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The universe always had a funny way of somehow completely fucking over everything Pidge ever wanted. When Matt and her father had left for Kerberos, she had wished to go into space to find momentous scientific discoveries too. Only a year or so later it happened—but it’d been at the price of becoming a key soldier in an ancient, intergalactic space war. She wished for a place in Voltron, for them to become a real family, too—and they had until Lance and Shiro each died at least once and Keith left the team for nearly a year. Until the castleship that they had come to think of as home had to be sacrificed to save the universe.
And the most regrettable of them all, Pidge wanted Allura. Allura, with her confident voice and fierce loyalty, with her soft platinum hair and sparkling eyes. The baffling soft looks she would sometimes give Pidge and the underlying dorkiness despite her regal front, Pidge had no idea what to do with them.
There was no question as to why Pidge had fallen for her—why Lance had as well. Allura had a bright, magnetic pull to her, some sort of force that made Pidge want to take the princess into her arms and never let go, to kiss her soft lips and make her smile. There were bigger things to worry about, of course, Zarkon and Haggar and all of the other painfully inconvenient things that came their way—there was no time for Pidge to dwell on a completely ridiculous, hopeless crush on her teammate. And still, every time Allura so much as looked in her direction, Pidge couldn’t help how her chest tightened with love or how her pulse seemed to speed up faster than logically possible.
No one else noticed of course, not when Lance’s own crush on her was even more obvious. Even with Shiro, Shiro who had been openly queer at the Garrison from before Pidge had even enrolled the first time, she was not sure how the team might react to her liking Allura in that way. And so she remained quiet. Did not act on it. Looked away whenever Allura directed that smile at her, told herself that it meant nothing that Allura had picked her during Garfle Warfle Snick, sacrificed her game so Allura could get that dress. The dress that she bought specifically to wear on a date with Lance.
Pidge was happy for them, she really was. Lance was happier than she’d seen him in a long time—perhaps the happiest she’d seen him in the entire time that they had known each other. She couldn’t let herself be bitter, couldn’t let her thoughts stray to what it might be if that were her there instead who was holding Allura’s hands in her own and pressing a small kiss to her cheek before they went into battle. They were happy together, Lance and Allura were meant to be.
Pidge and Allura, however, were not.
And still there was a small, stupid, stupid part of her brain that still paid sharp attention to Allura. Touches of encouragement and small, secret smiles that sent jolts of electricity through her veins. Wild, adrenaline fueled grins and battle cries that made Pidge’s heart jump into her throat. So many small, innocent gestures, the affectionate behavior of someone who considered her a teammate and nothing more—gestures Pidge’s stupid, hopeful heart somehow thought that she could have a chance.
She was setting herself up for tears. It had been clear from the beginning, there was always going to be someone—some guy—who was going to be with her. It was always Lance, or Lotor, or anyone else. Pidge was not even on the list of consideration. And still, she couldn’t help it.
The ugly thought remained the longer that she had to watch Allura and Lance’s relationship blossom. She wished that they had never gotten together. But whenever it surfaced—when they returned from the Clear Day carnival and Pidge had given her the helmet but Allura grinned wider when Lance presented the cheap, mass-produced plush Blue Lion—Pidge shoved it as far down as she could. Having Allura just being here, within the same ship was enough. Wasn’t it?
Keith had found her one night aboard the Atlas, sitting atop the kitchen counter with a small dish of some casserole looking dish that Hunk had put into the kitchen pantry, her eyes red rimmed and cheeks damp from recent tear tracks. He’d looked almost as surprised to see her there as Pidge was to see him.
She was not entirely correct—when she said that no one noticed her crush on Allura, that is. Keith knew, how could he not? Every time the team was all together in one room, she could see her own look of helpless longing reflected on Keith’s face as he glanced not too subtly at the red paladin. It took a ridiculous, pining gay to know one, Pidge figured.
Keith had not said anything and silently climbed onto the counter as well, letting out a sigh. They sat together in silence for a long, comfortable minute.
Pidge was not sure who began crying first, but soon enough they were both sniffling messes, foreheads pressed into each other’s shoulder. It was nice, being curled into Keith’s solid, sympathetic embrace despite his own shaking. It reminded her of Matt.
“It’s not fair,” Pidge had choked out to him. “Goddammit—it’s so stupid . I should be happy for them, not—not this.” Keith said nothing, but he nodded, saying nothing as Pidge’s tears began seeping into his jacket. For the rest of the night they stayed there, both sulking and offering each other a sort of sympathy by staying, though neither brought it up again the next morning. They just exchanged a small look as Allura and Lance strolled in, hands intertwined, before returning to their respective breakfasts. The quiet understanding remained, though.
