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theycallmethetailor-blog · 7 years

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An Impossible Choice

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

An Impossible Choice

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Coran (Voltron) Additional Tags: Torture, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Torture, Angst, Langst Summary:

When Lance and Pidge are captured, Pidge is forced to make an impossible choice: help the Galrans murder millions or watch Lance suffer.

----

What I woke to was not ideal, I’ll be honest, but it was much better than what I’d been expecting. First of all, I was alive, so that was a plus in my book. I mean, me being alive was a plus in anyone’s book, right? Secondly, aside from a splitting headache and a few scrapes and bruises, I was fine. I wasn’t bleeding out on the desolate desert landscape from my most recent memory, which would’ve sucked. So yeah, all in all, even though I was strapped to a hard metal chair in complete darkness without a clue where I was, things could be a lot suckier.

“Ugh,” I groaned, voice scraping like sand from my throat. And not the fine beach sand from my home. More like the rough, grating sand from the desert. I could really go for a drink right then. Like maybe some coconut water straight out of the coconut. Or, and I couldn’t believe I was even considering this, some nunvill. Anything to relieve the burning thirst in my throat. My organs were literally turning to dust as I sat there. The thought of dust and dry things turned my thoughts to my confused memories. I vaguely remembered a battle of some kind. And I definitely remembered Pidge at my side.

I started. That was right. Pidge and I had gone down planetside while the rest of the team kept the Galra occupied. We’d been trying to stop something awful. As in, millions of innocent lives on the line awful. A weapon of some kind...had we done it? What if we failed?

Another horrible thought occurred to me. “Pidge? You there?”

I was hit with a confusing mix of dread of possibly hearing a reply and desperate hope that I wouldn’t. My heart sped up in my chest when there was no answer. Maybe Pidge had escaped, I thought, trying to keep my breath even. She’d be on her way back with the rest of the team to get me out of wherever the hell this was. Only I wasn’t sure how they’d do that, because even I didn’t even know where I was, and I was where I was.

I shook my head, trying to steady my thoughts. Concentrate, I urged myself, Okay, try to think. What would Shiro do right now? I considered for a moment. He would take stock of his situation, right? I squinted into the darkness, willing my eyes to see something, anything I could use to figure out where I was. It didn’t take long to figure out that was a dead end. The most I could sense was a sterile hospital smell that I could most definitely do without.

I squirmed in my restraints, which were flexible but thick and rough against my skin. It felt like some sort of synthetic fabric or kevlar-essque material, but it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. I focused on pinpointing how exactly I was held down through touch alone. With a little more wiggling around, I could tell that my arms and legs were held down at the joints, with another strap around my chest and waist. I could wiggle my hands and feet, just barely, and could only arch my back by a few centimeters. I could move my head freely, but unless my method of escape was within biting distance, I wasn’t sure how much good that was going to do me.

The sound of sudden movement in front of me sent an electric bolt of fear up my spine and I stiffened. If I was prone to superstition - which of course I’m not - the whole pitch black factor of my current situation might’ve had me freaking out a little. Luckily I’m not easily spooked, or my body might’ve shook a little more. I mean, not that I was shaking, of course. I spent several taut moments waiting, heart pounding loudly in my ears, but I didn’t hear anything else. I had just began to relax slightly when I heard a voice groaning from the same direction I’d heard the first sound. A shudder ran through me. “Pidge?” I said again, and my voice didn’t shake at all. “Is that you?”

“Lance?” came Pidge’s disembodied voice in the darkness.

“Oh man, am I glad to see you!” I said, feeling a little light headed with relief. “Well, hear you at least.”

“Ugh, where are we?” Pidge asked, sounding as confused as I’d been a moment before.

“Um, not sure,” I said, “But now that you’re awake, we can figure a way out of this together. Any ideas? I was thinking something along the lines of Black Widow moves.”

There was a shuffling noise in front of me before Pidge responded, sounding anxious, “Lance, I don’t have my armor.”

I paused and did some of my own awkward shuffling. “Crap. Me too. Feels like it’s just the body suit.”

