The Black Lion's interior cockpit was dark, devoid of life and sound, still like the rest of the hangar. Shiro preferred it that way, in fact; it was easier to focus, easier to collect himself without any outward distractions. A time to ruminate, and put his mind at ease if he could help it. The reassurance that he was, in fact, still the lion's paladin gave him solace, but the reality of his situation still held fast at the back of his mind. The jagged shadows across his face, like claws of the surrounding darkness, gave weight to his tangled expression, and his lips drew back like that of the beast he piloted, fangs bared to an invisible opponent.

"You..."

Tightening his grip around the motionless controls, Shiro braced himself...through his own eyes, Zarkon gazed upon him, and through Zarkon's visage, he gazed upon himself as well. The exchange was abrupt, unexpected, and fierce, like two insurmountable forces clashing against one another from across the galaxy without ever having come into contact. As though stirring from an ancient slumber, the lion beneath Shiro's fingertips stirred, and as it reared to life, he heard laughter seeping through his pores like a poison.

"Your connection grows weaker once more. It is only a matter of time until I take back what is mine."

Shiro jerked sharply, but it did little to sever the bond between them...like a waking nightmare, he could not rouse himself from it.

"Say what you want...I beat you once, and I can do it again. You can count on that."

The laughter that echoed inside his head seemed so tangible, as though it were bouncing off the very walls of the desolate hangar...the Black Lion's console flickered to life again, radiating a familiar warmth, and for just a moment, Shiro's captivated gaze reflected the insignia of the Galran empire across the main HUD display before him. At his hands, every control was locked, and through Zarkon's eyes, he saw himself frozen at the cockpit, no less a pawn than the lion itself.

And then, all at once, everything powered down. The laughter in Shiro's head faded away, the console shut itself off, and once again, a darkness fell upon the ship's hangar, silent but for the sounds of his heavy breathing. The electricity in the air grew dim, flat, and the very matter around him no longer seemed to quake in an unseen presence. Everything was still.

Without warning, he was alone again.

"...Damn it!"

Shiro slammed his fist down against the control panel, closing his eyes bitterly where he sat. Every night, it was the same. In his resting hours, he would see the Black Lion come to life, independent of him, watch it beckoned from the hangar and drawn from the castle...going back, back to its original master, back to the Galran Empire. And so every night, he would return to the hangar, fearful that the lion would already be gone by the time he arrived...then, from within it, his mind would be assaulted, he would clash fiercely with Zarkon once again, and an endless battle over a priceless charge would ensue.

He wrenched himself to his feet, slipping from the cockpit and storming from the hangar with his fists tight at his sides.

This can't happen...I won't let this happen. The thoughts came rapidly, strained with determination, but in spite of his constant rhetoric, doubt clouded his judgment. The mental battles grew taxing, and each time he staved the Galran emperor away, he only seemed to come back stronger than ever.

I won once before...I'll do it again. I have to. If he wins...then...the others, they'll...

"...iro...Shiro!'

Visage obscured by the shadows, Shiro glanced briefly over one shoulder to find Keith hot on his heels as he strode through the dimmed halls of the castle. The other's presence drew a crinkle to his eye, but his pace remained steady, fists tightening at his sides.

"Shiro, wait!"

"...What is it?" Shiro demanded tersely, his tone sharper than he meant for it to be.

Keith fell into step beside him, hastening to keep up with the fervored pace as he gazed up at the older man, brow furrowed.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said. "...Hey...what's wrong?"

A sigh slipped past before Shiro could stop it, a lilt of underlying regret in his otherwise terse demeanor.

"Nothing, Keith. If you're done training, why don't you head to bed? The others are probably already asleep."

Keith hesitated, the end of his shoe gliding across the polished floor for just a moment behind him...but then, he hurried ahead of Shiro so he could stand in front of him instead, blocking his path.

"I need to talk to you. It's important," he insisted. "Look, Shiro, I'm worried about you. You're – hey...stop!"

Grimly, Shiro reached up to steer him out the way by his shoulder, his words jagged as they tumbled from his mouth. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, Keith...I don't have time to talk right now. We'll catch up later, all right?"

