(On the Hunt) Chapter 47

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 47

Through the Dark

Hunk was not stress cooking. Of course he wasn't. He was therapy cooking, which was something totally different. These were emotional support waffle fries he was painstakingly cutting from something potato-adjacent he'd found in the Xaela's pantry, and they were keeping him from being stressed!

…Okay, it was stress cooking. It was always stress cooking when he told himself it wasn't.

He wasn't alone in the galley. Keith was leaning against the wall with a glass of water, while Sven had been studying the purple bread with an expression of deep concentration for at least two minutes. Finally, as Hunk dropped a batch of the cut potatoes into a skillet, he turned to the navigator and raised an eyebrow. "You're lookin' at that stuff like it might eat you, bro."

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it tried." That was less a commentary on the bread, per se, and more on how things generally went for this team. Though he was also skeptical of the bread. Maybe he should just stick to Hunk's fries; experimentation with alien food could wait for another day.

"Anything is better than what we were eating there," Keith said quietly, sipping his water.

"I mean, almost everything." Hunk was cutting up another potato-thing. "Broccoli exists."

"What's wrong with broccoli?" Sven asked.

That got a chuckle out of Keith. "Depends on the person."

True enough, Sven supposed. He liked broccoli, but didn't feel the need to go to the mat defending it. Not like Jace would've… no, once again, he shoved those feelings back down into the box where they belonged.

"What ain't wrong with broccoli?" Hunk snorted. "And that's coming from someone who can make Brussels sprouts taste like heaven."

…That was the most outlandish thing he'd ever heard the big man say, which was saying something. Even Keith shuddered, and Sven slowly lifted an eyebrow. "I'm going to have to taste it to believe it."

"We can totally make that happen, bro."

He smiled. "I will hold you to that."

Doubtful they had any tiny hell-cabbages on this ship, so Keith decided it was a good time to steer towards more productive topics. "So, how are things in the bay, Hunk?"

"…They're uh, they're things, boss." Nothing much had changed, except that they kind of knew how Bataxi engines worked now. Kind of. Close enough to make do, anyway. "Totes things."

Keith considered that and nodded slowly; it might be the best he was going to get. He wouldn't have had the chance to ask for elaboration anyway. Footsteps in the rec room proper heralded a new arrival, and then Romelle hesitantly stepped around the partition into the galley.

"Um, hello. Is…" She flushed a little, still not feeling comfortable enough to consider herself their peer. Which meant, she thought, she was a guest and should conduct herself accordingly. "Is there anything to eat?" She pulled the loaned jacket a little tighter around her as she spoke. For the couple of days since they'd taken the Xaela, she'd contented herself with scavenged jumpsuits, but still felt somehow exposed. Adding the jacket was a small, welcome bit of extra security.

Hunk waved her in immediately, chuckling. "You came to the right place, c'mon over!"

"Thank you." She smiled at him and the others. "Hello, Keith, Sven…" As she greeted him, she caught the look on Sven's face, and trailed off.

He'd gotten used to—he'd forced himself to get used to—seeing her wearing that when there were no other options. One more reason the new ship and all that came with it had been a relief. He hadn't been expecting to see it again, but why not? She didn't know. And there she was.

It was the last straw, and the box he'd been keeping his feelings in had abruptly broken open. Looking away from her, fighting to breathe, he struggled to reassemble it and failed. This was happening, then…

"…Bro?"

Ignoring Hunk, he gave Romelle a wide berth and moved as quickly as he could for the elevator to the lower deck. He needed to get out of here before—

Keith tried to intercept him, worry in his tone. "Sven?"

"Fuck off!" He vanished into the elevator.

The commander's jaw dropped; Hunk dropped the potato-thing he'd been working with. "Oh, dude…"

"…Did I do something wrong?" Romelle asked in a whisper. She'd fallen back into a corner, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-conscious attempt to disappear.

Though Keith was still staring after Sven in shock, Hunk caught her question and looked over. Then he did a double take as he realized what had just happened. "Oh. OH. Uh, hey! Potatoes are done!" The batch he had in the skillet was indeed sizzling, and just in time.

