Three vargas into their trip, and even Keith is trying to remember if he's ever actually seen Krolia sleep.

She's spent the entire flight so far programming battle simulations, each one completely different and increasingly more difficult than the last, and she doesn't seem to be running out of ideas anytime soon. Some of them seem unnecessarily dramatic and complicated to him, the conditions rather exaggerated, unrealistic and needlessly theatrical in nature. She occasionally asks Keith for his opinion on a certain element of a given simulation, such as what level of visibility would be manageable but challenging, what kind of atmosphere would amplify the quality of the battle, or how many blovar raptors would it take to pose a substantial threat to the individual Lions. Keith doesn't even know what a blovar raptor is.

It's when she starts a programming a simulation in an asteroid field with three weblums, a swarm of Galra fighters, and every possible minor inconvenience imaginable that he realizes she's just bored.

Keith sighs quietly and slumps down in his seat, staring out into the vast expanse of space before him while absent-mindedly bouncing his leg up and down. He's both grateful for and resentful of how much time has already elapsed since they'd left Olkarion. On one hand, it's given him plenty of breathing room, plenty of opportunity to mentally prepare himself for the conversation to come, the things he needed to say. On the other hand, the anxiety he feels at the prospect of that same conversation is only steadily increasing with every passing tick, so much he thinks there's a chance he might be sick.

He's afraid he's going to lose his nerve. In a way, that fear is the only thing keeping him from doing so. That, and the expression on Lance's face when Keith told him he was ready to talk, so full of genuine relief and affection that Keith thinks he might have broken down again right then and there if he hadn't thought everyone was watching them. He had no idea Lance had actually been that worried about him. It makes him feel guilty, but also... good. It makes him feel good.

Still, he doesn't want to be a burden. But the last thing he wants is to be the reason that Lance isn't happy.

He finds himself periodically checking in with the rest of the team over the group comms, partly to make sure that everyone is still on course (not being able to see the other Lions behind him kind of puts him on edge), and partly to subtly send a message to Lance that he hasn't forgotten what he said, he just hasn't had the chance to call yet.

Krolia continues tapping away at the simulator screen she's been hunched over since they left Olkarion, frowning in concentration.

Keith rolls his neck one way, then the other, trying to relax his muscles. He feels tense all over. His hands and fingers ache from gripping the flight sticks so tightly for so long, but if he were to let go he wouldn't know what else to do with them, and they need to be doing something because he's starting to get restless. At this point, this far into their flight, he's surprised Krolia hasn't said anything about it.

"You seem restless," Krolia notes without looking up.

Keith stops bouncing his leg and shakes his head at the ceiling. Jinxed it. He adjusts and sits up straight in the seat, staring determinedly at a single star way off to his left, the same defensiveness he felt earlier returning in a quick flash. "I'm just. Eager to get back." The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. He's not sure they're true.

She hums in assent, but he can tell she's not convinced. He sees her studying him in his peripheral vision. "You've never talked much about Earth."

Keith looks down, examining the ridges scratched into the boots of his armor as he considers how to interpret her comment. Krolia has a way of stating something as an observation while implying that there's an underlying question. It's unmistakeable, yet noninvasive, asking for an explanation without assuming one will be given. She was right when she said that their two years together didn't mean Keith was suddenly ready to talk to her about anything. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want that—he so badly wants to have that—that intimate, natural relationship with his mother that he'd been so unfairly deprived of in his youth, forced to grow up without such a vital connection to himself because of the bloodthirsty Galra threatening their universe.

Of course he still wants that bond. They're already relatively close now as it is—how could they not be? During their mission to the Quantum Abyss, they'd only had each other. Aside from gathering food, clean water, and firewood, there wasn't much to do other than... well. Talk.

So they did.

And day by day, bit by bit, piece by piece, Keith had let himself be that much more vulnerable, that much more exposed, that much more open, until it almost felt like Krolia had always been there, however far away she may have actually been. And together they'd been able to start filling in the gaps left behind in the wake of their separation, of each other's absence, making up for all of their lost time and slowly becoming a part of each other's lives again. It helped that they'd both been so willing to try in the first place, despite everything.

Despite everything, they had found their way back to each other. Holding back for so long has already taken its toll on him, depleted all of his mental energy. It requires too much strength, strength that he doesn't have. So Keith gives in. He decides, this time, to let go.

His grip on the flight controls loosens, all defensiveness melting away. "There's not much for me to go home to," he admits quietly.

There's a beat of silence. He feels something brush against his arm and he looks over to see Kosmo standing beside him now, eyes blinking up at him as if he felt and understood the gravity of the words being exchanged. Keith smiles fondly, reaching and smoothing the ruffled fur on the wolf's neck. It's a soothing gesture, both for him and for Kosmo.

Krolia abandons her screen and stands at his other side, resting her hand on the headrest. She doesn't say anything for a while, but Keith is content with the silence. That was something else he'd grown accustomed to during their mission. Sometimes, no words need to be said. Sometimes, there aren't any words to be said at all. Sometimes, just the closeness is enough. He knows that she understands.

Then, after a while, softly: "I'd like to go see your father."

"We can go together," Keith responds without hesitation. Because, he realizes, if there's one thing he's been looking forward to when they get to Earth, that's exactly it. After all, that's what he's been longing for, one of the few things he's envisioned during all of those late, sleepless nights under the stars. He looks up at Krolia, who returns his gaze with an expression that he's never, in his entire life, seen anywhere else, an expression he can't quite place yet makes him feel at home all the same.

Love, he thinks idly. It's still such a foreign concept to him. But it's something he desperately wants to become familiar with, in more ways than one.

Krolia brushes the hair from Keith's forehead, the way she does when she wants to really look at him. She's never explicitly said so, but he thinks it's because she likes to see his eyes. "I'd like that," she says. And Keith smiles.

"By the way," Keith starts as Krolia and Kosmo are returning to the back of the cockpit. He glances sideways at Krolia as she turns expectantly. "I don't think weblums travel in packs."

She gives him a pointed look as she flicks a finger over the simulation settings and erases them entirely, but the corner of her mouth hitches up. "Better to be prepared for the unexpected."

