The battlefield burned with chaos. Blaster fire lit up the night, smoke rolled through the ruins, and the Galra advanced like a tide that refused to break. In the middle of it all, Pidge dropped to their knees beside you.
You lay sprawled on the broken ground, armor scorched and chest rising only in the faintest, shallow breaths. Blood seeped through the cracks in your suit, staining Pidge’s gloves as they pressed down, trying to hold you together.
“Stay with me, please,” Pidge whispered, voice trembling as the fight raged around them. Their visor flickered, green against the shadows, but it wasn’t from tech — it was the fury boiling behind their eyes. “You can’t— you can’t leave me like this.”
The Galra pressed closer, merciless, weapons ready to finish the job. Pidge felt their heart twist. The fear. The helplessness. The anger. Something inside them snapped.
The Battle Unleashed
Pidge rose slowly, shaking, their body sparking with light. Blue circuitry blazed across their armor like veins, feeding into the emerald core of their chestplate. Their eyes ignited, glowing neon green, bright enough to cast long shadows across the scorched earth.
“You hurt them,” Pidge growled, voice distorted with raw energy. “And for that… you’re done.”
The Galra opened fire.
But the bolts never touched them — they dissolved, sucked into the static storm radiating from Pidge’s body. With a roar, they thrust their hand forward, unleashing a wave of green energy that flattened the first wave of soldiers in an instant.
Another squad charged with blades. Pidge caught one strike in their bare hand, energy flaring until the weapon sizzled and shattered. They slammed the soldier into the dirt, sending cracks spiderwebbing outward. In the same motion, they spun, delivering a kick that knocked two more off their feet, their armor sparking and frying.
Every movement was fast, precise — a blur of light and fury.
A Galra mech lumbered forward, cannons glowing. Pidge sprinted straight for it, dodging plasma blasts that scorched the ground. They leapt high, eyes blazing, and slammed both fists into its chestplate. The mech imploded in a blinding explosion, scattering molten shards across the battlefield.
Silence followed. The last soldier stumbled back, dropping their weapon and fleeing into the dark. Pidge stood alone among the wreckage, chest heaving, body still glowing with unspent energy.
The storm had ended. For everyone but them.
The Aftermath
As the adrenaline drained, Pidge spun back toward you. The glow in their eyes softened, but panic surged in their chest. They dropped to their knees again, hands fumbling to stop the bleeding.
“Nonono, don’t you dare—” their voice cracked as they pressed harder, trying to anchor you. “I fought them off for you, do you hear me? You can’t— you don’t get to leave after everything.”
A tear slipped down their cheek, landing on your armor. They leaned closer, voice lowering into a soft, broken whisper.
“You’re supposed to be here. With me. Always.”
They pulled you into their arms, clutching you so tightly their whole body trembled. Sparks still flickered faintly across their suit, but Pidge didn’t care. All they felt was the fragile weight of you against them, the shallow rhythm of your breath, the terrifying possibility that each one could be your last.
“Please,” they whispered, forehead pressed against yours. “Don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”
The comms crackled faintly in the background — the other Paladins calling, voices laced with worry. But Pidge didn’t answer. The universe could wait.
Right now, nothing mattered but you.
And if the Galra dared return, they knew without question — they would burn the stars themselves before they let anyone touch you again.