Chapter Seven: Take Me Out to the Black

Shiro hated the sound of pounding feet on metal floors in the morning.

"Matthew Holt I swear on the soul of Earth-that-was I am going to gut you and decorate the engine room with your intestines!"

Matt's laugh reached the kitchen a moment before he did. "Gonna have to catch me first!" He crashed into the room, barely dancing aside in time to avoid the dining table, something fluffy and brown dangling from one hand. Pidge was right on his heels, barefoot and in her pajamas. Her brother didn't make it past the table before she was leaping onto his back with a banshee scream.

Shiro set his cup of coffee down with a bit more force than necessary and snapped, "What does a man have to do to get some peace and quiet on his own gorram ship?"

The siblings didn't stop wrestling, Matt still trying to buck Pidge off of him while she clung like a spider monkey, but she did deign to yell an explanation over the racket of Matt's laughter.

"He cut my hair! I was asleep and he cut my hair!"

Matt cackled, and oh, that must be Pidge's ponytail he was holding.

"It was gonna get caught in the engine!" Matt protested through breathless laughter. "It was a safety hazard-"

"I'll show you a safety hazard!" Pidge shrieked, yanking on his hair in retribution. "You gǒucàode motherfucker, I'll skin you alive-"

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Having shoved his chair back from the table, Shiro made it to them in two strides and peeled Pidge off of her brother with one hand, still kicking and scratching while Matt doubled over with glee.

"Why are you like this?" he asked in exasperation, which only made Matt laugh harder. Footsteps drew Shiro's attention to the door, where several more bedraggled members of the crew were stumbling in.

"What's goin' on?" asked Hunk with a yawn, already making his way over to the coffee pot, while Keith stood in the doorway with a glare that could've melted steel.

"It is eight in the goddamn morning," he growled. "Give me one good reason not to march up to the cockpit and open the airlock on us all."

"Aw, come on Keith," said Matt, finally straightening and wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks. "It's just a little harmless sibling fun." He tossed the ponytail onto the table. Keith stared at it for a moment before rolling his eyes and following Hunk in his quest for caffeine.

"Christ, Matt," Shiro said. He set Pidge down, only to hold her back when she made another break for Matt. "Can you please throw that away? I know for a fact you were raised better'n that."

He was still laughing, but he did pick up the bundle of hair and make to leave the room. Pidge grumbled and dropped into a chair, plopping her arms onto the table and hiding her head in them. Even from this angle Shiro could see where her hair had been chopped to the length of her cheekbone.

"I'm sure Allura can fix it," he said awkwardly, but Pidge was having none of it.

"I'm never speakin' to him again," she declared without raising her head. "I disown him. I'm an only child."

Shiro, being an actual only child, had no idea what to say to that. Thankfully Hunk sat down just then with his cup of coffee, nodding sagely along with her decision.

"Siblings are a curse on our lands," he said in a dull monotone.

"Amen to that," chimed in Lance from the doorway, taking two steps into the room before freezing. "Pidgeon, what the hell happened to your head?"

She flipped him off without looking up.


A few hours later, after everyone was awake and dressed and not trying to kill each other, Shiro made his way up to the cockpit where Keith was entering them into orbit around Oriande, one of the four moons that circled Weblum. Almost the entire planet was white sand dunes, making it sparkle like granite in the black velvet backdrop of space.

"Are the scans back?" he asked, and Keith swiveled to look at one of his screens.

"Yeah, I'm not pickin' up any ships, 'course that doesn't tell us if there are any here that are on blackout. There are little blips of biorhythms, but they're real sparse. Could just be wildlife."

Shiro answered with a considering hum and peered out through the windscreen. They couldn't see their destination from so far out, but he knew it was down there. Somewhere.

"Are you sure about this?" murmured Keith, drawing Shiro's eyes to him. His lips were pressed into a thin line, a fist clenched around his pendant, and Shiro didn't blame him. Lance had nearly left the crew when he found out what Shiro's plan was for their next stop.

"Sure as I can be. Coran needs data, we need cargo to unload, and the Galra woulda left this town months ago. Should be safe enough."

