Shiro remembers more than he lets on. Not a lot - most of his year in captivity is still a mystery to him. But enough has come back that he's begun to piece together some of what happened during that time. It's not a pretty picture. Shiro's nights are haunted by memories of screaming, mostly his but sometimes the screams belong to others. The dreams keep him awake as well, dreams where he can't tell if something is an imagination or a memory, dreams where he's doing things that he hopes didn't happen. It's amazing that Shiro gets any sleep at all, between the memories and dreams and the questions and fears about what really took place.
He can't let the others know. Shiro knows that the four young Paladins look to him for leadership and strength. No matter how much Shiro wishes he could leave the responsibility of leading this team behind, he knows he can't. Everyone he knows and loves is in danger from Zarkon, and Shiro cam fight to stop it. But he can't show the other four how much the last year gets to him. The Black Paladin is supposed to always be in control, but that's not Shiro right now. No, Shiro is constantly fighting to keep himself together so that he doesn't totally break down. He keeps his memories and fears and worries to himself, knowing that the other four need him to be strong. The team depends on him. The Universe depends on him.
Of course, the others can tell things bother him. They see it whenever something comes back to him. A smell in the medbay brings back a memory of being tied down and…worked on, or the sound of a laser firing makes Shiro remember another battle he was forced to fight. The Paladins are all perceptive and smart and they notice when he freezes up for a moment, but they're also just kids. Sure, they've been through more than most people will in a life time, but nothing can compare to the year Shiro spent and the memories that are always just at the edge of his mind.
Allura's always busy with something, and Shiro's not sure that he fully trusts her anyway, or that she'd understand. The Princess has been through a lot herself, but Shiro is still wary with her. There's more she knows than she's telling them, his instincts say.
Coran, however…it's after one of the many times that Shiro remembers something and momentary had to reassert himself in reality that Coran finally talks to him. It's not like they've never spoken before, but Shiro has never had a long conversation with the retainer. They're alone in the control room, the last ones out for the night. A beep from Coran's handheld in sync with the door closing made Shiro remember another moment strapped to a medical table. There are a lot of those, but this one is particularly painful. The connection where his biological arm meets the prosthetic aches along with the memory itself. Shiro takes a moment to collect himself when he senses that Coran has come to stand close beside him. The retainer places one hand on Shiro's back and says, unusually quiet for Coran, "You know, Shiro, that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."
Shiro looks up and meets Coran's eyes. For the first time, he realizes how hardened they are. Coran has fought in the war too, more directly than either the young Paladins or Allura. He's seen things he wished he hadn't seen and done things he wished he hasn't done. Just like in Shiro's broken memories. Shiro sees not just the strange mechanic/pilot/servant/chef that Coran normally is, but someone who might actually understand at least a little of what Shiro's going through, and someone who won't be compromised if they learn how close to breaking Shiro really is. The pilot-turned-escaped prisoner gives Coran a shaky smile before surprising them both by hugging him, tightly. Coran hesitantly returns the hug. It may not be how Alteans show gratitude, but it's how humans do. "Thank you, Coran," Shiro says, and he lets the first real tears flow since starting the role as the head and leader of Team Voltron.