A'ight, so I know this took a bit, but I started working and stuff. It's been kicking my ass. Dogs are assholes, I will fight you on this.

Anyways, I finally got this bad boy done! Only three more chapters to go, and boy is that last one going to fucking destroy me. Here's Shiro, still never catching a break. #Let Shiro Rest 2k18. I haven't edited this at all (I literally finished it like ten minutes ago), but I probably won't edit anything that's messed up here. This site is too finicky tbh. This whole story is crossposted here from Ao3 anyway. My username there is StarlightLion, and I WILL actually edit mistakes on that one because god is it easier to do there.

Thanks for reading!


The first time Shiro did it, he was terrified and alone.


It was hard to blame anyone for it. Hard, but it didn't stop some tiny part of him from raging against the Alteans. Shiro had always been good at hard.

It wasn't fair to blame them - Allura hadn't even been present, she'd probably been hurt when they'd gotten her out - it had been Zarkon's witch who had corrupted the wormhole, something Allura couldn't have stopped - it wasn't fair, but part of Shiro still blamed them.

They didn't warn me. The never told me.

Zarkon had torn open his bond to Sable and stepped inside it. It made Shiro's skin crawl just thinking about it - remembering made other flashes come to mind, flickers of invasion, of trauma. And while they'd been… like that - bonded - Shiro had been able to feel Zarkon against his mind, like he could feel the other Paladins when they formed Voltron, like he could feel Sable.

It made him shudder, thinking about how close he'd been with the enemy. Not strictly speaking because of the fact itself, not even necessarily because of the intimacy of that bond, but because… There was something, deep inside Zarkon, a raging desperation that drove him - something screaming and lonely and exigent that Shiro… recognised.

The part that rose to the fore as Sable was dragged from the Castleship's main hangar and hurled into the open void, spinning. A pained groan escaped him as he was jostled, luminescent purple oozing down his side. The metal hand went against it, pressing down. Shiro couldn't tell if it was sticky or slippery, if the wound was hot to the touch. It felt hot, from the other side, but he couldn't be sure that wasn't just pain talking.

"Keith! Shiro!" Lance's voice rang in his ears, flaring across the radio, but he couldn't do anything. On the other side of the wormhole, Shiro saw the Blue Lion spiral towards the crackling wall. It was just a glimpse, a flash of blue against the filthy violet-red, as Sable spun as well.

"Sable, come on girl," Shiro muttered, pulling back on one flightwheel with his free hand, but Sable pressed against his mind and otherwise didn't respond.

She was exhausted. It shone through his thoughts, a deep black light; she was hurt and tired and she didn't have the energy to resist the wormhole falling apart around them. Shiro braced back in his seat, head tucked down, and closed his eyes.

The impact against the wormhole wall was like slipping into a tepid pool. It didn't shudder or shake, as Shiro had expected - it felt almost the same as entering or exiting a stable wormhole. Something passed over his body, a sensation, a faint caress, like silk made liquid. It felt worse than a normal wormhole though, something about it clinging to his body, as if it were rotted and sticky. His stomach turned.

Sable mewled in his mind, equally as disgusted by the feeling, struggling to get her body into gear, to- keep me safe. Letting go of the flightwheel, Shiro reached out to pat the console. The touch against his thoughts was weak, flickering - the gentle breeze that swept from her to him was gone, Sable barely hanging on.

It wasn't consciousness the same way that Shiro was conscious or unconscious; even without the wind, as Sable flickered away, he didn't stop being able to sense her. She was still there, just the Lion was still running reserve power - dim, lavender light filling the cockpit, warnings flashing across the viewscreen, still displaying the outside world from Sable's eyes. But she didn't move against his thoughts anymore, as she did when she was… awake- when she was safe, at full power. There was no response, but Shiro pulled on her mind anyway, watching the ground hurtle towards them.

Somewhere in the distance, just a tiny red flicker on Sable's sensors, Keith was falling too.

Fear rose up in his throat. A visceral feeling, heavy and smoky and choking - terror. They were falling deadweight, towards what looked like a solid planet, and the searing bubbling pain in his side wouldn't let him forget that he was already wounded. It was seeping inward, inside him, a burning feeling like he'd swallowed acid. He had no idea where he was, how to get in contact with Allura, how to get away. Sable was dead in the air. If he even survived the inevitable impact, he was wounded and didn't have a weapon. His Galra arm, sure - but that hand was pressed against his side, the arm held as close to his body as possible, because moving it made everything hurt worse. He didn't know what kind of life inhabited this world - if any - and he certainly didn't know the dangers of the terrain.

And Keith was here too. Falling.

The first thing that Shiro felt again after the nothingness was the acid in his side. It drew a long, low whine from his throat, too foggy and dizzy to hold it back, and Shiro pressed his hand against it. For a second, the contact was scalding and he moaned, but then the pressure numbed it and he could start to think again.

It was dark inside Sable. Not even her viewscreens were running, the ambient light completely dead. Shiro reached for her presence, and she was there - not gone - but so quiet and so still that he knew he couldn't rely on her firepower any time soon. All the same, he reached out again and rested his human hand on the console, gently. "Okay, girl. Rest up. I'll go see what's outside."

It took a little doing, getting out of his seat and back to the hatch on the top of Sable's head. Pain flared up in his side with every movement, creeping up his spine and down across his hip towards his groin. He could feel the… whatever magic it was that Zarkon's witch had attacked him with- the Druid leader. A shudder ran through him, worsening the feeling. It was painful, magic acid, but it almost felt cold, like tendrils of ice inside him.

Sable was still quiet in his mind, absolutely still, but if Shiro concentrated hard enough he could almost imagine her comforting purr. Even if it wasn't real, it helped a little.

There was no response when Shiro touched the pad to open the hatch. Right. Even the viewscreens weren't working. A little gingerly, he hunted around for the manual release and pulled it. It was harder than he expected, using his human arm to do it, the burning acid sharpening as his muscles tightened, but finally, with a clunk, it gave. Instead of the hatch on top of Sable's head, the one at the far back dropped open, rattling his teeth. Immediately, reacting to a thought of panic, his helmet shut over, sealing.

Without Sable, he had no way to check if the outside atmosphere was breathable until he was out there.

Safely breathing, Shiro made his way outside. The impact of his feet on Sable's bottom jaw sent a shockwave through his body, dragging another low sound of pain from him, and a deep ache sparked in his ankles. He was hurt and slipping, landing wrong, forgetting basic things like oxygen safety.

I hope they find us soon. Somehow.

Even as Shiro walked down the length of Sable's muzzle, the readings inside his visor confirmed that the atmosphere was breathable, and he let the helmet slip open again. It was a little muggy, the air stale and dusty, but it breathed just fine. Relieved that he wouldn't run the risk of depleting his oxygen supply, Shiro made it to Sable's lips, carefully lowered himself down - and even so, the short drop to the ground jarred his body and shot pain up his spine - and then looked around.

He couldn't see anything but the jagged pale stone and the canyon they'd crashed into, but something felt… wrong. He felt threatened. Maybe it was just the magic toxifying him.

But Keith was out there, somewhere. He'd fallen and landed here right alongside Shiro, on this empty planet. (Shiro hoped it was empty, because they didn't have the means to fight off hostiles right now. Shiro hoped it wasn't empty, because they didn't have the means to survive something barren for long).

"Keith?" he coughed out, checking their comms were still up, scanning the canyon for a scalable slope. He was lucky; nearby, a curling track up the side of a rocky spire, wide enough to have driven a vehicle up, shallow enough for Shiro to climb even hurt as he was. The radio crackled back at him, too distant or deep in the canyon to travel. Damaged. Considering it usually carried through space and enemy battlecruisers just fine, Shiro rather suspected it was.

