station72 | TRAINING MONTAGE

"You look like how I feel when I say that."

At least they're on the same page where that term is concerned. Those things like Brood, Nest... it feels like bad Sci-Fi. He can't say he likes it much, either. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, regarding the empty cereal bowl.

"I know that." But maybe she has a point. Maybe he has been too protective of her. He lets her speak, get out what she has to, before he adds onto his statement. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel like... I thought you couldn't handle this."

That's the last thing he wanted her to think, to be honest. "I guess... part of me knows you're the only one I've got, here. And I think that's part of why I've been trying to look out for you, more."

It seems right to him -- that it's the reason. He probably hasn't thought about it much, consciously. But then he raises an eyebrow at the next comment.

"Sam was talking to you about all this?"

Then again, "Paladins of Voltron" also sounds like bad science-fiction, so maybe they shouldn't judge too harshly on what they call themselves. Either way, she's a bit relieved to hear him talk like that - like the Shiro she knows. She breathes out slowly and the air around her seems to lighten. Flashes of their moment on top of the castle in the setting sun. Dinner at her parents' house a long time before that. It's comforting.

"I appreciate it. Really. I just want you to know that I'm here for you, too."

Pidge nods. Then the conversation shifts and she rolls her shoulders a bit uncomfortably. How to put this?

"Yeah. He said he was worried about you because you basically... weren't worrying about yourself and weren't thinking about your own self-preservation."

Pidge shrugs. She hadn't really agreed with that. There are bits and pieces of a conversation filtering out of her now.

That's a good point -- but at least they can pretend it sounds cool. Right?

The memories from her, the sense of the air clearing, it earns a slight smile from him. Appreciation, and the corners of his mouth quirking up. A hint of regret -- that he'd made her feel like she was incapable. She isn't. He knows that. And lets his walls down enough to make sure she knows it, too.

"I know. But maybe I needed to hear it again." He shakes his head. "If I start doing it again, tell me. All right?"

He pauses again, letting the bits and pieces connect. And pushes his hands through his hair.

"He's... told me that, too. But in his defense, he hasn't really seen me at my best since I got here."

"Don't worry, I will," Pidge replies with a snort. She's never had an issue with speaking her mind. In fact, she usually ends up putting her foot in her mouth or talking to someone the wrong way. She usually manages to muddle through, though. One way or another.

Her mouth curves into a frown after a moment of thought, "I feel like he doesn't get it. You're not the kind of person to just... throw everything away. You're not reckless! Not like Keith."

"Good. I'm counting on you there." This is one of the occasions where Pidge putting her foot somewhere is more welcome than not. Really, he doesn't want to baby her. Or be overprotective. But like he said... having that one person here from home makes matters worse.

Especially when the ways they can be threatened aren't physical, anymore.

He blows out a breath, leaning forward on his hands. "I think this place is getting to me," he admits, under his breath. "And he's seen more of that than most people. I've got to get my head under control -- he's probably seeing that as reckless."

"I won't let you down," Pidge replies firmly. She means it, too. Always has. Shiro's practically family. The only real family she has here at this point. There's the 'brood', but that's... different. Almost creepy in a way. Even if she does feel oddly intertwined with them. Her emotions flicker as she considers Shiro and remembers her conversation with Sam.

I'm telling you that he thinks everyone else is more important than him, and we should keep that in mind.

She can practically hear Sam's voice in her head. Maybe it actually is in her head (or at least the memory of it) ad it's being shared with the local vicinity, bleeding over despite herself. Some of that worry is creeping into her head and she doesn't like it. It's not her emotion, is it?

"I don't think he gets it!" Pidge is being a bit harsher than she should be, but she doesn't really care at this point.

"He hasn't known you as long as I have, has he? It's not his job to come talk to me about you. You can do that yourself."

There's a warmth from him, in answer. Something like relief and acknowledgment all rolled into one. Of course she wouldn't. She's family -- which makes the desire to watch her back all the more clear. That's what you do for family. What he'd do for any of the team. Just like he knows they'd do the same for him.