He watches for another short moment as she settles into a corner with Kosmo, resting her head back against the cold metal and obligingly ruffling the wolf's fur when he curls up next to her and rests his head in her lap. The sight suddenly strikes him as surreal, like it's finally really starting to sink in that they're here, that the person he'd thought all his life had abandoned him because he wasn't worth sticking around for is here, because she wants to be, and because she cares. Against all odds, they were together again, despite how he'd convinced himself it was foolish to hope.

Apparently, the universe just loves to prove him wrong.

It's not until Krolia closes her eyes that Keith realizes it's finally happening. She's going to sleep. Which means he can call Lance soon.

His stomach flips, once with a nervous kind of excitement, and again with a visceral twinge of anxiety. He's spent most of the trip trying to figure out exactly what he's going to say, how he's going to say it, where he even needs to start. The uncertainty of it all is agonizing. And now that the time to talk is near, the situation is only suddenly becoming very real to him. The only thing he's sure of is that he's unsure.

How is he supposed to talk about this? Describing his nightmares is one thing, but to have to explain them by reliving the source of it all... that's a different problem entirely. What words are there that could possibly express just how traumatizing and how damaging it was, to express just how much emotional hurt and pain it's caused him?

Sure, Keith wants to talk. But he doesn't know how.

The next few doboshes pass by painfully slowly, but the paranoia Keith feels at the idea of Krolia secretly listening in on his conversation with Lance makes it tolerable. He wants to be absolutely, completely, 100% certain that she's asleep before he even thinks again about calling. It gives him time to collect himself, regain his footing, take a few deep breaths. You can do this, he thinks in a futile attempt to psych himself up. This is good. This will be good for you.

He peeks over his shoulder again after a while, noting the telltale twitch of Krolia's eyebrow that signals she's asleep (he thinks that happens when she's dreaming). His heart leaps up into his throat as he turns back toward the front, staring apprehensively at the comms screen, suddenly hyperaware of his unsteady breathing and the tension in his shoulders and the accelerated beat of his heart. He flicks on auto-pilot, although he doesn't think it's necessary since Black is already locked onto the Balmera's coordinates, then reaches slowly for the red button that represents the Red Lion. He hesitates, his hand hovering in the air as he glances back at Krolia one last time. Then he takes a shaky breath, and closes the distance.

Lance answers immediately.

"Finally!" His face appears on a new screen in front of Keith, casting a soft glow into the cockpit and making him squint a little. Lance exhales dramatically. "Keith. Keith, I'm so bored. Kaltenecker is a horrible flying partner. She hasn't moo'd once. How can I pretend she agrees with everything I say when she won't moo!"

Something about the way that Lance seems genuinely distraught at being ignored by a cow, and the childish pout on his face, and the fact that it's just all so dumb, so wholesome and so innocent and so blatantly contrary to the feeling of foreboding that's been harboring in Keith's stomach since they left Olkarion, that in spite of everything, he finds himself smiling. He goes along with it, silently thanking Lance for not forcing him straight into the heavy stuff. "You talk to yourself?"

Lance narrows his eyes at him through the screen. "First of all, I'm like 90% sure that talking to yourself is supposedly a sign of higher intelligence."

"Supposedly."

"And second of all," Lance goes on, overlooking his comment, "I've been talking to Kaltenecker, thank you. She may not be very vocal, but she is a very good listener." There is a very quiet moo in the background and Lance's eyes light up. "See?"

"Mhm," Keith agrees unconvincingly, letting out a single huff of laughter. "I bet she's not as cuddly as Kosmo, though."

Lance smiles shrewdly. "Maybe not, but at least she doesn't unexpectedly appear in your bedroom—"

"Shut up," Keith interrupts, praying it's dark enough in Black to keep Lance from seeing the color rising in his cheeks. "I didn't tell him to do that."

"I mean. I'm not complaining," Lance adds casually, giggling when Keith makes a sort of choking noise. "Cuddling is scientifically proven to be therapeutic—"

"Lance," Keith begs, wondering if there's an eject button somewhere on his dashboard that can save him from this torture.

"Really, you can drop by any time—"

"I will hang up on you," Keith threatens, reaching for the comms screen with zero intention of actually following through. Apparently Lance doesn't know that.

"No!" Lance's expression changes from amused to alarmed so fast that it takes a full second for it to register with Keith. "Wait—I'm done, okay? Don't hang up."

The tone of his voice leaves Keith momentarily speechless, his arm frozen in midair as the two of them blink at one another in a sort of confusion. "I..." Keith slowly drops his arm, drawing his brows together. "Okay, relax. I wasn't actually..." It dawns on him, the reason Lance seems so panicked at the thought of Keith disconnecting their call, and he softens, his heart aching in a way he can't quite place. "I'm not going anywhere."

Lance doesn't even try to hide the relief on his face. He breathes out. "Sorry, I just want to make sure that..." His voice trails off, but he doesn't have to finish for Keith to understand.

He looks down briefly, clearing his throat. "I, um. I heard you talked to Shiro this morning."

That seems to catch Lance off guard for a moment. "Oh. I—Yeah, I did." Keith looks at him expectantly, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. He studies the soft curve of Lance's nose as he collects his thoughts, his eyes temporarily unfocused. It's too dark to actually see them, but Keith imagines each freckle painted across his face, mentally arranges them into patterns to match the stars in his eyes. And after a short pause, Lance speaks again, voice quiet. "I guess I decided... well, after last night, and, what you said to me..." Keith feels his heart stutter at the memory of the two of them sitting together under the star-filled sky, the words exchanged from one to the other. Lance's gaze meets his. "That meant a lot to me. And it made me realize that I never would have known that you thought—that you felt that way about me. If I hadn't talked to you about how I was feeling. So I figured talking to Shiro probably wasn't the worst idea after all."

Keith bites at his lip, hesitant to respond when he realizes he's become the universe's greatest hypocrite. "Good. That's... good. I'm glad."

A new silence stretches between them, during which Keith avoids looking directly at the screen, knowing if he does that Lance will trap him with just one look. He knows this is the part where he's supposed to finally sit back and just talk, the part he's been simultaneously dreading and looking forward to. But now that the moment is so close, looming in front of him so clear and undeniable, he feels cornered.

