Pidge Gunderson (hackedthat) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-02-04 10:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, pidge gunderson, takashi shirogane / shiro |
WHO: Shiro & Pidge
WHAT: Touching base post-battle
WHEN: January 25th? Post-battle
WHERE: Med Bay
WARNINGS: Injuries, mentions of limb loss/prosthetics, etc.
It was hard being in the medical bay. Worse, he would say, than seeing one of his paladins in a healing pod. He knew they would be okay if they made it to a pod. But they could only wait here, and that was hard, because they knew Keith’s injuries were grave and there wasn’t anything any of them could do. So, they waited. Shiro was crashing after the adrenaline of the fight receded from his body. He was tired. He felt as if he had been ground down into something much less than human, because he hadn’t expected this level of danger for his team. He knew there was always some danger. But this -- this was really bad. He sat down into the chair beside Pidge’s bed, trying to look her over more closely without making it clear that he was doing so. He didn’t want to make her bristly, but he suspected that she was a little more banged up than he fully knew. “How’re you doing, Pidge?” he asked, resting a hand on the bed near hers. … Her attention slowly returned to the world around her. While her head was fine, Pidge was forced (for the time being) to do without any of her laptops for some time. So it was harder to work on anything that mattered with only her mind. But imagined color coding helped, and it still required her to disengage and to firmly commit everything to memory. Which she did. So her body chose to remind her of each and every place she felt sore, the scratches which felt itchy, and the throbbing sensation still in her leg. Pleasant reminders. But if Shiro were back, then it was likely over. The ship was still together, and they had to have done well enough. He looked fine, exhausted but healthy. “Nothing here some rest can’t cure,” she minimally motioned to herself. That wasn’t the hard part. Pidge would heal. “It’s annoying to be in a bed,” Pidge said, “To be away from my computer more like.” The pods healed faster, but she’d have been unconscious. And the girl would rather be awake, to help Keith, than asleep. That problem was the easiest to focus on. Whatever was going on with the two countries outside the boat… they weren’t likely to listen to her anyway, so someone else could solve that problem. … Shiro wouldn’t have expected anything less in Pidge’s answer, and it prompted a small smile, even if it didn’t entirely reach his eyes. Of course she was bored and wanted her computer. He figured he’d sneak it into her later -- as long as it wasn’t going to interfere with anything she was healing from or hooked up to. “You did good today,” Shiro told her quietly. He didn’t know if she needed to hear it, but he thought he needed to say it. ... It felt difficult to feel that she had done that well given how much of a surprise the attack had been. Sure in the moment, out on the battlefield, they had done fine, they had fought well. One of their less lucky days, certainly. But not due to their behavior. No one had been hurt chasing Lotor into an ambush; even without him, they could have died of dehydration and/or starvation. But Allura had found them all and guided them out. This had simply been rough, hard. They had enough people to qualify as a rebel fighting force, if not a small army. But they were a multitude of small teams. So it had gone as well as could be hoped for. After all, only one person on their team had lost a limb. Could have been worse. Even if it was the second person overall. At this rate, they would all have prosthetics by age thirty. “Suppose,” Pidge agreed. It was hard, looking back, to see much improvement with what they had on hand. She had only heard bits and pieces of stories of the past, the dangers they had already faced. How did dying compare to this if everyone came back from it? “How’d you say this fits into your whole experience on this end of the portal?” Pidge asked. Shiro had more perspective than anyone else on Voltron. … “You did,” Shiro said quietly. Obviously Keith had come away with a very serious injury, but Pidge had reacted quickly and probably mitigated some of that damage. Her instincts had been on point, even if the results wasn’t what they would have all wished for. “I’m proud of you, Pidge,” Shiro said. He sat back a little, considering, when Pidge asked the question. There had been other difficult fights, he supposed, but he’d never lost like this during one of them before. But then, it seemed as if a lot of people had been badly injured. “About normal for weirdness,” Shiro said. “Above average for violence.” ... With a nod, Pidge accepted it. There hadn’t been anything she’d classify as a mistake. Just a sign they needed to practice as a team again. Not immediately. Standing was a pain, just then, and Keith had further to go. But no matter what the state of his arm, he would likely agree to it the quickest. There was always improvement. And they didn’t get as regular experience here (a blessing, honestly, for the most part). “I’m not sure what exactly we’re getting a tour of,” Pidge said, “If our timing - given all of time space and universes - was coincidental or purposeful. We need to be ready.” Even if she were not actively fighting the next time, if it came too soon. Even if she and Keith had to sit back and watch them fly off and fight, unable to be by their