"... Red... please... I don't know what's changed... but I can still be your paladin..."

His hands clenched around the controls, trembling, begging the lion with everything he had to just work...

"... please."

He closed his eyes, fishing around for the connection they once shared but now... Now...

It seemed to have been severed.

"... Red... you don't understand... without you... I'm..."

Deep breaths... don't panic.

"I'm... useless..."

More deep breaths, hands tight but comfortable on the controls.

Clearing mind... thoughts only of Red... reconnecting...

But it wasn't working.

Lance leant back, staring at the darkness all around him.

At that moment... that very moment... he gave up. His conscious and subconscious decided that it was a fruitless waste of effort, and he had might as well get the depressive stage over and done with.

Although... it wouldn't be a stage. It would be until he found some way else to be a beneficial part of the rebellion.

And how would he do that? He wasn't good at anything else... but, thinking about it, could you even describe him as a good paladin?

He wasn't.

He had to accept that.

Keith was going to come back from the Blade to take Red back. When that happened, there's be no chance of getting back in.

Keith was ten times the pilot he was.

God damnit... He had always viewed Keith as his rival. At the garrison, during battle... and now... as Red Paladin.

He didn't want to leave Red's cockpit. If he did, he wouldn't ever come back in. Even if there was no Lion responding... it felt quite calm in there.

Keith... rival. Funny. Was he a rival if he won all there was to rival? Was he a rival if he was already above Lance?

No.

Not at all.

Red wasn't responding. The time to leave came close.

Lance fondly patted the controls, standing up and walking away, turning around and whispering a "please"... A last ditch attempt.

Unsurprisingly, there was no reaction.

Seventh Wheel. Seventh Wheel.

Six others, more important than him.

He left Red's mouth, walking slowly. Nobody had waited for him. Not a surprise. Today had been a disaster and it was all his fault.

Lance took the most indirect route to his room, but it made sure that he wouldn't run into anybody else, sparing himself the shame.

What a bloody failure. Seventh Wheel.

He locked the door. He threw his helmet to the side, and took off his paladin armour as fast as possible.

Useless. Useless.

He just, didn't understand.

What had changed? Red had always been quite loyal and well behaved. Why now? To smite him? A punishment?

Who knew. Not Lance.

He wished that someone would knock on his door and ask him how he was. He wished that somebody would care... give him support. He needed it. His friends, fellow humans in this war, Altean survivors...

But he had nobody now. It at least felt like it.

What a day.

What a perfectly soul-crushing day.