Part Five
Sendak…
Don't worry Lance, we'll get you out…
Pidge…? Forget about-!
"Shiro, I'm gonna get-"
"I see the witches didn't give you the latest model…"
I won't let you in.
"You don't have a choice."
Shiro's eyes snapped open and his entire body froze, sucking in air and holding it as adrenaline flooded his synapses and he became acutely aware of his surroundings. He exhaled slowly, lungs a little shaky, and he sat up. He looked at the clock - ticker - but had no idea what the time was. Pidge would call it "stupid o'clock" at any rate, and he sighed, rubbing his forehead, trying to decide if half remembered bits of trauma was better or worse than the vivid memory of his failures. He got up with practiced ease and left his room, starting his tour of the castle and trying to shake off the anxiety.
On an academic level, he understood what was happening, and Keith had not-subtly given him research on the problem and Shiro was not so proud as to avoid doing things that would calm him down when he had an episode. The days were better because the team made so much noise, there was so much to do and a hundred ways to distract himself unless a stressor hit him from left field - even those had slowly been ticking down as he started to understand what his time under the Glara's tender care had entailed. He knew that it would take time, and he pushed himself to understand that it was okay to take time - even if they didn't have time, even if they were at war, even if he couldn't afford to freeze up or flash back in the middle of the fight.
Even if Sendak was still on the ship.
… Damn it.
Shiro took another breath, slowly through his nose and holding it before exhaling through his mouth. That was why he was stressed out. Even in a pod, catatonic and unresponsive, the idea of a Galra in the castle set his teeth on edge. Noise during the day distracted him, but when he found Pidge's broken jetpack in the vents, remembered what the infiltration had caused, the list of his failures… It was no wonder this was his second time awake tonight. Sighing he shifted his direction and went back to the sleep quarters. This, at least, he'd learned how to handle with nominal success.
Hunk and Lance were in Hunk's room, passed out under the blankets and dead to the world. Pidge wasn't in her room, though he'd expected that, and when he opened the door to Keith's room he found her with the Red Paladin. The foot long tether was back, Keith asleep under the sheets and Pidge slumped into a corner, laptop half off her lap, asleep. Even after the day's adventure she still couldn't quite stop. Shiro smiled and shook his head and carefully pulled the laptop and put it aside, tugging off her shoes like an elementary student and lifting her to bed. Keith woke briefly, making room for her, and Shiro gave him another smile.
Something about seeing his team asleep, lost in pleasant dreams, eased a muscle between his shoulder blades, and he watched the arms of Voltron for a time, eyeing their breathing and mentally cooing at how cute they were asleep. He watched for almost half an hour, letting himself relax, visually reminding himself that his team was safe, and that they had survived his failures.
The press of the mission had been too strong at first, going from one crisis to the next, determined to give nothing away while he was prisoner and Lance prone next to him, then off to the Balmera and trying to save Shay and the others, fighting the robot-beast and struggling to survive. Now, though, there was quiet, and in the quiet he had time to think, to reflect, to see just how badly he had failed.
He had voiced concerns about opening up the castle, to be sure, and he made a perimeter sweep - but he was only one person, there was no way he could have noticed the infiltration. It had taken him time, but he had come to terms with that. But he could have pressed the princess more, or even said no to the party at the castle all together. He could have taken Lance to the infirmary instead of outside the castle - he wouldn't have been caught and Lance would be that much closer to the help he needed. And poor Pidge wouldn't have taken fire to the back, and Keith wouldn't have been locked out of the castle and forced to do nothing, and Hunk and Coran wouldn't have had to go out on their own to get a new crystal. All of his calls once the attack started were - mostly - sound, but it all stemmed back to that one moment.
And now Sendak was on the ship.
Serenity vanished, and Shiro left before his curse could wake the other Paladins. Tension was building in his muscles and he needed to work it off before he had another flashback. The fight with Sendak had been pitiful, the Galra's overpowered arm too much for Shiro to handle, and he too used to the arena to think of severing the energy like Pidge had. Hell, his own arm was superheated, he could have melted his bonds as soon as he saw Pidge in trouble, or watched as Keith swung into battle with his bayard. But he had stayed in place, too well trained to be still and subservient until the fight came.
God, Sendak was on the ship.