Before Pidge could respond, the whole room was lit up with a searingly bright light. Both Pidge and I shouted in surprise and I slammed my eyes shut against the spike of pain it sent through my already aching head. “What the hell?” I grumbled. I chanced a squinting view of our surroundings, squeezing my eyes back shut against the too bright space.

“Paladins of Voltron,” a low voice greeted us, coming from my side, “I see you are finally awake. And just in time, too.” I forced myself to open my eyes ever so slightly against the painfully bright light and kind of wished I hadn’t.

Across from me, I could see that Pidge was strapped to a metal chair, struggling against her own bonds. The space around us looked like some kind of medical lab, or maybe even a coroner’s workspace. Or maybe a place for horrible experiments I didn't want to consider. It was a small room with smooth metal walls and purple lighting that only reinforced the mad science lab feel. The floor was also made of metal that was slanted down toward what looked suspiciously like a drain in the center. I swallowed. Okay, I thought, So the Galra have shitty taste in design. I was not going to think too hard about what that drain might mean.

A tall Galra woman stood in the doorway, flanked by two armed guards and another slender Galra with a metal case in his hands. Something about that box screamed Not Good. All capitalized and everything.

“You know us,” I said, forcing myself to sound casual even though my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest, “We’re practically experts at the heroic last minute timing thing.” I smiled winningly up at her. Most people don’t know this about be, but I’m a big fan of the “fake it till you make it” way of doing things.

The woman, some high ranking officer of some kind, smiled down at me from her standing position, which was pretty high considering how freakishly tall she was, even for a Galra. Her eyes were stone cold, sizing me up without a shred of emotion. I’m not short by any means, but I suddenly felt very, very small under her gaze. The two other soldiers remained at the only entrance to the room: a heavy metal door I don’t think Pidge and I would be knocking down action hero style any time soon. She turned to the slender Galra, who had set the metal box on a table between Pidge and I. “This one is the pilot of the Blue Lion, I presume?” she asked him, like I wasn’t even there.

“That’s me,” I said, flashing the commanding officer my most dazzling smile, “Nice to know you’ve heard of me. The vids just don’t do me justice, do they?” The tech or whatever he was just ignored me.

“Yes ma’am, he is,” he replied to the officer, voice business-like, “The other is the pilot of the Green Lion.”

The Galra officer turned to Pidge, and I didn’t like the way her eyes lit up like a kid who’d just been handed a bag of free candy, “This is the one responsible for disabling our missile?” At her words, the jumbled mishmash of my memories came into focus. That’s what we’d come here for. There’d been a missile set to launch at a heavily populated planet to force Team Voltron into “negotiations” with the Galra. The rest of the team had been sent to pretend to comply with the Galrans’ demands, while Pidge and I went in secret to disable the missile.

Well, I mean, Pidge was sent to disable the missile. I’d been sent to cover her while she did it. And apparently she’d held up on her end, but I’d failed miserably on mine. I struggled to catch my breath. I’d screwed up royally, and now Pidge was going to pay the price.

I blinked, trying to focus. I couldn’t panic now. I had to pay attention. There was a way out of this. There had to be. I wasn’t about to make this worse than I already had by falling apart.

The Galran officer was still speaking. “...one is much smaller than I expected.”

Pidge glared, straining against her bonds, “‘This one’ took out five of your own before you sucker punched her, and I’ll take out five more once I get out of here.” I’m pretty sure when Pidge was made, someone had to make room for all her awesome tech savvy and obsessive determination, and there just wasn’t enough room left to fit a healthy amount of self preserving fear when they were done.

“Oh, I’m quite aware of how destructive you can be,” the Galra officer said, lip curling and eyes narrowing. The look spoke volumes. Despite her professional soldier act, she clearly had a serious, borderline homicidal grudge against Pidge. This was personal for her. Her hateful look twisted into a smile. “Which is why I’m going to turn your destructive capabilities towards ends more aligned with my own.”

“Yeah?” Pidge said, skeptical as ever, “I’d like to see you try.”

The Galra officer’s smile widened and she nodded to the slender Galran beside her. He proceeded to open the metal box, cool as a cucumber, like he wasn’t revealing a disturbing array of sharp and blunt objects with glowing purple edges. It made my skin prickle. “So, uh, what’s that for?” I asked, words leaving my mouth in a nervous rush, “I’m usually a fan of surprises, but more like the birthday kind, you know? But my birthday’s not for a few months.” I paused, “Well, actually...I’m not sure what month it is exactly.” Good grief, what was I even saying? I felt like I was going to be sick.