Still, much as Shiro didn't want to admit it, he needed Keith. He was wounded and only getting worse, and Sable was currently out of commission - he needed an ally. Despite how the thought of Keith stranded here made his gut twist with guilt, he was lucky that Keith was. "Keith, are you there? Keith!" Raising his voice, even that little, proved to be… detrimental.

But over the sudden burr in his throat and the resulting coughing fit, he heard the static crackle into words. "...ir...Sh...re...th…?" Keith. Relief flooded through Shiro's body, tingling. He made his way up another few steps, just to ensure the connection stayed stable, and then he collapsed against the rock. Shiro could hear the scraping as it scratched his armour, sliding down until he was sitting, metal hand still pressed against his side. "Shir...re you th…? Answer me!"

"Keith," he forced out, taking a slow breath to try and control the urge to cough more. "I'm here, Keith."

"Shiro! You made it." Keith's voice wobbled, just the slightest bit; he'd been scared.

Shiro tried to force the pain out of his voice. It would only make it worse, and right now Keith needed to be worried about… well, 'himself' sounded disingenuous given Shiro's position, but…

"It takes more than a glowing alien wound, a fall from the upper atmosphere and crashing into a hard pan surface, at," Shiro glanced down at Sable and then up at the sky, trying to feel how heavy the gravity was against his skin, "what I'm guessing is about twenty five meters per second squared to get rid of me." And then, very quickly, hyper aware he'd slipped up and mentioned the magic acid burn, "How are you?"

It worked, for a long enough moment. "Not good. My Lion's busted." Join the club. "Wait- What wound?!"

There it was. "It's nothing," Shiro dismissed, even as he sat up a little straighter and pain seared across his ribcage, drawing a soft hiss. He could only hope that it didn't carry across the radio.

"Hang on," it sounded like an order, "I'm coming."

It was a relief, even though Shiro knew he'd be coming already, even though he didn't want Keith to worry. The wound burned. In all honesty, Keith probably should be worried; Shiro was trying to ignore it, shove the rising fear aside so that he could control himself, stay steady, not panic. Panic would make it worse. But still, he could feel it around the edges, his nerves starting to fray, the fear creeping in. They were lost, on some godforsaken planet in the middle of fuck knew where, with both Lions out of commission, and Shiro was wounded. And it was spreading. Shiro was pretty sure that without treatment, the wound would eventually kill him. Or worse. He shuddered and tried not to think about that, about the glowing yellow eyes set in his own face, about what the witch had shown him. About what he could - he would never - become.

There was a sound. Soft, a low clicking hiss, somewhere below him. Shiro looked, and felt the fear reach up and throttle him. Down below, crawling all over Sable's body, were… creatures. Long bodied and covered in pale lavender… hide? Scales? Shiro wasn't sure which. An even paler star of lilac splashed over their backs - three of them. No. Four of them, the last around Sable's back, almost hidden but for the end of a long, thick tail, tipped in a trio of spikes.

They almost looked like dogs, if dogs were reptilian and had boar tusks. And they were crawling over Sable - sniffing. They could probably smell him. And Shiro knew carnivorous characteristics when he saw them.

He wasn't going to be able to fight them off; not like this. Not that many. One, maybe, if he got lucky, or if Sable got her metaphorical feet back under her. As it stood… "On second thought, you'd better hurry."

The lizard creatures were starting to lose interest in Sable. Some deep part of Shiro was glad, because watching them crawl over her like she was a particularly interesting corpse triggered a deep revulsion in him, something that sat heavy in his chest like an overweight parasite, something that made his vision blur. But the sane part of him wished they'd stay right where they were.

He'd been stupid enough to leave Sable, injured and probably unable to defend himself. Certainly unable to effectively. If they turned on him instead - and he made much better prey than a steel monolith - then chances were he'd lose.

Shit.

Trying to be inconspicuous - I wonder what their vision is like? I'm in my armour; please rely on anything except sight - Shiro pressed himself into the rock. Reflexively, he reached for Sable. It was worse now, than it had been even yesterday - the instinct. Sable was his… guardian, he supposed. It was the impression she gave him, surging into his mind whenever he needed her, doing her best to ward away the nightmares. It didn't always work, but he always seemed to sleep better inside her than in his bed.

And she stirred.

Faint, so faintly, that Shiro pushed away the burst of hope that she'd be able to save him; she wasn't there yet. And pain sparked through the link as she did. Distant, numb pain, not the same as his own (searing brightly in his side), but she was feeling everything that had happened. The battle, Zarkon, their crash. It made his bones ache.

But she shifted against his mind, just a whisper, and he felt better despite the ache. Sable was going to be okay. Maybe not soon enough to save him from these creatures, but soon enough.

Carefully, trying to keep silent even as he clenched his jaw against the spasm in his muscles and his teeth threatened to crack, Shiro tucked his feet under him and rolled his weight forward. Once he was on his knees, he balanced on his good hand, got a foot under him, and every so slowly eased himself up into a crouching position. Okay, so far so-

Something clattered down beside him, and four reptilian heads turned to face the sound. No. Three heads turned towards the sound. Now that they were looking at him, Shiro could see that they each had four eyes. That's just not fair.

Looking behind him, Shiro saw the fourth creature dropping down behind him. Up close, they were more like horses than dogs. Horses with the same sort of spikes on their tails lining the underside of their necks, and the front of their forelimbs. Its mouth was open slightly, revealing a glimpse of razor teeth and a fat, pale tongue. It took a slow step towards him, but it didn't attack.

Not yet.

"Shiro, what happened?" Had he been able to hear the falling rocks over the radio? Or had Shiro cursed aloud and just not noticed?

It probably didn't matter. "There's… several creatures…" Shiro replied, as softly as he could, keeping his eyes on the monster before him. Twin thuds sounded from behind him, followed immediately by a third, and then the sound of claws scraping the ground. He chanced a quick glance behind him; the other three, now creeping up the pathway, eyes locked on him. "Fuck."

He rarely swore aloud, but this was the kind of situation that called for it, in Shiro's opinion. For a moment, he locked eyes with the closest creature, and it came even closer, teeth parting a little further, one paw lifted off the ground. Shiro could see the ripple of hard muscle under the hide - it was hide after all - as it started to tense, tail swaying slightly, nose dipping.

Frantically, Shiro looked around. He tried to keep the creature in his periphery, and tried even harder to keep tabs on the other three, but he couldn't see everywhere at once.

But he couldn't fight them - not four, not now, not at that size and without a real weapon - and his route back to Sable was cut off. All he had to do was get away from them. Hide, or sneak back to Sable. Or find somewhere they couldn't reach him. They could, and better than him, but he was smaller. Even a-

There! A gap in the far rock wall, small enough that they shouldn't be able to follow him, but dark enough that it was probably a cave.

Shiro glanced sideways again, calculating; fear thundered through his chest as he almost came nose to nose with the closest creature. It was still coiled, quivering - one paw wa halfway lifted into the air.

Without another second of hesitation, Shiro threw himself off the edge of the path. Bitterly sharp claws sang through the air behind him.

It hurt when he hit the ground, skidding, the sheer rock crumbling under his feet even as he slid down. The pain shuddered through his whole body, racing out under his skin as if separating it from his flesh. (He knew what the felt like but don't think about it, don't, just breathe and run, survive).

His breath rasped out in short heaves, his heart racing, both hands held out to the sides, swinging wildly, counterbalancing each haphazard movement. It was all Shiro could do to stay upright; if he slipped, he'd fall. It would probably kill him. Either he'd land badly, or roll badly, or he just wouldn't recover - and he'd get eaten. He hoped he gave them indigestion.