It was all Keith could do not to chase after Sven; their navigator had just told him to fuck off, he was clearly not okay. But he also clearly wanted to be alone. And if he stayed in the galley he was going to go down that elevator, he had no doubt. "Guess I'll… get back to the bridge."

"Take some fries, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Hunk."

As he left, Romelle bit her lip, trying not to sob from the confused frustration washing over her. What had she done? "I… I'm sorry, I…" She had no idea what she was apologizing for, but it seemed like the correct course of action.

"Hey, easy." Hunk loaded the rest of the finished fries on a couple of plates, then looked back at her. "Here, you need some food too. They got waffle fries where you come from?"

"Um… no?" She rubbed her eyes a moment to banish any tears that might have been gathering. "What is a waffle fry?"

"It's a fry that's cut like a waffle! They're a revelation, sister. C'mere." Hunk waved her over, went to pat her shoulder reassuringly, considered what she'd probably been through on Korrinoth, and thought better of it. He pulled out a chair instead.

Sister? Romelle hesitated a moment. But then, he did seem to call nearly everyone else on the ship 'bro'. Maybe it was something she should take as a compliment? Right now she'd take any sliver of reassurance… she sat and tried to remember if she knew what a waffle was. "What are they made of?"

"Usually potatoes." He passed her a plate. "I'm not totally sure what these things are, but they're potato-adjacent."

Potato-adjacent. That was certainly a phrase she more or less understood. Picking one of the waffle fries up—she would not have imagined food could be that shape—she cautiously nibbled a corner and blinked. "This is pretty good."

"Atta girl." He grinned, sitting across from her with the other plate.

For a few minutes they just sat in awkward, potato-adjacent-munching silence. But Romelle couldn't push aside what had happened, what the waffle fries had been offered as a distraction from. And once she was no longer so hungry, it got even harder to push aside.

"Um, Hunk." She waited for him to look up and swallow his mouthful of food. "Any idea why…" The words wouldn't quite come out, so she just gestured in the direction of the elevator with a wince.

He sighed, following her motion. "Yyyyeah. Pretty solid idea." This was going to come up eventually. It was kind of a wonder it hadn't sooner—wasn't it? Okay, between multiple people doing their damnedest not to admit to having feelings and multiple narrow escapes from Drule warships, maybe not that much of a wonder. "You uh, you might not actually wanna know, but you probably should, so…" Why did it have to be him giving the explanation? Too late to back out now. "That's uh, not Sven's jacket."

That seemed like an odd statement. Romelle looked down at it, then back at him, trying to puzzle out what it meant and why it would… oh. "Oh." Her eyes widened slightly. "Is it one of… theirs?"

She couldn't bring herself to say your dead friends.

"Yeah." Hunk squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then considered how she might take that news and looked up again. "And uh, don't get me wrong. Before you feel guilty or anything? If he were here he would've cussed you out until you took it, so…"

It was the first time she'd heard any of them speak of the dead, except for the half-spoken orders cut off by curses that still occasionally slipped through. Certainly the first mention of what any of them were actually like. And somehow, someone who'd have cursed her until she accepted help felt appropriate. "He sounds like someone whose heart was in the right place," she said softly.

"He was a hell of a trip," the big man chuckled. "They all…" He stopped, and Romelle bowed her head.

"I wish I could have helped more. Done something." She'd been right there in the royal box the whole time. Horrified and yet caught up in the rush of the 'games', or worse…

Hunk stared at his fries. "Yeah, don't we all." He shook his head slightly. Usually he'd have tried to change the subject right about now, again. Big Dumb Hunk didn't do this. He didn't talk about his own feelings. But that safe little act was half shot right now anyway, and Romelle hardly needed it; she already thought they were all crazy. "We were together a long time. I mean… maybe not all that long in the big picture, yeah? Just, when it's just you and the squad on a tiny ship in the middle of nowhere for all those months, you get close real fast…" He gestured widely. "Y'know?"