"Look man, are you really gonna make me ask?" Lance says at last, exasperated but unaccusing.

Keith sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "Lance, I—I just don't know where to start." He presses his forehead against his palm and closes his eyes, opens his mouth say something else and then doesn't, shaking his head, slightly, because what is he supposed to say?

Lance is perfectly still, which Keith knows means he's uncertain, unsure of what he needs to say or do. He shakes his head again. This was a bad idea, he thinks bitterly. I can't—this is so stupid—

"Why don't you start with the nightmares?"

Keith looks up slowly, almost taken aback by how impossibly gentle Lance's voice is. He looks into his eyes—the best he can through the hazy screen of light that separates them—and for the second time in the past half-hour, decides to let go.

Still, his heart starts pounding at the mention of the nightmares. He steels himself. "They—" He swallows, his mouth dry. Because admitting this to someone else somehow feels like a betrayal. "They're about Shiro."

Lance's eyes widen a fraction, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. "Shiro? What..." He falters, seeming to realize something. "After we disbanded Voltron. After we propelled you through that wormhole behind him..." He says it so softly, Keith just wants to close his eyes and forget about everything else in the universe. Everything but Lance. "Keith, what happened?"

Keith focuses on a point just beyond Lance's face on the screen. He suddenly feels detached, like his brain is trying to cope with the sea of emotion in his chest by removing him from it entirely. "After..." he murmurs, trying to string together a complete thought. "After, I followed him to this facility, or something, of some kind." Lance is so quiet, Keith can't imagine he's not holding his breath. "I went inside and there were all these pods. Just—rows and rows and rows of these pods." He shifts and brings his knees up to his chest, the toes of his boots sticking over the edge of the seat. He stares at them. "They were all clones. Clones of Shiro."

Lance doesn't say anything. If he's shocked at all by the information, Keith doesn't know, and he doesn't wait to find out. "There were so many of them, and it—I was so confused, I didn't know what was going on, and then our Shiro—" He feels himself tremble slightly and he has to pause, trying to remember to actually breathe. "He wasn't listening. I didn't realize yet that he was a clone too, and I—I tried to talk to him, I just kept trying to tell him we needed to get back to the Castle—"

We, are not going anywhere—

The image of Shiro's glowing eyes racing toward him flashes in his mind, and it breaks him.

"He tried to kill me," he gasps.

It's the first time he's said it out loud. And it's awful, painful, it's loud and terrifying and so completely earth-shattering, it hurts so badly and suddenly he can't stop repeating that single phrase while other horrible images of their fight crowd around in his brain in sickening bursts. "He tried to—Lance, he tried to kill me." He clutches at the collar of his armor, a suffocating panic rising in his throat like he's only just realizing—

"He tried to kill me—"

"Keith—" Lance is half-standing, leaning closer to the screen with a frantic expression, his hands held helplessly out in front of him like he wants to do something, but he can't because they're not even in the same Lion—Keith can't breathe—Lance looks terrified. "Keith—"

He doesn't know exactly how it happened. He's aware of himself curled up in his seat, unable to move, unable to breathe, and he's barely cognizant of Kosmo suddenly at his side, sharp eyes on his, and there's that brief sickening feeling that always accompanies teleportation and then he's huddled on the floor, and just as suddenly Lance is standing over him, eyes wide, but he's here, Keith thinks maybe he says something to Kosmo and then he's crouching down in front of him, pushing his hair back out of his face and holding it there so he can—. "Breathe—Keith, breathe. Just breathe—"

"He tried to kill me," Keith gasps again, his chest aching painfully, his hands scrabbling for something to hold and finding Lance's arms. Something presses firmly against his back, his mind hardly registering that Kosmo has curled himself around the pair of them, whimpering quietly.

Lance grabs one hand and holds it to his chest. "Keith, look at me. Look at me." It's not a suggestion, it's an order, and Keith finds himself obeying, locking his eyes with Lance's. "In four. Can you hear me? Breathe in four—that's it, one two three four—now out—there you go—"

Keith can hear his breath shaking violently, feel his head spinning and his heart thundering in his throat. He clasps desperately to Lance's hand for support, tries hopelessly to ground himself.

"In again—yeah, like that—out again, one two three four. Good—"

They sit like that for who knows how long, too long, long enough that Keith has time to hate himself for spiraling so quickly and so easily, hate himself for making Lance see him like this, sit with him like this, not for the first time. But Lance stays, crouched down beside him, talking him through his breathing, squeezing his hand in silent encouragement, pushing the hair out of his face so Keith can just breathe. He hates this, hates making Lance see this—it's all he can think once he's finally coherent again. "Lance, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

Lance hushes him, dropping a second hand to his shoulder and pulling himself closer. "No, you don't have to—Keith. You don't have to keep talking about it. We can stop."

Keith grits his teeth, his grip tightening on Lance's hand. Kosmo wraps his tail tighter around his side. "No. I need to."

Lance's own grip doesn't loosen as he lowers their hands to the ground, just softens, his eyes searching. But he doesn't say anything, just positions himself onto both knees, the quiet inviting Keith to go on. He closes his eyes, because somehow the memories are more vivid now when they're open, rather than closed.

"I think it was supposed to be a trap," he says slowly, consciously working to steady his breath. "Like they knew I would go after him. And when Shiro came after me, I—" his voice wobbles and Lance squeezes, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles across the back of his hand.

"Take it slow," he murmurs.

Out, one two three four. "He came after me," Keith says again. "I didn't—know what to do, I didn't want to hurt him but—" He stops. Lance waits. "He just kept coming, and coming, I—" Another squeeze. "I had to protect myself somehow."

He allows himself a moment to regroup, focuses on the touch of Lance's thumb brushing over his knuckles, the warmth of Kosmo's body pressing into his back, each reassuring him that he's here, he's safe.

"And there was a point where I just... I was just operating on pure instinct, and I guess self-preservation kicked in and it was like—I couldn't see myself but—" He brings his other hand up to his mouth, his shoulders shuddering. "I could feel it. It felt so, natural, but also so—wrong, I didn't..."

