped, but Lance could only grin wider.
"Sure," he taunted.
"Alright, that's it," She made to get out of her chair, but Lance stopped her.
"Alright, alright! I believe you, I believe you," He waved his hands before him and watched as she eased herself back into her seat.
She skeptically narrowed her eyes at him, but then seemed to let it go.
"So, what's the first thing you want to do when you get to Earth? After you see your family, that is," Lance asked, in a better mood than he'd experienced in quite a while.
"Eat food that actually looks like food, not space glop," Pidge declared as if she'd thought about it frequently. "What about you?"
Lance contemplated, his hands itching to hold his guitar all of the sudden.
"Probably just stand in the rain for three days," he half-joked, standing up.
"Where are you going?" Pidge called as he traveled deeper into his Lion.
"Just hold on a tick, I'll be right back," he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
After he returned to his seat, guitar cradled in his fingers with reverence and care, a look of joy passed across Pidge's face, though he didn't notice. Tuning the instrument absentmindedly, Lance continued, "I miss rain. When you just stand in it, clothes sticking to your skin and your hair getting drenched, you feel as if the world is making you new."
"I guess it could feel that way," Pidge supplied, "Whenever I got caught in the rain, I never liked it, because any sort of technology I was carrying didn't really agree with the massive amount of water."
"That's too bad," Lance mumbled, strumming a few chords quietly. "There's really something indescribable about it."
"I got pneumonia once for staying in the rain too long when I was really little," Pidge added monotonously, unaffected by Lance's passionate adoration for the weather condition.
"Yeah, I never got pneumonia," The Red Paladin wasn't sympathetic in the slightest.
"That's probably because you lived practically in the tropics!" Pidge sniffed disdainfully, but Lance merely shrugged.
"That might have something to do with it," Lance conceded, grinning at his hands as he played through a melody by memory.
Their conversation fell into a comfortable lull, with Lance strumming a calming tune and Pidge listening with barely concealed delight. He didn't know how much the sight of him playing meant to her, so he didn't notice when several silent tears trickled down her face. Nor did he notice the expression of deep relief displayed clearly on her features. Lance was unaware of the time that passed, or even how many songs he played, but before he knew it, he had begun to faintly sing along. As he played as many folk songs as he could remember, each one reminded him of the family he'd left behind. Yet, somehow, as the familiar tunes emanated from his fingers and swirled around the room, he didn't feel hollow, as he often did. Instead, they evoked buried memories, ones that he'd refused to recall, simply because they delivered too much pain. The melodies wrapped around his heart, and it seemed, as he played each one, that his family wasn't galaxies away. As if a simply tune could carry him across miles and miles of empty space, just to be with them. The Spanish that stumbled from his lips reminded him of how out of practice he'd become with his home country's language, and though the thought saddened him, the sound of the words comforted his weary mind. As each song's chords echoed around him, time seemed to forget him, and Lance's mind felt at peace. What finally interrupted his impromptu acoustic session, was the gentle snore of a certain Green Paladin. Glancing up from his guitar, Lance smiled at the Pidge, whose mind had left him behind and entered the realm of sleep.
"Buenas noches, Pidge," He said in a hushed voice, his mind still lost in the flow of Spanish.
Standing with great care as to not make much noise, Lance carried his guitar back to his bed, casting one last glance at his sleeping friend as he went.