Keith wasn't appeased. "Ok, but why do I have to come? Shouldn't I stay with the Lion in case things go south and we have to leave in a hurry?"

Ah, so that's what this is about. It took all of Shiro's willpower not to roll his eyes.

"You're not gettin' out of coming planetside, Keith. I need you to drive the mule- I can't trust Matt or Lance on that thing."

"Can't Coran do it?"

"Coran isn't comin' down until we make sure it's safe. Give it up, kid."

He let out an irritated growl and sank in his seat, glaring down at the planet. He'd probably wind up giving Shiro the cold shoulder for a couple of days for forcing him to leave the ship, but what other choice did he have? Matt and Lance always got into competitions over the mule- seeing who could do a wheelie for the longest and other juvenile nonsense- and it had been months since Keith had last left the ship. He needed fresh air at some point, even if Shiro had to drag him kicking and screaming.

"Quit whining and bring us in," Shiro instructed, letting Keith's glare roll off of him. "We've got scavenging to be done."


Down in the cargo hold he found Pidge, still viciously ignoring her brother, trying to instruct Lance on what kind of part she was looking for to finish off her secret project. Allura had in fact been able to clean up her hair into a kind of fluffy pixie cut, though the frown that was still on her face promised she would hold this grudge for a long, long time. Thankfully Matt was distracted with readying the mule for their expedition, so they weren't butting heads at that exact moment as Shiro wandered in his direction.

"Hey," he greeted when he noticed Shiro's approach. "How'd it go with the problem child?"

Shiro shrugged. "He'll get over it."

"Well I'm not sure Lance will. He's been tremblin' in his boots for days."

Glancing over his shoulder, Shiro surveyed the man in question. He was putting on a convincing show, but there was a pale tint to his skin and a tension in his shoulders that spoke to how not-happy he was about scavenging from a town that had been raided by Galra.

"And frankly I don't blame him." Matt had continued, "Usually the motto is 'if a Galra touched it, don't go near', and that motto is generally correct."

"The Galra never stay at the location of a raid for this long and you know it. Besides, Coran is getting impatient about not getting new data in a while, and when he gets impatient he gets annoying. We'll just go down for a few, sweep for whatever bits of pretty survived, let him poke at the ashes, and then get the hell out before sunset."

Matt shook his head, though he didn't look up from his task, even as the ship gave a shudder that sent them all swaying on their feet. The familiar feeling of breaking atmo- it wouldn't be long now.

"Whatever you say, cap'n. I'm just along for the ride."

Within a few minutes Keith had set the ship down on the sturdiest bit of sand he could find and was joining the rest of them down below as they prepared. He'd pulled on his old red leather jacket and tucked his pendant beneath his shirt, an expression of such strong dread on his face that it rivaled Lance's, who didn't dare miss the opportunity to poke fun at him.

"Careful there, flyboy," Lance said, poking a finger at Keith's shoulder which was swiftly swatted away. "Someone might see your face and think you actually have emotions."

"Shut it, húndàn," Keith snapped back. "Or the Galra will hear your loud mouth and come to kill us all."

"Come on, Keith, that ain't funny." That voice belonged to Hunk, who had apparently just come to Lance's rescue. "We don't joke about that."

Keith scowled, but Shiro stepped in before he could retaliate.

"Alright, that's enough. Matt's nearly got the mule set up and Keith will drive us into town. Coran will join us once we send back the all clear. Pidge," he shot a glance over at her as she not-so-subtly tried to kill Matt with her eyes, "you monitor the radar while we're out there, make sure nobody sneaks up on us."

"Yessir," she grumbled without breaking her stare. Now it was Matt's turn to ignore her, and Shiro could do nothing but sigh in defeated confusion. Siblings were a mystery he didn't want to unravel.

"Let's move out."


The town was about what Keith expected it to be- a burnt-out box of matchsticks scattered in the desert dunes. There had once been about twenty or so buildings, but all that remained of them now were scorched black timbers, some still erect and some toppled over to the ground, in the process of being buried by the ever shifting sands. The whole place felt melancholy, and as he pulled the mule up to the town's edge and killed the engine, his gut twisted in a way he wasn't entirely sure was due to being planetside.

