Chapter 6: I'm Here

It didn't make sense. None of it did.

I know this must be confusing for you…

Not the fact that he was there, wherever 'there' was. Not the fact that 'there' appeared to be nothing short of open, spreading space dotted with a surplus many distant star and strewn colours as multihued as a nebula and – and –

I'm not here to harm you. Everyone is fine…

And Shiro. Shiro, a translucent figure planted directly before him, wearing the face Keith knew so well but wearing it better than he had but minutes before. Better than the clone, the rage-filled opponent he'd fought, the glaring foe he'd stared down.

The thing that attacked you wasn't me…

Keith knew that. He was so confused – about where he was, how they were there, the clones and everything that it came with it – but he knew that much. Shiro would never hurt him, just as Keith would never hurt Shiro. Despite the rage and pain that had flooded him, and despite the battle and the anger, the hatred for the clone that had taken his Shiro, he wouldn't hurt him. He couldn't.

What he needed to know was where. And when. And how.

Since my fight with Zarkon, I've been here…

Zarkon. Shiro had fought Zarkon – Gods, it felt so long ago now. The time passing, the skewing of events, all clattered together in an tumbling collision as Keith fought to steady himself upon an interdimensional plane that shouldn't exist, to assimilate a reality that he hadn't even considered to replace what he'd unknowingly accepted. That Shiro hadn't been his Shiro. Shiro hadn't been there, but even worse –

I existed on another realm. I died, Keith…

Keith didn't think his body was on that insubstantial plane. He could see his fingers, hear his own thoughts, but he didn't think he would be able to feel. Not until Shiro's words struck him with a blow that would have torn him apart had he had a body to do so. It hurt. It hurt so much, ripped and tore and rendered incapacitated every part of him, but all Keith could do was stare at the image of Shiro, his face soft and sad, with wide eyes.

But the Black Lion somehow retained my essence…

Not enough. It wasn't enough. Shiro's offer was something, but that something wasn't enough to alleviate the pain. Not even slightly.

I tried to warn the others –

It wasn't enough.

But our connection wasn't strong enough…

It hurt, and brutally thundered through Keith in a rampage of horror until he thought he would crumple inwards upon himself. But he didn't get the chance. As Shiro's words reached their climax, his final words of 'strength' and 'connection' ringing in Keith's head, that star-ridden plane of darkness and coloured light faded. All that Keith was left with was a dizzying moment of disconnect before awareness settled upon him.

A floor. A hard floor beneath him, unyielding and cold. Trembling in the throes of loss, battling the urge to cry out simply to loose the pain, to demand that it stop and to rage that it wasn't fair, Keith steeled himself. He swallowed the ache, bottled it within himself and stoppered the top with as much force as he could muster. Then he peeled his eyes open.

The room around him swum into tilted view reluctantly. With a deep, shuddering inhalation, hand grasping at the ground to steady himself, Keith pushed himself upright as much as he could manage. Blinking groggily, his gaze darted off the walls, the ceiling, off the panel just to his right laden with switches, familiarity welled.

The Black Lion, he thought, dragging his gaze in another sweep off the hard edges of the room. "You saved us," he murmured, fingers pressing into the metal floor. But how…?

A groan sounded behind him, and Keith rolled towards it. The sight of Shiro, splayed and defenceless and one arm short yet twitching with life despite his amputatiuon, dragged forth a whole wealth of raucous, desperate thoughts within him, rising to battle the words that the interdimensional Shiro had spoken to him.

I died, Keith…

And yet here you are. Keith pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled towards Shiro. A part of him knew that the situation was dire. He knew that he had to rise, to hasten back to the paladins, because though 'Shiro' might not have killed them, they were still in danger.

But just for a moment, Keith could only pause at Shiro's side. He lowered his forehead to rest heavily atop Shiro's chest, to feel him breathe, to know he was alive. And just as he'd promised to himself, he did so again, aloud this time, to be sure that Shiro heard it this time.

"I'll never let go, Shiro."

His boots skidded as he whipped around a corner so fast he almost fell over, but Keith didn't slow. Dropping a hand to the ground to brace himself, he launched forwards instead, flying through the thin cluster of students still making their way down to and from the mess hall for dinner. The only intelligible thought that passed through his head was a single, mindless word.

No, no, no, no, no, no…

Shouts and squawks met Keith's barrelling charge, but he paid them no mind. He couldn't even glance over his shoulder as a sharp "Kogane, get back here!" was flung at him like a whip cracking, the familiar voice of one of his classmates abandoned in his wake. He ducked and dodged, tic-tacking off walls and around students, barely seeing them. He skidded around another corner and vaulted down a dozen steps without touching a single one of them, and the jarring impact upon his knees when he landed was left behind him as he flew onward down the corridor.

The door leading outside, the identification pad awaiting his approval – it was too great a hurdle to slow down for. Rounding the final corner, in the closing gap that nipped on the heels of a departing student, Keith took a dive and leapt through the sliver remaining. He was rolling to his feet and flying down the walkway leading from the complex an instant later, the orange radiance of the evening sun nearly blinding him, and barely slowed to dodge around those that had departed before him.

Keith's breath was coming harder than it should have. He knew, but he didn't care. He made a reckless turn to take a short cut and nearly crashed into another student who only just managed to stagger out of his way. He ducked between the narrow gap between buildings and then, when he spilled from the other side, threw himself at the looming wall that stood between the Garrison school and the pilot's quarters. A wall run, a vault over the top, and Keith was hitting the ground running once more.

Instinct told him where to look first. Instinct and hope that Shiro would really be there. Abandoning the sleeping quarters that were prohibited to all but pilots yet Shiro had long ago granted him access to, Keith darted away from the greater spread of buildings and around to the back. Even when he caught sight of the familiar shape of a Scraper, the familiar figure that stood alongside it, he didn't slow.

