Chapter Text
It's cold.
The bed that I'm laying on, that is, not the air around me. Actually, it's quite warm in this room, this room with dim lights and a comfortable silence. The sheets, though, are absolutely frigid. It's kind of nice, though. The pillow is soft, squishing and molding to the weight of my head. Which, to be honest, feels like a bolder. It's heavy, a thundering pain rocketing through it when I try to raise it. So, I stay still. I turn my head slowly to take in the area. My mind is clear, and that's calming. I am able to see and to hear and understand. I can feel everything all at once, as though all of my senses are particularly precise right now. I can hear the soft snores of someone sitting in a plastic chair in the corner; I turn to see that it is Hunk. That alone sets me at ease.
I feel bad for what I've done to him, though. He's had to ease me through my fears and terrors before, but what occurred was so much more than anything that has happened previously. He does not deserve to have to deal with that; it's not fair and not right. He's so kind and caring, and I've never given back what he's given to me. I don't wake him. I don't know what time it is, or where exactly I am. I could easily ask Hunk, because he knows. But I won't, because I know better than to wake him and ask him pointless questions. It's not fair to him; nothing is. I know that he would never mind me waking him and asking him things, even if only for reassurance. But I still won't. I refuse to make myself seem weaker than I know I am.
Instead, I decide to get up, to leave, to walk around and get something done. I don't know why I do, but I sit up despite the raging headache that begs me to stop, to lay back down. I ignore it, standing on shaking legs and move to the door. When I reach the door after making my way to it with struggling stabilization, I open it slowly and quietly as not to wake Hunk, and close it the same way when I exit. I use the wall to support me as my legs feel heavy. It's hard to move them, dragging my socked feet against the ground. I don't know why my body feels as foreign as it does, but I can't get my eyes to look ahead or my arms to swing. I can't get my mouth to speak or my ears to hear. It's like I am gone, no longer one with myself. I am now two separate beings, divided by a sturdy, tall wall that I can not figure out how to cross.
I continue working my way down the hall, not really sure what my plan was to begin with. With all of this disorientation and confusion, what help would I be anywhere? I would be continuing to burden my team. I know that I need to stand back, stick to the defensive lines. I am used when needed, and only when needed. I know I need to drill this into my head an get it right so I can maybe, finally do something right. Maybe Shiro will finally be proud, looking at my with the same, gleeful face he looks at Keith with. Maybe Keith won't be so angry with me all the time, and we can finally start to bond as we are supposed to as paladins. Maybe Pidge will be more open and willing to listen, if I am able to make more of a contribution. Maybe Allura will see me in a better light, a light that allows my opinions and ideas to be heard. Maybe Hunk and Coran won't have to work as hard as they do, tiring themselves before the end of the day rears its head. I need to be a soldier, a flexible teammate. A mobile threat to the Galra, one that can engage in any situation. I need to be better, so that I do not burden my team like this again.
My plan now is to spend more waking hours than Keith on the training deck. I need to be there as much as possible, training and working to get better. I need to be able to fight with more than just my bayard. While it should seem feasible, my body refuses. I still feel weak, I still cannot get my legs to move. This, in itself, is more disappointing than I. This, in itself, cements into my mind just how powerless I am.
The very fact that I cannot make it down a hallway, this hallway dimly lit by blue lights that give off their subtle glow, is devastating. It makes me think, now, that my goals are too big, too wide. If I were fit to be a paladin, this would not be an issue. A burden is something I would not be. If I were fit to be a paladin, I would not be dragging myself to the training deck; I would not be so exhausted from something so simple and seemingly effortless.
I don’t want this. I don’t want to continue like this. Change needs to happen, altercations must be put in place. Voltron, as a whole, exists with many goals that must be fulfilled. Voltron is not a singular being, but five, and those five individual parts must be strong enough individually so that the group together can better complete the tasks given. As it is, that ideal has not been met. The weakest link is too weak. So, I must initiate personal change. I must alter myself for the better of the team.
And that? That I shall do without fail.