Romelle didn't know, exactly. Though from the few days she'd spent on a ship with this team, relying entirely on each other, she could see where it would happen like that. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Guilt was still gnawing at her. "If I'd just… spoken out somehow. Been stronger."

"Can't think like that, sis." No way that would've done anything but put her out of favor sooner. Not with everything they'd seen.

Maybe he was right… she nibbled another fry to give her mind a little time to sort through things. "I could tell you didn't belong down there." Like I didn't belong in that box. "That you didn't want to be there."

"No kiddin'." He snorted. "We were just mindin' our own business, and they grabbed our ship and tossed us in that mess." Frown. "I'd say I don't think anyone would want to be there, but I guess a lot of 'em did."

"Yes." Romelle nodded slowly. "Fighting earned them a chance to be glorified. I…" A blush sprang to her cheeks. "I didn't really like it, but to hear about the importance of the battles, to be sitting there with others who were so into it, could be overpowering…"

Hunk nodded. He could understand that; it was similar to what they'd seen from the gladiators themselves. "How did you end up there, anyway? Or should I not ask? Don't think I knew the Drules even did the marriage thing with non-Drules," he shrugged, "but I didn't take poli sci."

She didn't follow the last part of that, but the first was clear enough. "I…" Taking a deep breath, she hesitated; the words seemed to freeze on her lips.

"…You don't hafta answer that if you don't want," he said quickly.

But she did want to, or at least, she thought she did. Maybe finally speaking the reality would help her finally come to grips with it. "My father… sent me to be wed as an offering," she whispered. "To prevent our planet from being taken by force."

"…Oh." He winced. Her father? She got any dudes in her life who don't suck? Asking that out loud wouldn't be useful, though he was definitely coming to understand why she still seemed so nervous around the team.

"He'd sworn he would never do that," she said quietly, anger starting to spark in her tone. "One threat and he broke his vow."

Damn. "The usual Earthling phrase here is 'well that's some bullshit'."

She looked up at him, anger giving way to puzzlement. "What does it mean?"

"Uh…" Hunk flushed. He was not going to explain to an actual princess what bullshit was. Nope. "It means, um, it ain't good. Let's leave it at that."

"Ah." Nodding, though she still didn't fully understand, Romelle nibbled on another waffle fry.

"I'd come over there and give you a hug or somethin' if you want," he offered.

Pausing, she looked up at him again. "A hug?" A small blush crept over her cheeks, but she couldn't help a smile as well. "Earthlings hug?"

"Some of us!" he chuckled.

Now she was blushing pretty profusely. When was the last time she'd had physical contact that didn't make her want to flinch? But Hunk was… friendly, certainly, if seemingly more than a little insane… "Well, as long as you remain a… gentleman, I could permit a hug."

Nobody had ever accused Hunk of being a gentleman. He almost said that, but thought better of it; if she didn't understand 'that's some bullshit' she definitely wouldn't get that joke. "You don't hafta be scared of me, promise. Or anyone here." He circled around the table and gave her a quick, gentle hug. "I mean, except gettin' glared at by a grumpy ninja, but he does that to everyone."

Returning the hug, Romelle was struck by a brief but powerful moment of familiarity. "You…" She smiled. "You kind of remind me of my brothers."

He startled. "You have," positive carriers of Y chromosomes in your life, nope definitely shouldn't say that, "brothers?"

She nodded, looking up at him as he stepped back. "Yes. Avok and Bandor. Bandor is my little brother…" She bit her lip, worry flooding her again. "He's so… innocent." Hunk winced; based on what she'd said before, he could guess what she was thinking. "Avok is older. He's the heir. Hence why I got the honor of being pawned off. But he'll make a great king someday, if…" No. No, she didn't want to go there. She didn't even want to think about it. And really, she'd said far too much…

It seemed like, having been given permission to hug her, patting her shoulder might be safe now. Hunk did that and smiled reassuringly, not sure what else to say.

"So these… waffle fries are rather lovely, Hunk," she murmured finally. That seemed like a much safer subject. "Do you prepare meals often?"

