In which Keith is tired, Lance is in pain™, Pidge is a momma birb, Hunk is worried and Shiro is angsty

TW - a bit of strong language at the beginning of the Shiro section

Keith growled for what seemed like the hundredth time, tapping his foot as he looked over the information again and again and again. He leaned forward as if it would help him understand the words on the screen, ignoring the pain in his shoulder that just reminded him: it should have been him.

Hunk shot him a sympathetic look from across the room, one that Keith missed but Pidge did not. She sighed to herself, giving Hunk a little nod as she thought about how long Keith had been awake. Too long, she decided. Much too long.

"Keith, what are you doing?" the smallest paladin yawned, startling Keith as she spoke from directly behind him. He crossed his arms and stepped back from her computer, shrugging

"I'm trying to figure out where... I'm looking stuff over," he said, looking towards the ceiling to avoid Pidge's gaze. Despite this, he noticed the worried look she shot him, and she noticed the bittersweet smile he sent in return. She sat down and began to surf through the mission report, looking for anything that might clue them in to where the Galra had taken Lance.

"I know you're worried," she started, not looking at Keith. "We all are. But we'll find him. You know that, right?"

Keith only brought a hand to his shoulder and pressed on it, recalling how the druid had entered his lion, how one had entered all of their lions, how they had fought and almost won, until they realized Lance had been taken. He didn't want to think about where the blue paladin might be at the moment. He knew it was bad, it had to be, because Shiro had thrown himself into getting Lance back. The black paladin had gone three days without a single minute of sleep.

And for what? There was no sign of Lance. Anywhere.

Keith growled again, thinking of how he had done this before, twice with Shiro, and now the Galra had Lance, had his teammate, his friend, his...

His friend.

"Keith, please take a nap," Pidge said suddenly. "I can practically feel you trying to set Lotor on fire with your mind."

"Was that a reference to-"

"Just sleep, okay? When we figure out where he is, we'll need you. We can't afford you being as sleep deprived as Shiro was this morning."

"Fine," Keith said after a moment. Now that he thought about it, his eyes were rather droopy, his mouth waiting to open and let loose a yawn... "Only if you get some sleep too, though," he added. Pidge turned around to face him, giving him a confident smile.

"I promise," she said, meaning that she would get no sleep what so ever. Keith let himself smile, truly smile, for the first time in three days.

And then he took the worst nap ever.

°•°

Lance woke from the worst sleep of his life with tears in his eyes and light in his face. He groaned and stood up shakily, wondering what the Galra would do with him next. He really, really, really did not want to go back to interrogations, but he also didn't want to try the arena in his state, and he couldn't think of anything else that they might put him through.

That was when Hunk walked through the door.

"Lance," he hissed, "we need to go, fast."

"You're... You're here!" Lance said, almost jumping with joy.

"Why wouldn't I be here? That witch took my best friend, do you really think I would just let her keep her?" Lance's stomach dropped. So this is what the Galra would do. He should have seen it coming, really.

"Say that again, please?" he asked, just to be sure. He prayed to every god or goddess he'd ever heard of that Hunk had misspoken, or that he had misheard him.

"I said, I'm not letting that witch keep you," 'Hunk' said, his smile never faltering. Lance shook his head and sat down on the floor again, covering his eyes with his hands.

"I know you're not real. I know it, so you can leave now," he said, trying desperately to find the words to say. They floated around in his head like puzzle pieces that almost fit together but didn't quite. It would be hard enough in his pained state to focus on speaking without the heartbreaking realization that you were about to undergo extreme mental torture, so one can only imagine Lance's problem.

"Whatever you say. It's not like we need you anyway," 'Hunk' scoffed before running out the door. Lance watched him go, wondering how far the druids would go to get information from him before his team truly found him.

The answer came fast and painfully as 'Keith' ran into his cell, a smirk on his face and deceiving words on his tongue. Lance closed his eyes and prayed that his team would find him soon.

°•°

Shiro blamed himself. He totally, one hundred and fifty percent blamed himself for this whole goddamn mess. It was his fault and not one of his teammates could convince him otherwise.

"You couldn't have known who they'd take," Allura had reasoned, "so you had no way of knowing who to go to. It isn't your fault."

Liar. She was lying. He knew she resented him for letting Lance get taken, that he was like a little brother to her. He knew she hated him for not being a better paladin, a better leader.

He had picked favorites. Good leaders don't pick favorites. Good leaders help their whole team, help them grow as people, as warriors. Good leaders lead their teams to new, challenging levels of greatness that leave them with new skills and experience, knowledge and ability. Shiro had done this, yes, but not for his whole team.

He had picked favorites, and now Lance was with the fucking Galra. He was with Lotor and his druids, and that son of a bitch could do whatever he wanted to him for information, for fun, for the satisfaction of bringing Voltron down.

He had picked favorites.

Why had he done that?

Why, why, why had he done that?

Shiro took a deep breath. He didn't try to drive the thoughts away, instead just letting them sit and boil and claw at him, telling him a truth he'd seen coming for a long time. He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything but Lance, trapped in a dark, damp cell...

Lance, screaming in pain as the druids shocked him relentlessly.

Lance, curling up in terror as the druids fetched him for another session, another hour of horror and terror the likes of which nobody could even fathom on Earth.

Lance, alone and afraid and in pain because Shiro had picked favorites.

The computer beeped from behind him, and Pidge gasped excitedly, but all Shiro heard were his own thoughts, worries and fears, all coming to him like a flood of acid because he had picked favorites.

He should've picked Lance.