Shiro did stumble when he reached the bottom, the rock evening out into the hard, dusty flat Sable had broken upon, but he stayed on his feet. Each impact made his ribs feel like they were cracking, crumbling under the acid that had broken through even his armour, but he kept running anyway. Behind him, he could hear the crashing as rock crumbled under the creatures' claws.

The thuds came closer as he ran for the narrow gap, gaining ground on him. He could almost feel them when he finally got close enough - maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he felt their claws brush by. He dove, flickers of red and white filling his vision, and felt Sable move against his thoughts. She barely touched, fuzzy like someone struggling to wake, but she there - she was trying to get to him, desperately, feeling his pain and distress.

Come on, Sable. He hated calling on her like this, pulling on the faint touch when she was already so weak, torn open by Zarkon, bearing the brunt of the wormhole catastrophe, and protecting him as best she could from the crash landing. But that was the emotional part of him - the part that wanted to protect her, because he loved her, because she was his, whatever Zarkon might think. The part that would die before becoming a burden on her. He tried to push that aside, to listen to what she'd poured into him day after week after month - that he was hers too, that she was bigger and older and stronger and that she would protect him from everything she could. She loved him.

So he pulled, reaching into the distant movement. She moved again, a slither, the quietest mew, but she moved.

In the real world, the creatures had slammed into the cliff face in a dogpile, shaking the stone and rattling Shiro's teeth. If they hadn't already been clenched, he might have bitten his tongue. A rumble sounded above them, and rocks cascaded down around the cave. Shiro pulled in his limbs, panic searing his thoughts, but the back of the (surprisingly shallow) cave held. The entrance was covered, leaving just enough gaps to let the light filter through and Shiro see their faces. They snuffled at the gaps, snarled - a low sound that reminded Shiro of a bear.

Only then did the staticky sounds coming through their comms register in Shiro's ears. A wordless shout sounded, followed by a string of curses. There was something roaring in the background, a rushing sound that was so familiar, flashing across Shiro's thoughts, but he couldn't quite place it.

There was a crack across the radio, followed by another rush - Keith let out a grunt of impact, and then a shrill cry.

"Keith! Are you okay?! What happened?" Sharply, more so than Shiro intended. The panic in his chest, already tight, slithered across to Sable, and she writhed in his thoughts.

Keith's voice was strained when he replied, but steady. "Minor delay, but I'm fine. How are you?" A sharp note, half buried - he'd heard the commotion Shiro had made too.

"I'm alright," Shiro assured him quickly. He bit down on the pain that was his whole abdomen now. "But I'm trapped in a cave. Some nasty-looking creatures have me cornered." With just a shiver in his voice, something he couldn't quite hide completely. With the other Paladins, he might have talked over it just enough - they might not have noticed. But Keith knew him better than that.

Hard, something grim in there, Keith gave him another order. "Stay put." Yeah, not that I have anywhere to go. Shiro was truly trapped. The only way out now was through the lizards' jaws. "I'm on my way. I just… have to figure this out."

Me too.

Taking a slow breath - wincing as it pressed against the acid in his body - Shiro closed his eyes and tried to tune out the creatures. Outside, he could hear them pacing and snarling, scratching the ground, whacking their (tails? heads?) against the rock face in frustration. It was sour, the thought that they wanted to eat him. If he let himself, he could imagine (remember) how it would feel if they didn't bother to kill him first. But that made him shake, so he drowned the thought out and focused on Sable.

She was still so distant. He could barely feel her movement, let alone the normal warm breeze that danced from her mind to his. But she was moving more now, an almost constant writhing that mercifully distracted him from the fiends outside.

Shiro focused on breathing steadily. Four seconds in, hold for two, four seconds out. Eyes closed, listening to the air in his body, sinking himself into Sable's tremors. Part of him was still focused on the creatures, still wary of when they'd start digging. He'd seen their massive claws, the wide paws and dexterous toes. He had no doubt that they would.

"Patience yields focus."

It was soft, spoken on a natural exhale; a mantra that Shiro had come to associate with Keith more than the woman who'd taught it to him. He broke focus - couldn't help it. A soft chuckle escaped him. "That really stayed with you, didn't it?" The warmth in his chest was enough to counteract the pain, just for a moment.

"You've given me some good advice." Spoken absently, like Keith was thinking intently about something else - focusing. "If it wasn't for you, my life would have been a lot different."

The warmth bloomed in his chest again, but there was something cold at the heart of it. "Yeah. You wouldn't have crashed a flying lion on an alien planet and be stuck with little hope of rescue. So, you're welcome." And there was a part of him that believed that. Some deeply buried, shameful flicker of guilt that he'd ever gotten involved in Keith's life. If not for that, he would still be on Earth, safe, studying at the Garrison. If not for Shiro, Keith wouldn't be stuck halfway across the universe with no hope of ever going home and the responsibility of an entire, millennia old war on his shoulders.

Home. The thought tasted bitter. Or maybe that was just the acid reaching his mouth. But those thoughts, Shiro shook off. He knew better, no matter what the voice in the back of his head told him. If not for Shiro, Keith would have drowned. If not for Shiro, Keith might have wanted to. Home. But Keith had forgotten what home was like by the time they met. Shiro knew that Keith considered him family now.

So you're welcome.

There was something like static over the radio again, that deep rushing sound that Shiro couldn't place. He tried, for a moment, and then he was jarred out of his thoughts. Crash. Frantically, he looked towards the gaps in the rocks that had trapped him - wait. Were they bigger than before?

Crash.

Oh god.

Claws pushed through the gaps, rock grinding and scraping under the pressure. Dust filled the air and caught in Shiro's throat - thick, clogging. It caught against the acid that had filled him and he coughed; a harsh, hacking sound that probably sounded like he was dying. He felt like he was dying. The contractions scraped inside his chest, leaving him feeling raw and hurt - his muscles seized, cramp laying over the burning pain in his abdominal muscles.

"Stay with me, Shiro."

Decidedly not a request. Keith was getting good at giving orders. The rushing sound was back, in the background, but even as it faded Keith let out a sharp yell, and then a shrill scream. Not a startled sound - a fearful one.

"Keith! Keith!" Shiro shouted, despite the pain that caused him and the pounding, ringing pulses that went through his skull. He coughed again, choking on it.

"Hang on, I'm on my way." A little out of breath, but he sounded fine. Grim. Relief flooded Shiro's body, erasing the acid for a split second. The earlier thoughts came back; if he dies here, it's my fault. If I die here, he's alone. Fear filled his throat.

The claws came back through the gaps, grating - tugging rock backward, splintering it apart. How much sheer physical strength did these creatures have? Shiro didn't know the density of the rock, couldn't do the calculations, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. "Good," he managed to choke out, his voice raspy and weak and uneven. He heard Keith's panting through the radio as he sped up. "Because they just… started digging."

The rocks were clawed away, sunlight filtering in. Fresher air hit him, but Shiro couldn't taste it, could barely breathe it. His heart was racing. He'd been afraid before - god he'd been afraid before - but he couldn't defend himself right now. This wasn't a pit fight, this wasn't his life against someone else's. He was helpless.

Glinting bone masks. Yellow eyeslits. Sweeping dark robes and flickering lights and-

Shiro tried to pull himself together, to focus on the moment. He pressed his hand against his side and bit his lip, scrambling desperately for his senses. Stale air, heat, grunting and snarling and the scrape crash of rock being flung away. A massive, dark purple nose was stuck into the cave, and Shiro kicked.

