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pidge has a feeling. a dark, twisting feeling deep in her gut that she doesn’t want to recognise, let alone confront. she is sure of this feeling, and she hates it.
she has never been more certain of anything in her life.
this is not her shiro.
pidge realises when he looks at her, and his eyes are too hard and steely and creased in a permanent frown. she doesn’t know who or what he is. physically, he may look the same as the real shiro, but he is an emotional stranger.
pidge isn’t sure what to do. her fellow paladins would never believe her; they’d assume she was joking or crazy. she isn’t sure which one is worse. either way, she is alone here, wishing she didn’t know what she knew. it is the first time pidge hates her intelligence.
she decides to confront him. alone, just the two of them. before leaving her room to find him she winces and slips her bayard into the waistband of her trousers, where it pokes into her back under her baggy hoodie. she hates how careful she has to be, because what if he’s dangerous? that’s the last word she would associate with shiro, but as she sternly reminds herself, this is not shiro.
she finds him on the bridge, staring aimlessly at the stars with such a shiro-like expression it makes her heart physically ache. pidge considers turning back, pretending she doesn’t know and hoping the others figure it out, but she already knows she can’t do that. it would be wrong. wouldn’t it?
shiro - or not shiro, more accurately - acknowledges her presence with a nod, but doesn’t break the tense silence to speak. it is left to pidge to take charge here, and she hates it. she wants more than anything to be that introverted but curious 14 year old that watched her shiro fly away in a space ship with her brother and father. but she can’t turn back time. it’s too late to save them.
“shiro,” pidge begins hesitantly, standing beside him but leaving a significant distance between them. she doesn’t look at him, instead stares out at the universe.
“you know.” the starkness of his words shocks her, and the words she had rehearsed die in her throat. she had not planned for this. the edge of her bayard digs in, a painful reminder.
“what?” she asks, pretending she is innocent when they both know that isn’t true. the not shiro sighs heavily like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and glances down at her before purposefully looking away.
“you know i’m not him. you figured it out, somehow. you know.” he repeats the accusation and it burns its way into pidge’s brain, searing and fiery hot. she thinks of a hundred possible answers, but none of them feel right. she is lost here.
“yes.” pidge whispers, in a voice that’s more of a single breath. “yes, i know. you’re not-“
there is a pregnant pause as she stumbles, struggling to know what to say next.
“you’re not shiro. the real one. you’re someone else.”
“i am.” to her surprise, he agrees. she allows herself to look at him and blinks. he is staring straight ahead, but there is a vein in his forehead twitching, like all he wants to do it look at her back. that twitching vein gives pidge the urge to push ahead.
“who are you?” now she is the one with the accusatory tone, and pidge must resist to point a blaming finger at the not shiro.
“i don’t know.” is the solemn reply, followed by a shaky exhale. pidge isn’t sure what reply she was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. a small flame, no bigger than a candle light, sparks inside her.
“you don’t know? how- how can you not know?”
the not shiro doesn’t reply. the fire inside her grows.
“i could tell everyone, you know. keith, lance, allura, hunk, coran; i could expose you to all of them in a matter of seconds. i could do it right now.”
“but you won’t.” he finally breaks his gaze into space to look at her, his grey eyes storming and bold. he is taunting, daring her to tell them the truth. they both know how that would end. but at the very least, pidge can pretend otherwise.
“and why’s that?”
“because you’re in love with me.”
it comes like a punch to the gut, leaving her chest tight and winded. his eyes bore into her, his expression dull and unreadable. it takes her twenty seconds until she is able to speak, and even then, the wildfire blazes and roars deep inside.
“i’m not in love with you. i’m- i’m in love with him, and you... you’re not him.” at her words, they both turn to stare out the window, pidge wondering where he is, and the not shiro wondering how to make sure he never returns.
“aren’t i close enough, katie? can’t i be him, if i try?”
the fire inside her is a volcano, on the precipice of eruption.
“you don’t get to call me that. only he calls me that.” her voice echoes his cold, hard tone, and it scares her nearly as much as it thrills her.
“don’t you see?” the not shiro’s voice rises an octave, shrill with barely repressed anger. “him and i, we’re the same. i am shiro. you love me-“
pidge punches him in the gut. hard.
it makes her knuckles redden and sing, but he doesn’t even make a sound. he is a robot. so she pulls out and powers up her bayard and moves to strike again, the cracking of electricity music to her ears. this time he meets her halfway, his prosthetic arm easily deflecting the blow. the metal carries the current and they both feel its powerful shock: pidge winces and quickly retreats. he does not move.
again she rushes in, aiming hit after hit at his stomach, arm, head - anywhere she can reach. he keeps up with her without even breaking a sweat, making her dance circles around him while he stands, unmoving. at some point, tears blur her vision - pidge is angry and frustrated and hurting and worst of all, she misses him. her shiro. she misses his laugh and gentle smile and the way his eyebrows furrow in thought and the way he is built like an oak tree she can climb, and the way he presses his lips to hers ever so softly, like she is glass that he will break.
the not shiro lashes out, and pidge shatters. she doesn’t remember falling, only remembers her back painfully hitting the ground, and feeling an ugly bruise begin to blossom over her ribs. he towers over her, metal fist clenched, but does not move to attack. why? why not just kill her? she knows the truth; she could ruin whatever elaborate secret plan he has to infiltrate and destroy voltron from the inside out. so what’s stopping him?
“what’s stopping you?” she asks him, and it comes out sounding like a schoolyard taunt. the not shiro drops to the floor, one knee either side of her rib cage. trapping her.
“i am shiro.” he repeats, and this time there might be some distant emotion in his words. “i am him. you love me.” each word feels like pidge is being stabbed.
“you’re not him. you’re- you’re evil.” she tries to argue, but it comes out so weak that it makes the not shiro laugh. it hurts that his laugh sounds so similar to the real thing.
“come on, katie. i look like him. i sound like him. i have all his memories. you can have me. no one else needs to know.” he reaches down, scarily gentle, and tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her reddening ear.
pidge knows she’s being manipulated, knows she should fight back, but she can’t bring herself to move. she can’t bring herself to hurt him, not when the look in his eyes is so almost perfect, and she could overlook those imperfections, if she tries. pidge thinks she wants to try.
“don’t call me katie.” she feebly shoots back, making shiro grin and shake his head. his toothy smile isn’t quite right, a bit too sharp and malicious, but that’s okay. she closes her eyes and it’s practically the same. it’s the same. he is the same. this is her shiro.
she resolves to tell the others soon, but her resolve melts into oblivion with his breath on her ear. as shiro leans down and their lips meet, pidge convinces herself she can’t tell the difference, that the feeling in her gut is just a feeling, nothing more.