Many weeks later, Pidge found herself lined up with her fellow paladins as Allura stood in front of them with a noble, bittersweet smile. A little ways behind her were the original paladins. They were in front of a bright, glowing light, making them almost silhouette-like.
There was a twisting pain of wrongness as she said her goodbyes to each of them, her smile sad but eyes determined. When Allura was before Pidge, the green paladin could hardly meet the other’s eyes. The instant they did, though, it felt as if she was going to break down sobbing again right there. Pidge clenched her fists tightly, trying her best to take in Allura’s words. And still she barely caught them, choked out some response in the steadiest voice that she could manage, and watched as Allura moved on to Shiro.
Pidge was finally processing that she was really doing this. They were never to see Allura ever again. It felt as if she were underwater. It was suffocating, but at the same time she only felt numb. Pidge wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for it or not.
On her left, Hunk looked pale as well, it must’ve only been really sinking in for him as well. She picked up small bits of what Allura said to Shiro and Keith, but when she got to Lance, Pidge dropped her gaze to the ground.
She tried her best not to listen in on what they were saying—it was a far too intimate moment for the rest of the team to be hearing, and it would just make Pidge feel even worse if she listened to their last ‘I love you’s, Lance’s pleading for her not to leave and Allura’s stubborn but assuring words. When the two leaned forward for a kiss, Pidge caught Keith’s eye in her peripheral as they both turned away.
She barely even processed when Lance was suddenly brandishing two aquamarine arrows on each cheekbone—the thought of how and what the effects they might have on the rest of his body or his lifespan, if he’d inherited their shapeshifting or pointed ears, none of the questions even flickered through her mind, because then in an instant, Allura and the other original paladins were gone.
Pidge did not speak for the rest of the day.
And a year later when Lance came into her and Matt’s workshop with a large bouquet of juniberry flowers, her breath caught once again. Lance’s way of coping with it had been to be around the Altean plant as often as he could. Pidge’s was to avoid them at all costs. Every time that she saw a juniberry she felt her chest convulse, the image of a beautiful Altean girl with platinum hair and a wide smile and a juniberry blossom tucked loosely behind her ear stuck in her mind. The reminder that Allura was completely gone .
It was only a moment later that Pidge remembered to breathe again and realized why her former teammate was here. Once again her heart skipped a beat. How had she forgotten? It was the day set on Altea for Allura—for her help in bringing peace to the universe and the sacrifice that she made to save it. Already, a year had passed.
“Hey, guys!” Lance greeted, smiling.
It was not quite as bright as it used to be—the grin that he got after telling an extra terrible joke that was enough to make Keith crack a smile or Allura had said anything to him, that one was lost forever—but still, it was progress. Pidge had covered how deep her grief truly ran after they returned to Earth, only letting her fellow paladins see a mourning teammate—only Keith and Matt knew that beneath it also lied a girl who was in love.
Matt nodded to Lance in acknowledgment, scribbling down another note on his clipboard as he studied the robot in front of them. It was a project that was as much a distraction for Pidge as it was a fun project to reconnect fully with her brother, and it had been going well for both—that is, up to now.
“You guys still working on that robot thing? Chip?”
“Yep,” Pidge said, hoping her voice sounded normal. “We’ve just got a few things left but then he should be finished.”
Lance nodded. “Sweet. You ready to go?”
Pidge glanced at Matt, then to the juniberries and finally to Chip. “Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute, I’ve got to do something.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Lance said, setting the flowers in an empty coffee jar at the end of the work table that the Holts had been using for nuts and bolts. “I’ll wait for you in the pod.”
Pidge stared at the flowers. “Yeah, sure thing.” She heard Matt mutter something to Lance as they shuffled out, and once the door was shut, Pidge strode over to the bouquet, pulling one from the jar. For a long moment, she only stared at it, knuckles bone white. When the first tears began to fall, though, Pidge stood abruptly.
She took in a deep breath and wiped aggressively at her eyes with a clean cloth sitting on the table. It was obvious she was not over what had happened—was not over Allura —even after a year, but today she would not cry. She would go honor her friend and teammate with the rest of their family, she would be happy and remember Allura for all the good things that she had done, the good things that she had brought them and the rest of the universe.
Finally, Pidge stepped out of the workshop and towards the shuttle, jaw clenched. From the pilot’s seat Lance smiled again, unaware of Pidge’s current inner turmoil over his dead girlfriend. She snorted. Wouldn’t that have been an interesting thing to reveal to him some time in the far future.
They were silent during the short trip, both former paladins seemingly lost in their thoughts. Undoubtedly of Allura.