"Sure do! I'm kinda the team cook…" Wincing, he looked at her jacket again. "Uh, I mean, I guess not kinda anymore…"

"Oh." Okay, not such a safe subject after all. "Right, um…" She thought frantically, there had to be something she could say here, something—

"—Hey." Hunk studied her quietly, coming to a decision. She oughta know. It was only fair. She was all the way aboard this crazy train. She was part of the team, whether any of them had meant for it to happen or not. And they hardly knew anything about each other. Maybe it was time to fix that.

Maybe it would help him, too…

Romelle took another step back and swallowed nervously. "Yes?"

"His name," he indicated her jacket, "was Jace. He was our medic. Sven's bestie, that's why it hit him so hard just now. The other two… Cam, he was the comms officer. That's why you sometimes get weird looks when you translate stuff."

"Oh…" She had noticed the looks, and her expression went slack as she nodded. Of course. They'd mentioned not having anyone who spoke Drakure anymore, but she hadn't quite put it together.

"And pit boss, I mean, the chief engineer. Flynn. He… well, I've kinda got his job now." He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Dude kept us crazies in the bay under control, and now I'm kinda in this over my head myself, y'know?"

Somehow, the idea that someone else had been in the engine bay keeping Pidge—and Hunk—somewhat settled felt right to Romelle. And she could certainly see how he might be overwhelmed with that sudden responsibility… she nodded her understanding.

"I probably oughta get back there, honestly… you wanna come back with me? Check for infrared? Be outta our depth together?" He offered her a grin that was a bit tentative, but no less genuine. "I can tell you about 'em. About all of us, even. Get you up to speed so you're not quite so lost here, yeah?"

Romelle looked at him and couldn't help a soft laugh. "Sure. Not the first time I've been… immersed in a situation I didn't fully understand." But this felt different. This had been an invitation, not an order. Like she was at least something close to an equal here—someone to be spoken with, not just lectured at.

"Yeah, I hear that." Chuckling, he picked up his plate of fries and motioned for her to follow. "So let's start at the start, yeah?" She nodded, and he grinned a little wider. "Once upon a time, the Alliance decided it didn't always wanna boot troublemakers who were good at their jobs, so it started puttin' em on special units with the other troublemakers who were good at their jobs instead. And they called those units Explorer Teams…"

*****

Daniel wasn't sure what to do, so he had been roaming around the Xaela. It was probably something he should have already done. Knowing your way around your new ship was pretty essential, but he'd been avoiding everyone so far, going straight from the galley to his room. Well, his and Lance's room. Which was another reason he was wandering around… okay, the main reason. He needed a break.

Don't get him wrong; out of everyone on the ship, Lance was his preferred roommate. The pilot had a talent for keeping the bad thoughts away, but he did that by smothering the hell out of him. How's the arm? Be careful, please. Do you need more painkillers? Even on shift he was constantly checking on him. It was oddly comforting, but he could only take so much.

The gunner had ended up in the med bay, which probably wasn't the best idea if not-thinking about things was still something he wanted to do, but wandering around aimlessly tended to come with the shortcoming of not paying attention to where he was going. Upon realizing where he was, he immediately wanted to turn around and leave, except…

There was a Viking slumped against the back wall with obvious tear streaks running down his face, and suddenly they were just staring at each other. It was a tense and awkward silence. Oh, so awkward. Far more suffocating than any smothering Lance had done.

When silence got awkward, as a rule, Daniel broke the silence. Often before really thinking about it. And this was no exception. "So, uh… how's life?" Oh, that's… not something that I should have said.

Sven's stare turned into a glare, confirming his thought. He'd never handled awkward well, let alone awkward with tears involved. "How do you think?" His hoarse yet stern tone made it very clear that he didn't want an actual answer. Lance's mother-henning suddenly seemed like fun. Though when faced with an obviously emotionally volatile Viking, of course Lance's over-protective streak seemed harmless. Why had he left the safety of their room?