"Shiro, I have a visual on the Black Lion!" It came through triumphant, relieved - Keith thought he'd made it in time. Keith thought he'd- oh god- but it wasn't, it was too late, it was-

Claws reached in and grabbed at him. They scraped down his armour, throwing sparks, and a howl of frustration went up around him. The lightning crackled around him, the light condensed into something round and blinding and sharp. With another swipe, the creature got its claws on Shiro's other side, and hooked him, and pulled. His stomach dropped out of his body as took the hit and went flying across the arena, until he smacked into the wall.

He smacked into the ground, and he rolled. Each impact sent pain thundering through him, filling his skin like liquid, blinding him. He felt like he might rupture at any moment, overflowing with acid and fire and exquisitely throbbing pressure. Everything turned white for a few moments.

"Shiro, what happened?!" Absolute panic. Shiro groaned and tried to push himself up, tried to get up. He had to be on his feet to defend himself. The creatures were surrounding him, he could hear their eager footsteps.

He had shouted? Screamed? Who knew. Keith knew.

Again, Shiro tried to push himself up. He managed his hands and knees, feeling something metallic and sickly and burning in his throat. His vision wasn't white anymore, but it didn't seem quite right either. Ever so slightly warped. The crack in his visor was a little wider now.

Pain so excruciating it blocked out everything else, until he was nothing but raw nerves and the desire for relief. Bright light that burned his retinas when he was aware he could see again. Something sickly wafting across his face, oily white hair, a bittersweet crooning. Movement, under his skin - inside his veins, inside his mind. Creeping - invading.

The pain.

Fear pulsing in his body.

Can't breathe.

Heart too fast.

Throat closed.

I can't- I'm going to die- I want to-

A roar blew it all apart. Shiro sucked in a breath, head spinning, tears in the corners of his eyes. If they were from fear or just pain, Shiro couldn't tell. For a moment, all he could do was lift his head and look, afraid, cornered and surrounded. Four creatures, jaws parted, slowly closing in.

But they hadn't made that sound. They couldn't have. They were far from silent, but they moved like ambush predators. Shiro supposed he was small and weak enough to hunt outright.

The roar blasted through his mind again, a bomb going off. He shuddered, leaping into it, pressing close to Sable's presence. She was weak, still, but the distance was gone. She wasn't moving, not her physical body, the glimpse Shiro could see over the cliff he'd jumped off, but she were here. She was struggling, clawing into him right back, clinging desperately to whatever purchase she found in his mind because he was hurt and terrified and needed her and if not for that she would still be sleeping.

They both knew it. So they clung, as tightly as they could.

Something trickled from her mind into his, a thin dribble. Quintessence. Shiro felt it, a chill air off the ocean just before a storm. It breathed into him, numbing the worst of the pain, and finally - he stood up.

He met the creatures' eyes. They were rotating around him, creeping closer. He didn't have 360 vision; he couldn't keep track of them all. Shiro wasn't sure if they actually knew that, or if it was just built into their instincts - but either way, he needed to be prepared.

Drawing on Sable's presence, on the steady, weak trickle of quintessence she offered, he drew as deep a breath as he dared and activated his Galra arm. It scorched him, the heat that normally took time to build up flooding up him, the acid in his side boiling instantly. He let out a groan of pain, and felt his body curl forward, trying to escape it, but he stayed standing. He waited. Ready.

The first one to attack him came from the right. A little behind him. He heard the sudden scrape of claws on the ground and spun in time to see it sail towards him. Sail was probably too kind a description - the creature was heavy and bulky. It didn't sail so much as barrel towards him, a pounce that made the muscles under its hide ripple and coil and stretch.

Shiro caught it.

His glowing hand went up, and a low moan escaped him as it pulled his side taut, but he caught the creature by its jaw and twisted, deflecting it. Momentum did the rest, carrying the creature sideways and into the ground. It shook. Skidding and rolling, clambering for a grip in the dusty flats, the creature slammed into one of its fellows and took them both down, snarling and howling. Shiro was pretty sure one of them gored the other.

But the last two didn't hesitate. One of them slunk around his other side, came closer, raised a paw to bat him down. The other gunned it, jumping at him as soon as he deflected the initial attack.

Energy burned through his arm, searing flesh where it connected, boiling his blood as it spread across his chest. Shiro's heart felt like it was going to stop. Everything hurt so fucking much - but Sable whined in his thoughts, sent another little pulse of quintessence, bolstered him.

She shouldn't be doing it. Shiro shouldn't be taking it. It was probably too much, he knew only too well that his body couldn't handle much of Sable's power even when he was in peak condition. Right now, injured and dying, he was sure it would only hasten the issue. But it was also the only thing keeping him on his feet. Every little sip of that power blew through his body, both feeding and cooling the acid fire.

He pushed away the next creature, feeding that power into his glowing hand, watching the purple burn so bright it was almost white. It went flying too, howling as smoke curled off their point of contact, scorched by the heat and light and quintessence.

The effort sent him to his knees again, struggling to breathe. The light in his arm died; Shiro couldn't maintain it, couldn't maintain the blistering heat and pain that boiled away under his skin. Sable pressed closer, wrapping around his mind, and he breathed in her quintessence, letting it soothe him, just a little, just enough to see the creatures getting back to their feet, starting to approach him again. The one he'd burned stayed back, a high-pitched snarling sound emanating from it, but the others held no such caution. They crept closer, tails weaving side to side, noses close to the ground, boxing him in.

He couldn't get up. Sable's breath was enough to keep him on his knees, keep his senses working. Enough to dim the pain enough to watch his death approach.

If I die here, Keith is alone.

If I die here, Voltron is leaderless.

If I die here, the universe is defenceless.

If I die here, then the Galra Empire will win.

Sable was getting stronger all the time, pressing into him, breathing more and more quintessence through their link. It made his vision flicker, and he was pretty sure he couldn't hear properly, but Shiro got to his feet.

Then, for a moment, ice and magma flashed through his mind, the pain and stillness and fear that had followed. Fear followed. Instinctively, Shiro took a step backwards, trying to move away from the realisation. But there was a growl that rumbled through him, and Sable pressed another breath of quintessence into him.

No, no. He pressed his Galra hand against his side, ducked his head, tried to pull away. It felt wrong to be withdrawing from Sable's touch, it felt like tearing out his own lungs, but he did it anyway, the fear filling his head, blinding him.

Because he didn't want to risk it. Not with Keith so close, not as injured as he already was. Not as weak as Sable had become. He pulled away and resisted the flow of quintessence. It was like breathing in water - it was like being choked. Sable was air and sky and freedom. Every nerve screamed for him to give in, to let her swaddle him in wind and power and magic, to let her fix everything.

But it wouldn't fix everything. Keith was coming - they didn't need this. Sable needed to stop. Please, Sable. Stop. She chased after his retreating thoughts, dug her claws in as hard as she could. She ignored the plea - bit down, locked them together. Quintessence blasted around their link, wisps sneaking past Shiro's defences, and each little gust brought with it more weakness, more gaps, more quintessence.

Sable had made up her mind. But Shiro sank back to his knees, curling over, hugging himself, even as the creatures hesitated. Tried to push it back. Kept pleading. Please, Sable. Please don't me.

The response was a roar, quintessence whirling around him like a hurricane, dry-drowning him. Sable would have none of it. She was afraid - afraid that Shiro was too hurt to fight, that she couldn't get her metal body to move. She was still too weak to fight back any other way. Shiro wouldn't die here - Sable wouldn't let him.

Please, Sable. Please don't make me go coalescent.

It would save him. Probably. Certainly, these creatures would stand no chance. It might even purge the acid in his veins, the foreign magic - quintessence? - that the Druid Supreme had infected him with. But still, coalescence did damage. Even if it didn't dissolve his body, even if he survived it, it could do other damage. Burn his soul. Break his mind.

