This too shall pass.
It's a mantra that Shiro holds close to his heart.
This goes for the dark times, and even the good. Because you never know how quickly life can change - how quickly all the things you took for granted yesterday can be gone tomorrow.
If you're lucky, you can grab onto the good and hold it tight. Savour it and treasure it every day.
If you're unlucky… then it's gone on the wings of cosmic dust and you'll never get it back again.
Shiro has been awake for almost twenty four hours straight; his body is still vibrating from the aftermath of the battle and frantic escape from Naxzela. There's a weird throb at the back of his head that the soft pale glow from the galaxy map behind him amplifies until needles of discomfort nip at him, slicing behind his eyes and tingling his fingers.
He leans heavily over the ship's control console and his arms tremble. He's drained, his heart hurts and his emotions are on overdrive trying to absorb the hurried report on the final stages of the battle and the rebels from Matt. What Matt tells him leaves him cold but even in this hyperaware state, Shiro realises now isn't the best time to confront Keith.
But god, he almost lost him.
Shiro feels like leaning over the side of the panel and vomiting. Except he can't remember the last time he ate anything substantial (no, the castle food goo doesn't count). The image of Matt's face that hovers on the wide holo screen above him is apologetic and slightly uncomfortable. He's sitting in the pilot's seat of a shuttle, rushing through space to reach the castleship. He wants to see with his own two eyes that his little sister is okay.
Shiro just wants his body to stop shaking and the bile to go back down.
"I… I didn't realise," Shiro says. Matt's lips turn down.
"We were desperate. He was desperate. If Lotor hadn't shown up-"
No. No, Shiro can't bear the thought.
"Thank you for telling me," Shiro finally manages to grind out. He squeezes his eyes shut against the images that replay in his mind on an insistent loop – a lone Galra fighter hurtling for the barrier, Keith clad in his Blade suit inside it and his hands gripping the controls as death opens its arms towards him.
It could have been a battle that destroyed Shiro's entire world even if they had won and vanquished the Galra Empire forever. He wonders weakly if there is another reality where Lotor was too late. Maybe there is another Shiro somewhere mourning, falling apart, cursing himself for all the things he never had the strength to give voice to because he didn't realise the lengths that Keith would go to ensure Voltron was victorious.
Shiro the hero, indeed. In this, he is a coward. He chokes on something that feels horribly like a sob but Matt's voice brings him back.
"Shiro? Shiro? Sir?"
Somehow that draws him out of the fog. He blinks and straightens himself up and then there's a slight twist of his lips. The adrenaline leaks out, and now he's just tired. So tired he feels like he's lived a hundred lifetimes. The kind of tired not even a week of sleep could fix.
"Haven't I told you not to call me that anymore," Shiro manages to say, forcing fake lightness into his voice. He's no stranger to it, this exhaustion. It takes him a few ticks but he shoves it down hard. He's not convinced Matt buys it, but then they're all a little ragged at the edges and willing to let things slide.
Shiro eventually ends the call and stumbles back, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath. Around the bridge, the screens are filled with the pinpoints of stars. He fills his lungs then releases it slowly, concentrating on his breathing in an attempt to collect himself. He does his best to ignore the throb in his temples as he tries to think of the next step.
Where can they go to now… can Lotor possibly be an ally? Or does he just want Voltron to himself?
Is Keith going to tell him how close he came to destroying everything?
Shiro rubs his forehead and gathers himself. Then he climbs to his feet and goes off to find the others.
He finds them in the rec area, each of them slumped heavily in various poses on the curved couch.
Hunk is snoring gently, Lance's head lolling on his shoulder on one side and Pidge pressed into his side on the other. Pidge looks exhausted, her glasses momentarily discarded and her eyes dark and flat. It makes something twist inside him. Even Lance, who shifts and sits up when Hunk sucks in a particularly loud snore and comes half awake, turning tired eyes towards Shiro then flopping his head onto his pulled up knees as he rolls sideways to give Hunk more space.
