Deserving

Chapter twenty-two

Lance's hair drooped over his eyes as he hunched over the tabs he had hovering in the air around him. In the corner of his eye, he caught Pidge pushing her glasses up, pausing to rub her eyes tiredly. Hunk was a nearby yellow and white blob, his side plastered to Pidge's.

Lance still couldn't quite understand how the Bridge could be this quiet. It had always been busy - noisy - whenever he had been there. Even after Altea's fall, he was so used to the room constantly carrying chatter. There was always someone there to chat with, some music playing somewhere, a soft tune hummed.

But there wasn't anyone left to do that.

The three of them - Lance, Hunk and Pidge - were the only ones left. Allura had passed out almost immediately after opening the last wormhole to get them out, Kala and Slav were still holed up in the engine room as far as Lance knew, and Kolivan was busy. Three of his Blades were dead, and another had turned out to be a traitor - potentially even a spy. 

Galran traditions and ceremonies relating to honouring the dead had always been long and extensive. Lance had been involved in one briefly before and it had gone on movements.

Keith and Coran were gone too, both in pods. The burn on Keith's back and shoulders had been too severe even for his stubbornness and... Coran wound had pierced multiple internal organs. He had severe internal bleeding. Maybe he could have healed it if he had been younger, but his body was getting old - too old to just heal wounds like that with shifting alone.

Shakily, the prince hauled himself up, the pedestals rising alongside him. He splayed his hands on top of each stand, summoning what remained of his energy as he tried to bring the location to mind - tried to remember what it had been like last time to open the wormhole - but a headache wormed its way into his mind instead and he shifted his weight onto one stand, a cold, clammy palm pressing onto his forehead. 

"Any luck?" Hunk asked although the pitying look on his face told Lance everything he needed to know.

Lance sighed, shaking his head as he lowered himself down again, "And you?" The two of them had been trying to track Shiro through his armour. 

Pidge sniffed and the two glanced at her before Hunk shook his head too, "Nothing..."

Lance leant his head against the pedestal. He had been trying (and failing) to track him too but with quintessence instead. 

"I can feel him," Lance mumbled into his knees, "But he's too... faint?"

Pidge shoved her glasses up, scrubbing at her eyes, "This doesn't make any sense. He can't just- just disappear!" Fat, round tears rolled down her cheeks and Hunk crawled over to her, tugging her into a secure hug.

He beckoned Lance over with his head and the altean crawled over, slipping into their pile. His arms draped firmly over Pidge's back, the hands tucking under Hunk's arms. Hunk's grip tightened, one arm opening to loop over Lance took so the prince could dip his head on top of Pidge's.

"...I just don't get it." Pidge mumbled, her voice muffled by Hunk's shirt. 

"We'll find him." Hunk replied, "I mean, someone can't just disappear - it doesn't make sense."

"Black was damaged." Pidge pointed out again. It was an observation they had circled back to every few dobashes, "He could be..." The hole in the lion was large enough for a person to be dragged out from but small enough to cause a lot of damage to them as they were forced out and that was what they feared. It had been four vargas (and counting), plenty of time for the oxygen in an undamaged suit. They had tried to go back the moment they came to that realisation, but Lance had never been as good as Allura at opening wormholes, and he was already exhausted. They couldn't go back until she was up and rested.