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Shiro’s company was greatly appreciated on a night such as this.
Pidge had hit a roadblock on her research and had been on the verge of an angry mental breakdown. The ever-comforting presence of her team leader was somewhat of a pacifier to that. It gave her a chance to breathe, to look at the problem from a different angle. It was certainly a nice change from the frustrated circles she’d been winding herself in.
There was still one issue though: Pidge didn’t understand why Shiro had sought her out specifically. Keith would be more than willing to hang out with him, regardless of how exhausted from a Blade mission he was. Hunk would teach Shiro how to bake a few Altean delicacies, Lance would practically beg Shiro to teach him more hand-to-hand combat, the list went on. Hell, even Coran would fill the silence with meaningless chatter from stories of Altea.
So why Pidge?
When she’d voiced this question to him, Shiro merely shrugged and said he needed company and she was the nearest person.
“I haven’t been feeling like myself lately,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Am I bothering you?”
“No,” Pidge turned back to tangling a few wires together. They sparked in her hands. “Not at all.”
The silence that stretched between them was palpable. Pidge could taste the awkwardness of it on her tongue. She was never good with initiating or keeping up with conversations so why Shiro had thought she would be good company was beyond her. However, she tried to put it to the back of her mind and focus on the task at hand.
It was Shiro (unsurprisingly) who spoke first. “What are you working on?”
Pidge lifted her half-built sphere in her hand. “I’m not sure yet. The plan is that it’s gonna be like a Rover 2.0, but with…” she paused, trying to find the words. She failed. “More." Pidge rolled the sphere in her palm, staring down at the mess of wires and chips inside.
Shiro hummed but didn’t pursue the topic. Silence fell between them again. Pidge eyed him out of the corner of her eye. She could definitely tell Shiro felt off, but it wasn’t just him. Everyone had noticed something different, whether it was his mannerisms or his general attitude to the Voltron cause. He was irritable, snapping at everyone, even Keith. He was willing to do whatever it took to accomplish missions, even if that meant sacrificing hundreds of lives. Shiro was definitely different, but everyone (Pidge included) had chalked it up to him being jittery after a second round of imprisonment with the Galra.
Maybe they should have been more wary.
Pidge sighed under her breath, squinting into the sphere she held in her palm. “I can’t seem to figure this out…”
“Figure what out?” Shiro asked. He was moving closer to her - closer than what Pidge was comfortable with, but she didn’t say anything - to see her project over her shoulder.
“This,” Pidge said. “It should be powering on, but it’s not. Maybe I misconnected something…?” She kept mumbling, reaching across her table to grab a tool.
Then, there was a flash of pain. A shock of agony that rippled up her spine. She let out a quiet gasp, slumping forward over the table and throwing her hands out to brace herself. She whipped her head around to see a glowing purple arm and Shiro who looked oddly at peace.
It took Pidge a moment to see that her shirt was smoking.
Her arms gave out from underneath her as the realization of what Shiro had done hit her. She gasped breathlessly, trying to think over the sudden wave of agony.
“Sh-Shiro-” she gasped. She tried to find him, horrified and with an apology on his lips, but he wasn’t there. Instead, a cold gaze met hers, charcoal eyes unforgiving and dull. He felt no remorse. He’d done this on purpose.
This wasn’t Shiro.
This wasn’t-
Pidge scrambled backward. Her burned side flared with agony, dead skin flaking off as she dragged herself over the table. She had to warn the team, warn anyone about what was going on. The Shiro that they had rescued wasn’t the same one they had lost. That should have been obvious from the beginning.
Oh god oh god oh god-
“I’m sorry, Pidge,” Shiro - no that wasn’t Shiro - spoke and Pidge almost cried at the voice. It sounded so much like him, but it just couldn’t be. Shiro wouldn’t have hurt her.
The wound on her side was beginning to split open, blood slithering in between cracked and burnt skin. Blisters were already appearing.
“No, no,” Pidge gasped. “You’re not--not him you’re-!”
“I have my orders,” Shiro said. He stepped towards her as Pidge toppled off of her table, grabbing a wrench. She cursed her decision to leave her bayard as she let out a cry, her whole body crashing down on her injury. “I have to take down Voltron.”
“ No,” Pidge repeated. “You-where’s-” She could hardly form words over the overwhelming panic. Pidge prided herself in being one of the more level-headed Paladins, but this was too much. Shiro near gutting her with his arm in one swing was enough to make all logic and reasoning fly out of the window.
She was absolutely terrified.
“I’m sorry Pidge,” Not-Shiro said. He didn’t sound very apologetic.
Pidge threw her wrench. “ Get away from me!”
Not-Shiro ducked to dodge it. His arm was whirring softly. Pidge turned bodily to drag herself toward the door. If she could just get out she could run and warn the others. She had no idea how far she could run with her injury, but someone had to be awake, right? Surely someone had to-
Pidge choked on a sob as the second realization of the night hit her. Not-Shiro had done this on purpose. He had cornered her at a time when he knew the rest of the team would be asleep. That way, he could kill her without any interruptions.
“No, no, no,” she moaned, twisting away from Shiro. She reached out toward the wall to use as leverage to help herself up. She’d put up a better fight on her legs. She was almost to her knees when Not-Shiro kicked her over. She landed hard on her back, crying out in pain. Blood oozed from her burn. “Shiro no!”
He didn’t even react to the name screamed at him. It only served to confirm that whoever they’d saved from that Galra pod wasn’t their missing leader.
Not-Shiro’s boot landed firmly on Pidge’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her. He stood above her, his arm raised and his hand clenched into a fist. It was still glowing purple.
“I’m sorry Pidge,” he said again.
“No you’re not,” Pidge managed to spit out. She wrestled with his boot, trying to throw him off. Her size pulsed with agony, almost like it had a heartbeat. “Where...is Shiro?!”
Not-Shiro did not reply. He moved his arm back in a swing, preparing to gut her in just one strike. Pidge kept squirming. She was not going to die here, not to a face she knew and trusted so much. Not now, not now, please someone come help her-
The arm came down.
Pidge squeezed her eyes shut. No matter what, she knew that this was the end. She’d lose everything in this one night to an imposter wearing Shiro’s face. She couldn’t think of a more horrifying death even if she tried.
The arm came down. Pain exploded all up and down Pidge's stomach, her scream echoing throughout the castle. Pidge's vision began to darken at the edges.
Someone shouted her name.
“ Pidge!”