His feet took him to the infirmary, to the pod where Sendak was in stasis, arm deactivated and detached. He was asleep. Harmless. Restrained. Little more than a broken soldier, discarded by its master. It was fine.
… It was fine.
… It was not fine. An enemy on the ship when the castle was barely capable of flight? An enemy who had caused all that damage? No, it wasn't a good idea. It wasn't safe to have him on this ship, and Shiro knew that this time, this time, he would put his foot down with the princess and get this piece of garbage out of here. No prisoner would be kept like this, protocol was to move them to a secure facility (which they didn't have) and interrogate them (which they couldn't do). The soldier in Shiro, still alive and still reminding him what to do, was causing even more stress, knowing that he couldn't follow protocol but also fearful of this guy getting out. Even with all the assurances of Allura and Coran, the what ifs ran through Shiro's head, and he realized that coming down here was a mistake - he was keying up instead of calming down. Pursing his lips and left, not sure where else to go.
Eventually, he took a page from Keith's book and went to the training rooms. Exercise relieved stressors, and if he was going to flashback, at least it would be with something safe to punch. Shiro called up level five, pushing himself and pushing out all of his thoughts. The workout was thorough, and he took a few hits too many, but when all was said and done his mind was pleasantly numb, and he felt better about going to sleep.
After stretching, showering, and changing, he went back to his room and - like a teenager - flopped face-first onto his bed. His muscles ached and the sheets were cool to his skin, and he took a deep breath in and then out, thinking about tomorrow.
Pidge and Keith he wasn't worried about. Both of them were trying, and while they each had challenges that made connecting to others hard, they were putting their best foot forward, and both were intelligent enough to understand why. Today's misadventure in particular had helped them connect, Shiro had heard the tail-end of their argument. They had farther to go than Lance and Hunk, but Shiro also knew them better and had more faith in them.
Lance and Hunk were… a challenge. Where Pidge and Keith didn't hit off at all, they had the ability to synch with each other almost perfectly, but it wasn't anything resembling consistent, and Shiro hadn't completely diagnosed the problem. Some things were obvious: Lance not taking this seriously, Hunk unwilling to stand up for himself all the time; but there was something fundamental that Shiro couldn't put his finger on. He rolled over onto his back, looked up in the dark. Galaxy Garrison, that's where he needed to start.
He'd learned a lot from Lance today - or more specifically Hunk, who didn't bother posturing or making oneself look good. Lance came into Garrison already desperate to prove himself, the second choice after Keith dropped out. That made sense, and also explained why Lance was sometimes like he was: posturing in front of Allura, puffing himself up, even putting others down. He was uncertain of his place. Shiro could build him up, that wasn't the problem, but what Shiro didn't understand was when and how Lance could put all of that away. Once he knew the trigger things would go much more smoothly.
Hunk by contrast was easy to figure out but not how to fix. Hunk was a follower, pure and simple. He did his own thing, and if someone like Lance or Pidge breezed in with a new project or an adventure he allowed himself to be dragged along - complaining the whole way - before he could go back to doing his thing. Even walking, it took those two most of the day to understand that Hunk was the one who needed to take the lead, that he was the one who kept perfect time. Hunk didn't like going out of his comfort zone and was always doing things slowly, procedurally to keep himself calm. That made him the perfect person to lead the legs of Voltron, but he would never be comfortable calling the shots, and Lance would be too busy trying to get the glory to make himself feel better.
And yet, in spite of all of this, there were moments when they gelled so well it was a sight to behold. Just look as how they'd handled Shiro's… episode. Or the work they did this afternoon surviving the catwalks. Once they hit their stride they were nearly perfect together. The question was how to get them going.
… Dancing?
Allura had mentioned it earlier and maybe that would be the trick. If nothing else that would show them why they had to watch their footwork.
Pidge and Keith, Shiro already knew, would learn a lot tomorrow. Following Keith's schedule would be a challenge - especially for Pidge. In theory that would be the push they needed, if not Shiro already had some ideas.
But Sendak…
The drowsy feeling disappeared again as a spike of anxiety burned into him, and he sighed, turning his mind to his biggest source of stress.