The Galran officer just ignored me and walked up to the open tool box. Ugh, tool box? I’d have to think of better ways to name things in my head. “I’m going to make this simple,” she said, hand hovering over several instruments before settling almost lovingly on a simple looking blade. “If you give me what I want, you’ll be rewarded. If not…” She approached Pidge and, without any warning whatsoever, cut through the fabric of Pidge’s shoulder and into her skin with a flick of her blade. Pidge let out a hiss of pain before clamping her mouth shut, her entire body rigid.

“Hey!” I shouted as I threw myself against my restraints. “Leave her alone! You didn’t even tell her what you wanted!” The blade made a hissing noise and a sizzling puff of steam rose from its surface where Pidge’s blood was quickly burned away.

Pidge just continued to glare at the officer, the wound on her arm inflamed and angry but not bleeding. It’d been cauterized even as it tore into her skin. I swallowed bile at the sight. Pidge’s eyes just hardened and I could see in the way her shoulders set and her jaw clenched that she was coming to some kind of resolution. With Pidge, once she was decided on one course of action, there was no changing her mind, and I had an awful feeling I knew what she’d decided. “It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Pidge said to me, not taking her eyes off the officer, “Because I’m not giving it to her. So she might as well kill me now.”

I have never been more proud and terrified in my entire life. “Um, maybe cool it on the killing thing?” I said, “We can definitely talk this out.”

“Listen to your friend, Green Paladin,” The officer said, completely unfazed by Pidge’s lack of fear. If anything, she looked even more excited at the prospect of Pidge’s continued defiance. “You haven’t even heard my demands yet.”

“I’m not stupid. I can connect the dots. You want me to re-enable the missile.” She shook her head in disgust. My insides curdled. This was even worse than I’d thought. “And I’m not about to do anything to help you hurt people.” And she wouldn’t. Stupid, brave Pidge would die before she’d give in out of sheer spite.

The officer stared at Pidge, that same calculating stare from before that had made me feel like an insect under a microscope. Finally, she nodded, as if she’d confirmed some foregone conclusion. “Yes, it is good to know that the one responsible for my sister’s execution is not easily cowed.”

There was a flicker in Pidge’s expression, there and gone again in an instant, but I saw her eyes waver. “So that’s what this is really about?” Pidge said, “Some sick revenge for your sister?”

The officer looked offended at the suggestion. “Oh no, Green Paladin,” she said, “My sister failed in her duties to keep our data systems secure from any breeches. Death by Zarkon’s hands was her just reward. I simply plan on cleaning up her mistakes.”

“Whoah, hold on,” I said, reaching blindly for anything that would pull her attention to me, “Zarkon killed your sister just because Pidge was able to hack into your systems? I think you’re mad at the wrong person here.”

Again, the officer seemed to only have eyes for Pidge. She leaned forward, her face mere inches from Pidge’s. “You are going to fix my missile, or else I will make you. And believe me when I tell you, I am not picky which way you choose. Either way, you’ll do what I want in the end.”

Pidge met her eyes, stare for stare, and opened her mouth to say something. Probably something that would piss off this Galra lady and make her hurt her again. White hot panic spurred me to action.

“Why bother?” I asked loudly to try and cover up whatever Pidge was about to say, “Because you’re going to be executed for your own failure after this.”

If she heard me, the Galran woman showed no sign. Then, suicidal inspiration struck, and I lowered my voice and narrowed my eyes, “Just like your sister.”

The officer threw me a death glare and growled, “Someone shut this one up.”

“Yes, Commander Beris,” one of the soldiers at the door said, and stepped toward me.

“Wait a second,” I pleaded, heart racing, even as I felt a surge of hope now that her attention was finally on me. “It’s not a problem. I can shut myself up. See? I-” I was cut off by a large, sledgehammer of a fist ramming into the side of my face. The force of the impact threw my head sideways and I would’ve come crashing to the floor if not for the bonds on my arms and chest holding me upright. I blinked, dazed and tasting coppery blood in my mouth. My jaw throbbed painfully.