He winces a little, picking up on that. Reaching out to steady her, physically, with a hand.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," he says, to start with. Because she isn't. Neither one of them are. "I'm not saying anyone is. From his perspective, he probably isn't. He probably only did it because he thought it was the right thing to do."

Like I do flicks through his mind before he can stop it. "Trying to take some weight off me." He shakes his head. "Except talking to you isn't really a job for me."

Katie's expression is a bit glum. Despite the relief that she can feel from him, she's still got a lot of other emotions swirling around in her head and it's hard to latch on to just the one. The hand on her shoulder is reassuring, solid. Something she can lean on.

"I wish he'd stop. It's not helping. It's just making me... frustrated. It feels like he's trying to warn me away from you, like I don't know how to handle this. He makes it sound like you're practically suicidal!"

"I'm not."

Even if she already knows that -- and he's sure she does -- he figures him confirming it won't hurt anything. He gives the shoulder under his hand a squeeze. Something physical.

"Maybe I haven't been as careful as I should be. Like I said... he's seen it more than I want to admit. This thing in my head hasn't made anything any easier." He'll admit to his faults. That he hasn't quite been himself since he got here. All these connections, all these voices in his head so soon after...

... after that whole thing with Sendak in the Castle.

"I'm sorry you're in this position. You shouldn't be. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you, and I won't let anyone keep you away from me, either."

They're family. No matter what.

"I know," Katie sighs and tries to let some of her tension bleed away. She's just on edge and still sort of feeling the residual affects of her argument with Sam. It's not pleasant, but she hasn't bothered to talk to him again. Not yet. She's been trying to ignore how he's still in the back of her head, but it's hard.

They're a brood. She can't entirely shut him out.

"...I got pretty angry at Sam."

The hand on her shoulder moves to her other side, and his weight shifts, to where they're standing closer, his arm around both her shoulders. Just to offer physical support. That he meant what he said.

They're in this together. No matter what the people running the station have decided.

"Did you leave anything behind, or do we need a vacuum cleaner to pick up the pieces?" he asks, and it comes out more lighthearted sounding than intended. Even if underneath it, there's concern. For both of them.

"You want to talk about it?"

"It was... pretty bad," Katie groans. She's had time to think and she feels sort of bad about it. She glances up at Shiro and frowns.

"He just... I don't know. I got angry at him because he said you'd said you weren't as important or your life was worth less than some other people's on the station. And he was trying to tell me what I should do or -- I don't know. That I shouldn't be in the same room when you were working on your power. I felt like he was calling you... fragile."

It's hard to describe all of it, but the memories swirl out of her head. It's a bit confused, punctuated by spikes of anger and frustration.

"I didn't really stop to think about how he felt."

He grimaces. Blowing out a breath hard enough to fluff up the white strands of hair hanging in his face -- almost like they're as tired as he is.

"I told him I'd talk to you about that..." He really should have. Because she's not going to like the confirmation he's going to give her. Difference being, he's got a bit more information here than Sam did. "I agreed with him about that. Either outside or using your invisibility. Because I wasn't sure how I'd react when it went off."

If he couldn't see her, she wouldn't be a target. Easy as that. "The rest of it..." Another grimace, with his free hand scrubbing down his face. "Allura. It's... I can't stop thinking about that."

About how it shouldn't have been her. It never, ever should have been her. Pidge knows what he means, he'd told her before. She'd experienced the rescue, and he knows now Allura is safe. Will be safe.

But it hasn't stopped haunting him. He's close enough to Pidge to where he can't quite bury those thoughts. Or the flash of memory as their princess watches him go. Her expression serene and accepting, even as their enemy closed in around her.

It should have been me -- I'm so sorry PidgeKatie I'm sorry. But it shouldn't have been her.

"That's... why I said that. I can't get it out of my head." And he hadn't considered the implications. At all. "So I guess that makes two of us, not thinking how other people feel."

