What they don't know

Part 7

                                  **Trigger Warning for Non-consensual touching in this chapter**

                                                      **Trigger Warning for forced use of needles**

His brain seemed to be grinding against the inside of his skull. It was three sizes too big for him if the way it was pounding against his bones, as if it was desperately trying to escape, was any indication. 

Groaning, he rubbed his cheek into the floor, feeling chunks of dirt linking up with his skin as he did. Sniffing in half-aware disgust, he turned his head to face straight ahead (or, at least, what straight ahead would have been if he was standing) and rested his chin on the floor to sigh, eyes closed and ignoring the miniscule rocks digging into him and the way his neck ached at the angle. 

His legs scuffled behind him as he tried to sit up but it was surprisingly difficult with his hands tied behind his back in an unknown place. Another pair of legs came to his aid, pushing him about in both the wrong and right places but he wasn't kicking him or anything so Lance was content to just leave it be. 

With his torso bent over slightly, Lance rolled his neck and crossed his legs. He wanted to stretch his arms so badly, they burned pinned behind him like this. 

"Morning, sleepy." Matt had propped himself up against the opposite wall. His arms were pinned behind him too, leaving his shoulders pushed back to make him look like a child making fun of 'proper postures'.

"How long have I been out?" His voice was still scratchy with sleep, jumping up and down the octaves without his approval.

"Just about an hour longer than me."

Lance's legs bounced about awkwardly, "Ah, sorry.."

"It's fine," They fumbled with the silence for a second until Matt cleared his throat, "So, how's your head? It looked like it was bleeding a bit earlier."

Lance's head drummed back its own response but Lance ignored it, "Good, I've had worst."

The quiet rolled back in between them and Lance silently slipped back into the seemingly endless list of conversation starters he remembered being so obsessed with looking up back at the Garrison. 

"So-"

"-At least you don't seem to have a concussion." They blinked at each other and looked away quickly. Matt shuffled, rubbing his cheek against his own shoulder, "Sorry.."

Lance peeked up at him, watching the distracted look in Matt's eyes as he looked around the room. It was more of a storage room than a cell but it wouldn't change the effects. Lance chewed his lips, he hadn't thought about how being imprisoned might affect Matt. He knew a little about what Shiro had gone through but Matt was a complete mystery. He considered asking about it for a second before almost immediatly throwing out the idea. He wouldn't make Matt unnecessarily uncomfortable. 

A change of topic was in order, "What do you know about the crew? Any potential weakness we could use?" 

Matt seemed to take a second to catch onto what he'd said, "Well, for the most part, they're-"

The door slid open, retracting into the wall, but very little light from the hallway managed to spill in. Four pirates stood in the doorway, all of them appearing to be at least part Galra. Three of them Lance recognised as Lotor's former generals, though the names were still annoyingly evading him. The fourth also looked familiar but Lance couldn't place him. Maybe he was the pirate he'd gotten the gun off of before.