Pidge looked ready to murder someone. Her whole body twisted against her bonds and I could see them biting into her skin. It was probably agony with her injured arm. “Keep your hands off him!” She shouted furiously. Under her anger, her panic was clear as day. I just hoped I was the only one who could see it.

Commander Beris, as the punch-happy soldier that had clobbered me called her, raised an eyebrow at Pidge. Then she turned her studying gaze on me. I hate to admit it, but I wished I could hide behind my chair under her stare. I forced myself to meet her eyes though. I might’ve ruined everything, but there was no way in hell I was going be a chicken on top of that. After a moment, she turned back to Pidge, smile returning to her face. My heart sank. “The demands are mine to be made,” Commander Beris said, walking back over to her tool box, “And mine are simple. All you need to do is fix what you’ve done to our missile.”

Pidge’s reaction was instant, “Hell no.”

The Commander pulled out a baton with a glowing purple tip. It hummed with dangerous energy.

“Now, hold on,” I said, my stupid voice going high with alarm, “Commander Beris, buddy. Pal. Let’s just slow down and think about this.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, addressing Pidge, “You really won’t help me fix what you broke?”

Pidge just straightened in her chair and stared back at Beris, daring the commander to do her worst.

“Pidge-” I started, not liking where this was going. Not that I could think of anything that would help. Pidge’s choice was impossible. The death of millions or her own safety. Selfishly, I willed her to choose herself, but I knew she never would.

“So be it,” Beris shrugged, then, instead of moving back toward Pidge like I’d expected, she stepped toward me. My brain had one horrifying moment to realize what was going to happen to me before the glowing tip connected with my stomach.

I couldn’t help it. I screamed.

Blinding, searing pain ripped through me at the point of contact, flooding my veins with acid and seizing my muscles in a vice. Every inch of my body was on fire, from my toes to the tips of my hair. All thought was incinerated in an inferno that burned hungrily under my skin. Inescapable no matter how hard I struggled. I wasn't sure how long it lasted, something like hours, I think. When I was finally released from the agony, all I could do was sag bonelessly against my restraints. I sucked in deep lungfuls of air. I hadn't even realized I'd stopped breathing.

Several aftershocks of energy spasmed through my limbs and I gasped, more out of the expectation of the far greater agony of the baton than any real pain. I became blearily aware of Pidge shouting my name right across from me.

“Lance?” she said, voice strained and worried. I forced myself to look up and make eye contact with her. “Lance!” she said when I did, and at any other time I might've basked in the way her features crumpled in relief. So she did care. As things were, though, it took all my energy just to keep my head from lolling to the side.

“I'm alright,” I said, and I hated the way my voice shook. “Just a little shocked.” I chuckled weakly at my own joke. Pidge didn’t laugh.

Neither did Beris.

She did smile, though, but I don’t think she was appreciating my sparkling sense of humor. “That was merely a taste of what I am capable of,” she said, talking to Pidge again, eyes alight with a manic energy even though the rest of her face remained coldly professional.

“You sick bastard!” Pidge growled, more shaken than I’d ever seen her. “He doesn’t know how to fix your stupid missile! Leave him out of this!”

“Oh, but you do,” Beris said, not quite managing to keep the glee from her voice. “And all you have to do to stop me is do just that.”

If I thought I felt sick before, it was nothing compared to the way my stomach lurched with guilt and shame as my pain addled mind finally understood just how horribly screwed we were. Not only had I failed, but Beris was going to use me to make Pidge fail too. Even as my limbs started to tremble, I felt a hard leaden resolve settle deep in my chest. “Is that really your plan?” I asked, “Pidge is the smartest Paladin. She’s not about to help you kill millions of people just to save me,” I locked eyes with Pidge and willed her to understand. “Even if I am the best looking Paladin.”

Her eyes were wide with a fear I hadn’t seen when she’d been the one facing torture, and for the first time since I’d known her, Pidge looked completely lost.

“Don’t be so sure, Blue Paladin” Beris said, fear rippling through me at her eager, assured tones, “What will it be, Green Paladin? Will you do what I ask?”