"You're leaving!"

The words were out of Keith's mouth before he had any idea he'd intended to speak them. As Shiro straightened from his Scraper, flicking the switch to lower the hovering bike to the ground, Keith all but screeched to a stop beside him. His breath was coming hard and fast, ragged for more than just the speed he'd hastened to Shiro's side.

Shiro didn't speak; he only smiled gently. It was a small smile, but it spoke truth of what Keith already knew. Suddenly, the chanting in his head formed into proper words.

"You're really – really going," he stuttered. Hands flopping to his sides from where he hadn't even realised he'd half raised them as fists. "You're really leaving."

"Keith," Shiro said quietly.

"You can't. You shouldn't be –"

"Keith." Spoken as a sigh this time.

"It's so – it's so - Shiro, it's for so long, it's –"

"It's not so bad, Keith." Turning, Shiro propped himself against his Scraper. "Granted, Pluto's a bit of a trip, but it's not like it hasn't been done before. It won't be quite as long as you think, and with the new Hawkers that have come in to take, I'm sure we'll be..."

Keith barely heard his reassurances. His throat convulsed, choking on his breath and stifling his ability to speak. All he could do was cling to a single thought:

Shiro's leaving. He's going to Kerberos, and even if Hawkers are fast enough to chew up the distance to get there, it's for so, so long…

"…just for a rudimentary check-up," Shiro was saying. "I'll be with Matt. You remember Matt, don't you? Matt Holt? I think you must have at least seen him when he was still at the Garrison too. Keith?"

Numbly, Keith jerked his head in a nod.

"Well, I'll be with Matt and his father. I'm sure it will be an interesting trip. I'm very lucky to have been given the opportunity."

Of course Shiro would think himself lucky. Other pilots who were barely five years out of the Garrison wouldn't think such a trek was anything to brush aside like an afternoon, but Shiro would. He'd think it was the best damned stroll he'd ever taken, too.

But it was dangerous. And something could happen. And he would be gone for a long, long time, longer than he'd ever been gone before, and Keith... he didn't know what to do, what to say, but he couldn't stand it. The thought of Shiro gone? Of him leaving? Even with the promise of his eventual return, it was…

It's not like I expected him to stay here forever, Keith scolded himself, but even as the thought arose, he knew it was false. Or maybe simply that, if not expected, he'd hoped for it to be. There was no one else like Shiro. Not to Keith. He wanted to be with him, to stick by his side if only to be sure he was okay, to – to –

"I want to go with you," Keith blurted out before he could help himself.

Shiro, words that Keith hadn't been listening to silenced, fell silent. His mouth still slightly open, he stared at Keith for a long moment before, sinking back a little further against his bike, he folded his arms loosely across his chest.

"You will," Shiro said. "Eventually."

"No," Keith said shortly. "I want to go with you for this one."

"Keith."

"It's too long. And too far. And it's dangerous."

"Keith, you –"

"And why shouldn't I go?" Keith knew his voice was rising, had grown fierce with anger he couldn't suppress and couldn't understand the nature of but let lose nonetheless. "Greene thinks I'm good enough to fly myself. He let me go over to Nandoe by myself only last week, and that took a whole hour."

"Keith –"

"It's not like I can't do it, Shiro. I'm not incapable. I can do this."

Shiro shook his head slightly. "I never thought you were incapable. You're just too young right now to –"

"I'm not a kid, Shiro." Keith realised he was shouting, but he didn't care. "I'm not a kid, and I'm not useless!"

How he ended up in a hug, Keith wasn't sure. He couldn't even recall the exact moment Shiro had pushed himself from his Scraper and wrapped his arms around him. That he'd squeezed his eyes shut, had dropped his chin, had curled his fists and hunched his shoulders, seemed only half the reason for that.

Keith realised he was shaking. Not with tears, though his eyes burned with something not far off, but with the ferocity with which he struggled to withhold further shouts as they threatened to tumble forth. His face pressed against Shiro's shoulder, awkward and too hot in the evening heat, and yet it was enough to render Keith keenly and painfully muted with sheer longing for it. If Shiro was hugging him, a hug he'd never done before, then he was close. Keith could see him. It meant he was safe, and he wasn't far away or leaving. It meant that Keith was still afloat, his head still above water.

If Shiro left…

"Take me too," Keith croaked into Shiro's shoulder. "Please." It was all he could manage, all he let himself manage, because to say more – I don't want to be left behind, I don't want to be alone, I don't want to have to have everything change again, and again, and again – was too much.

Shiro sighed heavily. Keith felt it where his face was muffled against him as much as he heard it. He felt the regret too in the way Shiro raised a hand to the back of Keith's head, scuffing his hair gently but with a definitiveness that Keith hated.

"You'll come with me, Keith," he murmured, almost too low for Keith to hear him. His arms were heavy around him, too warm but present enough that such warmth didn't matter. "When you're old enough, you will. But not yet."

It wasn't enough. Not for Keith. But all at once it seemed too much effort to argue, too impossible. Shiro's words seemed far too inevitable.

Squeezing his eyes closed, biting his lip so fiercely he tasted the stinging bitterness of blood, Keith raise a hand to latch onto Shiro's shirt. He hooked his arms around Shiro's back in return and clung on to him for dear life. A part of him hoped that, if he held on tightly enough, he'd never have to let go.

A/N: So - update! Finally! I feel like I'm being so slow with these updates and I'm really, really sorry about that. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll update the next as soon as I can. Please leave a review if you get the chance because I love hearing your thoughts. Thank you to the lovely people who have done so already; you're absolutely wonderful.