"Sorry…" This was that point in the conversation where he should just back out. Run back to the comforting blank walls of his room and go back to avoiding everybody. Let Sven be by himself, he obviously wanted to be alone. And even if he didn't, Daniel doubted he was anything but the last person Sven wanted to see. He wasn't stupid, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what or who their navigator was breaking down about.

They were in the fucking med bay, and just because the hoodie and shirt were gone didn't mean he couldn't still feel Jace's blood all over him. But he couldn't make himself leave. Sven looked miserable, it felt wrong to leave him.

Lance wouldn't leave him.

"…I say things without thinking sometimes…" The navigator raised an eyebrow. "Okay, all the time. Sue me." Daniel shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. There were lots of options flying through his head, and they all sounded horrible. This was why he didn't think things through if he could avoid it. Impulsive decisions were totally the way to go. So that was what he did…

Sven's eyebrow rose even higher as the gunner walked over and sat next to him. "Is there a particular reason you've decided I'd be good company right now?"

"You? Good company? Please." Daniel smirked, then frowned. "No, but in my personal experience, bad thoughts and feelings don't go away when you're alone with them." He looked around. "And your chosen 'lose your shit' location doesn't exactly seem all that likely to help. So… I guess I will."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Sven wasn't feeling all that helped, but he was fairly certain when he had the emotional and mental energy to pick himself up and leave this room he'd feel touched. Which was the only thing stopping him from telling the gunner exactly where he could stick his good intentions.

"Honestly, not sure. The current plan is to just wing it. Lance is usually the one—I mean, he's good at this, and I'm—let's just say I don't have his talent for scaring off the bad stuff." Daniel sighed. This wasn't going great, but he hadn't been told to screw off yet.

Sven snorted. "Wing it, huh? You're on an Explorer team. Winging it is one of the most solid plans you're ever going to get." He paused. "Why were you in the med bay in the first place?" The gunner apparently was adept at winging things. Having someone else to focus on was giving Sven a small sense of purpose, and it occurred to him that Daniel may have come here for the same reasons he had.

Well, not the breakdown part. Hopefully.

"Accident. Avoiding Lance's smothering. I just needed a minute or sixty to myself. If you weren't here looking so… gloomy, I would have left."

Those were not the same reasons. "Lance smothering you?" Sven echoed skeptically. He knew a thing or two about smothering parental figures, and Lance did not even come close.

"Yes! It's like every two seconds he's checking my arm, or telling me to be careful, or asking me if I'm in pain or if I'm alright, or sometimes he just stares at me." Daniel didn't sound resentful, just overwhelmed.

"Sounds like he's just reassuring himself that you're alright. That you're alive."

Daniel's eyes widened a little; that hadn't occurred to him. It should have. It was glaringly obvious, and not all that unreasonable under the circumstances. He'd almost died. A few of them did die. If it weren't for… shit. Daniel looked around the med bay, then at Sven, then the floor.

If Jace hadn't saved him, he'd be dead. But Sven would still have his friend. He really shouldn't be the one trying to make the navigator feel better, he was the reason Jace was—

"Stop." Sven's voice was stern. Maybe overly so, but it snapped him out of it. He could tell by the look on the kid's face where his thoughts had gone, and suddenly he knew exactly what their medic would be saying if he could. "He didn't save you for you to feel guilty. The only person allowed to regret Jace's choice is Jace, and I can promise you he didn't." No. He remembered. He was so annoyed that he cared about us… but he did nonetheless. "Don't spend your second chance regretting his choice. It would taint his sacrifice."

"I won't," Daniel promised, almost on reflex. What else could he say to that? But he wasn't sure he meant it. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, to be honest. He could feel himself going numb. That's what happened nowadays when he started getting overwhelmed with negative emotions. But reassuring the Viking seemed like a good start.

"Good." Sven was silent for a moment before bumping Daniel's shoulder. "Let's get out here. I don't know about you, but I've had enough wallowing in my grief for today."

He nodded, trying for a grin, not certain if he pulled it off it not. But he'd tried. "Sounds good to me."