Pidge’s face was whiter than I’d ever seen it, eyes haunted and pleading. She was frozen with indecision, I realized. Forcing stiff muscles to work, I shook my head at Pidge, not trusting myself to speak.

“Well?” Beris said, sounding irritated, “I’m growing impatient.”

Eyes fixed on mine, skin pallid and face grim, Pidge finally shook her own head. Her gesture was a small echo of my own. “No,” she whispered hoarsely, like she hoped Beris wouldn’t hear her answer.

I was so focused on Pidge’s face that I didn’t see the baton coming again.

It felt longer this time, more all-consuming, and it took everything I had just to cling to consciousness. At the end of it, I was gasping, the edges of my vision hazy. My useless muscles juddered, rattling my bones and making my teeth chatter. When I was finally able to lift my head up, it felt like the last gruelling rep at the end of one of Keith’s killer workout sessions.

I looked toward Pidge but quickly let my gaze drop. I couldn’t quite meet her eyes anymore. I was terrified of the anguish and fear I saw reflected in them. Anguish and fear for me.

I’d screamed again, even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t. I couldn’t bear the pain in silence the way she had when she’d been cut. I could survive this, though. At least I thought I could. As long as I didn’t see how this was hurting her.

More than all of that, though, I was afraid of what she would do if she was able to see what showed in my own eyes.

“I’m...alright,” I panted, almost by rote.

I swallowed hard against a fresh wave of fear when Beris spoke again. I couldn’t exactly bring myself to focus on the individual sounds she was making, but I knew what she was asking, and I knew what would follow.

Pidge’s response was even weaker this time, barely audible, but I heard it anyway. “No.” My muscles were already stiffening in expectation of more pain, but it didn’t come.

“What was that?” Beris asked for what I realized was not the first time, and I finally forced myself to look up again. She held Pidge’s chin roughly in one hand, “I’m afraid I couldn’t hear you.”

Pidge tried to yank her jaw away, but Beris’s hold was too strong. With escape from her grip apparently not an option, Pidge growled and spat at her. Beris backhanded her, hard and fast, and I yelped like I’d been the one who’d been struck. Beris had hit her so hard I was afraid her neck broke. I could’ve cried with relief when Pidge brought her head back up. She looked out of it and the side of her face was a red, rapidly bruising mess, but she still managed to school her features into a scowl.

Fury and fear tore through me, giving me a second wind, and I pulled at my restraints with every ounce of strength I had in me. Even still, it was a pathetically weak attempt. Beris jerked Pidge’s face up and looked ready to strike with her other hand. I knew I had to do something, and even though just breathing hurt at this point, I straightened in my chair. “She said,” I told Beris through heavy breaths, “‘No.’” My voice sounded like I’d run it through a wood chipper. It kind of felt like it, too.

Beris stilled, letting go of Pidge’s face and turning back toward me. There was murder in her eyes. Oh god oh god oh god, my thoughts screamed as she approached me. Somehow, though, I kept my gaze level. Although I think the tremors that ran through every inch of me gave me away. At the last moment before the baton set fire to my nerves, I squeezed my eyes shut.

I think I really must’ve lost consciousness this time, because next thing I knew, rough hands were grabbing me by the hair and forcing my head up. The stinging tug at my scalp was just one more almost gentle point of discomfort among my now numerous aches and pains. I groaned and blinked open my eyes.

Pidge’s expression struck me like a physical blow. I tugged weakly against the grip on my hair. My tormentor only yanked my head up even higher so that now some of my body weight was supported by my neck.

“Look at what you're doing to him,” Beris said from beside me. Her voice dripped with false concern. I realized with a crawling sensation that she was the one who held my hair, putting me on display for Pidge. I tried to smother any expression of fear or pain, but I'd never been very good at hiding my feelings, and the muscles in my face weren’t being very helpful. If the stricken look on Pidge’s face was anything to go by, I failed miserably.

“He's in so much pain.” Beris drew out each word, emphasizing the last with a vicious jerk of my head. The motion made my world spin and I thought I was going to be sick. If this was how Hunk had felt every time I flew the simulations, I thought vaguely, I owed him a major apology. Not that I didn’t owe everyone that and more for how badly I’d screwed up this time. If we even made it out of this alive.