"Shiro-" Katie can feel that rolling off of him. Regret and anxiety. Flashes of memory. Her own memories are there, her experience of the same event. The disbelief and fear when they realized that Allura had been captured. The determination to do something about it. Her relief that Shiro was OK. Bits and pieces of the rescue; explosions in space, the desperate battle that they'd ended up fighting.

"Shiro, you can't think that. Do you really think it would've been better if you'd been captured? I mean, we still would've come after you. And we would've rescued you! But - you're not less important than Allura. You're just as important. You - you're family. You're the pilot of the Black Lion. That all matters. You can't - don't-"

Argh.

She doesn't know what to say.

"I know that we're both willing to put our lives on the line for everyone. But... that's... it doesn't make either of us worth less."

"She's the last of her people. I... there's billions of other humans. Other races."

He almost says it makes him more expendable than it does her. But those words stop him in his tracks.

you're family

The same things he's always said about her. Would always say about her. And he can't tell her family is less important. That would be wildly hypocritical of him. And also a lie.

Instead, he just goes back to scrubbing at his face. Like that's going to help.

"See... I know you're right. I don't doubt it for a second." But-- and there's always a but. "Logic doesn't always listen."

I'm so sorry I don't want it to be like this - I don't want to think this - it was better when you didn't know - didn't want to put you in this position.

"Hey, I know..." Katie replies. She settles a hand against his arm, trying to figure out what to say. She's fourteen; what does she tell him?

"Feelings and emotions can be dumb, but you don't have to handle them all on your own. I'm here. So is everyone else!"

She can hear those thoughts flickering through her head and she pushes back, trying to clear them out of her head. She's not going to let this beat her and she's definitely not going to let it beat him.

"It's OK, Shiro. We all support each other. You don't have to do this by yourself or think that you're worth less."

She's fourteen, but she's a reality check. In her blunt, honest way. They need that -- he needs that. Just Pidge, being herself. It's all he's ever needed from her.

Hopefully, she can get that sense from him. That he's grateful she's here. And he doesn't want anything more than just her. Being who she is. And, hopefully, those are more welcome sensations than the last batch.

"... I'd make a leg to stand on joke, for that, but you're an arm."

Thank you -- drifts through every word. Every flat bit of dry humor. It's not her job to fix this, and he could never, would never, put that on her shoulders. The reminder is, for now, enough. And one he needs to never forget.

Then the arm draped over her shoulders tugs her over, into a hug.

Katie leans into the hug and squeezes him tightly around the middle. He's the only piece of home she has here. She's not about to let him go without a fight. That's clear in every thought and every action and in the way she gives him a squeeze. She's there for him and always will be.

Giving up isn't in her.

He'll just say it for real, now. Because leaving it unsaid feels too much like a weight, even if she could, in all honesty, probably feel it.

"Thank you."

He squeezes her back. Blowing out a long breath.

"I'm going to do better. Keep it all in mind better, all right?"

"Of course I will," Katie doesn't let him go just yet. Instead she stands there and buries her head against his chest, fingers tight against the cloth of his shirt. She doesn't want to let go. Not right now. He's solid, immovable, and a permanent part of her world.

"Just... help me remember who we are sometimes, OK?"

This place is getting to her. Sometimes she doesn't know if the emotions are hers or just feedback.

If she's not going to let go, then neither is he. If she needs this just as much as he does, then... then he won't push her away. Or cut this short. Instead, he just keeps his arms circled around her. As much of a wall from the rest of this place as he can give.

"As often as you need me to."

It's a promise. Like an oath. The last thing they've got left of home.

"It's a deal."

"Good."

She won't forget about home. She won't forget about her brother or her father or Keith or Lance or Hunk or Allura or Coran or any of it. She's going to stay her. She's not going to let herself sink into this mess of thoughts and emotions that aren't even hers. That's a promise (mostly to herself).

He'll do whatever he can for her. To keep her from slipping away like so many other people have while they've been here. She's important, she's family.

... but on the other side, that means keeping himself here as much as possible. If she's relying on him, then he can't let her down. He can't let himself fall.

"We can do this."

TRAINING MONTAGE

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