Written for Day 22 of Sheith Month: Astral Plane.
"Give him back!"
Black felt a jolt rush through him, alarmed.
"Give him back!"
He woke, with the sluggish feeling that he had not been awake for some time.
"You can't take him, so give him back!"
Memory resettled itself as the words bounced around Black's hangar, and he realised that impression was true - he remembered the battle, the confrontation with his last Paladin, the frantic bid to protect his new one.
And now, the screaming, raw and desperate.
The Red Paladin was in his hangar, banging his tiny fist against Black's muzzle and howling heartbroken defiance to the universe. Black tried to stir himself, but there was no energy for that, he could barely retain his consciousness in the physical plane.
Especially without losing his sheltering grip on his Paladin.
"Bring him back to me!"
The Red Paladin's voice cracked but he wouldn't quiet himself, and he wasn't begging, either, sorrow and fury twisting into a powerful storm in his voice and his presence.
His presence. Even with the bond between the Paladins, and each Paladin with their Lion, offering something of a bridge Black should not have been able to so clearly sense the Red Paladin's emotions.
He struggled to focus on that as more desperate words rang through the oversized hangar.
The Red Paladin was 'spilling' everywhere, with his high emotional state and . . . it was like he had the ability to maintain a deeper mental connection, but no training, no knowledge of how.
It didn't matter - he was pouring out energy sparking with pain and sorrow and desperation, all of them centred on Shiro. Black would never have expected it, but he could use it, especially while the Red Paladin maintained contact with him through that tiny hand now resting on his muzzle.
Paladin, Black purred gently, refocusing himself in the astral plane and nudging his Paladin gently, wake, Shiro.
Shiro stirred, pain lancing through him, and Black felt a pang of regret, but this was necessary. He pushed again, more firmly, and called Shiro to awareness. Humans - like all other living things, save for one very strange species Red and her first Paladin had found somewhere across the galaxy from home - were not built for this plane. It . . . hurt them, if they remained too long.
Black had pushed Shiro to sleep, helping to hold him in stasis until . . . until he knew not what, then, but he had hoped. Hoped for some escape route for his Paladin and not merely to hold off agony for Shiro until eventually death wore him away.
It is time for you to leave, Black said, relieved, as Shiro's mind began to work.
"What?" Shiro said, startled. A pang of fear shot through him, though it was a brief flash and left easily. "Has it been too long?"
Black rumbled, confused, and then realised- No, my Paladin. He sheltered Shiro as best he could from the pulsing energy of the astral plane. It is time for you to return to your companions on the mortal plane.
Shiro felt even more startled. "I thought. . . You said. . . I thought there was no way back, for me?" he asked, not recriminating but accepting, as he had been since the first flash of despair which he had so quickly mastered.
I did. Black had hoped, but he had not truly believed there would be a rescue for Shiro, not so soon if ever . . . not when Black's voice went unheard to the others, and none of them had yet needed to venture to the astral plane, where their Lions' voices could sink into them. Someone wants you back, very much, my Paladin. Enough to sacrifice for it.
Shiro felt suddenly of terror and he resisted the nudge from Black. Black didn't allow it, ignoring Shiro's sudden pleas, and shoved his Paladin back into his own plane along the powerful conduit of life, agonised and desperate and angry, opened up only to Shiro.
You'll be safe, Black thought, and retreated again, weakened from the exertion and still healing. But now he could devote more of his energy to it, no longer needing to protect his Paladin and keep him wrapped in stasis on the astral plane.
Someone else would be looking after his Paladin, if Black was not very much mistaken.
Keith was bowled backwards by a sudden weight slamming into his chest, and he relaxed his muscles automatically, letting him take the fall without any serious harm, but what-
Short, shaggy hair brushed his jaw, and Keith froze, eyes wide. He wrapped his arms around a blessedly familiar body - although bulky and harsh with armour - and felt himself begin to cry, holding Shiro tightly.
"Shiro, oh, hell, sweetheart, you're-" Keith's voice broke as Shiro stirred in his arms, lifting his head, slowly and stiffly, like it hurt. "You're back." he whispered brokenly.
"Keith." Shiro rasped, his eyes lighting with happiness or relief or something. "Love. You're okay." It was half a question.
"I'm okay?" Keith said, disbelieving, and dragged Shiro to him, cupping one hand at the back of Shiro's head. "You're the one who. . ."
Shiro bowed his head, resting his brow against Keith's jaw, and Keith looked up at Black, the Lion's great yellow eyes gleaming for the first time since the battle with Zarkon.
"Thank you." Keith breathed, and closed his eyes just after a shine flared through the Lion's own. Thank you for protecting him, thank you for giving him back, he thought, turning his face in against Shiro's hair. "Oh, Shiro."
Shiro clung to Keith around the waist, and Keith didn't even care about - barely noticed - the sharp ache in his chest. Catching Shiro, falling together, must have been a bruising impact, though it didn't feel like any bruise he'd ever had.
Keith kissed Shiro's temple, then his cheek, the nearest bits of Shiro he could reach, unable to force himself to let go. "You're safe." he said, voice breaking. "Oh, Shiro, I thought-" he couldn't finish, squeezing his eyes closed again.
Shiro lifted his head, and one still-armoured hand brushed Keith's cheek, smearing away a tear beneath his eye. Shiro's own eyes were soft, though he looked pale and ragged and something frightened - hurt? - still lurked in his gaze somewhere. Keith pulled one hand from around Shiro's shoulders, though it was difficult to make himself let go even that much, and stroked his jaw, then up to feather through his hair gently.
Shiro smiled, lips trembling slightly, and kissed Keith, barely a whisper of a touch.
Keith's breath caught. "Sweetheart-" he barely got the word out.
"Thank you." Shiro said weakly, kissing Keith again, a slightly firmer caress. "Love, thank you." He closed his eyes, pressing his lips together.
Keith gently tugged Shiro's hair, tilting his head to one side and kissing Shiro in return, just as soft but lingering much more. Shiro whimpered his name quietly and a hot tear splashed across Keith's cheek as he tightened his arms around Keith's waist.
"You're back," Keith breathed, "you're back and I'm here, sweetheart, whatever you need." he promised, petting the back of Shiro's head, fingers light as they smoothed over his velvety undercut.
Shiro opened his eyes, a few teardrops clinging to his eyelashes.
"Just you."
Keith gave of himself to make a path for Shiro back onto this plane, though it wasn't consciously done. He might be hurting a little now, but he'll be fine. He may even never realise what he did, unless Black decides to tell Shiro at some point and he shares the information.
This story idea could have worked for Sacrifice (yesterday's prompt/story) as well. . .