Lance's eyes are glassy, reflecting the heaviness in Keith's own chest. "You mean..." He hesitates for just a fraction, like he isn't sure he should continue. "Your Galra reflexes. That's when it happened for the first time."

Keith nods so slightly he isn't even sure he actually did.

"You must've been so scared," Lance says quietly, face full of sympathy.

Keith lets out a small whimper. "I was terrified," he whispers.

Lance lays a hand on his arm. "We can stop."

Keith shakes his head, harder this time, determined to make it through. So he just keeps going. "He said some stuff that really... I mean, I know it wasn't Shiro now, but I didn't know then, and it just hurt, so then something happened to his arm, and he started going ballistic and he just—the entire place was wrecked. Everything. All of it. I had to just keep running, and running, and at some point he had me pinned down..."

He drags his gaze up to meet Lance's, unable to voice the rest. So he takes Lance's other hand, guides it toward his cheek, lets his eyes fall closed at the touch.

Lance inhales sharply, realizing. "Shiro. He gave you..." Keith can't blame him for not finishing the sentence.

"I had to cut off his arm," Keith's voice is barely audible.

There's a moment of quiet, as Lance seems to process everything. Keith focuses on the warmth on his cheek from Lance's hand, the soothing repetition of tiny circles being drawn over his knuckles with the other, the rise and fall of Kosmo's body as he lies beside them. And it's so unfair. That the first time he allows himself to get this close, he can't even enjoy it. He's too empty.

"You know that saying?" he asks, voice small. "The one that says your best dreams and your worst nightmares have the same people in them?"

"Don't," Lance says, like what he knows what Keith wants to say next would hurt him just as much as it would Keith.

So Keith doesn't.

"Keith, you... you haven't talked to him about it?"

A look of hurt flashes quickly across Lance's face when Keith abruptly pulls his hand away from his cheek. "Lance, I don't—" He huffs frustratedly. "I can't. I don't even know if he remembers anything about it. It wasn't actually him, and besides, can you imagine how he'd feel if he ever found out exactly what happened—"

"Idiot," Lance deadpans, and Keith doesn't understand how he can call him that when he's still holding his hand. "Can you imagine how he'd feel if he saw you like this? If he found out you've been suffering because you wouldn't say anything to him, because you wanted to save him from a guilty conscience?"

Yes, Keith wants to scream. Yes, that's the whole point.

"What if he does remember?" Lance forces Keith to look at him, eyes fierce. "What if he's hurting just as badly as you are?" And Keith stares, his throat constricted. Because he has thought about that. Too many times to count. He's just convinced himself that it's not the case, that he doesn't remember, that he'd never forgive himself if he were the one to put those images in Shiro's head. Lance goes on, frowning. "What if he sees that scar every time he looks at you, and he has to live with himself knowing he did that to you?"

"Stop," Keith says weakly. "Please. I can't..." He tries to pull his other hand from Lance's grasp, but Lance won't let him.

"Listen, just." Lance softens again, apologetic. "Keith. You know I've never tried to push you to talk about anything, or do anything, but you need to talk to Shiro—"

He can't. He can't do this. "I need to get back to the Black Lion before Krolia wakes up," Keith mutters, breaking free from Lance's grip and wrapping his arm around Kosmo's neck.

"Keith, wait—" The hurt in Lance's voice makes Keith's heart bleed. He thought he could do this. He can't.

"C'mon, Kosmo," he closes his eyes, refuses to let the tears come—not here. Kosmo seems conflicted, whimpering in protest like he thinks they should stay, but Keith insists on his hold, and then he's back in his seat, dizzy with the moment.

He realizes their call is still ongoing, as Lance clambers back into his own seat on the screen. "Keith—" he starts pleadingly, but Keith waves him off, his chest tight. He doesn't want Lance to see him cry again. He doesn't want—

"Talk to you when we get to the Balmera," he manages, unable to bring himself to see the look on Lance's face before he ends the call.

He immediately chokes on a sob, clutching a hand to his mouth as Kosmo pushes his head into his lap, watching Keith with sad eyes. A hot tear streaks down his cheek, stinging where it comes into contact with his scar, and then he drops his face into the wolf's soft fur, grabbing fistfuls of it and screwing his eyes shut as the rest begin to flow. Kosmo growls softly, an attempt to comfort him. And Keith cries, sobs muffled by fur. He hopes it's enough to keep himself from waking Krolia.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, to Kosmo, or to Krolia, Lance, Shiro, to himself, he doesn't know. He just doesn't know. People have always told him he doesn't feel anything, he doesn't care, but it's the opposite, he cares too much, feels too much—his insides ache.

"I'm sorry."


Keith sits in a miserable silence for the rest of the trip, agonizing over his conversation with Lance, ripping himself apart for how quickly he'd closed himself off and pushed him away, wishing desperately to get out of the Lion's close quarters and yet dreading any sort of contact with the outside world. Kosmo remains loyally by his side long after he's stopped crying.

At some point, he hears Krolia moving about the cockpit again, acknowledging her with only a simple nod out of fear that anything else will send him back over the edge. If she notices, again, that something's off, she doesn't say anything.

He tries, several times over the course of the next few vargas, to envision a scenario in which he scrounges up the courage to talk to Shiro. And each time, he fails to make it past 'I need to talk to you'.

He can't stop thinking about the pleading in Lance's voice.

The pain is unbearable.

When they reach the Balmera, he's so mentally exhausted he feels like he's shut down entirely. His body is operating on auto-pilot, his hands moving mindlessly as he lands the Black Lion and lets her jaw lower to the ground. It's already nightfall, but there's a crowd of Balmerans gathered outside to greet them, grinning and waving excitedly. He just follows behind Krolia and Kosmo, stands diplomatically at Allura's side, smiles politely and nods in thanks at their hosts, allows himself to bed led into the caverns specially prepared for a short celebration.