If Sendak was here, even in stasis, he needed to be monitored - but the question was how to do that without waking him up. Shiro knew himself well enough to know that having a Galra onboard, awake, was going to completely ruin his ability to function. But having the Glara here asleep wasn't much better if his sleep was still going to be interrupted. There was the larger possibility of questioning him somehow - the chances of interrogating a Galra at all were low, and wasting this chance didn't sit right. But it went back to the problem of having a Galra on the ship. They couldn't exactly fly him off to a planet somewhere - putting him in one of the lions was out of the question and the shuttles weren't nearly secure enough. The ship was the only place left, and it wasn't like Shiro was heartless enough to just jettison him to space just for causing him stress.
So then what were the options…?
"It's not just a hologram; it's King Alfor's very essence, crystallized and preserved for future generations. His entire consciousness is available to access and act as counsel. Why, it might as well be King Alfor!"
Shiro's eyes snapped open. Could that even be possible? Could he have it both ways…?
He smiled, and at last he relaxed, and was asleep in minutes.
That morning he was up well before 0500, changed and ready for the day and waiting by Coran's door. The older Altean stepped out and didn't even blink to see Shiro there so early, and they walked together for a time before Shiro brought up his idea.
"You said that King Alfor is crystallized in the castle," he said without preamble.
"Yes, of course. Did you want to meet him?"
Shiro blinked at first, feeling abashed. "Thank you, but no," he said carefully. "I don't want to infringe upon him without the princess there. I was more curious about the process. Is it tied to Altean royalty, genetics, or can anyone go through that cerebral copying?"
"Anyone can do it," Coran said brightly, fluffing his mustache. "It's not linked to specific genomes or traits, but Altea often saved the privilege for those who were already great: diplomats, philosophers, leaders, artists. Ones who contributed to Altean society and somehow made it better. We even have a few teachers."
Shiro frowned, realizing this might go counter to Altean culture. He didn't want to infringe on the creators of Voltron - certainly not for his own limited sense of safety and sanity - but he reminded himself that this was war and sometimes people had to do ugly things in order to come out on top.
… He tried not to think about how that thought connected to blurry images of an arena. The last thing he needed was another flashback.
Setting his shoulders, he made his request. "I want to copy Sendak's mind in order to interrogate him."
Coran stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide enough Shiro realized the man's pupil's were blue the same way Allura's were pink. The slack shock made Shiro nervous, and he tried to explain himself. "He's proven to be too dangerous to keep awake - he took down the castle with five broken sentries and an accomplice, but as one of Zarkon's lieutenants he knows more about the Galra military structure than we do: troop movements, deployments, bases, standard strategies, procedures and regulations. If we can tap him for information we can be better prepared for the fight against the Galra and-"
Coran held up a hand, face a little pale. "I understand," he said, accent subdued. "I see the value in what you're saying. But what you're asking…"
Shiro nodded. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I take full responsibility for what I'm suggesting; I just don't know how to do it."
Two blinks, spaced far apart. "Not all of the systems for a transfer are up and running yet. And… I couldn't do this without the princess' permission."
"I understand."
Neither of them expected Allura to be awake, but she was not only that but sitting in a chair, mice pulling a blanket up over her lap before hopping over to some kind of futuristic dresser and opening a small box. Shiro saw beads, perhaps jewelry, but focused on the princess. She was still pale, but her eyes were sharper than he had seen in days, and she greeted them immediately.
"Coran, Shiro, good morning."
"Good morning princess," Shiro said. "Sorry to bother you so early."
"No, I just woke up," she said. "I feel much better today."
"That's good to hear," Coran said, face soft.
Allura reached for a brush and started moving it through her thick tresses. "How are the repairs to the castle, Coran? I confess I've not been able to absorb all the details, but today I think I can listen."
Coran launched quickly into a list of what had and hadn't been done - including the Paladin's adventures in the vents and across the local galaxy. Allura smirked at both stories but nodded at the appropriate moments: the ductwork was mostly clean of debris and the oxygen filters either flushed or almost flushed. Programming errors were still everywhere, diagnosis on that was and would be difficult because of the Galra crystal corruption but they were whittling down the problems with Pidge's and Hunk's help, and enough systems were restored that some small parts of the castle were placed on auto-maintenance so they could work on other areas. Allura took it all while brushing her hair and the mice playing in the jewelry box.
"And what is it you haven't said?" she asked, leveling a flat look to Coran.
