Pike

Inside Out

Heyo guys! Sooooo..... remember me saying it was going to be one more chapter? Well, halfway through writing this I realized it was over 3000 words, and there was a whole other half to write. SO, I broke it up. Enjoy guys!

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(Lance)

The ride home was painfully awkward. For Pike, there was an emphasis on the painful. But it was all but ignored for his racing mind. He didn't know what to say. What would one say in that situation? Hey guys, long time no see! How've you been the past year I've been avoiding you? At least everyone else was quiet. Pike thought it would have been much worse if they started asking him questions. 

When they landed in the hangar, Birdie put Pike's arm around her shoulder and lifted him up. As they slowly made their way to his room, Pike didn't miss Pidge following them. He wasn't able to pay enough attention to where Keith went, but he prayed the red paladin wasn't calling the rest of Voltron. If Pike was going to have any control in this situation, he wanted to at least be the one to tell the other paladins. Whatever courage he lacked to do so earlier, he got back in his need for some semblance of control. And he did NOT need them to hear it secondhand from Keith.

Birdie did her signature tip tap tap on the door, signaling it to open. She helped him sit down in his chair, and turned around to shut the door. Unfortunately, Pidge had slipped in. She leaned into a nearby corner and crossed her arms. Her face was stony, and she looked dead set on doing anything BUT leaving.

Birdie turned back to him, and turned her head in question. He waved her off, letting her know to just let it go. As much as Pike didn't want to talk to Pidge, he knew what lengths she could go to stay inside, and he didn't feel like dealing with that. Birdie nodded, and after grabbing his first aid kit from his desk she came back over to him. Pidge remained silent, as if waiting for something. Did she expect him to say something? He pondered that as Birdie started unfastening his armor.

Maybe an apology, part of him offered.

And he would have, really! If Birdie didn't choose THAT moment to reach for Pike's mask. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Of course, as was usual, she was taking ALL of his armor off to treat him. It was better that way, it allowed for a full physical damage assessment. But now, of all times, wasn't the time. But Birdie's hand held fast, firm. She was pushing him, and as 90% of his mind was shouting in panic, a small bit knew she was right. Then, she did the unthinkable. She reached for her own.

"Birdie-"

"No Pike, listen. We agreed long ago that people we trusted could see us. We trust Voltron. We just couldn't tell them who we were, because you couldn't. Well, that went kaput, didn't it? So, I'll do it if you do."

Pidge straightened and dropped her arms, anticipation evident. Maybe that was what she was waiting for?

And although nearly all of him screamed in protest, he just couldn't disappoint her further. Lance dropped his hand, and Glarni removed the masks.

It felt wrong. So, so wrong. But... right? It was like he was inside out, exposed. But like he needed to be. Pidge gasped, and then froze, processing. Again, Lance was happy for the silence. He needed to process, too.

Glarni set the masks down and got to work. Lance flinched as she started cleaning his side, but his evident pain was OBVIOUSLY not enough to deter Pidge's interrogation. She obviously finished her processing before Lance did. And, of course, her first question was the worst.

"Why?" she inquired breathily. "Why didn't you tell us you're alive?"

Lance sighed, then winced. His injury was burning once again (this time due to the antiseptic Glarni was using, but burning nonetheless), and movement wasn't exactly pleasant.