Hello everyone! So my poor friends have heard me rambling about this story non-stop and I'm finally posting the first chapter. This was written for my Momentai server for my friend NeoMiniTails 'Soundtrack of my Life' challenge. I have chosen Evanescence's album 'Fallen'. The first chapter is inspired by the song 'Going Under'.

TRIGGER WARNING: If you suffer from Anxiety, Depression, Acute Stress Disorder (ASD) or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), please proceed with caution. This story features the lived experience of people who are living with that.

Last but not least, this is written for my amazing twin sister and best friend, 'Sunshine-hime'. I really hope you love this and it brings a smile to your face as I have put my all into this.

1. Going Under

The air felt stale around him, sitting in the back of his throat like a ball of barbed wire, and it was a miracle that he could even breathe. The room was dimly lit, shrouding the corners in a dark gradient that ghosted over the unmoving form of the young Paladin. A blanket was draped around him, and his black hair, tousled from neglect, appeared limp in the dribbling light. It was unruly at its edges as it stuck out in odd directions. Lifeless strands dipped into his face, framing an emptiness that haunted his violet eyes.

He could hear conversations of voices he should recognise—familiar voices.

They echoed, accompanied by a hand that reached for him with desperate fingers, yet never quite making contact. Each time that it waned and fumbled, fading into the picturesque gloom, his heart wobbled and ached. The ache spread through his body like a poison entering his bloodstream that tore at his insides. Every poison normally held an antidote but for him, someone had taken the vial that contained his medicine and smashed it to pieces.

He didn't know how long he had been here, but he didn't want to move. Instead, he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. Sleep would carry him to the one place where she was still visible—a place where he could touch her, hold her close and explain how sorry he was. In this place, her agile fingers were gentle against the side of his face, spreading warmth through his whole body right down to the edge of his fingertips as she caressed his cheek, and her smile was a vision of undeserved affection. There, he could indulge in selfish fantasies, but, no matter what, he was never able to pull her back. He flailed and clutched at her, but she withered away right in front of his eyes, her sweet laugh echoing as if taunting him, reminding him once more of his failure.

Back curled against the cold wall, its gelidity seeped through the soft cotton of the blanket and sapped the heat from his body. It did not bring warmth; it only heightened the cold grasp that clung to him. Nor did it bring comfort; minimal sounds reached his ears, blocked by the cloth that hung around him—a phantom grip—sending shivers through his body. But the sounds were familiar and would have been reassuring had it been in another time or place. They might have reminded him that he could do anything, even shrug off this despondent desperation that seemed to seep from every pore. Anything was better than the dismal soundtrack that played in his mind; the stuttering track that served as a repeated reminder. A cruel, blatant jeer that he had failed—had been consistently failing for some time.

Keith. A voice reached his ears, throbbing in the distance—an echo—and carrying a familiar tone. Yet, a part of him was not sure if it was authentic or another falsehood. It spoke to him often. Told him words that brought comfort and sent a calm wave through his body that for a small second, the thought circled his mind that maybe things would be okay. But which voice was real? The one that constantly taunted, jeered, and mocked his failure? Or the soft calming voice that told him what he wanted to hear? This was a question he did not have the answer to.

A touch came next—brief, almost feather-like—pressing against his shoulder with care. It was a touch that used to bring warmth—a warmth that burrowed deep inside of his stomach and spread to the tips of his fingers like a cradling flame. Now, it brought nothing but an acute sting that tore deeper into the void inside of him, rupturing the fissure until it leaked. It made him want to curl in on himself to evade the feeling.

"Keith," the voice spoke, thick with concern. It was louder now, permitting the fog to part enough for him to identify its owner. Lifting his head, he looked at his brother in all but blood, indecisive of what to respond. He knew, no matter what he could manage, it would not be satisfying enough. So, his eyes just bore into the slate-grey irises that regarded him with unease—a tiny hint to prove he was listening. Surely, that would be enough to ease his mind a little... even if his eyes were empty, peering through Shiro as if there was no one before him. It was odd— through all the darkness, Shiro was usually the light that formed an escape. But right now, the light meshed with everything else, making it dull.

His stomach twisted into a knot, a sharp ache screaming in the form of a growl, reminding him of an essential need to eat. Why was it necessary to eat? He opened his mouth to tell Shiro to leave him alone, but his throat burned, coughs escaping his throat as he gasped, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. When was the last time he had any water? Days? Weeks? Months? No, it couldn't have been that long, could it? He would be dead by now, and he was breathing, so he knew he wasn't. His breaths had not halted.

"Keith," Shiro's voice cracked this time. To Keith, he sounded a little…panicked? Why? Had something changed in their situation? No, the only thing surrounding him was this pitch-black darkness that seemed to drag him down into a murky mud pile. That hadn't gone away. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try to humour his brother – but no matter how many times he tried to open his mouth; words would fail him.