The red-headed Altean coughed and looked at Shiro.
"I had an idea, princess, and Coran wanted your approval before I moved ahead with it."
"More training for the Paladins?"
"No," Shiro said. "I want to copy Sendak's mind the way King Alfor's was and interrogate him."
Her eyes widened, face flushing with the idea. She leaned back in her chair suddenly and for a moment Shiro and Coran exchanged glances, thinking she would faint at the idea.
But, then,
"Do it," she said, voice hard.
"... What?"
"I grant you my permission," she repeated. "I will do whatever it takes to defeat Zarkon and his Galra Empire."
Coran stepped forward, face wide and open to read. "Princess…"
She looked at him. "You should know better than anyone why this is necessary," she said.
"But to do it to a prisoner, an unwilling participant, some who isn't…"
"I understand, Coran," Allura said. "The very idea sickens me, but we must win this fight, and I will not say no to something for simply being unpalatable."
Coran said nothing, his face awash with concern, and Shiro worried that he had created a conflict between the two. He disliked the idea intensely, but he couldn't turn his back on the opportunity, either - he wished he didn't have to involve the Altean's at all. It was his dark idea and he was serious when he said he would take responsibility.
"How fair the Paladins? Was there improvement yesterday?"
Just like that the subject changed, and Coran bowed to leave and begin his duties.
"Yes and no," Shiro reported, switching gears just as quickly. "I have a better idea, though, on how to push them today. I was hoping I could have your help with that, if you can stay awake long enough."
"Of course," she said, eyes determined. "Anything I can do to assist the Paladins of Voltron. What do you need?"
Shiro offered a smile. "I want you to teach Lance and Hunk how to dance."
Allura's eyes glittered.
Pidge fidgeted. Coran had already breezed in once they woke up, unlocked their cuffs so that they could shower and change, then blew by re-cuffing them. She and Keith had merely shared a glance and a raised brow before heading down the to training deck. (Pidge was certainly not looking forward to falling on the ground a lot for Keith's day...) Lance and Hunk had come in, for once walking in perfect coordination. Pidge actually reached up and adjusted her glasses, just to make sure that she was seeing things correctly.
"Amazing," she muttered.
Beside her, Keith only nodded.
"Morning!" Hunk greeted cheerfully. "I was thinking, after we get our to-do lists for the day, Lance and I could head down to the kitchens and get a good breakfast going."
Keith shrugged. "Sounds good."
"Yeah, of course it does!" Lance was energetically gesticulating, yet somehow his legs remained stationary as he started enthusiastically detailing how much better the two of them were going to do compared to Pidge and Keith.
Pidge offered a flat eyed stare. "You think this is a competition?" she said dryly.
"Of course!" Lance was indigent. "And Team Green is much better than Team Brown!"
A vein pulsed along Pidge's brow. "Last I checked, I'm the Green Paladin, not you two."
"Mmmmaybe," Lance drawled, leaning in. "But last I checked combining yellow and blue makes a beautiful color called green while combining green and red simply makes a muddy, icky brown."
Now Pidge's eye was twitching.
Beside her, Keith, also flat-eyed and annoyed, only shrugged. "Combine green, blue, yellow and red, and all you'll get is black. Black is the unification of all colors."
"Yeah, well-" Lance rounded on Keith, clearly wanting some sort of brilliant comeback to that, but he just stared, eye twitching and mouth pursed. Clearly, nothing was coming to mind. "Well," his response was clearly fizzling, "you know..."
In perfect sync, Keith and Pidge gave each other a high five.
"Well Red is just the color of anger!"
Since Pidge was still facing Keith from their high five, she saw the hidden wince and knew that Lance had just crossed some sort of line. In the woven cloth that also bound their hands beyond the wrists their cuffs held together, she squeezed a finger, trying to show her support.
It was also clear that whatever Keith was going to say next was going to get devolved into some sort of fight that wouldn't do any good with them all bound together.
"Hunk!" she shouted. "What progress have you made!"
"Oh! Ah! Oh, um, well, I didn't get much chance to work on anything yesterday," Hunk stuttered, poking his fingers together and glancing between the likely combatants. "Lance and I were in the vents for pretty much the whole day."