He keeps to the walls while everyone else mingles, graciously accepting anything that's offered to him by a Balmeran, feeding what he can to Kosmo when no one's looking. And as the night wears on, he finds himself searching for Lance in the crowd without really meaning to. Who's avoiding who, he's not really sure. At some point he spots him on the other side of the cavern, smiling as he talks with Hunk and Shay. Shiro passes by and exchanges a few words, giving Lance a friendly shove in the shoulder before continuing on his way. Lance looks in his direction. Keith looks away.

Kosmo wanders off. Now Keith finds his gaze following Shiro as he makes his rounds around the rocky room, speaking politely to every Balmeran that stops him (which is a lot). If Keith weren't so focused on the missing limb on Shiro's right side, he would've laughed at the face he makes when a young Balmeran expectantly shoves an awful-looking dish of food right under his nose, which he probably only takes a bite from out of obligation. At length, he joins Allura in the midst of the celebration, although the conversation they begin seems anything but festive, heads down and close together like there's a secret to be kept.

You could go talk to him right now, he thinks, even though he has no intention of following through, and just wants to make himself feel better for at least attempting to entertain the idea. He leans back against the wall of the cavern and sighs through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're not even trying."

Keith startles slightly at the sound of Krolia's voice. He turns to look as she joins him, leaning against the wall with one shoulder and crossing one ankle over the other. "I don't know what you mean." He stares determinedly at the back of Pidge's head across the room, keenly aware of Krolia's eyes on him.

She folds her arms, drumming her fingers against her own armor. "Aren't people going to start wondering why Voltron's leader is brooding on the outside instead of enjoying—"

"I'm not brooding," Keith snaps.

Krolia doesn't even blink.

"Sorry," he mumbles, digging his fingers into his arms in an attempt to reign himself in. "I'm... just tired."

Lamest, oldest ,most cliché and overused excuse in the book. Krolia doesn't call him out for it. Not directly, at least. "Tired of..."

Existing, Keith almost says, just to be dramatic. But that's a bit too morbid, even for him. Instead, he looks again at Shiro. Romelle and Coran have joined him and Allura, standing together in a loose circle as they talk cheerfully among one another. Coran must be telling a story, the way he's moving around so animatedly, waving his arms and mussing up his hair, attracting the attention of everyone nearby. Then Shiro's laughing, pushing the bangs out of his face and shaking his head, and Keith's heart sinks into the pit of his stomach because he can't remember the last time he's seen Shiro actually look happy like that, and because now any inkling of a thought that might still have been lurking in the back of his head have been completely swallowed up. He looks happy. Keith can't take that away from him.

Krolia hums beside him. "You should go talk to him."

Keith scoffs. Honestly, does no one get it? "Yeah, right. How many times do I have to—" He freezes, his brain slowly catching up as he realizes the implications of her statement. "I mean. About what. What do you—wait." He draws away from the jagged cavern wall and stares at Krolia in mild horror. No. Please no. "Were you—"

There isn't even the slightest hint of guilt on her face, but the looks she gives him confirms the cause of his alarm. He covers his face in his hands and curses under his breath, groaning inwardly. This is a mess. Everything is a mess. He knows Krolia is just looking at him, waiting for him to stop hiding behind his hands and say something. It's annoying. And embarrassing. Finally he sighs, dropping his hands to his sides and studying a cluster of rocks near his foot. "How much did you hear?" he asks in resignation.

She moves away from the wall to level with Keith. "Enough."

He just shakes his head, slowly at first, then more fervently. The pent-up frustration in his entire body is about ready to burst. "If you really were listening, then you know why I can't say anything to him."

"I know why you think you can't say anything to him."

Keith rakes his fingers through his hair, suddenly wishing he was just gone, away, anywhere but down here in this stupid cavern at this stupid party, but at this point he's so emotionally charged he thinks if he even moves he'll lose it.

"He's a good man—" Krolia starts, and Keith feels awful but he can't stop the mirthless laugh that comes out of his mouth.

"You don't even know him."

She takes it in stride. "You're right. All I know about him, I learned from you."

The meaning behind those words catches Keith off guard. He opens his mouth for a retort, but nothing ever comes. Because there's nothing to argue. Keith feels himself deflating, shoulders sinking.

"So..." Krolia continues encouragingly. "If everything you said about him is really true..." Keith looks up to meet her eyes and she nods her head in Shiro's direction. "I think you should talk to him." Her gaze drifts over his shoulder. "I know I'm not the only one."

He turns to follow her line of sight and sees Lance looking their way—his eyes quickly dart away when he realizes he's been spotted, busying himself by striking up a new conversation with Hunk still standing beside him. Keith feels another layer of guilt add itself to the growing pile in his chest.

His gaze returns to Shiro, back to Lance, Shiro again, and then finally Krolia, who's watching him intently, like she can see the gears turning in his head.

Keith isn't sure exactly what tips the balance in favor of Krolia's advice. Maybe the logical part of his brain manages to convince him that both Krolia and Lance are right. Maybe he decides the existing guilt of shutting Lance out when he's only ever tried to help outweighs the potential guilt of telling Shiro why he's being avoided. Maybe he's just tired of denying himself his feelings in general.

Or, maybe he's just crazy.

"Fine. Okay. Fine."

And then, in a moment of possible blind insanity, for the first time in too long, he's walking toward Shiro, instead of away.

It's when he's already marched up to the circle and planted himself next to Shiro that he seems to really realize he's actually doing this.

A brief look of surprise seems to cross Shiro's face at Keith's sudden appearance, which is understandable, but it still sends a quick pang of hurt through Keith's body, although he's not sure he has the right to feel it. "Hey." Like nothing's wrong. Like they've been talking just like normal all this time. Like he hasn't noticed the way Keith has been actively avoiding him for the past week. Keith kind of appreciates it, but it also makes him want to slap Shiro upside the head.

But all of that is quickly overwhelmed by a wave of panic. What the—what am I—doing. He feels like he was just zapped through space like he has been countless times with Kosmo, one moment standing on the outskirts of the celebration with Krolia, the next standing in the middle of it all, four pairs of curious eyes trained on him and making his skin crawl. And he's standing right next to Shiro, the sight of whom still seems to make his mind unconsciously disconnect from his body so that he can't even move. He realizes vaguely that he still hasn't responded to Shiro's greeting, and at this point it's too late to make the situation any less awkward. "I—um." He looks up at Shiro helplessly, who immediately seems to understand.

