"Your fever is gone. You should rest."
Keith stared at the figure in the cryogenic pod. His skin was pale, lips blue and unmoving and closed just like his eyes. He looked as if there was nothing wrong with him. But if you looked closer… there were dark purple flecks crusted along the pinna of the ear, the only evidence left behind of whatever it was that had saved them from a provoked Yveltan in Resha'ari.
"Hunk and Pidge were sent to do recon in Resha'ari. I'm sure they'll be back."
But they couldn't reach them anymore. When Allura reported they couldn't reach them through their comms, Keith felt a cold and terrible grip around his heart. My fault, a voice inside was telling him, This is my fault. I should've told them sooner. We should've told them sooner.
"Three Galran fleets tracked us down and engaged us in battle. We were locked in combat for two days, Keith. It's not your fault."
Keith placed a hand flat on the cool, transparent surface of the pod. There was no response, as it was locked as is until Lance's recovery results could be cleared.
Youuuur fault, the voice laughed cruelly, Aaaaall your fault. You should have known, you shouldn't have thought things would be okay. Things will never be okay. You'll never be okay, because you're not like them, you're a horrible, bloodthirsty, back-stabbing Galr—
"Keith?"
He jumped, breath stabbing his lungs like a cold knife, ice frosting at his temples and down his nape. He ran a hand through his hair, trembling fingers combing through long bangs matted with cold sweat. It's not real, he told himself, Just a voice. It's not real.
He squeezed his eyes shut, once, twice, running his reflection against a checklist he kept in the back of his head (black eyes, black hair, pale skin). Shiro's face reflected somewhere above his hand and underneath the glare the overhead lights cast on the glassy surface of the cryogenic pod, and Keith's breathing soon came to a stand-still.
"Hey," Shiro murmured, slowly raising a hand to his shoulder. Keith felt the warm weight turn into a gentle squeeze. "You're safe here. It's okay."
"Yeah," Keith breathed out. "I know."
Shiro gave him a kind look, lips slanted in a reassuring smile. "He'll be waking up soon. Coran said the illness is almost gone."
Keith dropped his hand from the glass. "Thanks," he said, taking a step back from the pod.
"You should rest."
"I'm done with that," he scowled, and Keith watched the way Shiro's half-smile spread warmly across his face.
"Sounds like it," he joked. "But seriously," he continued, smile now fading into a solemn stare, "take it easy. And I'm not just talking physically."
Keith swallowed, glancing at his reflection on the pod, at Lance's still form contained inside. "Okay."
There was one last smile and a brief clap on his shoulder before Shiro left Keith still standing in front of an eerily silent Lance.