"We spent most of the morning in my workshop going over code!" Pidge replied loudly still glancing between the glaring match of Keith and Lance. "Then the afternoon was spent seeing if we could pilot each other's lions!"
"What!" Lance shouted, rounding to Pidge. "Dude, none of you are to pilot Blue! We're together, and nothing will ever separate us!"
"That wasn't what we were trying to do!" Keith growled back.
Oh, the situation was getting worse.
Pidge locked eyes with Hunk and they both nodded. As one, both Hunk and Pidge yanked hard at their cuffs. This succeeded in getting Lance down to the floor, and Keith turned his attention to her. Well, Pidge could work with that and she glared at him.
Keith's face smoothed from angry to grumbly, and he crossed one arm and looked away.
Lance was indignant again. "Hey! What was that for!"
"Oh?" Hunk asked innocently. "Oh, sorry, was that me?"
Lance grumbled.
They stayed like that for a moment.
"Soooo..." Hunk drawled out, looking around, "anyone know why Shiro isn't here yet?"
Pidge blinked, looking around. The others did as well.
"Huh, you're right," Lance said as he righted himself. "He's usually in here waiting for us."
Pidge looked to Keith and saw the slightest narrowing of the eyes. She didn't blame him. Shiro, whether he wanted to or not, inspired all of them to worry about him. He was the calm decision-maker, as befitted the head of Voltron, but he was also the mediator during their little spats. He was the first with a plan, dependable, the most level headed.
Him not showing up ahead of them lead to the ultimate question of why.
Then Keith's eyes loosened, and Pidge turned to see where he was looking. Sure enough, the door was opening and Shiro and Coran, deep in conversation stepped in. They remained in conversation as they walked up to the Paladins, and stayed in conversation as they swept on by and out another door.
"Uh..." Hunk offered intelligently.
"Anyone else think that was strange?" Pidge asked.
"Heck yeah!" Lance enthusiastically agreed.
"No," Keith countered. "That's Shiro with a project. He's completely focused."
"Reeeeaaaalllly?" Lance offered his own flat-eyed look and raised a brow.
Keith's eye twitched. "It was actually worse for exams. He's been like that for every battle we've been on."
Hunk tilted his head. "Really? I mean, I haven't noticed it, have you noticed it? I mean, obviously you noticed it, Keith, but what about you Pidge?"
"Seriously?" Keith was incredulous. "None of you have seen that face before? That's been his face for all our missions. That's the goal-oriented, gotta-get-this-done-no-matter-what face."
"Clearly none of us have!" Lance shouted back.
Pidge decided to intervene before this devolved back into fighting.
"Whatever," she shrugged. "If Shiro's in mission-mode, then what are we going do today? He's been doling out assignments, and he just blew by without even a glance."
Lance's face brightened considerably, as did Hunk.
"No more vents!" they both cheered. "No more vents!"
Keith just looked away.
"No more vents!"
Pidge looked to Keith. It was obvious that his emo-loner-mopey face was on and she was just seeing past it to realize that he was being prickly this morning for some reason, she just didn't know what.
"No more vents!"
Pidge gently shook their shared wrist. Keith didn't turn, but he did flick an eye to her.
"No more vents!"
"You know Shiro best," she said. "What should we do?"
"No more vents!"
Keith stared at the floor for a long moment, Lance and Hunk's cheers still ongoing. Finally he let out a breath. "We should continue with what Shiro wanted."
"Whaaaaat?" Lance stopped cheering to get incredulous again.
Keith's eye twitched, but he continued to calmly explain. "Shiro still has us cuffed together. It's clear he still wants us learning about teamwork. He's outlined the idea pretty clearly. We follow one of our days and figure out how to do tasks together and in unison. Pidge and I have done her routine for two days. We'll continue for today and tomorrow on my routines. You two started on Hunk's day, then did Lance's yesterday. So today will be Hunk's routines. The more practice we get working in synch, the better we'll be with Voltron."
"But we still haven't done my day!" Lance whined.
"Keith has a point," Hunk nodded. "We're way better at walking now, but there's more to doing things than just getting from one point to another."
"And we made a lot of headway yesterday," Pidge smiled, "it's always best to build momentum once you're past inertia."