"Alright guys," said Shiro once they'd all climbed off the mule. "Spread out, search for safes and anything valuable that survived the fires. You see bodies, don't touch 'em, just move on. Meet back here in an hour."

Keith could at least take comfort in the fact that Lance and Matt looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Shiro put on a good facade, but he wasn't stupid, and Keith noticed the way his eyes flicked around the ruins of the town, and the handles of his pistols in their holsters when the dry wind stirred his coat. Reluctantly the four of them parted, going in different directions to search the town. Keith decided to go east.

He walked with his hands in his pockets, kicking at the little piles of ash mixed with sand that still lingered after all of these months. By their reports, this town had been hit by the Galra nearly four months ago. Usually raiding parties only bothered to stay in one place for a couple of weeks at the most, so there shouldn't be any danger of being caught by stragglers, but even so, chills crept up and down Keith's spine like the touch of skeletal fingers.

It wasn't just the smell of dust or the glare of the sun on the sand that was bothering him. He went through the motions of searching, digging in the dirt in what would've been rooms of the burnt down homes, lifting charred beams and smearing himself with charcoal, but all the while his hair stood on end from the strange sensation of being watched. His mind kept flipping back to the scant biorhythms he'd picked up on the scans.

Sure, they could've been wildlife. They could've just as easily not been, and if a ship, Galra or otherwise, was lurking somewhere nearby while powered down their buzz wouldn't have picked it up. Maybe it was the utter silence of the place that was getting to him- the utter lack of any engine hum or creaking metal, just shifting sand and wind. Whatever it was, by the time half an hour had gone by he was ready to jump out of his skin.

Keith straightened up from where he'd been searching for any kind of hidden safe. He hadn't found anything, and as he looked out amongst the ruins and realized he couldn't see any of the others from his position, was suddenly struck by a wave of anxious nausea. Something wasn't right. He didn't know what or how he knew, but he knew. They had to get back to the ship.

With a hand white-knuckled around his pendant, he ran to find Shiro.

Fortunately he wasn't far, having chosen a few buildings close to the mule to search through. He popped up from behind a half destroyed wall when Keith called his name, his face confused and smeared with ashes.

"Hey, Keith, find something?"

"We need to leave." His words came out harsh and clipped, low like a growl, but he couldn't help it. His skin was crawling under his jacket like the sand had gotten under it. Thankfully Shiro was able to tell he was serious, not angry, and straightened up to his full height to approach.

"Why? You see somethin'?"

"No, not exactly, but it's- this place- it doesn't feel right."

Shiro had reached him now, and his head tilted as he gave Keith a long, searching look. After a moment he reached for the radio on his belt and held it to his lips.

"Hey, Pidge, you there?"

It crackled. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Can you do another sweep of the town?"

"Sure, just a second." There was silence, during which Keith shifted anxiously from foot to foot and found his hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife, before Pidge returned. "Scan says there's nothin' there. A few bio signals bouncin' around the edge of town, but it's probably just rabbits."

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him and Keith's cheeks flushed with heat. He shook his head.

"Shiro, listen to me," he said as vehemently as he could. "We need to leave, now, before something bad happens. Before they come back."

Shiro's mouth opened, probably to ask what he meant by that when Keith himself didn't even know, when the radio crackled again.

"Uh, hold on. Those bio's are suddenly getting really numerous, hold on, lemme do a sonar sweep, just a second- Āiyā! Huàile!" There was the sound of a button being pressed as Pidge opened the channel to all of their radios. "Guys, get back to the ship ASAP! There are tunnels carved out under that town and they're full of heat signatures, human-sized ones- fuck, they're heading in your direction!"

Keith and Shiro's gazes met, wide and full of terror.

"Hide!"

Immediately the two of them dove to the ground, behind the wall, huddled in the sand. The moment they stopped moving they heard it- the sound of feet trudging through dirt. Keith sucked in a breath and held it, back braced against the charred wall, one hand around his pendant and the other around his knife. Shiro quietly drew one of his pistols, though didn't pull back the hammer in fear of the noise alerting whoever was bearing down on them.