He moved away again, and for a moment, Keith simply watched him, but then narrowed his eyes determinedly and moved to catch up again.

"What? No – it's not," he retorted, reaching to grab Shiro's wrist, fingers loose and light against the bottom of his palm. "Shiro, it's okay. Just hold on for a –,"

"Damn it, Keith, just go!"

WHAM.

Dazed, Keith's vision blurred...all of a sudden, he thought he was back in his lion again. The impact of the blast had sent him careening through the atmosphere, his ears ringing even as he shook his head clear and struggled to re-stabilize the thrusters; a training exercise that Shiro had put him up to just days earlier, interrupted by a hostile beast that he had been less than equipped to fight when they were only there to navigate the asteroid cluster. The damage he and Red had sustained wasn't permanent, but the blow came so harshly and unexpectedly that he had left himself wide open. If Shiro and the Black Lion hadn't been there to protect him, he...

In the dimness of the corridor, Shiro's hand shone a pale ultraviolet, reflecting the coldness in his blazing eyes like ember coals in the dead of winter. And like a firefly to the light, Keith's gaze was drawn to it, a symbol of both something terrible and, to him, something that had been safe, even reassuring. How many times had that same glow appeared from the corner of his eye like a beacon of solidarity, assured him that there was someone fighting alongside him...that he wasn't alone? It signified close calls, near misses, a message of hope that meant that no matter how dire the circumstances, they were going to get out alive. And while it was a troubling reminder for Shiro of a time he could no longer recall, for Keith, that purple glow was reconciliation. Proof that not everything Galra was bad...that someone could have the Galra be a part of them, and still be good.

Like him.

With the sound of Shiro's footsteps fading down the corridor, Keith brought a hand up to his jaw, closing one eye for a moment as he tested it and then wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth where he had been backhanded. Behind him, the wall was dented inward from the impact, flickering on and off before the artificial light behind the panel short-circuited completely...Keith slid down the length of it until he reached the floor, drawing one leg up and closing his eyes for a moment. His bruised body ached more than he thought it would from the impact, and even as he slumped back, there was a vice grip on his chest, as though crushed beneath the force of a bionic limb.

Shiro...

Silence settled around him like a heavy blanket, suffocating. The bowels of the ship churned every so often, groaning and creaking as the atmospheric pressure within shifted...but usually, Keith couldn't really hear them. Despite there being so few occupants of the massive castle, there always seemed to be something going on. Lance and Coran were by far the noisiest, their antics comical and oftentimes a source of great frustration for Keith. Hunk wasn't much better, though his ruckus was usually more contained, usually the result of some sort of kitchen mishap or mechanical failure. Pidge and Shiro were much quieter, objectively, but it didn't take much to set Pidge off talking passionately about some technological endeavor, and even Shiro couldn't help but join in the conversation more often than not when the others got together and started talking. Allura...well, she wasn't talking to Keith, not since he had drawn up the courage to confess his origins to her, but frequently, he could still hear her and Coran bickering nearby, wherever he was.

Silence like this, however...it reminded him more of his father's cabin in the desert than life onboard the ship with the other paladins. Empty. Desolate. A deafening quiet that he would swear by, when asked, and yet, in the moments alone...

But then, distantly, the sound of footsteps caught his attention again, rousing him from his thoughts and setting him on high alert. Tension crept into the wiry sinew and tendons of loosely-connected joints in his body, bracing himself as the noise grew louder, closer, approaching the bend in the corridor until–,

"Huh? Keith?"

Clad in baggy blue pajamas that were perhaps a couple of inches too short around his bony ankles and clutching a glass of water in one hand, it was Lance, not Shiro, whom Keith found blinking down at him, and he let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

Lance set his hand on his hip, his expression nonplussed.

"What're you doing?"

"Unh..." Begrudgingly, Keith surveyed him from under heavy lids, his expression grim...Lance was always in the last place that he wanted him to be, but it was too late now.