"No, no, nonononono," Lance had rounded to Hunk. "We are not heading to your workshop or the kitchens right now to do something boring or possibly delicious. We are going to work with you on your aim! Today we are definitely doing something that I want to do! If those two got to do Pidge's day twice in a row, then you and I are doing my day twice in a row! Now march us to the target practice! On three! One... two... three!"
"Huh," Pidge observed. "They didn't fall that time. I guess they are making progress."
Keith barely nodded.
Pidge glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Sooooo, how do we do this? I've been thinking about this your-day thing with our bound hands, and I don't have a clue to do the level of sparring you do when we're tied together like this. It's going to throw off all our balance."
"We're not," Keith replied, and it seemed he was letting the unpleasantness from before go away. He turned and looked to her, free arm on his hip. "You only have the basics of hand-to-hand from the Garrison."
Pidge started to sweatdrop. "Y-yeah...?"
Keith's mouth barely quirked into a smirk. "Your bayard is an edged weapon. Granted, with a lot more reach, but not always. You need to understand stances and fights with a blade."
Defense! Defense! "Hey, I took out Sendak's arm, right? I can handle it just fine!"
"And your form was sloppy and exerted too much energy. We're going to spend the morning going over moves and forms."
Oh quiznak!
Lance held his space equivalent of an assault rifle and slowly took a breath, getting a feel for the new training space and aiming down the barrel. It wasn't as natural as the weapons he had trained with yet, and he needed to be comfortable in order to be ace in accuracy. The greatly reduced recoil still threw him off – he expected his shoulder to jerk back and it only did so minutely. That broke a law of physics somehow – Newton's First Law about equal and opposite reactions, but then he was piloting a half-magical space lion to save the universe, and every so often when he fully saw the scope of what he was doing he figured physics was just some kind of low brow joke at humanity's expense.
An elbow nudged his own elbow, throwing off his aim.
Sigh.
"Hunk, shift your stance, you're getting in my way again."
"Sorry."
Lance felt the shift. And then got his ribs elbowed.
"Hunk!"
"Sorry! It's just I haven't had a lot of practice, and this thing is so big and unwieldy."
Sighing again, Lance lowered his weapon and turned his head slightly, looking at his best friend, eyeing his stance. "Your feet are too close together," he said, dismissing his rifle. "No wonder you keep waggling around. Is your aim off, too?"
"Uhm. Maybe. Just a little."
Lance pursed his lips and tried to figure out how to do this with their feet bound together. "Hold still a second," he said, bending at the waist and reaching out with a hand. "Move this leg. No, no, the other way. A little more – woah not that much!" Lance made a face and crawled out on his hands, stretching his hamstrings and then angling around. Hunk's super heavy weapon was just centimeters from his head, and Lance gulped as he balanced on one hand and grabbed his friend's ankle. He pulled and yanked until Hunk's feet were – finally, shoulder width apart. "There," he said, straightening. "Maybe now you won't be swaying all over the place when you try and aim that thing. Remember to keep your legs bent."
Hunk dipped into a full squat.
"No, no, not that much," Lance said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Here, watch me." Lance spread his feet, shoulder width apart, and bent them just slightly. "See? If you lock your knees you're more likely to tip over. Just keep them unlocked and you'll be fine."
Hunk adjusted accordingly, lifting his hefty weapon and taking aim. He hit his target.
"There, see!" Lance said, slapping his friend on the back. "Just like on the Balmera, right?"
"Eh, my aim wasn't that great there, either," Hunk said, making a face, "But it was better than when I first tried to fire this thing."
Lance smirked. "Saved your girlfriend well enough."
"I'm... tired of trying to correct you every time."
Lance took that as a victory and got back to aiming. Now that Hunk wasn't jabbing him in the side with every shift of stance Lance could really get into the zone. The room drifted away and it was just him, the target, and his thoughts. He did this for hours back at the Garrison, when he learned he had missed the last piloting space by half a point. Cargo piloting wasn't going to be glamorous, but by god he was going to be the best at it – so what if freighters didn't have their own guns? He would just carry an assault rifle with him in the event of being attacked. It was a fool's dream, but it kept him going. And then three months later a certain mullet dropped out and his half point didn't matter anymore.
He remembered calling his family, trying explain. Just one question was wrong, because of that he couldn't go to space...
He wanted his mother's hug so badly, and he couldn't get it over the phone...