Lance still lost his grip on reality, sometimes. It was getting rarer, and something about piloting Blue seemed to hold it off - maybe it was being so close to her. But it still happened; halfway through a sentence, midway through a meal, during training or rec-time or just while he was walking. Coalescence had detached something inside him. Sometimes he became detached with it. They'd been lucky, for so long, that Lance had never spaced during combat, or as Voltron, long enough that they were all starting to think it wouldn't happen. But if it ever did - if the damage coalescence had done triggered broke him when it mattered - then whoever was with him would be all that stood between Lance and death.

Hunk still didn't really talk anymore. He seemed happy otherwise, and he still made dinner (and breakfast and sometimes lunch) for Team Voltron, and he still helped Lance when he was troubled and he still geeked out with Pidge, but… actually talking was rare. Whatever had happened inside him during coalescence, it had shorted out his speech centers. It wasn't that he was incapable of talking, because he still did sometimes, when he wanted to convey something bad enough, and it always came faster and easier when he was piloting Yellow, but it was difficult for him. Pidge had started to learn Altean sign language and was steadily helping Coran teach it to them all.

And even if Shiro survived, that was what he was looking at. If he miraculously escaped permanent physical harm (and there was no guarantee that he would) then he was looking at mental harm in some way - soul harm.

So he begged, frantically shoving away quintessence, letting the Galra hand light up and burn it off, even as the act strained an already broken body and drew out a scream of pain. Sable ignored it all, pushing quintessence through faster than he could use it, engulfing him.

The alternative was dying here.

A growl, rumbling through him, broke down the last of his defences. Even if he was weak right now, even if Sable wasn't an infinitely more powerful creature than he was, he couldn't resist. They were bonded - pulling away, resisting her, hurt almost as much as the acid did. It was too similar to what Zarkon had tried to do to them - to being ripped open, to having the bars between them that was Zarkon's mind.

Shiro gave in, let the fear and panic overwhelm him, and then let a rush of quintessence blow that all away. Sable breathed power into him, and then - when his lungs were full, when his body was humming, when he felt like his lungs might rupture - she kept going.

It almost hurt, but it was a good hurt. It wasn't the blunt hurt of battle, or the vicious sting of a Druid's knife. It was an almost out-of-body feeling, like he was flying, like he wasn't even quite real anymore. Sable purred, a deep sound that vibrated through his whole self, and Shiro languished in it. All emotion was blasted apart, there was a rushing, screaming sound in his ears, a gale - a tornado.

He felt… tranquil. He wouldn't die here. They would. He and Sable would remain together, remain safe.

If he'd been able to form a thought coherent enough, Shiro wouldn't have understood why he'd been so afraid of this. Sable was in every ounce of his body, touching everywhere, more intimate than any lover or torture that the Druids had visited upon him. She was everything, she was his breath, his heartbeat. She was thunderstorm crackling in his mind, she was the lightning that struck down their enemies, the thunder that heralded their approach.

The thunderstorm grew, scorching, screaming - a blistering tempest, a typhoon. Shiro let it lay him open, expand beyond his skin. It hurt now, a bad hurt, agony as his body broke apart, unable to contain the power of a Lion, unable to direct Sable's soul.

But even as he let out a scream, Sable purred deep in his mind, the eye of the storm. The winds scattered in every direction, devouring everything, but Sable pulled him into the centre, a blissful dark void, and it was there that Shiro lost himself.


"Shiro, what happened?!"

Keith knew he sounded scared, the panic making everything taste like ash - no, like blood - but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was sprinting, taking great leaping strides with bursts of jetflame, blatantly ignoring how low the supply was getting. Allura would have his head later - but that meant that there would be a later, that they'd survive this get back to the Castle and a lecture would be almost welcome if it meant that.

But Shiro didn't respond to the question. So Keith kept running, eyes on the distant curve of black that marked where his Lion lay.

When he reached the edge of the ravine, he didn't bother to look around. He just leapt right off the edge, wind flaring past his face, the drag threatening to pull his helmet off. It was loose, as he came too near the bottom and ignited his jetpack, full blast but too late to soften the landing completely. He hit feet first and immediately crumpled into a roll, trying to disperse the momentum.

Coming up running, Keith made his way to the Black Lion, and only when he reached it did he dare slow down. Frantically, he looked around, searching for Shiro - he knew Shiro wasn't inside the Lion, because he'd gotten trapped in a cave. Stupid. Why didn't he stay put? But that was frustration, and fear. Keith knew why; they hadn't even been able to talk before Shiro had ventured out.

"Shiro!" he shouted, before he heard the howl. Racing towards it, Keith gripped his bayard tighter in hand, sending out a pulse of quintessence to activate it, ignoring the weird tugging sensation it produced. Blade out, Keith skidded to the edge of another cliff; a small one, just shallow enough to have skidded down.

Which seemed to be exactly what Shiro had done.

He was down there, on his knees, wounded; bleeding. His armour was damaged. When had that happened? Were the lizard things strong enough to do that? There were four of the lizard creatures, three that advanced on Shiro, circling him, one that was hanging back, one leg lifted. It looked like it was wounded. Had Shiro done that?

For a moment, Keith was still, indecisive. "Shiro!" he shouted again, but Shiro didn't even seem to hear him. Where was his helmet? He wasn't wearing it. But he'd had it in the cave - must have, they'd been talking. Fear gripped him.

The lizards were bigger than horses, judging by how tiny Shiro appeared next to them. Keith was good, but… four lizards that big, with all those claws and spikes and tusks, with Shiro to protect - Keith wasn't that good. He'd get them both killed trying to melee those things. It didn't stop his palms from itching, his fingers from tightening around the bayard's hilt, it didn't stop the desperate pounding of his heart as he fought the urge to leap down there anyway.

Red was a distant pulsing in his mind, a soothing warmth. She agreed, on some level - jump down, fight, kill the threat to his pridemate - but Keith knew that trying meant death for both of them. Knew. Trembling, Keith tore himself away and sprinted back to the Black Lion. He couldn't fight those things alone, but the Lion - she could.

His bayard was still active, the tip of the blade nearly touching the ground, but Keith couldn't seem to let it go silent. Instead, he reached up with his other hand, pressed his palm against Black's nose. "Black… Listen, I know I'm not Shiro but-"

A cry, from behind him. Shiro's voice. Keith flinched, bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, fighting down the electricity trickling down his spine.

"Please, Black. Let me fly you. Help me save him."

His voice shook. Sable wasn't like Red, she wasn't so picky as to let a potential Paladin die to prove themself, but still. Keith wasn't Shiro - Keith was no leader. Black would be well within her rights to completely refuse him. That she might let him pilot her - that she might even be strong enough for such a task - was outlandish, a wild hope. But Keith had to try anyway. He didn't have any other hope left.

Black's eyes lit up.

For a moment, relief flooded Keith's body, sheer joy, and his bayard deactivated in his hand, went light, and he grinned wildly up at the Black Lion. And then, she let out an audible growl, but she didn't sit, didn't move - she didn't open her mouth. Relief was replaced by confusion, joy by anger.

Keith hit her on the nose.

"What are you doing?!" he shouted, glancing over his shoulder even as Shiro let out another sound of pain. "Black, come on! He's going to- die…"

Oh.

No.

No.

Black's body shimmered, just a little. The faintest gleam came off her metallic black, the faintest purple sparkle - light that Keith almost barely couldn't quite see. The anger vanished, the fear drained into dread; in his chest, his heart suddenly felt like marble. He wasn't breathing - he wasn't even sure his heart was beating.

"No… Nonono… You can't - Black, you can't!" Keith spun, bayard falling from numb fingers, and sprinted back to the edge, back to where he could see Shiro.