Keith had the worst feeling that he knew who it was.

He held Shiro's gaze as the footsteps came closer, and closer, only closing his eyes when he heard voices. They were some yards away, probably grouped around the mule. They knew they were here- and it probably hadn't been long enough for the wind to blow the sand over their footprints. God, they were so-

A hand landed on his shoulder. The one on the other side from Shiro.

Keith wouldn't remember what he did next. One moment he was cowering behind the wall, the next he was up and his knife was in his hand, bloody, and there was a corpse in the sand on the other side of the wall. Then there was a crowd of people, all rushing at them and shouting, and he heard the report of Shiro's pistol beside him and felt the resistance as he slashed at some more figures with his blade, but after a whirlwind few seconds it was wrenched from his hand and his cheek met the ground.

The last thing he saw was a face, criss-crossed by dozens of red burns, and filthy matted hair hanging into eyes with yellow where there should have been white, before a boot hit the back of his head and everything went dark.


Shiro had found himself in a lot of shitty situations over the years. And most of the time, exempting a notable few, he could come up with something to say to make it just slightly less terrifying. Something wry, sarcastic, maybe even falsely cheery to lighten the mood, even if it was only by an ounce.

Now there was no way he could manage something like that. Because this was beyond just a shitty situation.

They'd been captured by Galra.

And therefore, they were going to die long, slow, painful deaths.

And there was nothing they could do about it.

Escape was a pipe dream. They'd all been unconscious when they'd been hauled into the maze of underground tunnels (Shiro's throat still ached from where one of the Galra had hooked their elbow to choke him out) and now were bound in a dark cell, hands behind their backs and attached to the back wall made of sheet metal that looked like it came from a ship. If the others were smart they would've had Allura get behind the pilot seat and get them off that planet the moment Pidge realized what was happening.

He wished he could be brave about this. He wished he could still face death the way he had in the war; with honor and dignity and maybe a little bit of eagerness. But he couldn't seem to muster it up in himself. He didn't- fuck, he didn't want to die. Not like this.

The others it seemed weren't doing much better. Matt was a line of stone next to him, staring off into space as though whatever he saw there could negate the tremors wracking his body. Lance had curled his knees to his chest and tipped his head down, his eyes closed and his lips moving. Praying, maybe. Then there was Keith, his head tilted back to glare at the ceiling like he personally blamed God for everything that was happening to him and he was planning on kicking his ass the moment it was all over.

Shiro really wished he could feel that way. But all he felt was the fear. And the guilt.

After all, he was the one who'd brought them here.

He had no idea how long the Galra let them sit there, but eventually the door to the cell did creak open, revealing a hallway that was no better lit than the cell, and in filed four Galra. Thankfully the low light kept Shiro from being able to see their faces, surely mangled beyond the point of being merely grotesque. Each carried some sort of pointed metal weapon in one hand, and with the other they each seized a captive, hauling them to their feet. All four went without a fight, Lance merely letting out a bit of a whimper as they were marched down the dark passageway to their doom.

The room they emerged in was large- at least compared to the cell. Parts of the walls and floor were hard-packed dirt, reinforced with sheets and bars of metal, and lit by metal barrel fires with thin scraps protruding like an imitation of spikes. Here and there were piles of junk, including some white things that were probably bones, and other Galra in their ratty armor and mutilated bodies lined the room. Shiro could feel their bloodlust rolling off of them; they were nearly vibrating with it. It made bile rise in his throat.

In the center lounged what could have only been their leader on a pile of ripped clothes that had clearly come from the inhabitants of the destroyed town. He rose to his feet as they entered, standing taller than even Shiro, and though they were all the same level of filthy, his armor and towering spear were clearly the best quality of the party. Matted hair fell to his waist, and as he approached the prisoners his version of self-injury became clear.