The shuttle smoothly landed on the soft grass of Altea and the ramp dropped down. When Pidge and Lance stepped out they were greeted by Coran, Hunk, Romelle, and Shay. They all wore the same sad but prideful smile that Lance had, several juniberry flowers in each of their hands. Behind them across the courtyard stood the monument—carved into the Voltron sized marble, Allura stood gallantly as she stared over the horizon. Not for the first time today Pidge felt a sharp pain to her chest as she stared up at it.
As the group started towards the statue Keith fell into step with her. She raised an eyebrow. They were almost the same height now but Keith’s legs were still longer and she’d have expected him to be closer to the front with Lance and Coran.
“Hi,” Keith said awkwardly.
“Hey.”
They slowed, letting Shay and Romelle pass in front of them before Keith continued. “Uh, how are you with all this? I know you don’t really like… the reminder. With the juniberries and all.”
Pidge shrugged, though she was grateful for her friend’s concern. “Lance kinda waltzed in with a whole ass bouquet of them but whatever I guess. Can’t ever really expect anything less.”
Keith snorted. “Yeah, sounds like him. Guess some things never change.”
“Hey, what about you, though—are you okay?” Pidge asked then, noting the way that Keith’s eyes drifted to Lance with a fond smile before tearing back to the ground quickly. Interesting.
Face blank, Keith shrugged. “Yeah, things are going pretty good with the Galra. We’re helping a lot of people and all that. Probably not cool as your weird AI thing though.”
Pidge rolled her eyes, giving her friend a pointed look. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, answer the question, Keith.”
Finally, Keith sighed. “Okay, fine. Not that great. I think—I think I might still… you know. I shouldn’t but especially given today’s circumstances I just… it isn’t really a good time.”
“Do you ever plan to tell him?”
“I dunno. Maybe? If I do it won’t be for a long while but maybe. I don’t think this is going away anytime soon,” Keith admitted. He kicked at a stone as they approached the pavement before Allura’s statue and the group fell silent.
Lance knelt down at the base of the statue, placing a newly acquired bouquet where Allura’s feet were carved. He muttered something that Pidge couldn’t hear, but she saw a tear slip from his eye which he quickly swept away.
Next was Coran, who despite his bright grin looked weary and grief filled. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye before Allura was gone, Pidge realized. She looked away. As Lance rejoined the group Pidge caught Keith glancing at him anxiously and elbowed him lightly in the side. Without even saying anything, she could tell that Keith knew exactly what she was implying for him to do.
Go, talk to him, she silently pleaded. Reluctantly Keith nodded and slowly made his way over to Lance and the two immediately engaged in a hushed conversation. Pidge smiled weakly. Perhaps one day they would have a chance. But for her, meanwhile…
Pidge’s gaze turned back to the statue and she felt a new wave of tears trying to push through, but she kept them back. It was also her turn to go up now, Pidge realized with a small burst of panic.
Romelle came up to her then, holding out an extra bouquet that Pidge hadn’t seen her carrying before. With a shaking hand, Pidge took the flowers and nodded gratefully. “Thank—thank you,” she stuttered out.
Pidge strode up to the statue, too aware of her friends’ eyes on her back as she knelt by an empty spot at the base. As she set down the flowers, they seemed too bright against the drab gray of the marble. The first of her tears leaked out and Pidge cursed softly.
She did not say anything aloud, but there was no need to. It was like when she had come across Matt’s grave on that abandoned planet full of markers signifying the death of a rebel fighter. There was a gaping hole now, a monstrous thing eating her away until all that remained was grief—grief the loss of a teammate, of a friend, of the girl whom she had loved.
She had done nothing for her, not really, like how Lance and Hunk and Shiro and Keith had. She was just Pidge. The girl who could hack into alien tech but couldn’t solve the mystery of satisfying her own heart. Allura had never known. If she did, she probably wouldn’t have wanted to. Pidge had never been in the running, she was not Allura’s. That was for Lance and Lotor alone, Pidge had no business grieving her like this.
And still, as she knelt before Allura’s statue, she did. She let the rest of her tears fall onto the marble, onto the petals of the juniberry flowers. What would it matter anyway?
Pidge let out a small, bitter laugh. Yes, the universe truly did have a way for twisting things. Lance and Allura were no longer together—but only because Allura had died , and Lance seemed to have no intentions on ever moving forward from it.
She would have to get over it, she and Lance both if they truly wanted to be content living in this post-Voltron sans-Allura future. But as Pidge wiped the tears away with her grimy sleeve, she wondered almost distractedly—what if she didn’t want to?