On the ground, on his knees, Shiro had gone still. His head was tipped back, and a golden glow emanated from his eyes. Did they always do that? It was an idle thought, flitting through the back of Keith's mind. Red purred an affirmative that he almost didn't hear.

Keith took a step back. He'd never seen it up close before. He'd been in an entirely different ship the first time, and then observed from Green's cockpit - he'd been thrown clean out of range the second time, Red locked down by rock and furious, just able to see the glow and feel the land break apart.

Keith was pretty sure he didn't want to see it up close.

Shiro.

But he couldn't leave. He couldn't abandon Shiro - Shiro was practically his only family. Only, 'practically' made it sound less than true, and the truth was that Keith didn't have anyone else. Sure, the other Paladins now, and he cared about them, he did - but they weren't Shiro.

"Black! Stop it!" he turned and howled at her, at her blazing golden eyes and the luminescence of her body. It was like shouting at the sky. Nothing happened, there was no acknowledgement. Black just kept doing what she was doing. It wasn't tears in his eyes - it wasn't - when Keith looked back at Shiro, but they stung all the same.

The light had suffused Shiro's whole body, faintly purple. His hair was billowing - the long white bit, anyway - as if he'd been caught in a gale. The Galra hand was glowing brilliant white, too bright to look directly at, and the air around it shimmered. Keith took another step back as the wind reached him, whipping his hair up into a furious halo, strands stinging against his skin. He couldn't move, couldn't run.

He needed to. He needed to leave. But he couldn't bring himself to, he had to stand witness. Shiro would have died if left alone - but this might kill him anyway. Keith couldn't just run away.

The wind lifted, spinning, and Shiro rose off the ground. The lizards were yipping, snatches of sound reaching Keith through the burgeoning tornado, frantic, distressed. They turned tail and tried to run, claws skidding and scraping uselessly against the ground; the wind blasted them back, knocked them off their feet. With a gesture, Shiro brought them all closer, laying them out in a circle around him.

The wind was whipping up the dust, obscuring Shiro's form, turning into a luminous silhouette against the dust storm, but Keith could still see his eyes. The gold light cut through it all - a cold light. Merciless. Maybe that was just in Keith's mind.

A rumbling sound above his head drew Keith's attention. Clouds had drawn together over them, even though before the sky had been an endless dusty orange, smoky but clear. Now, dark black covered everything in sight, and it swirled above Shiro, forming around him, funnelling down. It was like watching a mega-disaster movie.

"Shiro!" Keith called out to him, only to realise that he couldn't hear his voice over the howling wind. He hadn't even noticed it get that loud.

Thunder cracked across the sky. Despite himself, Keith flinched, found himself crouching- cowering against the ground. Red rumbled in his thoughts, but she suddenly she seemed wary, drawing back on Keith's thoughts.

Red? You want me to run?

The idea that Red was advocating - no, she was urging for him to flee, it was outlandish. That, perhaps even more so than the raging thunderstorm, unnerved Keith. He stayed low to the ground, glad they were in a ravine, glad that Black was technically above him, even if the idea of her being struck with lightning (at all, but especially right now) made his stomach turn. There. It flickered through the clouds, silent and eerie, a deep blue-green colour.

Thunder rolled out after it again, so Keith turned his eyes back to Shiro. His stomach turned, and he dug his fingers into the ground as hard as he could. Some visceral part of him wished he hadn't looked.

He hovered, a good four feet off the ground, wind and dust and thunder whipping around him like a tornado. For the most part, Keith couldn't even made out his form, just a dark smudge inside the whirlwind, but his Galra hand was glowing a bright white, and above that… his eyes shone through, twin points of blazing violet, like stars.

The air shuddered as thunder cracked above him again.

Lightning crackled and then shot down from the sky, luminous aqua; it struck the ground ten feet away, and Keith jerked away from it, his breath ice in his lungs, heart hammering against his ribcage. Oh god. Fear rose in his throat like bile, the same acrid taste filling his mouth. The wind was so fierce Keith could feel it through that connecting material in his Paladin armour, biting into his skin with vicious fangs. And deep inside him, Red quivered.

Crawling, Keith made his way closer to Shiro. He was shivering, and every instinct was screaming for him to run, even Red - but that was Shiro down there. Keith couldn't just leave him. Heart clamouring in his chest like the thunder above, breath thin and gasped as the wind whipped the air away, adrenalin making his ears ring (or was that the storm?), barely able to think - and he was stuck, flat on the ground, watching as his best friend- mentor- leader- brother- turned into a tornado.

This time, when the lightning struck, it missed the ground entirely. It struck Shiro, and for a moment Keith was blinded by the turquoise light, turning the tornado into a holy pillar. Then it condensed, snapping around him in a constant spiral stream, up and down the dust. Over the howl of the wind, Keith could hear a faint high pitched whine, like a scream, as the lightning desperately sought a way to ground itself and unleash its energy.

Eyes glowing blistering white, Shiro held out his Galra hand, visible inside the maelstrom only by its own glow, and withheld it.

A low growl rippled out from behind Keith, an almost physical force that cut through the wind for a moment. Black. He twisted on the ground, squinting against the dimmer light she was emitting. Dimmer. Yeah right. I just can't see into ultraviolet. For a strange, disconnected second, Keith wondered if the Lions could.

Black was finally moving. Just a little, just enough to rear her head and focus on her Paladin. But still, the light (it was more like dark purple shimmers, right at the edge of Keith's vision, just barely visible if he turned his head right) flowed off her body, and connected her to Shiro.

The rain, when it finally came down, was less like a sheet and more like having a building dropped on it. It was so think Keith couldn't see through it, so thick it came off the edge of his visor in a solid film of water, tempting him to close the helmet completely. It came down with weight, pressing Keith's body into the ground, slicking the dust into sticky mud in seconds. The dust in Shiro's tornado turned thick and then whipped out in all directions, mud clinging to every surface. It moved fast enough that when it hit Keith in the shoulder, it felt like being shot. A soft hiss escaped him, and water sprayed out from the force of the air. The water soaked through the fabric parts of his armour, cutting through the water resistance, and he felt the bodysuit that went underneath chill and stick to his skin.

Vaguely, Keith realised he was shivering. A thread came through from Red, a tingle of heat and concern and- fear. Red was afraid. The warmth coiled in his chest, but Keith still shivered.

A bolt of mud hit Keith in the face, cracking against his visor; he wondered if it actually cracked it. It was no mean feat, to crack their visors; they were meant to withstand combat as Voltron, after all. With a thought, he closed the helmet completely. If that mud had been an inch lower, Keith was pretty sure he'd be spitting blood.

Slowly, the mud was wasted out of Shiro's tornado, and then Keith saw what had happened to it instead; the rain - although 'rain' felt like too tame a term for the flood that was coming down around them, whipped into a screaming roaring frenzy by the cyclone winds, a floating ocean that Keith was pretty sure he could drown in - but it had been absorbed by the twister.

They were in a ravine, on a foreign, dusty planet whose only water source so far had seemed to be underground, in what by all rights appeared to be a dry plains, but Shiro was no longer hovering inside a tornado. He was hovering inside a waterspout.

The lightning buzzed inside it, the whole thing made luminescent blue-green, electrified. Even as Keith watched, his vision of it blurred by the rain and the fizzing readings that displayed inside his helm, the lightning struck it again and was assimilated, a terrifying radiance. Tiny flames flickered in and out of life in seconds at the ground around him, as little fingers of electricity escaped Shiro's control and struck the ground with ignitive force, only to be snuffed out by wind and water.

The animals that had hunted Shiro were battling to escape his wrath, clawing at the ground, mouths open and heads tossing, tails turned on their would-be prey. Deep gouges littered the ground around each of them, trenches in the earth and mud where they'd been scrambling for freedom. Keith couldn't hear them over the cacophony of elements, but he knew what screaming animals looked like.