Small burns, shaped like the crescent moon, spotted over his entire face and down his neck. Where his hands were bare showed evidence of the same, his nails sharpened to claws and his teeth filed the same when he snarled at the captives, and the whites of his eyes, through illness or otherwise, had yellowed like ripened lemons. The irises were indigo.

The smell was the worst thing. Too terrible to describe, but if he had to try, Shiro would put it somewhere between vomit and pig shit.

Even if by some miracle they were transported back to the ship right then, Shiro would have nightmares about this moment for the rest of his life.

He was expecting it to be a bit of a frenzy. He thought the others were only going to hold back until their leader gave them the signal, and then they would descend upon him and his crew like a pack of raptors. But instead everything was disconcertingly still as the man came closeclosecloser and peered into Shiro's eyes.

For his part, he stared back without flinching.

The man frowned a bit and flicked his hair, then stepped to the side to do the same staring contest with Matt. He shook like a bobblehead on the dashboard of a crashing ship, but didn't look away, and again the leader moved on.

Next was Lance, but his eyes were closed, and his lips still moved in his frantic prayer. The Galra growled and raised the point of his spear to Lance's chin, who made a small sound of fear and turned his head away.

"Lance," Shiro said raspily, half afraid he was going to be skewered for speaking. "Open your eyes."

Lance whimpered again, but reluctantly obeyed, and the leader didn't pay him half a bit of attention once he had.

Then he got to Keith, and Shiro felt the whole atmosphere in the room change as they stared each other down. Everyone was frozen.

Until the leader gave a sharp-toothed grin and seized Keith by the throat.

Instantly the room was deafening, filled with shrieks and howls as the Galra standing around the room rushed to the center. Keith fought them as he was pulled forward, snarling, kicking, even snapping his teeth at anyone who got too close, but it wasn't doing anything. Nor were Shiro's attempts- his cry of Keith's name and lunge against the Galra holding him had only earned him an arm wrapped around his neck again to keep him in place. That didn't stop him from trying though, screaming for him until his voice cracked. Keith probably couldn't hear him over all the war cries of the Galra surrounding him from all sides.

"No! Keith!" Matt shouted, tugging against his guards grip on him.

Lance shivered and sagged, shaking his head and murmuring, "Oh God, oh God."

Keith was forced to his knees before the leader and Shiro almost closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch this happen, not to him, not to his little brother. But Keith, under that rabid anger, looked terrified, and Shiro couldn't bear to make him go through it alone.

One of the Galra reached out and pulled the elastic from Keith's hair, burying his fingers into the loose strands and pulling his head back, giving an extra hard yank just to see Keith wince. But then the leader did something Shiro hadn't been expecting- he crouched down, so that he was at eye level with Keith. In his fingers was a smoking piece of meat (don't think about what kind of meat it was don't think about it Takashi don't don't don't) which he held up to Keith's lips, as though in offering.

Keith stared at him for a long moment, wide eyed, then clenched his jaw and turned his head away. The Galra holding it jerked him back into place so that the leader could offer the piece again, but again Keith refused it. The third time Keith opened his mouth, but only to direct a glob of saliva at the leaders face, which made him release a terrifying roar of fury and leap to his feet.

Then he backhanded him, hard, snapping Keith's head to the side with a crack that made the other Galra erupt in elated cheers. Shiro felt the sob leave his throat but couldn't hear it. The mad Galra cheering was the only sound.

The leader tossed aside his spear, letting it clatter to the floor without regard, and snatched one of the thin bits of scrap sticking out from the fire barrel. On the end was a flat bit of metal, thinner, pointed, and slightly curved near the top, glowing white hot.

Shiro started shouting for him again- when had he stopped? Had he stopped at all?- but as expected it did nothing to deter the Galra leader from approaching Keith with the hot metal while the other Galra held him in place with firm grips on his limbs and his hair. He struggled, tried to escape, tried to turn away to avoid the heat, but it was all in vain. The leader pressed the metal flush to Keith's right cheek, the point turned in towards the corner of his eye.

And Keith screamed.

Keith screamed, and Matt surged against the guard holding him, spewing a string of curse words that probably hadn't even existed before this very moment.