On the other side of the room, Allura is slumped in her seat, her head in her hands as Coran pats her shoulder tiredly.
They all look so fatigued and the weariness strips all the masks away. They're young, too young to be shouldering this kind of responsibility. The weight of the fucking universe on their shoulders.
Pidge should be studying, Lance terrorising girls with his bad pick-up lines and making them laugh, Hunk exploring cuisines from all over the planet in the orbit of his loving family. Allura and Coran shouldn't be the only Altean's left in the galaxy.
And Keith, the hood of his Marmora battle suit brushing his dark hair as it lays against his shoulders. He looks up and meets Shiro's eyes and Shiro needs to draw in a breath at what he sees there.
He remembers the call with Matt. What Keith had tried to do.
And abruptly- he's angry. Something frays inside him, something he's been desperate to keep together since the day the shuttle launched from Earth finally goes taut and snaps. He's had enough. He's had enough of trying to contain the one thing that's keeping him alive.
His emotions must have shown on his face because Keith suddenly materialises beside him. Keith's dark brows are furrowed and his voice is low and rough. "Shiro?"
Shiro sucks in a deep breath and turns to face him. Keith stares up at him with those dark indigo eyes. Shiro can see how worn-out he is. There are dark rings under his eyes to rival the others. They're all exhausted and they're all hurting.
It could have been worse, Shiro thinks as he drinks him in. Keith could be nothing but stardust right now.
Shiro battles the urge to vomit once again.
"Keith," his voice cracks as he tries to speak and then Keith shifts to stand in front of him. His lean frame is positioned as though he can block Shiro from the view of the rest of the group. It's a chance for Shiro to pull himself together before he faces the rest of the team, so they don't see how broken he is, how much he feels that he's failed them. Keith shifts closer. Shiro is pathetically grateful and then his heart cracks. He's so tired. So tired of trying to fight it.
Without any conscious thought, he finds himself reaching for Keith, curling around him and drawing the smaller man to his chest. It's not a chaste hug, it's Shiro clinging to Keith and turning his face into Keith's dark hair to muffle a rough inhalation of breath that he refuses to believe is a sob.
At first, Keith is stiff, taken by surprise. It's barely a heartbeat before he melts and folds himself around Shiro's body. Keith runs his hands up the back of Shiro's vest soothingly and murmurs something Shiro can't quite make out. Shiro gips him a little bit tighter and the pain in his temples flares briefly. There's a war of sensations rolling over his shoulders, his head. He almost staggers but Keith is holding him rigid.
He's not aware of how much time passes. His eyes drift close and Allura's voice eventually comes to him like something out of a fog. He can hear the words but he can't make sense of them and for a few beats, he actually starts to wonder if his translator is malfunctioning. Keith shifts to shoulder some of his weight and he remembers he's almost twice Keith's size so he summons up the last vestiges of strength to straighten himself up. The fog clears and Allura's voice becomes clear.
"-exhausted to make any sense. We should rest."
Shiro knows she's right. Honestly, he should have sent them all off to rest the moment they reconnected with Coran and the castleship but his mind had already jumped too many steps ahead, already thinking about what the recent events would mean for the team, for the coalition. The losses they suffered to achieve what they had.
He draws in a breath and steels himself, drawing on the energy that Keith seems to be lending him, his arm heavy and slightly possessive around Shiro's waist. Shiro can feel Keith's eyes trained on him but he doesn't dare meet Keith's gaze. If he does, he might just fall apart. He's not ready to fall apart yet. Not here. Not in front of the other paladins.
There's a light rumble at the back of his mind and it takes him a moment to recognise it as Black. It's muted, a little staticky (as it has been since she accepted him back) but he takes it as encouragement.
He steps back from Keith, sucks in a deep breath and pulls his leadership mantle back on.
Even though all he really wants to do is fall apart.