And he doesn't even hesitate, just wordlessly separates himself from the group with ease, places a guiding hand on Keith's shoulder and leads him away from all the noise and the stuffiness and the chaos of the crowd, away from the prying eyes of everyone around them, like Keith has instantly become his top priority. Keith is in awe of the way Shiro can still read him so well, how willing he is to drop everything and give him his full, undivided attention.

The two of them are silent as they retreat into one of the many side tunnels that empty out into the cavern, light dimming and sound fading until everything feels faint, everything except for the hand on Keith's shoulder and the pulse pounding in his throat. Shiro turns to face him the second they've travelled far enough into the tunnel to be able to speak privately.

"What is it?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together as he searches Keith's face.

Keith meets his eyes and swallows, struggling to find his voice. Now that they're distanced from the sounds of the ongoing celebration, the thundering of his heart suddenly seems that much louder, and he prays Shiro can't hear it. "Nothing, it's—everything's fine. I just—" He notes the way Shiro's face seems to fall slightly. Deep breaths, he thinks desperately, trying to calm himself. In, one two three four—He exhales. "We just. Haven't talked much since we got back." Okay, he's beating around the bush a little. Baby steps.

A mix of relief and regret washes over him as Shiro removes his hand from his shoulder, which feels like it's been burning with the contact. "I... guess we've all been pretty busy with trying to restore the coalition," Shiro offers cautiously, although the questioning in his eyes tells Keith he's still trying to figure out Keith's real intentions.

"Right," Keith clears his throat, flexing his fingers restlessly at his sides. How. In the entire, actual universe—is he supposed to segue into something like this? "So. How are you feeling?"

It's subtle, but Shiro's expression becomes uncharacteristically guarded, clashing with the light tone of his voice. Keith only misses it because he's too focused on his mental breathing exercises. "Better. Allura and Coran have been a big help."

Keith makes himself nod, mind working furiously both to keep him from turning around and walking away, and from tackling his fear head-on and just straight up telling Shiro everything. It only takes a moment of the weird, uncomfortable, awkward and unnatural silence that falls between them for him to realize that's exactly what he has to do. His eyes flick toward the ground, and before he can stop himself: "Do you remember anything?" he blurts out. If Shiro has a response, he doesn't get the chance to voice it because Keith stumbles on in a nervous rush. "About before, when you—I mean, after Haggar—you took Lotor and—" Why is this so hard—

"Keith." The sound of Shiro's voice makes him clamp his mouth shut, the short moment of quiet almost deafening as he prepares himself for what Shiro has to say. Which is pointless, because he really never expected him to say what he does next, voice cracking with grief. "I remember everything."

The complete and utter silence that follows makes Keith's blood turn ice cold, like his heart legitimately just stopped beating, the sound of his fluttering pulse and his jumbled mess of a brain muted temporarily by the shock of it all. He looks up slowly, and when he does he sees all of the heartache and guilt he's been carrying around on his shoulders since their fight reflected back at him in Shiro's eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks weakly.

Shiro's expression is pained. He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a defeated sigh. For possibly the first time in Keith's life, Shiro has no words. And suddenly Keith is full of them.

"But you never... Shiro, why would you—why didn't you say anything? If I had known, I would've—maybe I would have talked to you sooner, I just didn't want to tell you about the nightmares because I was scared you would blame yourself—"

Shiro lets out a strangled gasp and Keith frowns at first, confused—and then his eyes widen with horror as he realizes what he's just unwittingly confessed. He slaps a hand to his mouth and stumbles back a step, only barely catching himself.

"That's why." Shiro's voice is strained, and Keith swears he feels his heart ripping apart with every next word. "You've been so distant, you... I knew you hadn't been sleeping, but I—that's why you've been avoiding me?"

Keith wants to say no. He wants to say no, tell Shiro he misheard, act like he misspoke, pretend the entire conversation up to this point didn't happen at all, because the look on Shiro's face legitimizes every single fear that Keith had about this very moment, and it makes his entire body heavy with the guilt of it all. But at this point, denial would only add fuel to the fire, and he's already burning up. He drops his hand, lets his eyes fall to the ground. "Then... you did notice."

Shiro lets out a quiet puff of air, incredulous. "Of course I did."

Keith doesn't know what to say. He can't decide if this is better or worse than he ever imagined this happening.

"Nightmares," Shiro murmurs, making Keith look back up. His eyes are closed, his head shaking miserably with increasing force. "You've been having nightmares—all those things I said to you—"

"No." It comes out of nowhere, the sudden burst of fierce emotion that bubbles up in his chest, boiling hot and spilling through his ribs into his skin. No. He won't listen to this. He won't listen to this because it's exactly what he knew Shiro would say, it's exactly what he's had to tell himself over and over and over. "Shiro, please. Don't. I know that wasn't you—"

"That doesn't matter," Shiro cuts him off, voice breaking on the last word. Keith goes silent, staring as Shiro presses his fist to his temple. "You still had to hear it, and—" He suddenly lifts his gaze and locks eyes with Keith, pain replaced by a determination so intense it elicits from him a small gasp. "Keith, you have no idea. I just keep replaying it over and over wishing I could—stop it somehow. I hear myself talking but I can't control what I'm saying, and it makes me—crazy, how badly I wish I could change what happened. And every time I see you—"

His eyes are shattered, so absolutely and so completely they almost hurt Keith to look at. "I just don't think I can ever forgive myself for doing that to you."

"Shiro, that wasn't—" Keith protests, pleading. "That wasn't you—"

"Keith." Shiro won't be interrupted. "Everything I said, it was—I was wrong. So wrong. Keith. You're not broken." Keith feels his chest begin to tighten. But this time, it's not from guilt, or from fear. "You're not worthless." It's not from the pain of holding back his feelings, of closing himself off. "You're none of those things. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known." It's not from heartache, or doubt. "I've always seen it, Keith. The way your heart bleeds for the people you care about." It's not from panic, or hysteria. "You're selfless, and loyal and so incredibly stubborn but only because you refuse to let anyone else feel the hurt that you've experienced, and you refuse to give up on anyone—on me." This time, it's from a single source: love. It's as simple as that.