Keith screamed, and Lance sobbed in empathy and horror.

Keith screamed, and Shiro wasn't there anymore. He was on a foggy battleground, wedged into an alley with three inches of mud caked on the bottom, holding the man he loved as he shrieked at the pain of having his entire lower body evaporated by a mine.

Keith screamed, and Shiro screamed with him.

Keith screamed, and screamed, until the Galra finally pulled the brand away and the cry crumbled into heaving gasps broken into bite-sized pieces by sobs.

Shiro's vision was hazy. His head full of cotton. Dimly he was aware of Matt, still yelling expletives, and Lance begging the Galra to stop, but couldn't muster anything of his own. The Galra were truly in a frenzy now- Shiro could feel it when his guard yanked his nails down Shiro's flesh arm in excitement. It stung. Not enough.

Keith had gone lax, letting his body slump to the floor and against the Galra holding him up, making the leader bend to inspect his face and keeping Shiro from seeing either of their expressions. Whatever the leader found on Keith's face he apparently didn't like, as he spun on his heel with a sneer and faced the rest of his prisoners, examining them all with crazed eyes.

They landed on Lance.

Shiro shuddered as he watched Lance be hauled forward to join Keith. Despair was making itself a home between his ribs. He suspected it wouldn't be leaving again.

Lance was deposited on the floor, flat on his back. He squirmed a bit, tear filled eyes directed to the ceiling, but it was hopeless and they all knew it. The Galra hauled Keith up and forward, dropping him haphazardly on top of Lance so that they were face to face, Keith struggling to hold himself up on trembling arms.

They stared at each other. One of the Galra growled, shoving Keith down by his neck, but still both of them were frozen, not wanting to accept what the Galra wanted from them.

Movement on the ceiling drew Shiro's eye, a welcome distraction. Floating into the room from one of the passageways, just below the edge of the room, was what appeared to be… a drone? It was vaguely triangular in shape with a blinking green light, and as Shiro watched it began to descend towards the huddle of Galra.

Shiro was still watching in detached bemusement when the drone self destructed.

When his eyes finally cleared from the flash he found himself in a vortex of chaos he was still too stunned to participate in properly. A good number of the Galra who had been standing in the huddle were now piles of miscellaneous body parts strewn about the room, a few still alive and shrieking their heads off, though Shiro couldn't hear it through the ringing in his ears. A few Galra still remained on their feet, though the one holding Shiro had gone down and Matt had his on the floor with his hands around his throat.

Keith was upright, digging the head of the leader's own spear into his chest.

Through the haze of smoke issuing from the remains of the drone came three figures. At first Shiro tensed, trying to figure out how to make his limbs work again so that he could get up and fight, until there was a muffled bang and one of the remaining Galra dropped dead and he realized he recognized these silhouettes.

Coran had a pistol in his hands and had just fired what was likely the first round of his life.

"Matt!" The shriek came from Pidge, already halfway across the room and lifting her own handgun to take out the Galra her brother was still struggling with. Hunk was the last through the door, Lance's rifle held to his shoulder and a strange mix of terror and determination in his eyes. He made it all the way over to Lance before Shiro found his limbs again.

He went immediately to Keith.

Keith whirled at the touch of Shiro's hand on his shoulder. His eyes were wild, blood spattered all over him, and the burn was beginning to blister where it cut across his cheek. Still, at the sight of Shiro he relaxed just a miniscule amount, going without reluctance when Shiro pulled him under his arm.

Someone waved a hand in front of their faces, trying to get their attention. It was Hunk, and though Shiro wasn't hearing any of the words that were pouring frantically from his lips, he still understood the meaning. They had to leave. Now.

Pidge, Coran, and Hunk led the way, Pidge with Matt and Hunk with Lance and Coran at the front with his gun at the ready. Shiro stumbled along behind, never loosening the grip he had on Keith. The tunnels were dark and winding and they probably never would have found their way out on their own if not for their rescuers.

Finally the ground began to slope upwards, back towards the surface, and gradually the light level increased, until they were all standing and blinking back spots at the bright sun over the scorching desert. The prisoners all felt their muscles fight to go limp with relief, but the others wouldn't let them.