"Hey Keith, I brought you something to drink. You haven't had anything to eat or drink in a while," Shiro said, words a gentle request because his brother never demanded anything. He could feel something against his lips. He could feel the coolness of the glass, his eyes slowly travelling down to look at the liquid inside that was known as water. A small, resigned sigh left his lips, hands reaching out and taking the glass. They were trembling lightly; something he only realised as Shiro's hands wrapped around his own, bringing the glass to his lips. Only a few sips trickled down his throat though before he nearly choked again but managed to stop himself. However, this didn't make the sudden thought that had flooded his mind just disappear as if it were never there. Had she drunk anything in the time they had been apart? Would he have enough kindness in him to make sure she didn't die? His stomach churned, bile rising, and he began coughing again to dislodge it, the filth starting to crawl around his body. He was truly disgusting – for having any amount of faith in Lotor of all people to take care of the person who gave him a reason – other than just Shiro to keep going on. His fist clenched, and he slammed it back into the wall. His hand was wrapped in bandages due to the previous times he had punched the wall, and this caused the wounds to burst out. He watched the blood trickle through the bandages, a smirk coming onto his face. It did not bring him pain but for every drop of blood of Allura's that the monster stole, he would share that with her. She wouldn't suffer alone. He pulled his hand away from Shiro when he tried to tend to it.

"Go…away," His voice was scratchy, and he honestly couldn't remember the last time that he had used it but managed to push the words out somehow as he looked at Shiro. Please. Just let me be right now. His brother was usually so good at giving him the space that he needed, so why now? Why? Why did he keep scraping a wound that had not even fully closed yet? All that did was open it up again and made it bleed even further. Scratching an open wound made him want to cry out, but screams wouldn't escape his throat. He just wanted to close his eyes – the darkness was comforting. He wouldn't die – he couldn't die until he tore her out of Lotor's cold, dead hands if he had to.

Will you? Her voice echoed almost as a taunt in his ears, and even the laughter that followed, one that would usually ease his heart – make everything feel okay again – now made him curl into himself. His eyes stung, but he physically pushed back the tears that were threatening to pour out like rain from a building storm cloud. He didn't deserve to cry. She had the right – the right to scream at him, hit him, even punch him if she so desired. It was her kindness that all she gave in return for his failure was a taunt and a mocking laugh. He deserved to be kicked repeatedly for the fake promises that had fallen from his lips, the promise to protect the one he loved dearly. Then again, that seems to be a constant with me. The image of Shiro waking up from yet another nightmare from Haggar still played constantly in his mind. A different time but another failure that had come from these hands.

"I will, Keith, I promise," Shiro assured and as always was understanding. How did he manage to be so patient all the time? Even when everything was falling apart, even when there was nothing left to be patient for – he still somehow managed to. "But I don't think I can rest easy unless you eat something. Hunk made some food for you. Your friends are worried. So am I."

Keith's expression hardened, and he curled up against the wall even more if that were possible. It was a surprise there wasn't a hole in it by now.

"Leave me alone, Shiro," He quietly snapped with as much iciness that he could muster up even as his throat burned, and his heart sank even deeper. He had never spoken to Shiro like this before, nor had he ever wanted to, but he would rather push him away than be here with him. He was drowning in a pit of darkness that nothing could extract him from. If Shiro tried, he would drown as well, go deep under the hole of darkness that was pulling at him forcefully. He couldn't pull Shiro in, too. He had failed enough already – these were his demons, his battle to deal with. He was going under, and he wouldn't drag Shiro down with him.

"Keith, I won't give up on you," Shiro's voice had become firm now. "If you want space, I'll always give it to you. But I can't leave you alone. Not now. Not ever."

I won't give up on you. The words would have been comforting if they didn't serve as a reminder of someone else who had believed in him. A reminder that he was not someone worth believing in, due to his constant failures to protect those he loved the most in the world. Why did she have to come into his life if she was going to leave it desolate once she left? It would have been better if she had never been like a light shining through his darkness; now, all the lights had gone out.

Shiro frowned, and he could tell from that one frown that his brother was disappointed in him. He wasn't sure what to say or how to defend himself. He had thought going after Lotor when their focus should be the comet was too reckless. And now Pidge had been injured in all the confusion. "Keith, this should be your responsibility as the leader of Voltron. A good leader doesn't let his team fail this badly. I expected more from you."

"Shiro!" Lance said, eyes wide as he tended to Pidge's arm. "You're the one who wanted him to take over; how can you say that?"