"Keith." Shiro keeps repeating his name, like he's trying to drill this into his brain, like he's trying to ensure that every single word is heard, acknowledged, and understood. He pauses, making certain that Keith is still looking him in the eye. "You're my brother—"

Keith surges forward and Shiro catches him in the embrace, lurching backward from the impact but steadying them easily, arm pressed tightly across Keith's back. Keith buries his face in Shiro's chest and clings to him in a vise grip, unrelenting and unapologetic.

"And Keith. Keith." Shiro's voice shakes as he repeats his name yet again, like the only thing he cares about is making sure that Keith is still here, still listening. Keith digs his fingers into Shiro's back, a silent yes, I'm here, I'm listening.

"I love you too."

A forceful sigh expels itself from Keith's lungs at the words. He clamps his eyes shut and breathes in, pulls tighter, lets his armor press painfully into his skin where he's clutching Shiro to him, clings to his back and anchors himself there, shaking with emotion because this. He's missed this so much. He's missed Shiro so much.

And when the tears come, a result of the overwhelming emotion surrounding the moment, maybe for the first time in his life, he doesn't try to stop them. He lets them flow freely, drenching his lashes and staining his cheeks with the relief of it all, the relief at the knowledge and the feeling that everything really is going to be okay. He knows Shiro is crying too, feels him blinking furiously where his face is pressed into his hair.

Keith thinks about how the both of them spent so much time agonizing over this, not even over themselves, but over the guilt they felt because they'd individually convinced themselves they'd hurt each other beyond the point of return. He has the ridiculous urge to laugh. "We're both idiots," he mumbles into Shiro's shoulder, voice muffled.

Shiro laughs wetly, squeezing Keith's back. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry before," he says teasingly.

The audacity. Keith rolls his eyes half-heartedly, even though Shiro can't see it. "This is the third time I've cried in the past 24 hours," he admits. "So don't feel too special."

"Don't worry, just being here with you makes me feel special enough."

Keith groans, smiling secretly as Shiro laughs again. "Ugh, just—no. Don't ruin the moment."

There's a pause, and Shiro seems to soften a bit. "That promise still stands, you know."

"Pretty sure that's the point of a promise, Shiro." Keith feels him shaking his head, imagines the way the corner of his mouth is probably twitching up into a smile.

"I mean it. I said it then and I'll say it again. I'll never give up on you."

Another tear leaks out of the corner of Keith's eye, and if he tries to hug Shiro any tighter his muscles are going to give out. "Me too."

They separate after another long moment, albeit reluctantly, when they've been holding on to each other long enough that their limbs have grown stiff from the prolonged lack of movement. Keith ducks his head, wiping at his eyes and heaving an enormous sigh—he can literally feel the weight lifting off his chest, the tension leaving his shoulders.

"Well. Glad that's cleared up."

Shiro chuckles, tossing his arm around him and gently pushing him forward. "Come on. Let's go celebrate."

Keith doesn't even care what his face looks like as they walk back out of the tunnel and into the crowded cavern. He's positive that his face is red and splotchy, still a bit damp and covered in wet streaks. His hair is probably sticking out in every possible direction, ruffled from his recent messy embrace. But he doesn't care, because the newfound warmth and hope in his chest is too overpowering to even bother trying to hide.

As they pause at the edge of the cave, his gaze finds Krolia standing in the same place he'd left her, leaning back against the rocky wall with her arms folded. She sees him, and smiles that satisfied, knowing smile. And Keith can't keep his own smile from spreading uncontrollably across his face.

Shiro, oblivious, nudges Keith in the side, and he looks up. "Are you ready to go home?" he asks softly.

Keith looks out into the crowd, sees Pidge and Hunk chatting excitedly over a tiny Balmeran crystal, watches Allura and Romelle giggling as they each braid one side of a pouting Coran's mustache, smiles again at the sight of Krolia from her perch nearby, catches a glimpse of Lance fussing over Kosmo, feels the weight of Shiro's arm wrapped loosely, comfortably, around his shoulders. He sighs contentedly, drinking it all in. "I already am home."


When he's relatively positive that everyone else is asleep, Lance climbs out of the cavern to sit on the Balmera's surface.

It's a bit eerie up there in the dark, in the sense that it's so calm and celestial, it doesn't seem like it can be real. The sky is bathed in the faintest hues of fluorescent blues and pinks, reflected by the clusters of tiny Balmeran crystals that are scattered across the flat ground, glittering in the distance like stars that have come down to kiss the earth. And occasionally, the soothing sounds of the Balmera cooing softly echo across the horizon, singing a gentle melody.

He wasn't the least bit surprised to find, when his head hit the pillow (metaphorically speaking), that he couldn't seem to fall asleep. Part of it is just nerves, his hands itching and restless to get back into the Red Lion and continue on their way home. If he had it his way, the team wouldn't stop at all—just make it one long continuous journey so they can reach Earth as soon as humanly possible. But Allura and Coran, especially, insist that they visit friendly planets on the way, both to get some much-needed rest and to rally support for the coalition.

Anyway. It's also hard to rest when he's sick with worry over Keith, ever since he abruptly ended their call between the Lions.

Watching helplessly from the other side of a screen as Keith crumbled into pieces has to be the worst moment Lance has ever experienced. And even after Kosmo came to the rescue, appearing suddenly and bringing Keith to him, Lance had been so, so scared. The sheer panic and terror had been rolling off Keith in waves, filling the cockpit with an awful sense of dread that lingered long after he disappeared back into the Black Lion, as quickly as he'd come. Lance has never felt quite so powerless.

He laces his fingers behind his head and lies onto his back, sighing as he turns his face to the star-filled sky. Generally, he loves the idea of celebrations being thrown for the team. He basks unashamedly in the glory, not just because it feels nice to be appreciated, but also because he genuinely loves celebrating the team. His team. But tonight, it almost felt like an insult from the universe.

