He's still not responding to her, groaning softly into his helmet's communicator, as if in pain.
They're still hovering in front of the dimly lit main-frame. The walls of the generator's room quake and screech an unpleasant, pressured noise from all directions. It's time to leave.
Pidge's black, armor-gloved fingers squeeze harshly around Shiro's cybernetic hand, lifting them.
"Shiro, please… listen to me," Pidge tries again firmly, and with a hint of concern. "The shield-barrier is gonna start rebooting. We need to get back to our lions." He's bathed in the violet-tinged halo of Galra-forged quintessence, pale and wincing, drowsy. "Shiro… …?"
"Let's go," he mumbles aloud, but only holding onto her waist as Pidge nods and reactivates her high-powered jetpack, rushing the pair of them towards the exits.
Once they're back on the Castle of Lions, Pidge experiments with her newest, technological invention, preoccupying a vargas or two before wandering for kitchens.
She's in the mood for one of Hunk's goo-snacks, and then slows down, peering into the lounge from the corridor. On the inner edge of the couch, Shiro bends into himself, gasping out and rubbing at his left temple, cringing as a wave of bursting agony slams into him.
He gazes up as a expressionless Pidge approaches, taking a seat beside him.
"Your headaches aren't getting better… …"
A complaining, irritated noise.
Pidge chews on her entire bottom lip, observing as Shiro gradually gets his color back and stops heaving for air, straightening up. "It's… mm, it's alright now, yeah," he murmurs, flashing a half-smile and reaching out for Pidge's hand. She grasps onto his sweat-slick palm, lacing their organic fingers, more worried than disgusted at the moment. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Pidge."
A little, faint cringe wrinkles up Shiro's face for a split-tick —and that's when Pidge sees his eyes empty, tinged away in its centers with the same, terrifying violet.
She's always been someone to prepare for the worst, but not mentally. Not in her heart.
The edge to Pidge's bayard glows a brighter, hotter green. It's not him. It's not Shiro marching towards the hangar-bay with the smaller ships, who can just as easily tower over her.
Pidge grits her teeth, narrowing her eyes and holding her weapon out.
"Stop! Now!" she yells, not sure what to expect as Shiro's footsteps draw nearer. Lotor seems deeply unconscious and he's thrown over Shiro's broad shoulder and Pidge doesn't understand what this is.
Without hesitation, Shiro walks forward, but his pacing slows down.
"I said stop right here, Shiro!" Pidge yells again, the glowing bright, bright, and that's when she smells charred fabric. Shiro looks down on her with abnormally dark eyes, and no ounce of regard, his grey vest sizzling against Pidge's bayard touching against his sternum.
"Stop," Pidge says with a faint tremor in her words, beginning to panic. All she can see is her bayard's glow and the trickle of smoke rising from Shiro's chest. "Please, stop," she repeats, full of tremors and moonless stars, like Shiro's eyes. A gulping, loud sob passes her lips, and Pidge closes her eyes, lowering her hands.
And just like that, he vanishes into nothingness, taking his smoke and stars with him.
Voltron isn't mine. THIS HURT ME MORE THAN THIS HURT YOU. Actually this just hurts in general. Wow! Val wrote something platonic! Holy moly! I'm shocked too. Listen,,, I could not get this whole thing out of my head and now that I have, you're welcome for the pain. Thoughts/comments are so so welcome!