side, working together. Shiro had been forced to stay back, when he had first returned and Keith piloted the Black Lion. It wasn’t fun, but it was possible. Thinking to some of their more pressing times, such as when Zarkon was tracking them jump after jump, the hours even that they had had so far was already more of a break. It seemed - seemed - that they would have peace, now, at least until they left port. Outside of port, they would probably be okay until they came somewhere else. The whole ship phasing out of phase with the kraken showed the ship could survive external threats pretty damn well. Still, it was a decent break. … “There’s no chance at all that you’re going to take any time to rest while you’re in this bed, is there?” Shiro said, although it wasn’t without fondness. He knew Pidge, and he suspected that the bigger punishment for her was going to be being confined to the bed rather than having to heal. ... “Depends what you mean by rest,” Pidge shrugged, then stopped halfway through the shrug and forced her shoulders to relax slowly. A bruise on her side had made that not the wisest decision. Physically, the bruises would heal quick enough. Her leg was a slower matter. But sitting, staying in bed, given the lack of head injury, did nothing to slow down her mind. And just sitting there doing nothing? That sounded more like torture than rest. Besides, Keith had lost an arm. And even if he were woozy and out of it for days or weeks, Pidge still needed all the lead time she could to be able to build him an arm. Months of advance work, for Shiro’s sake, moved up the starting line. But the finish was farther away. “There’s always something to work on,” she said. Shiro’s arm. Keith’s arm. The portal. Her dad. … “That answer alone means, ‘no,’” Shiro answered dryly. He tracked the aborted motion of her arm, but he didn’t comment on it for the time being. It was just good to know where she was hurting the most so that he could make sure to watch to make sure that everything was healing and that his paladins weren’t pushing themselves when they weren’t supposed to. “There is always going to be something to work on,” Shiro answered seriously. “So try to focus a little on getting a suggested amount of sleep while you’re here, okay?” He thought about offering to sneak a laptop in for her, but, well, he suspected that was already in the works, honestly. ... It had been, well, it had to have been nearly two years now since Pidge had ever had a moment without something to work on. But she wasn’t going to have any more of them before she found her dad. Having other projects worth working on, saving the universe or building someone an arm, just meant there was more to life than her family, than finding her father. That didn’t negate it, but… with the exception of being unconscious, there were rather few ways to stop her. She remembered finding Matt’s grave. She remembered being too late. She couldn’t do that to her dad. Pidge sighed. “I’m not going to hurt myself worse, Shiro,” she said. Sleep wasn’t easy, it felt like stopping. But she tried. “That’d just slow me down longer.” … “I know,” Shiro said, definitely not wanting to make her feel worse. “Just humor me, okay?” Shiro said, trying to resort back to some levity. “Because I’m an ancient old man who has to worry about things like the amount of sleep everyone is getting.” He suspected they all knew well enough that he got the least amount of sleep in regard to anyone, but it was a lot easier to focus on the others. ... “Is that how you aged so quickly?” Pidge grinned. “Didn’t sleep long enough your hair turned white, and you got old?” He’d always been old in that sense of being so much older than her. But the white hair really added to the number. Her grin widened. “You’re trying to save us all from the same fate?” Man, just imagining them all with Shiro white streaks was too funny. … He didn’t even have words for how relieved he was to see that grin. “Yes, Pidge,” he answered very seriously, putting his best leader voice into play. He pointed to his forelock. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to pull this off? You have no idea the favor I’m doing you right now.” ... Then again, perhaps all of them with Shiro white streaks was up there for the best ways to prank Shiro. Pidge would have to think on that. “But you make it look so easy,” Pidge replied. She couldn’t keep the same level of serious in her voice. Even that was impressive on his part. She relaxed back against the pillows. “No going whiter while we rest,” Pidge declared. … “I know, but it’s a real chore,” Shiro answered. “And you might not be so lucky where your white streak shows up. You might get it in the back of your head like a little duck tail.” He had no idea how this was working, but she was back against the pillows and there wasn’t a furrowed line on her face, so Shiro decided to be incredibly grateful for having some luck at some point today. ... She sighed slowly. “If I dream I’m a duck, I’m blaming you,” Pidge concluded. She felt tired, more tired than she’d felt before Shiro came by. Probably because she hadn’t known everyone else was okay. Or something. … “I can take that responsibility,” Shiro agreed. He reached for one of her hands, half expecting her to slap it away. (Although, it might be one of the rare benefits of her not tinkering with something at the moment.) He hoped that she did feel a little bit better though, and that her dreams would be peaceful after the turbulence of the day. She deserved that. |