He'd tried not to be too obvious, searching for Keith in the crowd and making a conscious attempt not to let his gaze linger in the same place for too long so as not to attract any kind of suspicion from the others. And when he could, he watched Keith from a distance, all the while fretting frantically that he's ruined what connection they had, overstepped his bounds and pushed too hard where Keith clearly wasn't ready. The thought of that haunted him all night, tormenting him relentlessly until it got harder and harder to keep up the forced smiles and excited conversation with the others.

He just wants Keith to be okay.

At some point he'd lost sight of him, unable to pick him out amongst the various groups scattered around the cavern. He keeps wondering if it's because Krolia caught him staring—literally nothing gets past her, she notices everything—subsequently causing Keith to look over his shoulder and lock eyes with him, even if just for a split second before Lance turned away. At first he thought maybe he'd been quick enough that Keith hadn't noticed—his sudden disappearance for the rest of the night makes him think otherwise.

Lance is tired. Not physically, and not really even mentally, either, he's just. Really, really tired. Tired of failing to help the people he cares about most, when they need him most. It feels like he's excelled at that in the past couple of movements.

He lets out a puff of frustration, closing his eyes in an attempt to block everything out for just a minute or two. The only thing it actually accomplishes is making him unaware of the shuffling noises behind him.

"Lance?"

Lance yelps, shooting up into a sitting position and twisting around to see—oh. "Keith?"

They stare at each other for a moment, like neither of them are sure they're welcome. But then Lance feels a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, this feels... familiar."

Keith smiles back, a little sheepishly. "Just a little." He pauses. "Um... can I?"

Lance bites back a laugh, leaning back on his hands. "You don't have to ask, man."

He feels a bit of hopeful relief trickle in as Keith sits down next to him, keeping his knees drawn in and studying the smallest cluster of crystals cropping up a few yards away. His face is illuminated softly by the same gentle blue glow reflecting across the sky, curling delicately around the outline of the scar on his cheek. Lance has to resist the urge to reach out again and touch it like he did before, cover it completely with his hand and pretend he can somehow heal it.

"So..." Keith starts timidly, drumming his fingers across his knees. Lance waits, returning his eyes to the sea of stars above them. It's just like the night before, times a thousand. And instead of cold, it feels warm. "Did you have fun at the... party?"

Lance glances over at him, unimpressed. "I know we generally like to start our conversations with some kind of witty banter, but can we just, like. Skip that part for once?" Keith looks at him with a sort of befuddled expression at the bitter edge to Lance's voice and he runs his fingers through his hair. "Sorry. Sorry, it's just—" he breathes out, dropping his hand back to the ground. "Look, I'm really trying here."

"I know." Keith reaches out and touches his arm, surprising Lance at the earnestness of the gesture. "Lance, I know. I... don't think I don't notice that." His voice quiets and his gaze lowers to the ground. "I do. You have no idea."

He lets go, his hand trailing down until it rests beside Lance's, his eyes lingering on the space between them. Lance watches him, eyes softening. "I already said you don't have to ask," he murmurs.

Keith's mouth twitches into a tiny smile, and he slips his fingers under Lance's, taking special care in the way he laces each of them together so deliberately and delicately, gaze never leaving their hands like he's mesmerized by the touch. He closes his eyes, breathes out, and slowly drops his head to Lance's shoulder, their arms pressed together.

Lance very briefly wonders if he should be concerned—Keith has never been this way, all soft and gentle and touchy (Keith, initiating physical contact with people?)—but he's still just so relieved Keith is here that he doesn't care. He leans into him with a sigh, resting his cheek in Keith's hair. "I thought maybe I screwed things up."

Keith hums. "You... did the opposite, actually."

"What do you mean?"

A short pause. Keith traces a circle across the back of Lance's hand. "I talked to Shiro."

Lance can't help but gasp, moving back so he can actually look at Keith, squeezing his hand. "You did?"

Keith just nods.

"And..?" Lance says encouragingly.

"And..." Keith bites his lip before looking back at Lance with a smile that makes his heart want to burst. "I feel better. I feel a lot better."

Lance looks at him, at the way the smile makes his eyes and face light up, even without the added starlight or glow of the nearby crystals, and it makes him feel so warm and so happy and so giddy inside because he's just so glad—

He disentangles their fingers and tosses his arms around Keith's neck to pull him into a hug, earning a muffled squeak of surprise before it's returned in full, Keith's arms pressing against his back. "I told you, you moron," Lance mumbles. "I told you."

"'M not a moron," comes Keith's muffled protest, but Lance can hear him still smiling.

He sighs quietly. "I like you best when you're happy," he murmurs, partly teasing but also sincere.

Keith chuckles. "But you still like me when I'm grumpy, too. Right?" he adds, a little uncertainly.

Lance snorts, pulling away and shoving half-heartedly at Keith's face. "Don't get cocky."

"What—says you!" Keith cries indignantly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm Lance," Keith begins, jutting out his chin and using his best impression of Lance's voice. "I used to fly the Blue Lion. It's super cool, like me. And I'm like the cool, ninja sharpshooter—"

"Keith. Keith, my buddy. My man. I will do anything if it means you will never use that voice ever again."

Keith squints at him, wrinkling his nose in mock annoyance. And Lance literally cannot help it. He leans in and presses a kiss right on Keith's nose.

He giggles at the look of surprise on Keith's face as he pulls away. Keith blinks once, twice, then bites his lip again as an amused grin spreads across his face and he laughs—

Lance's heart leaps as Keith places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Seriously. You call yourself a sharpshooter?"

Lance makes a face, trying to decide if he's supposed to be offended or not. "I don't understand why this is relevant—"

"You missed," Keith says simply.

And he closes the distance.


So. This is the end.

Obviously nightmares don't just suddenly disappear, but Keith is well on his way to being nightmare-free now that he's talked it out with everyone :')

I had a really good time writing this fic. Honestly, there were parts that were really hard to write because I got really emotionally invested, and I just really hope that I did the characters and the emotions justice. As always, I love to know what you guys think and how you guys feel 3

Thanks so much for reading! I've already got a few other oneshots in the works, so stick around!

Come say hi on tumblr! My username is as-tro-nauts