*****

Lance was alone on the bridge and slowly realizing he was getting bored. No surprise, given there was really nothing to do at the moment. He could feel thoughts of Flynn creeping in from the edges he'd banished them to. Frowning, he shoved them away again, then breathed a sigh of relief when he heard footsteps.

"Hey, Lance. Hunk made some, er… waffle fries. Want some?" Keith asked, holding out a plate towards him.

"He made waffle fries? Wait, of course he did." Lance held out his hand.

Keith nodded, handing over the plate. "They're not potatoes, but they're not bad."

Lance stuffed his mouth, probably faster than was entirely necessary, but he was still getting used to having real food again. And this was the first time they'd managed to work the Xaela's stocks into something resembling comfort food… well, toast aside, anyway. "Not bad at all."

"It's the small things, huh?" Keith smiled—a bit. His thoughts trailed to their navigator and the blunt fuck off that had been thrown in his face. But, speaking of…

"Could use a beer," Lance commented right before he could speak, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, not sure that's on board." He cast his gaze around the bridge, trying to gather his thoughts, the partial grin fading quickly. "Um… look, Lance. I, uh…" He trailed off to stop the stammering. He wasn't quite sure how Lance would react to the news about him making Sven his second—for various reasons—but he needed to know the new command structure. The sooner the better.

"You what?" Lance blinked at him, confused. The boss didn't usually sputter like that, but they were all still a bit of a mess.

Keith's blue eyes focused on him. "You and Sven are my ranking officers," he started hesitantly. Lance just nodded, because yep, that was certainly a fact. Letting out a long breath, the fuck you still echoing in his head, the commander finally managed to spit it out. "I made him my second in command."

Because Flynn… Lance stuffed more waffle fries into his mouth to cover the painful thought and nodded, deciding Sven made sense. Wasn't as if he wanted the job. For multiple reasons. "Good choice."

Nodding, Keith exhaled slowly; that was easier than he'd expected it to be. But he needed Lance to know and understand he was going to need both of them—they were still in the thick of it. He'd need all the support he could get, they all did. I hope he's really alright with this. "I'm still going to need to rely on you, as well."

"Of course you will, I'm fucking awesome! But the Viking, he'll be good at it." Flynn was good at it, even if he hated—stop thinking about him!

Keith smiled sadly. "All of the team is awesome…" Why did it feel weird saying that? It was true, though. Even… stop that thought right there, Kogane.

"Fucking awesome," Lance corrected. "We're an Explorer Team."

Keith nodded again and studied him quietly. He didn't want to have to ask what he was about to ask, and it hadn't gone too well the last time he'd tried, but they couldn't avoid it forever. He needed to know how his crew was doing. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm holding."

"Good, good. And Daniel and his arm?"

"He's… holding too. Worried about the arm, but think it's as good as it can be."

"Yeah, I'm worried about that, too. Hopefully, we can get somewhere and get it looked at."

"Sooner the better…" Lance looked at Keith, who had nodded again in agreement. He looked grim even by his standards. "How are you holding up?"

Keith sighed at that, a long breath to try to control his emotions. He looked away before he spoke, terrified that if he saw anything remotely resembling sympathy on Lance's face, he'd have a breakdown. One of them having one right now, apparently, was more than enough. "I'm… keeping it together." Barely. "I have to focus on the rest of you. That's… that's my top priority right now."

Lance nodded, a bit surprised at such an honest answer. Let alone one that he felt himself. Yeah, that's totally understandable. "We do need you to keep it together too, bossman."

"I'll worry about me later," he promised, finally returning his gaze to the pilot. It felt oddly good to voice it. Maybe talking did help, afterall. Who knew? "I just… I can't do it right now."

"Yeah, I get that. Why I'm focusing on the kid."

Right, of course it was. "Look, Lance…"

"Yeah?"

Sighing again, he patted Lance on the shoulder. "Thank you. For… for being there for Daniel."

Shrug. "Wouldn't be anywhere else." It was kind of an imperative, though not one he regretted one bit. As long as the boss didn't spring the M-word on him right now…

"Well, keep up the good work." Keith snagged another fry. They were good.

