Imprisonment chips away at Shiro, bit by bit, just waiting for him to crumble.
The prison has teeth, and claws, and they scrape, scratch, hold him down, tear him apart. Get out, get out, get out, he repeats to himself, before there's nothing left. He breaks free of its chokehold grip, and he runs.
He runs and runs and runs and runs, but it's not enough, it's never enough. His captors chase him through corridors, around corners, round and round again. They find him. He breaks free. They find him. He breaks free. They find him. He breaks free…
He tries to get home, tries to follow his family, but he can't catch up. Lost in space, his body shuts down. But it doesn't matter; he's not real anyway. He's just a shadow, and a ghost.
The Black Lion saves him, and doesn't. It swallows him up, and then spits him back out. Shiro's unworthy, doesn't deserve this. Not after all he's done, all he's seen. He's nothing but a broken soldier.
The Galra taunts him from behind glass. A vicious smile spreads across his scarred face; his weaponized arm is ready to slaughter. It's nothing but a reflection.
He's trapped in the glass pod, and he's drowning. Pink liquid fills his nose, mouth, throat, lungs, until he can't—
Breathe. He gasps for air. Too fast, not enough. He's strapped down, metal at his back; a saw overhead whirs and comes to life. They take his arm—it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—and they keep going. They unmake him, breaking down skin and muscle and bone; they pull his organs out one by one. They keep going until there's nothing left, nothing but metal and deference. He's the Galra's greatest weapon.
The soulless beast is unleashed in the arena. Opponent after opponent, he kills them all. Atop the mountain of corpses, he finds faces he recognizes. People he loves—no, loved. They're gone, now. He saw to it himself.
The witch smiles. She's so proud of him.
The throbbing headache, the voice in his head, they finally fade away. Everything fades away. There's nothing around him, nothing at all. Nothing exists here. He's imprisoned in this empty plane, nothing to keep him company but another captor with claws and fangs and glowing yellow eyes. There's nothing to do here but slowly, surely, lose himself. No one will find him. No one but—
"Keith," he begs. Find me. Please. Find me.
He does. He always does. "It's going to be okay," Keith promises.
Shiro stabs him through the heart.
All he had to do was give in.
Keith needs to be patient, needs to focus.
It's hard to do that with the gut-wrenching sounds Shiro makes in his sleep, whimpering and gasping and sobbing, but he has to. They're entering the atmosphere, and the gravity is strong, and they'll need to land near a city if they're going to find a fever reducer.
A strangled cry reverberates through the Black Lion, and Keith clenches his jaw so hard his teeth could shatter.
"He's awake," Krolia says, voice hushed. She stands against the wall, out of Shiro's line of sight; he hadn't reacted well earlier when he'd awoken to yellow eyes watching over him.
"K-Keith," Shiro gasps. "Keith, please… please come back… I want— I need—"
Keith grips Black's controls tighter, knuckles stark white beneath his gloves. "Shiro, Shiro, I'm right here," he calls from the pilot's seat, trying to find a balance between soft and audible. "I'll be with you soon, I promise. Just give me a moment."
He guns it, sending the Lion into a nosedive. The Lion burns through the atmosphere until they slam into the ground, shaking the world beneath and carving out a massive crater. The force would have killed them were they in a different vessel. It's the worst landing Keith has made in all his twenty-two years, and he doesn't care one bit.
Scrambling out of the pilot's seat, he runs toward Shiro and dives forward, sliding on his knees to reach him as fast as he can. He pulls Shiro's burning body into his arms and squeezes tight; cheek to cheek, chin on shoulder. "Hey. I'm here. I got you."
Shiro clings to him desperately. "Keith," he sobs. The broken syllable puts a hole right through Keith's chest, but he has to stay calm.
"It's alright," Keith says, gently. "You're safe. It was just another fever dream. The others are getting something to help with that. They should be back soon."
"I… I killed them," he says, choking. "I killed you."
Keith shakes his head. "You didn't."
"She—she was in my head. She told me to do it, and I-I didn't stop. What if she's still there? I could—"
"She's not there anymore," Keith assures him. "It's okay, Shiro."
"You don't kn-know that."
"Even if she is, it'll be fine," Keith says. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it together."
"What if we're not? Together," Shiro says, voice trembling. "They—they could take me again. Or I-I could be trapped again. I don't… I don't want to go back."
"I won't let that happen," Keith vows. Not again. Never again.
"I'm scared," Shiro whispers. He's never sounded more vulnerable.
"I know," Keith says, softly. Shiro's shivering rattles Keith's ribcage and skull. "Are you cold?" he asks, because that's easier to fix.
Shiro nods against his shoulder.
"Okay. I'll go get a blanket." Keith ducks out of Shiro's weak, one-armed grip and manages a few steps before he's interrupted.
"K-Keith?" Shiro's voice wavers. Keith stops to look over his shoulder. Shiro's arm is outstretched, reaching for him. "I don't… I don't want you to leave."
"Okay," Keith says, turning on his heel and returning to Shiro's side. He tears his armour off, throwing it into a messy pile against the wall, before sitting back down and holding Shiro close.
"Thank you," Shiro breathes.
From over Shiro's shoulder, Keith summons Cosmo and gives him a silent plea. The wolf vanishes in a poof. He materializes again just moments later, a blanket in his mouth. Good boy, Keith says without words, running his fingers through thick blue fur. Cosmo trots away, very proud of himself.
"Let's lie down," Keith suggests, guiding Shiro to the floor and draping the soft blanket over them both. He lets Shiro burrow into him as he wraps his arms and legs around Shiro's body, warming him. "This good?"
Shiro nods, nuzzling against Keith. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
Keith frowns. "What for?"
"For being selfish," Shiro says. His voice is slowing with exhaustion. "Wanting you to stay."
"Now I know you're delirious," Keith murmurs, pulling him in closer. "Tell me. Where would I rather be than here, warm under a blanket, with the person I care about more than anyone else in the entire universe?"
Shiro doesn't answer.
"I love you," Keith says, simply.
"But I— I've done so many horrible things," Shiro says. "Couldn't stop. Let it happen. Gave in."
"That's not on you," Keith insists. "But even if it were? I'd still love you."
Shiro shakes his head. "I've left you. So many times."
"Also not on you," Keith says. "And even if you chose to leave, I'd love you all the same."
"Keith—" Shiro begins to protest.
"Stop talking," Keith says, "before the fever has you saying more stuff I have to argue with. I love you, okay? Get over it."
Against his chest, Keith can feel the beginnings of a bewildered laugh. Turning his head to get a better view of warm grey eyes, he finds they're a little less panicked, a little less lost than before. They're also struggling to stay open, and it won't be long before he's out again.
"You can close your eyes," Keith says.
"I-I don't want to fall asleep again," Shiro admits. His voice is small and shaky.
"I know," Keith murmurs. "It'll be okay. Just hang in there a little longer."
"Will… will you stay with me?"
"Come on, Shiro," Keith says, letting affectionate exasperation colour his voice. "I just told you there was nowhere else I'd rather be. I'm not going anywhere. This blanket is warm, it's comfortable here, and in case you forgot? I love you. I want to be here, because I love you. Remember? I… love…"
Shiro breathes out a laugh. "How many times are you going to say it?"
Keith's lips quirk up. "I think you know the answer to that."
"Yeah," Shiro slurs, a faint smile tracing his features as he begins to drift off. He nestles closer against Keith. "I think I do."