Somehow, the storm seemed to change timbre.

The waterspout held for a moment longer, seeming to breathe in water and wind as it did, lightning arcing down to touch it once again. Then, all at once, the whole thing erupted outwards, water and cutting wind and spitting electricity.

Finally, for a single moment, Keith could see Shiro clearly. Hovering, knees slightly bent, arms outstretched. His expression was completely obscured by his glowing eyes, his human arm held out for balance in whatever updraft and magic kept him afloat, while the blinding Galra hand directed the sky's assault. The water had burst around him, illuminated by the last lightning strike and boiling with electricity. It almost looked like it was blooming. Sparks flew from every drop as it blew outwards, connecting them in a deadly network, lighting up the sky - the strange light played across itself and made Shiro look utterly alien.

He didn't look real.

Then, with a sudden scream crack hiss, the lightning coalesced and struck all four of the lizard predators at once. The water smoked into vapour. The animals didn't burst or anything so dramatic - Keith was grateful for it - but there wasn't even time for death cries as their bodies jolted, seized, and collapsed. Blood (it was thick and dark, almost black) pooled under their bodies, leaking from every orifice.

The wind went silent.

For a moment, Keith thought it was over, as he watched Shiro's body fold inwards and the glowing light dim, like flipping a lightswitch. Almost in slow motion, the lightning died and the thunder quieted and there was just the rain, a solid sheet that pressed Keith against the ground still.

There was nothing graceful about how it struck Shiro's body, limp and vulnerable now, and slammed him into the ground, the wind that had kept him afloat gone. Shiro hit the ground left knee first, and Keith shrieked his name, even knowing it was pointless, that Shiro couldn't hear him. Wouldn't have been able to over the rain even if he'd been conscious.

Teeth gritted, trying to ignore how cold and numb and somehow still aching his body felt, Keith tried to get his hands under him, tried to push himself up. Then, the cold snapped through him, half a second's warning, and the rain turned to hail.

Ice struck him everywhere, hollow cracks against his armour, leaving bruises (cuts?) where it was lucky enough to hit the fabric joints. A chunk hit Keith's helmet, and everything rang. The world was muted.

For some time - too long - minutes - Keith wasn't sure - his sight was hazy, the colours dimmed, and the sound of the hail slowing seemed distant. He knew he was flat against the ground, his neck bent at an angle that strained his breathing, chin propped up by the bottom of his helmet on the ground, but it still felt like his whole body was vibrating, slowly tipping to the side.

By the time he became fully aware that he was blinking slow, dazed blinks, and that he wasn't tipping but instead shaking, the hail had stopped. The clouds were starting to thin out and fade. If not for the flooded ground (and huge pools of water glinted on all sides, tiny lakes leftover from the deluge, an unnatural flood that this landscape had no way of draining away), if not for the avocado sized balls of ice littering the ravine, if not for the scorch marks and the freezing, quivering agony in every part of Keith's body, he might have thought he'd imagined the whole event.

By the time he managed to get to his feet, the sky was clear. It stretched out above him in every direction, an endless expanse of dusty orange. Only in comparison did Keith realise how dark the storm clouds had made it.

He hugged himself. He couldn't help it. He hurt everywhere, his head was pulsing with sick pain, bubbling behind his eyes like they'd been put out with knives. He was still shaking, deep quaking shudders that he could feel against his heartbeat, that made his breath catch. When he let his helmet slip open again, the draft of air was acrid with the tang of lightning.

One step, towards Shiro. Then another. Keith didn't look back at the Black Lion - couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. He couldn't get rid of the image of Shiro, hovering, a cruel master of the storm; but he knew deep down that Shiro had just been a conduit. That power (the thunder, the rage) was hers.

It was too slow, it took him too long, but Keith slipped down the slope to where Shiro was. It had seemed a steep incline before, jagged and dangerous, but now Keith just sat and let his armour and the numbness shield him from whatever rocks might be lurking under the mudslide. With one arm (the left, because it hurt less than the right, however marginally), Keith directed his descent. The other arm stayed firmly curled over his stomach. Not because he didn't think he could use it, not because he had any obvious stomach wounds - he just couldn't make himself take it away.

When Keith's feet took his weight again, he swayed. Nono. Stay up. You need to stay up. Shiro needs you. Shiro's dying. Stumbling, Keith made his way to where Shiro lay. His feet felt heavy, everything; he was so heavy. But eventually, Keith reached the Black Paladin.

Relief flooded him, tingling under his skin, as Keith collapsed to his knees beside his brother. "Shiro?"

His voice cracked as he spoke, weak and tenuous. He sounded about six years old. But it was reflex, just fear; Keith knew Shiro wouldn't respond. That he couldn't. Instead, Keith looked him up and down, licking his lips nervously, and then very carefully reached out with both hands.

As slowly and gently as he could manage when he couldn't feel his fingers and every movement shook, Keith rolled Shiro onto his side. His leg - the one he'd landed on, Keith was sure - was splayed out at an angle that made Keith nauseas. Blood (mercifully, humanly, red) seeped out from under that leg.

Shiro's armour was destroyed. Pieces of it remained, swaths of fabric stuck to his skin and chunks of the lightweight metal that had melted and fused and warped into a second skin. Bits wove up Shiro's legs like an archipelago, a wide section was affixed to his stomach and side, curling up his ribcage like a giant island. Another chunk, smaller, stuck to the front of his left shoulder and curled over his collar. Nothing remained on his right arm. Tiny fragments littered the left, melted to his skin, seared into his flesh. Flecks of white showed on his neck and under his jaw, where it must have flown up as the armour had splintered and molten, but the rest was just… gone. Disintegrated.

For the first time, Keith was glad that Shiro had lost his helmet.

Shaking, motion blur crossing his vision even as he tried to hold steady, Keith reached out to run one hand through Shiro's hair. It was completely white, all colour bleached by Black's quintessence.

The sudden heat of Keith's tears against his cheeks burned against the ice under his skin.

Shiro had hated the white tuft in his hair. He'd hidden it well, of course, he'd never talked about it - but Keith had known. It was just a little fringe of bleached hair, but it had been a symbol of everything that the Galra had done to him, to Shiro personally. He'd hated it, hated that it was so prominent, on display for everyone to see. Keith sometimes wondered why Shiro hadn't just cut it off. He probably hadn't been able to bring himself to do it.

But now…

The tears came hotter, streaks that burned down Keith's face and blurred his vision. A flicker of panic clenched in his chest, because it was so like the blinding rain, but Keith tried to push that away. It was just tears. I'm just crying.

Shiro…

Quavering, Keith ran his gloved fingers through Shiro's hair again, the white strands wet and clumped together, sticking to the fabric. He wasn't even sure why he was shaking anymore. Was it how cold he was? How wet and hurt? Was it just the fear and lingering panic and dismay? There was something in his chest like lead, something so heavy, so deep and empty and miserable that it made him want to scream.

Quiet, a tentative caress, Red rumbled in his mind. Keith clung to her, pulled her as close as he could; she was warmth and safety and love. Red surrounded his thoughts, wove between them until she had threaded herself through every part of him.

The shaking eased a little.

Keith took as deep a breath as he could manage, licked his lips, and tore his gaze away from Shiro's hair. It took him a few tries to unclasp his helmet, but once he had he pulled it off, set it down beside him, and leaned down. It took both hands to brace his weight and keep from falling over.

His own hair brushed against Shiro's face. Somehow, like a miracle, it was still dry. Keith's arms gave loud protest as he leaned a little further, pain searing through the muscles, but he let Red drown it out and focused on his task. His hair fluttered, and a moment later Keith heard the faint, shallow scrape of Shiro's breathing.