Lance managed a wink. "You too, boss."

*****

Pidge did not want to talk to anyone. He did not want to be around anyone. He wanted to be in the engine bay, alone, staring at his consoles for eight hours and pretending nothing else existed.

Instead he was standing in front of Vince's door, which seemed very intimidating. Why the hells was it intimidating? It was just a door. He'd seen a lot of doors.

Damn it, varetya, just move already. He raised his hand and forced himself to knock. Once.

Vince was sprawled out on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He didn't want to think about the arena. He didn't want to think about certain people. He didn't want to think about weird dreams. That was leaving him with fairly few options—his mind had drifted to his moms, which frankly he didn't want to be dwelling on a lot either, but… the knock didn't really help. He wasn't sure he wanted company, either. "Uh, yeah!"

"…Yeah?" the voice outside echoed in confusion.

…Of course. He sighed. "What do you want?" Maybe it was just an engine issue and the ninja needed help with wiring. Yeah, maybe that was it.

"Noth…" Pidge stopped. Much as he wanted to just take that opening and run for it, he had orders. "…Came to… check on you?"

Well he couldn't very well refuse that. Oy. "Alright, come on in." He dragged himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. This ought to be… something.

Pidge opened the door, stepping in and standing right in front of it as it slid shut. There was a moment of awkward silence. He was supposed to say something here, something helpful and polite. "Hi?"

"Hi." Vince waved warily.

"Um… how are you?" What the hells am I doing?

Oh. Ask me an easy one, why don't you. "I really don't know," he said truthfully. "Do you know how you are?"

The ninja snorted. That was actually relatable, though he did have some ideas. "Pissed off."

Vince snorted too; just from the way Pidge had been treating Romelle, he'd gathered that much. "I noticed."

"Aren't you?"

…Was he? Frowning, he shook his head, considering the question. "Probably not how you mean. I'm mostly confused."

Confused? Pidge brightened slightly. Confusion was good. Confusion could be fixed with answers, answers required logic, logic was something they had far too little of to rely on anymore. "About?"

Vince eyed him skeptically. "Um, don't take this the wrong way, but why are you asking?"

He blinked. "What's the wrong way to take that? It's a valid question." Valid, yes. Definitely valid. Though as he tried to figure out how to respond, he realized the issue. "I… I don't really want to answer it, though."

Illogical. But true.

Sighing, Vince decided that was fair enough. "I don't really wanna talk about it at all either."

"Okay." Pidge nodded and turned back to the door. He was trying to fulfill his duty here, he wasn't going to force the issue. That would be unhelpful. "Sorry."

A wave of relief went through Vince as he watched him starting to leave. Then he hesitated as something else echoed in his mind. He could see his moms, he could hear the gentle admonishment.

That boy is trying, Vince.

"Wait…" Pidge stopped and he sighed. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I…" Was there something? He wasn't sure. He hadn't come to be helped, he'd come here to try to do the helping, as if that were really within his power. "I'm just trying to…" He turned around, fists clenched in frustration. "He told me to look after you."

All that did was cause more confusion for a moment. "Who…" Then it hit like a punch to the gut. Oh. "Flynn?" Names shouldn't hurt…

All Pidge could do was nod wordlessly. Names hurt.

"That was just during the fighting," he said, blinking as his eyes suddenly began to sting. "You know, because…" Because I'm me. How am I still alive?

"He never said to stop," the ninja pointed out softly. "Look, I'm not very good at this…" A helpless gesture. "…team stuff. If I'm bothering you I can go."

Bothering wasn't exactly the word Vince would've used. It was awkward, yes, but not quite so aggressive as bothering. He just wished he had some idea of what to do or say in return. "You're trying," he offered finally. "Trying matters."

"Keromya si daliar," Pidge spat reflexively under his breath.

"…What does that mean?"

Oh. He really hadn't meant to let that slip out loud. "Nothing…" No. Looking at Vince again, considering the conversation they were having, he took a shallow breath. "It's… it's a training mantra." He hesitated. "Failure is betrayal."