Just like now...
Lance lowered his rifle, straightening, staring off into his memories.
"Hunk..." he said slowly. "Do you still miss them?"
The Gold Paladin stilled, turning to his friend, face questioning.
Lance shook himself out of his memory, blinking and turning to better see Hunk. "I haven't heard you talking about your family for a while. Do you still think about them?"
Understanding flitted across Hunk's features, and a soft smile filled his large mouth. A big hand slapped across Lance's shoulder. "Of course I miss them. Remember when Pidge said she wanted out? I asked if that was a legitimate option."
"Wait, Pidge wanted out? When was this?"
"Oh, right, you were with Coran getting blown up. Of course you wouldn't remember."
Lance bristled. "Well excuse me for half dying!"
"No, no, that's not what I mean!" Hunk said quickly. "I was just saying! I get homesick too!"
It... It helped to hear Hunk say that – to know he wasn't alone.
"It's just," he said softly, "Nobody talks about it. Pidge, Keith, Shiro – we're a zillion galaxies away and none of them even blink that they might never be home again. Wouldn't they want to go back? To miss where they grew up?"
Hunk shrugged his shoulders, shifting his weight. "I still miss them," he said. "Why do you think I cook so much? I cooked for my family, too. I wanted to go home so bad it hurt, and when Pidge said she was leaving I jumped at the thought. But you know what happened?"
Lance shook his head.
Hunk smiled. "I went to the Balmera. I watched Coran freak out that this dull mining planet used to be this beautiful noble creature. I met people who were so subjugated that they had never heard the word freedom before. They never saw the sky before. I saw what life under the Galra was like. And I saw how different things were when we saved the Balmera. What we're doing... it makes a difference – not just for Shay but for everyone. What we do – it's necessary. Nobody else can do it, and how could you go home when the chance to do something so monumentally good?"
"But don't you still miss them?" Lance asked, heart aching.
"Of course I do," Hunk said. "But now, when I think about how much I miss them, I remind myself of why I'm here in the first place. It's a little roundabout, but I'm protecting them from the Galra, so I can put up with a little homesickness if it means they don't suffer what Shay and her people did."
Lance looked down at his feet, eyes watery. The big hand on his shoulder squeezed, and for a moment, Lance felt a little better.
Pidge was on the ground, panting heavily. Beside her, Keith sat cross-legged and not even looking winded.
"You are worse than Shiro," Pidge declared.
Keith clearly took that as a compliment and smiled. "You're doing better."
She refused to grumble at that.
Keith was right, though. After the time at the Garrison with the basics of hand-to-hand, she had thought she'd known enough to defend herself, and that was enough. Besides, they were there for space exploration, not war, so she failed to see the point in perfecting much in terms of fighting.
Now she was in a war. Fighting was going to be a life-saving skill. Yeah, Shiro drilled them from time to time in the month they'd been gone, but Pidge was just beginning to realize that she was actually going to have to put in some effort for all this. And Keith was also right. With an edged weapon, she needed to know some level of blade work, even if she liked the grapple feature more than the cutting edge. Keith still had that knife she'd seen when they'd rescued Shiro from the Garrison, and it was clear he knew how to use it. It was also clear that because his knife was small, that also meant he was good at forms that Pidge would need. Obviously the bladework he'd been learning recently had everything to do with that longer sword his bayard took shape of.
Pidge took better control of her breathing and sat up. Keith raised a brow at her and she promptly rolled her eyes but eased down in to stretches anyway. With luck, they'd be having lunch soon and she didn't want to be all stiff by the time they were done eating.
Now that she had proper breath control, she decided to talk. "You look like you're doing better than this morning," she said.
Naturally, Keith stiffened and looked away.
Pidge rolled her eyes again.
"You know," she said, switching stretches, "the more we get to know each other, the more all of us are going to see through your emo-moody facade. Beyond just Shiro. I'm sure that we'll eventually see that Lance doesn't just set himself up to be the butt-monkey all the time."
Keith offered a withering look. "Lance saved Coran's life in that bomb. I think he's proven that he's more than an idiot who pushes buttons already."
"But he keeps pushing yours."
Keith sighed. "Yeah."