“Just stop!” Pidge shouted, voice breaking, and I willed myself to speak - to say something that would reassure her, but my body had decided it was taking a break from doing pretty much everything at the moment.

Beris moved the baton so that now it hovered inches from my skin and my stomach clenched. I barely managed to swallow the whimper that bubbled up my throat. “I'd be happy to,” Beris said, “Just say the word.”

There was a moment of tense silence, but no response from Pidge. Her silence was its own answer now. When I felt the baton pressed into my stomach again, I almost welcomed the near senselessness it brought with the pain.

I was jolted back to awareness by something pumping my veins full of ice and a pinch at my shoulder. I gasped like I’d just come up from several minutes under water, eyes wide and my heart pumping out an erratic beat behind my ribs. I shivered, sweat-drenched skin frozen in the climate controlled air. The tech guy from before removed a needle from my arm, swabbing the area with a damp pad and stepping away for the commander to take his place at my side again. I could’ve laughed. How thoughtful of them. Wouldn’t want an infection or anything.

As the chill slowly seeped out through my muscles, feeling returned like needles in my pores in its wake. Whatever they’d pumped me full of had given me enough strength to keep my head up, but it also felt like every painful sensation had been amplified tenfold.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of the new tool in the commander’s hand. It was a gleaming, monster of a blade, larger than a butcher’s knife with a paper thin edge that oozed a purple glow. My eyes flickered to Pidge, who sat stock still, eyes locked on the knife. It was like someone had drained her body of life and left this stiff, brittle husk behind. I made myself look up at the commander, horrified to find out that she was looking back down at me.

“So glad to have you back with us, Paladin,” she said, “We wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything. I was just explaining to your friend here that, in the interest of saving time, we were going to move things right along here.”

I swallowed down the terror clawing at my throat. “So we’re...skipping to the part where you let us go?” I croaked.

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option,” she said, “No, we’re going to do something different here.” She hefted the knife with one of her massive hands, then, ever so particular, held its edge just above my exposed wrist.

“N-now hold on,” I said, mind blanking, “Wait a sec.”

“I will give you to the count of three, Green Paladin,” the commander said, “This blade is specifically designed to cut straight through flesh and bone. One flick of my wrist and this will cut straight through his wrist.”

I dragged my eyes away from my wrist and the wicked looking knife held suspended just above it. I could feel the heat of the energized edge singing the hairs of my skin. Jaw clamped tightly, I looked at Pidge, who finally pulled up her eyes to meet mine. Her was chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, and even though she tried to hide it, I could tell she was beyond even her limits now. Her eyes were red rimmed and her already fair skin was completely sapped of any color.

“One….” the commander started.

My own heartbeat filled my ears, chest tightening. Pidge’s eyes flickered from mine to the knife and back again.

“Two…”

I didn’t dare move my wrist with the knife so close, but I wanted to yank my hand away with every cell in my body.

“Three…”

Like a moth drawn to a flame, my eyes were pulled back toward my wrist.

The commander shrugged, “Well,” she sighed, “Just remember, Green Paladín, you did this to him.”

The blade seemed to lift in slow motion, and my eyes followed, pulled by an invisible string. Then it came crashing down.

When I didn’t feel my muscles and tendons get separated right away, I risked a peek through slitted eyes. And when I saw that the blade was stopped, inches above my wrist yet again, I didn’t know if I could trust my own senses. But then I realized I’d heard Pidge’s voice just as the commander had brought the blade down.

“Wait,” Pidge repeated, quieter this time. “I’ll do it.”

The commander grinned, eyes glittering in triumph. “Do what?”

“I’ll fix the missile,” she said, voice like acid, eyes fixed on the ground, “I’ll do it. Just...please, stop hurting him.”

“PIdge, no.” I said, the shock finally wearing off and quickly replaced by a whole new rush of panic, “You can't do this. Not for-” I hesitated, unable to finish. Not for me.

Pidge’s eye stayed fixed on the ground. The commander didn’t remove the knife from it’s uncomfortable position above my wrist. “Hallen, Raggen, release the Green Paladin’s upper restraints and bring the portable access port.”