The other engineer's amber eyes widened slightly. "That's stupid." It got him a confused blink. "As someone who's blown out way more circuits than he's fixed, failing is pretty helpful."

That wasn't quite what the mantra was supposed to mean, but Pidge took the point nonetheless. On the other hand, he was here. On an Explorer Team. Because he'd failed enough before… "Humans have mixed opinions on that, kir sa tye?"

Didn't he know it. Vince nodded slowly. "Maybe, but… he didn't."

Pidge recoiled—which didn't work very well when his back was already up against the door. Sure as all the hells, he didn't… then he grimaced. "I was supposed to come in here to help you."

"Another human thing we do is help each other when we need it," Vince answered with a shrug. "The good humans, at least." Did Baltans not? That training mantra sure seemed harsh. If that was a typical attitude there, maybe it explained a few things.

Considering that, Pidge nodded slowly and looked away. "Well, um. Anyway." He didn't really have a good response. "If you don't want to talk that's fine. If you do later I can uh, listen? That's the first thing, right?"

You are very bad at this, varetya. But you're trying… he'd approve.

"It is." Vince felt kind of bad for not taking him up on it now, but he also knew it wouldn't be fair to either of them. "I'm just not ready to talk yet, really. There's a lot…" Sigh. "…When I'm ready to talk, you can listen."

"Okay. It's a deal." He turned again, opening the door. "See you next shift, mechka."

Vince stared after him, and felt a small smile attempting to creep over his face. Mechka. He'd been so annoyed by that nickname at first, but there was something familiar about it now, something normal. And maybe he was starting to understand where it had come from, just a little.

Maybe it was actually kind of nice.

*****

The Lion of Storms was still sleeping… but his thoughts were uneasy. Since finding the royal cub could hear his voice, and even her brother for the brief time he'd had, it bothered him all the more that no other mortal could hear him. And now… there was the new moment. It matched up with what the royal cub had told him, the dream she'd felt must have meant something. He had tempered her expectations, uncertain himself of its significance. But he had felt the others… all of them.

It had been many years since the pride was able to all be awake at the same time. At best, a lion might be lucky enough to find another lion up for a quick chat. Now, it had happened for all five of them at once… and more than once. A few more times in these last few days. Almost to the point where it could be called consistent. The convergences lasted only a few moments, minutes at most, but they were something.

They'd slept too long. He knew that. Sleep, for the lions, was not precisely what others thought of as sleep. He had awareness of the time that had passed—how much time? That was impossible to judge, without the context of others to speak to. Without the ability to truly grasp what was happening outside of his den. But he had a sense of what had been nearby, what had sought to pierce his consciousness even as he lacked the power to respond.

Dreams of storms and gryphons and the voices of mortals had not been mere dreams. This he knew. Ancient memories of flying through the darkness and the light, beside his siblings, united with the worthy… faint and faded. What had banished them to these dens and this darkness? It felt like there was a gap in his awareness. That was deeply worrying.

What he needed was a mortal he could connect with. He'd sent a call through the storm, as he remembered doing in the past, but the echo of a compatible person had failed to sound. Not even the royal cub… yet she heard his voice? It was strange. He'd even attempted a sensor scan of his surroundings when his awareness was at its highest, but it returned with only confusion. Arus still had people, though they were far fewer in numbers than he felt they should have been. He could sense some foreign entities, but they did not feel compatible… if anything, they felt like the reason for the lower numbers of Arusians.

Frustration. He needed to know more, yet he was smothered by the shadows that bound him here. Perhaps this was what the royal cub felt as she sought the answers? But he should know these things.

He could sense the other lions were sleeping, for now. He would just have to wait until the next window to discuss this… in their moments of waking he'd already heard from the winds, taking similar notice of their new sleep patterns. Hopefully it wouldn't be long until the next convergence. Perhaps if he could relay his questions for a proper discussion, they might find an insight to their problem. They'd always done well at solving things together before.

Before… before what?

What had happened? To them? To this planet? Would the royal cub be able to find these answers in time to make a difference?

They could only hope.