…
Pidge sighed again. "I thought you were adjusted to all this already," she commented, switching to yet another stretch. "Within a week, when I was ready to leave Voltron, you were ready to call me out on it. You've been vocal and making sure Voltron worked. Aside from Lance, who can be a real jerk, you've settled in great with everyone, better than me or Hunk."
"No," Keith mumbled, still finding specks of dust on the floor fascinating. "I haven't."
She offered a flat-eyed stare. "I beg to differ."
"Pidge," he turned with an annoyed stare, "there's a difference between adjusting and adapting."
She hunched her shoulders, and gave a stronger version of her annoyed stare. "Last I checked, they both meant the same thing."
"Nuance," Keith snipped back. "Adapting is easy. Adapting is becoming accustomed to the environment and conditions. Adapting has always been my strong suit."
"And that's different from adjusting how?"
"Adjusting is changing to fit." Keith looked down again. "That's the hard part."
"Sorry, but your nuance is flying over my head."
Keith let out a frustrated growl. "Look, I'm not adjusted to all this like you think I am! I didn't just get used to everything in a snap of a finger!"
"Look, I just meant that you were on board pretty fast with all of this!"
"No, I wasn't! I'm not!"
"I noticed that you 'adapt' fast," Pidge side-eyed him. "After all, you're definitely been the one to get the best handle on all of this, the aliens, the new galaxies, and Voltron-"
"Not Voltron," Keith interjected. "Voltron needs... stuff I don't know how to do."
The incredulity on Pidge's face was strong. "You're a natural pilot, the best of all of us with the possible exception of Shiro, you work well with all of us, even Lance when the situation calls for it! What are you talking about!"
"That's the adapting," Keith replied, once more studying the floor. "Look, I'm good with a clear goal. I've had to adapt to new things for so long... without any stability or consistency... and that makes adjusting hard."
And all at once, everything clicked in her head. Keith may not talk about it a lot and details were sparse, but everyone did know that he was an orphan and had been through a few foster homes. He would have had to adapted to every new home he went to. But the more he went to new and different places, the more difficulty he would have with adjusting. Not bothering to connect with people, and closing himself off. A goal he could do, people he couldn't. Being here, he could handle the new technology, the Lions, the war, all of that. But Voltron needed bonds, which was where Keith would struggle the most.
Well...
Pidge flopped back on the floor with a sigh of a put-upon genius. "Keith, you're an idiot."
Naturally, Keith prickled, back straightening. Defense was already at his lips, but Pidge just kept plunging ahead. "None of us are going to be that great at the bonding thing. You were already kicked out, but you never saw our scores when Lance, Hunk and I did our simulations. We were terrible. We never got along, nothing but arguing, we didn't work together at all!"
Pidge hrumpfed and looked upside-down to her cuffed partner. "We're all going to have to get used to each other. I need to stop focusing on my family to bond with you guys, and that's not easy. Lance needs to get over himself, which he's been doing a stellar job of as you know. Hunk needs to not just be lead around. At least he's made legitimate progress on that! Just look at how he yanked us all to the Balmera. So you have difficulty. Big deal. It's not like you're alone in it."
The Red Paladin was frowning at her, eyes narrowed, before his face relaxed and he shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Good to know we're all in the same boat in more ways than one."
Pidge smiled.
Author's Notes: Poor Shiro. He tries, he really does.
It was important for us to make Shiro realistic with his PTSD. Like, fic writers love the idea of reveling in the angst and the thought of hiding the illness from the team, but the fact that Shiro is as well-adjusted as he is means that he's actively trying to treat the illness, and that means doing things like cognitive behavior therapy and meditation and watching Paladins be Sleep-Cute in order to relax him. That's good, leader-y stuff to do, looking after one's health - mental as well as physical - and trying to get better instead of actively not treating the wound. This also leads into the episode he has in, er, the episode this fic is preceding. His stress levels are on the rise for him to have that snap and do exactly what he just said - jettison the Glara to space.
Also, more moments with Lance and Hunk and Keith and Pidge. Lance's seen fares better here, its more touching and heartwarming than the arms.
Again, no beta for this chapter; we caught a few mistakes in the final proof before posting, if anyone sees anything let us know.
Of which, thanks to TimeturnerJasmy for finding one.
Next and last chapter: coreography. Lots and lots of coreography.