Thank god. Or whoever is out there. Thank you. Shiro was still alive; for right now, at least.

If he was breathing, then his heart was probably beating, but just to make sure Keith pressed his fingers gently against Shiro's throat. After a few moments of nothing and the whiplash of panic, he realised that through space-worthy gloves and the frigid numbness in his fingertips, he probably wouldn't have felt a healthy pulse there. Instead, trying to suck in even breaths and calm down, Keith braced himself and dropped his weight again.

He probably leaned too much against Shiro's chest, but he tried to hold his own weight and rest his head gently against him. For a few seconds, he heard nothing, and the fear curled its fingers around his throat again, but then- b'dum. It was weak, and too slow, but there.

Keith couldn't get himself up again after that, though he did try. Instead, he let himself lie down beside Shiro, and took in his face again.

Little purple-red marks crept up the left side of his throat, razor thin, forked and webbed, like- like lightning. A gentle nudge and Keith saw the marks extended down and curled over Shiro's shoulder, reaching further down his back and ribs in a soft caress that extended all the way to his waist. He felt tears well up in his eyes again. That was from the lightning - Shiro had taken a direct hit. Not huge, since it was only a small scar - but that that was a lightning strike scar.

For a few minutes, Keith lingered on Shiro's hair again. He'd hate it, when he woke up. When, because Shiro would survive this damn it, he would survive as long as Keith still drew breath. He'd hate the white hair. But… But part of Keith was relieved, was so grateful. Injuries aside, the broken leg (shattered knee?) aside, the lightning strike and the odd, concave wound that looked like acid had been splashed against Shiro's right side, the wound that was a dark, sickly purple, that Keith suspected was the one he'd already had on impact - all of that aside… There were no other obvious physical changes that Keith had noticed.

It was an unreliable review, right now. Keith was still trembling, couldn't even hold his own weight, so cold, his senses still all askew. Shiro wasn't even conscious, couldn't move, couldn't communicate what hurt the most. But given all that, Keith couldn't see anything else that didn't have a direct physical cause that he could name. Perhaps he'd escaped the potential havoc coalescence could wreak on his body. Maybe it would just be the white hair.

Shiro's breathing changed. It wasn't much, not enough to indicate true consciousness, but it grew heavier. Keith could actually hear it now, abrasive in Shiro's chest. On a whim, he reached out and placed a hand flat against Shiro's torso, feeling the shallow rise and fall.

Red purred in his mind, reassuring. He felt movement from her, felt her drawing together all the energy she could muster. Fire smouldered around the edges. Red was coming. She was moving for real, walking- running- flying towards them. She'd be here soon.

It was enough.

Keith took a deeper breath, and considered Shiro again, trying to be more objective. What else could he check? Shiro was breathing, he had a pulse. He was unconscious, and severely injured, but-

As gently as he could manage, somewhat awkwardly bracing his wrist in his other hand, elbow against the ground, still lying down but trying to keep steady, Keith reached the short distance between them and touched his fingertips to Shiro's face. Honestly, Keith wasn't sure what practical purpose it would serve - but it was what people did, right? He didn't have anything to lose. Carefully, he opened one of Shiro's eyes, expecting it to be rolled up somewhat, trying to see if his pupils responded to the light.

Involuntarily, Keith recoiled. Shiro's entire eye - even the iris, which was supposed to be dark grey, even the whites - was solid, inky black.

The whole world went blue.

For a moment, Keith didn't understand. Terror filled everything inside him that Red hadn't, sloshing against her presence. She purred reassuringly, completely unconcerned, the embers lingering at the edge igniting and creeping inwards, trying to burn out the fear.

But Keith twisted and looked up, and suddenly Red's heat was all there was in his mind; even coherent thought was burned away.

Far above them, huge and beautiful and silhouetted against the soft blue of a wormhole, the Green Lion flew.

"Keith! Shiro!" crackled Pidge's voice, and Keith felt the heat of tears and he couldn't even bring himself to care. Pidge. He'd never been so relieved to hear someone else's voice. Not when he'd found his father. Not even when he'd drowned. "Keith?! What the hell is-"

Keith wasn't sure what had triggered the confused fear in Pidge's voice. Maybe he'd let out a sob. But he sure as hell knew why she'd stopped. Green's shadow fell across them, even as the nose of the Castleship broke through the wormhole in the sky, and Keith knew that Pidge finally had a visual on them. He knew how Shiro looked, how horrible and awful and broken. He could only imagine how fucked up he looked.

And Pidge was clever. Pidge was always analysing everything. She'd know that the flooded, ice-ball-filled ravine wasn't natural. She probably hadn't even needed a second glance.

The ground trembled, gently, as Green touched down. The next thing Keith knew, Pidge was tearing towards them, shouting, her voice blissfully clear, unfiltered by their comms. "Keith! Keith- oh my god- Keith, what happened? Are you- Is Shiro- What in the hell?!"

She practically dove down the slope, Green sitting down where she'd been left, and then Pidge was beside him and looking Shiro over, hands fluttering, eyes wide, trying to help Keith sit up, not daring to touch their leader. Her face was almost as pale as Shiro's hair.

"Keith? Keith what happ… Oh god." She glanced away, stared at the dead lizard animals for a split second too long. Looked around them. Looked back at Shiro, her eyes wide. Red rumbled in Keith's thoughts, and the ground shook harder as the Red Lion finally landed next to her pridemates. Unlike Green, Red remained standing, tail stiff.

Carefully, hands at Keith's shoulders, Pidge got him sitting and took his weight. She had to do it with her whole body, because physically powerful she was not, but she still did, one hand at Keith's shoulders, the other arm going around his waist to keep him steady. She'd be able to feel the tremors wracking him. She'd be able to see the tears, feel the jagged breaths, smell the lightning in the air.

Keith didn't even care. She was their family. She was one of them. She'd come to save them.

"... Tell me… Tell me he didn't. Please."

Fear and desperation dripped from her voice. The effects of coalescence, the stark changes in Lance and Hunk, had hit her harder than it had the others. She'd known them before they were Paladins. She could see differences that none of them could. Keith felt Red's internal flame die inside him.

Shiro. Shiro will be different. I'll know. I'll know like none of them will. He'll be so different. Keith closed his eyes and let Pidge support him. He was so tired. God, he was so tired.

He couldn't even muster the energy to shake his head. "S-sorry, P'dge…" he managed. His voice slurred, the words jagged and cracking. "I… I'm s'rry… I was too slow… My fault…"

He heard Pidge's breath catch. But the grip around his waist tightened slightly, very slightly, and Pidge's voice was firm when she spoke again.

"Shut the hell up, Keith. This wasn't your fault. This wasn't anyone's fault but Zarkon's. It'll be okay. We'll get him back to the Castle, he'll be okay. You'll be okay." Agreement swept through from his bond to Red, scorching approval. Pidge was right. Red said so. Keith sighed softly, relaxed against her. Next to them, above his head, he heard both his and Pidge's comms flare with static- no, voices. He couldn't pick them out.

Everything hurt. He was so cold. "... Th'nks Pidge…" he breathed, getting her attention. Her voice came, questioning, but he couldn't pick out the actual words. "Th'nks f'r saving us…"

He didn't know how long it took. The next thing Keith knew was the slide of liquid- air- cold- breath. Falling out of a healing pod. Hunk catching him, Pidge and Lance so close, eyes wide, smiles wider. Red purring in his chest, soothing mental licks along his soul. He knew warmth and safety then.

And if he only saw the dusty orange planet in his nightmares after that, then it would just have to be good enough.