"We have to go back to the ship," Pidge said, and oh, apparently he was hearing words again. That's helpful.

The race across the desert was a blur. They might've found the mule and rode it back, or that might've been something Shiro made up in his head. He was still floating somewhere outside of his body and couldn't find the tether to pull him back until the ramp was closing behind them and the Golden Lion was rising into the sky. Then it all hit him at once- grains of sand sticking to his skin, stinging scrapes down his arm, aching throat, the scent of sweat and blood filling the air. Adrenaline still finding its way out. It wasn't the worst situation he'd ever been in, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow down what was mostly bile and try to hold himself together.

Keith squirmed under his arm.

"Flying," he gasped. "Who's flying?"

"Don't stress yourself, lad," Coran had moved closer and now crouched before the two of them, tired relief etched into every wrinkle. "Allura is getting us out of the world." He patted Keith's shoulder twice before getting back to his feet and turning to face the whole team.

"Alright, everyone to the infirmary now."

Somehow they all made it there. They shuffled like a group of zombies, leaning on each other in total silence, and then shoved their numerous bodies into the relatively small space while Coran fluttered around collecting supplies. The gun was still tucked into his waistband.

"Triage, who's injured the worst?"

Wordlessly Shiro shoved Keith forward to Coran, who sat him down on the examination table without fuss. Shiro collapsed to the floor after, leaning against the cabinets to keep him upright while he took in the rest of the team.

Lance and Pidge sat side by side on the opposite counter top. Pidge had wound both her arms and her legs around her brother and clung to him as he clung to her, her face awash with silent tears. Beside them Hunk was holding Lance, he too crying as Lance shook like a leaf in the wind.

Alive. By some miracle, they were all alive.

Keith flinched away from Coran when he tried to apply the antiseptic to his burn. But he didn't follow, didn't try to force him, just waited patiently until Keith was still again before speaking.

"I know, I know it hurts lad, but I need to do this for you."

The next time Shiro watched Keith's spine move as he took in a depth breath and held it, and this time he let Coran clean and bandage the burn without moving a single muscle. Then the cut on his temple, then the most visible bruises.

"That'll have to do," he said, and Keith practically leapt off of the table. "Who's next?"

"Shiro," said Keith, and the next thing he knew he was sitting where Keith had been a moment before as Coran shined a flashlight down his throat to check for damage.

"Hm, you'll have a hell of a sore throat, but nothing permanent. Now let's get this out of you."

Confused, Shiro followed his gaze down to his left arm, and for the second time had to swallow down bile. Apparently the Galra holding him had gotten a little too riled up, and embedded in one of the rough cuts on his arm was a bit of a broken fingernail that had somehow clung to the wound all the way back to the ship.

"Do you mind if I keep this, Captain?" he asked as he pulled it out with a pair of tweezers. "I may be able to run a DNA test on this and find out something."

Right, Shiro was the captain. He had to make decisions.

"Knock yourself out," he muttered in answer. Coran took a moment to tuck the nail away in a plastic bag before returning to his patient.

He worked through all of them that way, even making Pidge and Hunk sit through an examination despite insisting they were fine, and by the time he was done Allura had entered coordinates into the autopilot and had appeared at the infirmary door.

"Thank goodness you're all alright!" she cried, rushing forward to throw her arms around Shiro's neck. She pulled back after only a moment, before he had time to reciprocate, and he was taken aback to see tears glimmering in her eyes. Not that he doubted how much Allura cared about them, but she was always so in control, so composed, that to see her shaken was… unsettling.

Allura made a lap of the room, trapping everyone into hugs, even Keith. More surprising was the fact that he let her.

"I thought you were dead for sure," she was saying as she made her round. "And that Pidge and Hunk and Coran were going to get themselves killed going in after you, I can't believe it worked, I just-" Abruptly she stopped, dropped to a seated position on the infirmary table, buried her head in her hands and began to weep.

Coran laid a hand on her back to make gentle circles.

And no one moved for a long time.