“Pidge, please, don’t,” I pleaded. My voice came out desperate and broken.

The same soldier who’d smashed his fist into my face earlier pressed a button on a panel fixed to the wall and the restraints on Pidge’s arms and chest slithered snake like into the recesses of the chair. “Oh,” the commander said conversationally, “And just in case you get any stupid ideas…”

The knife moved faster than my dazed eyes could follow. Pidge’s scream was deafening in my ears. One minute, all my fingers were whole and attached to my hand where they belonged. The next, I was staring down at my armrest, my brain unwilling to process what was right in front of it. The whole scene had suddenly taken on a suspended, surreal feel. I was underwater, all sound sluggish and unintelligible under the sound of my own rapidly beating heart. This wasn’t happening - couldn’t be real.

I was only vaguely aware of my own screaming because of the way it rattled my throat. The chill of the air on my sweat soaked skin felt like it came from somewhere far away, unconnected to my own body. My voice choked off in a strangled gurgle as my lungs seized, scrabbling for oxygen. I thrashed uselessly, helpless to do anything to escape the horrible misshapen mess my hand had become. There, a perfectly straight line separated the tips of my fingers from what were now stumps. Flesh and bone hadn’t even stood a chance against the inhumanly sharp blade.

Through it all, one stupid, jarring thought kept slithering, pervasive and unavoidable through my mind: If I ever even had been, I was no sharpshooter anymore.

----

When I woke some time later, my whole world was a hazy swirl of pain and confusion. My head hurt. My bones throbbed. Even my freaking eyes felt swollen and aching. Above it all though, was a deep, bone wrenching pain radiating up through the tips of my fingers on my right hand.

One time, back when I was young and stupid, I’d gone to explore a sea cave near my home with some friends. I’d slipped and fallen and messed up my arm pretty bad. I’d had to walk home feeling like an idiot with my arm hurting like crazy the whole way back. I thought my mom was going to break my other arm when I walked through the door that day. At the time, I’d been in the worst pain of my life.

That god awful experience didn’t even come close to what I was feeling right now.

I was doing my best not to think about why exactly my hand hurt. Any time I got even close to considering it - to wrapping my mind around it - my fractured thoughts dissolved into a gibbering mess until I managed to corral them into something coherent again.

“I’m doing the best I can,” Pidge’s familiar terse tones finally broke through the fog in my mind and wrenched my eyes open. “The program I used before corrupted everything to the point that it’s not salvageable. I have to rewrite everything from scratch.”

Oh god, that was right. I was still strapped to a chair. One of the Galran soldiers stood by my side, unnervingly close, and all I could think was that I was relieved it wasn’t Beris.

Then the devil herself spoke, and I broke out in a cold sweat. “Your excuses will mean very little to your friend when I cut off the rest of his hand.”

It was like some switch in my brain had been flipped on and blaring alarms went off in my head. My hand. My fingers. Beris had...My whole body convulsed with dry heaves as the horror finally settled in.

No, I wanted to sob, No no no no no. Please, no....

Out loud I could only retch.

Breathe, a voice in the back of my head urged in calm tones that reminded me of Shiro, You need to breathe.

And somehow, after several false starts, I was able to get a handle on my breathing and my stomach settled from its violent churning into a slow rolling nausea. I didn’t have the strength for much else. All the energy I had was spent keeping my eyes carefully fixed to my left, staring down at the blank metal wall. Away from my throbbing fingers.

It was right about then that I started to hallucinate.

A vaguely familiar sword sliced through the wall in a wide curve, sparks flying and metal screeching in protest. It continued until it had cut an arch about as tall as a human person through the wall. I blinked, and reflexively lifted my hand to rub my eyes. Even the tiny, abortive movement stopped by my restraint sent white hot pain slicing up through my hand. I hissed, the edges of my vision going dark. The cut in the wall was smashed inward by an explosion that rattled my teeth.

I knew for sure I was seeing things that weren’t there when Keith burst through the door, Shiro at his heels. I knew for sure for sure when Coran burst through after them, dressed in ancient Altean armor I’d never seen him in before. His helmet looked like something out of an old sci fi flick. The visor was red with a thin blue slit for him to see through, its forehead decorated with sharp gold wings extending like antennas above his head. He had a massive energy gun in both hands and world’s most magnificent red cape blowing wildly behind him. He looked like some sort of medieval sci fi Rambo.