Reaching one bare foot around to scratch the back of his leg, Lance seemed undeterred by the noise, relenting to squat at Keith's side while he was growled at. Grimly, Keith curled one arm tight around his knee, looking away from the other paladin in the hopes that he might lose interest in him. His mind was still reeling. He didn't want to answer the question, barely knew how. Part of him, a very strong part, wanted to pretend there was no answer.

"...Have you seen Shiro?" he uttered at last.

"Mm...Shiro? Nope, not me..." Lance's expression was dubious as he looked him up and down. "You, uhh...waiting for him...here? Or something? What happened to the wall?"

Keith ducked his head, expression pensive.

"Nothing," he murmured, disregarding the questions for the time being in favor of sifting through his own troubled thoughts. "I just–,"

"Whoa...hey, man, you're bleeding." Without thinking, Lance reached up to entangle his hand with Keith's untamed hair, drawing it from the base of his neck and frowning at the touch of crimson that lined his collar.

Keith reached up blindly behind his throbbing head as well, and for just a moment, nimble fingers grazed the valleys and peaks of Lance's knuckles before disappearing between unruly strands, seeking a culprit for his ire. Upon drawing his hand back again, however, he curled it grimly into a fist when he caught a glimpse of slick fingertips...yet before he could pull it away, Lance had snatched him by the wrist, thumb running lightly against his pulse.

"I'm serious!" he protested, arching one eyebrow. "What happened to you? Geez, this can't be good...I'm gonna get Coran, and–,"

Snapping to attention, Keith grabbed Lance's wrist in return, fingers digging urgently into the other's arm.

"No!" he said sharply, his expression terse. "No...look, I–,"

He had to talk to Shiro. He had to find out what was going on. He just had to get Shiro to talk to him, and then everything would be...

"Keith?"

Leaning back against the wall again, Keith glanced away, his hand clamped to the back of his head again.

"I'm...I just...haven't been feeling well lately," he muttered at last. "I got dizzy just now and lost my balance, smacked my head against the wall. Guess I hit it harder than I thought."

There's no way he's gonna buy that.

Lance set his chin in his hand from where he was crouched, examining Keith's profile and uncharacteristically deep in thought. His pondering was nerve-wrecking...Keith glared at him, expression strained, but in the end, he merely shrugged.

"Makes sense," he agreed, then rose to his feet and extended a hand down to Keith. "Go figure. Everyone thinks Lance the klutz, Lance is the one who breaks everything, it must be Lance's fault...well, way to go, Keith. Come on."

Keith regarded the outstretched hand for a long moment, hesitant, but then reached out and took hold. In a sweeping overcompensation and a sudden spell of vertigo, the momentum of being yanked to his feet sent him tumbling into the other paladin, gripping his head as he did so and becoming suddenly aware of Lance holding him steady.

"Easy..." Lance flashed a nervous smile. "Uh...let's just...hey, maybe some ice wouldn't hurt, huh? Like your brain wasn't already scrambled enough without pulling a stunt like that..."

Keith had no retort, begrudgingly allowing himself to be guided in the direction of the kitchen, where he dragged himself up onto one of the stools and set his chin groggily in one hand.

"Here."

Summoning an ice pack from the dispenser, Lance tossed it in Keith's direction before busying himself with the machine again. Keith lifted his free hand absently to catch it, then brought it around to the back of his head, his lip curling as it stung on contact.

Lance pulled up a seat on the other side of the island and slid a glass of water toward Keith as well before glancing stubbornly away and taking a sip of his own. Keith watched him quietly for a moment.

"...Thanks."

Lance sat back, folding his arms and arching a thin eyebrow in Keith's direction. "So...like...seriously, man, what's eating you? Hate to break it to you, but you've been acting really weird lately. Hey...you didn't eat some kinda...alien fruit or anything, did you? Coran said we shouldn't eat stuff unless he says it's okay, it might affect us weird 'cause we're not from Altea, and–,"

"No, I didn't eat any fruit!" Keith sighed and gripped the side of his head to try and reduce some of the throbbing. "It's just...I'm...I dunno, it's...it's space sickness."

