#nadia mcclain

silvio, rambling about keith’s next visit: -and he can bring kosmo again and kosmo can take us all the was to china and then we can-

lance, amused: i don’t think kosmo can teleport that far

nadia: tio?

lance: hm?

nadia: why does keith call you babygirl?

lance:

lance:

Day 8: Anxiety

CW: Nadia has a small anxiety attack. Nothing major, but wanted to give the warning / heads up in case readers may want to skip today's prompt.

Ao3: [X]

𝜗ৎ

It’s the first time Lance has ever seen his niece this quiet.

Nadia stands in the wings of the stage, her tiny pink slippers motionless on the polished wooden floor, the satin ribbons around her ankles trembling with the force of her shallow breaths. She's nine years old (ten in a week), all limbs and wide brown eyes, her thinner pigtails pulled back into a tight bun that somehow made her look even smaller in stature.

The other girls whisper excitedly, adjusting their tutus, the soft rustle of tulle brushing over the murmurs of the growing audience, including her parents—his brother Luis and his sister-in-law Lisa—and her beyond proud older brother Silvio, all in their seats beyond the curtain. 

But Nadia just stands there, hands clenched, shoulders high and stiff, soothing herself with her thumbs against her index fingers.

Lance crouches beside her, his tone soft, almost joking in tone.

“Stage fright, Nadia? You definitely did not get that from me. Must be from your silly dad, huh?”

She didn’t laugh. Her throat bobs as she swallows, breathing shallow, her voice barely a whisper above the noise.

“Uncle Lance… I c-can’t breathe.”

His smile vanishes.

He knows what this is—heck, he felt this before many times over the course of the war. 

In the cockpit of Red Lion, in the Garrison days, in the silence of his bed after the war was over and the galaxy was safe but his chest still felt like it was caving in. 

Cradled in the arms of his space ranger partner, heaving breaths against soothing sounds and comforting words. 

Lance…? Hey, hey, it’s okay, hang on. 

God, I-I’m so sorry.

No, no, you’re fine, you’re okay. Lance, breathe with me. 

Anxiety. 

Fear. 

The body was convinced that something terrible was about to happen even when everything was fine. 

The war was tough on Nadia and Silvio. They were only kids, adapting quickly to the circumstances beyond their control. While they do go to therapy every month, the after effects of the war tends to catch up to them. It wasn’t that long ago either, nor was it kind to either of them; two children living through the rubble of some intergalactic war they never asked for. 

He thinks this might be one of those times.

“Okay,” he said, voice steady but low. He knelt fully down now, so they were eye to eye, glistening tears to firm blues. 

“Okay. Look at me, Nadia. Just me. Forget the lights, forget the people, forget it all. It’s just me and you.”

She blinks, her lips parting, struggling to breathe as if she was still trying to catch the words stuck in her throat like toffee.

“I c-can’t—my h-heart, it's—”

“It’s beating fast, right?” he gently says, taking her little hands and unclenching each small fist with love and care.

“But it’s just doing its job. It thinks you’re in danger, so it’s revving up like a fighter jet. But you know what your Uncle is an expert in?”

“W-What?”

“Threading the needle,” he says with soft confidence, a breath of a whisper just for her little ears to hear. His smile curves into the smallest of smirks, the smallest of cat smiles. One that says, we got this in the bag, my love. “So, we’re gonna nail the landing together. Okay?”

She nodded, eyes brimming; wavering.

“You trust me, right?” He nudges.

“Y-yeah.” She nods.

“Good. Then follow my lead.” 

He breathes in deeply, cheeks puffed and over-exaggerated; a breath he used to take when Shiro was about to tell him off for instigating an argument with Keith in their lions mid-battle.

He holds it. Then slowly lets it out.

“Try it, okay?” Lance prods. “Just one.”

She copies him, shaky at first, but she does it.

Then they do another. And then another. And then one more. 

He puts a hand on her heart and feels the quick pace of her heartbeats steadily slow in rhythm to their breaths.

And then, her chest slows down; stops fluttering around like a trapped bird in a locked cage. 

He gives her another minute to think, to conquer the white noise echoing in her bright mind. She’s so, so good, and he feels an inkling of sadness knowing anxiety caught her for a hot minute. 

She’s way too young to feel this way, he thinks underneath the mask of a smile on his face.

Way too young. 

When he dares to speak again, his voice is warm like sunlight. 

“Nads, do you remember that night we watched the stars from the roof with Silvio? You told me the sky made you feel small, but in a good way. You said it was like being part of something big and beautiful.”

Nadia nods again, slower this time; coming back to him one breath at a time.

“Well, that’s what this is too. Dancing. Performing. It’s not about being perfect or doing every pirouette right. It’s about showing people your heart. And your heart, Nadia? It’s mighty big, enough to fit a whole galaxy of people in there.”

Her smile was small, fragile, faint... but thankfully, still there.

“You don’t have to be fearless,” Lance whispers, brushing a stray baby hair back against her perfectly still, slicked back hair and tucks it underneath a pocket within her hair. “You just have to be brave. And you most certainly are, mi vida.”

The stagehand gives the signal.

Her ballet group is up.

Lance stands and pulls her up gently with his hand. She trembles, almost tripping in the process, but she doesn’t trip. 

See? A star in the making. 

“Go show them the stars, prima ballerina.” He beams in her direction with a wide smile filled with affection and pride. “I love you, okay? You got this.”

Nadia looks to her Uncle before she fiercely, boldly hugs him tight. She then steps out into the light, chest still rising and falling, and yet, no longer trembling. 

In fact, she bears a soft smile brimming with surefire confidence.

And as the music begins for Swan Lake, and as her body moves in time to the chords, Lance watches quietly from the sidelines, the slight ache in his heart replaced by the profound feeling of pride.

She charts a map of stars to the audience with every plié, every kick, and every twist and turn of her young body.

He wipes away a stray tear as he watches her perform. To him, there’s a symbol of hope in the aftermath.

And it looks like his little navigator of a niece, dancing away on stage as she heals in the afterglow. 

His starlit niece.