We’d been in Galran hands less than a day and I’d already lost it.

I watched, entranced by my brain’s ability to magic up what was probably the least likely turn of events given our current situation. I had to hand it to my imagination, though, the vision was almost awe inspiring.

Keith came in like a wrecking ball, hard, fast, and destructive. The soldier at my side didn't stand a chance against him. His sword cut through the the Galran’s armor like it wasn’t even there. The Galran managed to get one shot off, but it went wide and didn’t hurt anything, except maybe the far wall which now had a new scorch mark.

Shiro, meanwhile, had run straight at Beris. Beris managed to dodge the first swipe of his sharp glowing arm, and its tip only grazed her stomach. Her face contorted in rage. “No!” she shouted, “You can’t do this!”

She rolled to the side, then flung herself at Shiro with all the strength her bunched up leg muscles could give her, that awful knife from before in her hand. I gasped, throat tight with fear, even though I knew this was all in my head. True to his reputation as the Champion, though, Shiro knocked her knife hand off course with his left forearm, then brought his prosthetic one up in a fist to her midsection. The commander let out a pained grunt, blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, then slid to the floor.

Coran let out a furious war cry, swung his gun in my direction, and fired. I couldn’t move, frozen and terrified. I felt the heat of the blast on my shoulder and face as it flew past and struck something behind me. There was a pained cry then the sound of a body hitting the ground. My eyes were locked on Coran as he ran toward me and flung his gun to the ground. I couldn’t have moved even if I wasn’t tied down, too shocked to react.

He knelt down at my side and pressed a button on the side of his helmet that made the visor slide up to reveal his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth a grim line under his mustache. He opened his mouth to say something when Pidge let out a cry behind him.

We both jerked in surprise and looked up to find the tech who’d brought in the metal box stooped over Pidge’s chair from behind. He’d grabbed Beris’s fallen knife and held it at Pidge’s throat, his other arm pinning her by the chest to her chair. “Don’t move or-” The tech was cut off when Keith’s sword struck his shoulder, sending him careening to the floor and the knife clattering from his hand to Pidge’s lap. In the most predictably unpredictable Keith move ever, our Red Paladin had flung his sword right at the tech.

The rest of us watched, open mouthed as Keith hurried over to Pidge, apparently unconcerned about everyone’s reactions to his alternative sword technique. “Are you okay?” He asked her, pulling out a knife to start cutting through her bonds.

“I’m fine,” she said shakily, She didn’t look even close to fine. She pointed to me, “Help Lance. He’s…He’s hurt bad.” Her voice grew small and very un-Pidge like at the end, and my gut clenched.

In front of me, Coran shook himself, seeming to recover from his own surprise, and turned back to me now that the danger to Pidge had passed. His eyes slid to my right hand, and his eyes widened, all the color leaving his face. Even his markings looked a little duller.

His eyes hardened and the lines on his face looked more pronounced than ever. “Those bastards.” He growled. I’d never seen Coran look so...dark.

“I’m fine,” I said, “I am A-okay.” Or at least I tried to, but my words came out in a muffled garble that I wasn’t sure Coran could understand.

He reached over to the strap at my right hand and pulled out a knife from a holster at his waist. Cold terror gave me new life. Why couldn’t this hallucination have ended at the good part? I couldn’t understand why my mind would do this to me. Maybe whatever they’d injected me with had messed with my head. I writhed against my straps, my whole body screaming painfully, a stream of protests leaving my mouth. “Please, no,” I kept saying, “Please.”

Shiro came to my side and gripped my arm with strong hands so that I couldn’t move it at all. My face was wet with tears and I couldn’t understand whatever it was Shiro was trying to say in soothing tones. It made me feel sick again. Something bumped my hand, sending a crippling wave of pain through me. I tried to stay awake, to fight, but it had all suddenly become too much.

I collapsed into darkness.

#lance #pidge #Hurt!Lance #tw:torture #hurt/comfort #Langst #fanfic #my fic

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