'Space sickness' was something that they had each heard Coran talk about on at least one occasion, a disease that allegedly affected those who spent too much time flying around in space with intermittent natural sunlight and too much recycled air. Coran said it often resulted in low energy, general aches and pains, and a feeling of poor health overall...Princess Allura, on the other hand, insisted that such a malady was imaginary, a story told by hack physicians so that people like Coran would buy into it. Regardless, space sickness was the go-to excuse they all used whenever they wanted to get out of something, and Lance narrowed his eyes at the mention of it.

"Uh huh..." Without warning, he launched his long frame halfway across the table to press the heel of his hand to Keith's forehead, fingers raking through growing bangs as he did so. Taken aback, Keith was too surprised to react to the sudden assault, his eyes flashing as he glared up at Lance from beneath his arm.

Lance's expression of triumph faded slowly into something more akin to a pout, however, as he checked Keith's temperature, and after a moment, he let out a short sigh and slid back down into his seat. "Well...okay, I guess you are a little warm, but..."

Keith looked down at the water swirling around in his glass, tilting it back and forth idly as he contemplated voicing his concerns. Lance was, without a doubt, the last person he wanted to confide in...he had the biggest mouth, he was a pain, and he probably wouldn't understand what Keith was talking about anyway, but...somehow, knowing that about Lance made it easier to talk to him than anyone else. Despite all the things about him that drove Keith crazy...he always listened. When it counted, anyway.

"...I'm...worried about Shiro," he uttered tersely at last, gripping his cup with both hands and avoiding Lance's gaze.

Not expecting those to be the next words that came out of Keith's mouth, Lance glanced over, resting his elbows on the countertop. In that moment, Keith reminded him of one of the latchkey kids they often passed by on junkyard planets, what with the way he was sitting...shoulders curled in around his neck as though to make himself as small and unnoticed as possible, posture rigid, expression terse. For all the times that Lance had wanted to clock him in the face, he found himself suddenly overcome with the urge to give him a hug.

"...Shiro? How come?"

"I just..." A strained silence filled the air, but in the end, Keith simply looked away. "He just hasn't been himself lately."

Lance set his chin in his hand.

"Really?" Contemplating this, he thought back for a few moments, but then shook his head. "I haven't noticed anything..."

Keith sighed. He wasn't sure if he should point out that it was probably because Lance was one of the most unobservant people he'd ever met, or lecture him for his idiotic, happy-go-lucky attitude about everything, or demand to know how he could possibly not notice something like that when he didn't seem to be able to stop noticing every single little thing that was going on with Keith.

"Forget it," he murmured.

Lance surveyed him a while longer, unmindful of his sour mood for the time being, and then shook his head.

"Look...even if you're right, this is Shiro we're talking about. I mean, he can handle himself, you know? Besides..." He threw his chest out proudly. "Shiro knows he can come talk to us any time!"

Keith closed his eyes and set the ice pack against the back of his head again. "Right..."

Silence fell between them then, until finally, Keith got to his feet without warning. "I'm gonna go find him."

Lance looked up in surprise. "Right now? Uh...he's probably asleep?"

Keith shook his head. "No...I should've gone sooner. I just..."

He touched the back of his head absently, then turned away.

"Sorry." He hesitated briefly on his way out. "And uh...thanks."

Lance blinked rapidly a few times, then clambered his feet to chase after him, hastening to catch up. "For what? Hey...Keith! For what?! Whoa..."

They both stumbled slightly as the floor beneath their feet shuddered, a terrible groan rising from deep within the castle.

"What...what? What?! What was that?!" Lance immediately put his fists up, looking all around them as though he might find the culprit. "Aaah!"

There was another great shudder, and the arcing crescent of an explosion so close that it left a ringing in their ears...Keith turned again just as Lance was thrown into him, clumsily attempting to catch him and stop them both from tumbling to the ground.

"What's going on?!"

"Paladins!" At once, Princess Allura's voice filled the air, her high, regal tone fraught with tension. "Zarkon's fleet is here...somehow, they have found us again. You must get to the lions...please, hurry!"