Keith tried not to wince, but Shiro's words did sting, more than he wanted them to. "I know I screwed up," Keith said. "But I guess I honestly thought focusing on the comet was the right idea at the time." He wished he could snap back but he couldn't. Not when it was Shiro.

"It was a good idea," Pidge said softly. "It was just hard to know who to listen to with both of you giving orders."

"I wouldn't have had to step in if Keith made the right calls," Shiro said. "I guess Lotor did take advantage of that, though."

"Is everything alright here?" Allura asked, coming inside with Hunk. "I heard shouting."

"Shiro's being a little too hard on Keith by calling him a bad leader," Pidge explained, sighing. "Although, given the logical facts, there wasn't really any other decision he could have made."

"Maybe I am a bad leader," Keith said, frowning and looking away, fists clenching. "I told you I wasn't cut out for this, Shiro. I'm not the leader you want me to be."

Shiro sighed. "Keith, you just need a little discipline, that's all. Being a leader means not rushing in but thinking about the whole team."

"He was thinking about us, though," Allura said softly. "If we attacked Lotor then, we could have all been killed. I think you're not thinking clearly right now, Shiro. Please leave here for the moment so you can calm down."

Shiro opened his mouth to say something but frowned as Allura shook her head.

"Please, Shiro," Allura requested again softly. "You've crossed a certain line. Keith can't be everywhere at once, it isn't possible, but he's doing the best he can."

"Allura, you don't have to…" Keith began to say, but Allura cut through him, sending him an apologetic look as she did so.

"I understand that you were the Black Paladin once, Shiro," Allura said softly. "But Keith is the leader of Voltron now. I believe in him and he's the only one I'll follow."

"You'll…you'll drown with me too," Keith finally grounded out, his tone resigned as he sighed. He didn't have the strength to keep being cold – not when it was Shiro. It took the little energy he had remaining to push his brother away, to try and get him not to drown, but he seemed to want to sink too. Why? It wasn't a choice he was making, the darkness pulling him down and not resisting its call. A call that was rather alluring too.

"No," Shiro soothed gently, the response sounding so easy coming from him. "We won't drown. We'll learn to swim again, Keith. I know it hurts, Keith. I know how much it hurts to watch and not be able to do anything more. I've lived through it too."

Keith's eyes flickered slightly, body subconsciously leaning forward as his eyes opened a little bit more to look at him. Was he talking about his time as Haggar's Champion? Shiro never tended to talk about that - it being something too painful to touch upon. It hurt to try right now - it hurt even to breathe, but he had to. Maybe...no, he didn't know why but something inside of him pushed him to try to be a little bit honest and ask. Am I being selfish? It hurts him, after all. Still, he could not push down the satiating curiosity that burned. Then again, he hurt people everywhere he went, so what was one person more?

"How?" Keith asked softly, forcing his voice to work. "How did you do it?"

A sad smile crossed Shiro's face. "It wasn't easy, but if I died there, I wouldn't be able to do anything for anyone. I wouldn't be able to reach you or form Voltron with the others. I had to push down the part of me that made it unbearable just to survive. It will hurt, Keith. I can't take the pain away. I wish I could. I would sacrifice my freedom a thousand times if it meant Allura could return to you. But you're going to have to try to push down the pain if you're ever to see her again. You can bring her back as the leader of Team Voltron. You need to eat, drink, stay healthy and not neglect your own needs no matter how much you want to."

Keith bit his lower lip. This was the first time Shiro had been so open about his time as a prisoner. He held out his arms - not sure whether it was because he needed a hug or because he wanted to offer his brother the same comfort. It was the least he could do after bringing back terrible memories. The reason didn't matter anyway as Shiro moved forward, enveloping him in his arms.

"I'll try to eat," Keith mumbled softly. "But do you think she's eaten anything? Or drunk any water?" His voice cracked slightly, and he gave a small cough, having not used his voice for this amount of time in a while.

"Yes, she has," Shiro said with a small shrug, tone radiating a certainty that made Keith blink. "If he wanted to take her life, he could have done that in front of everyone. It would have made more sense to taunt both of you of his victory. He wants...no, he needs her alive. He may not be providing her with three-course meals, but he will give her enough not to lose her."

Keith's grip around Shiro tightened a little. He couldn't speak, but his eyes did start to flit closed again. "I really miss her, Shiro." He blinked up at him before slumping against him. It felt as if he were eleven years old again and needed his big brother to hold him but was too embarrassed to admit that. Like back then though, he didn't really need to ask. He no longer asked Shiro to leave him alone.

"We're going to bring her back, Keith," Shiro assured softly. "But we can't do it without our leader. We need you. I need you."

"Do you promise?" Keith murmured. "That we'll get her back?"

"I promise," Shiro said, kissing Keith's forehead. This was enough for him to close his eyes and drift off to sleep, the feeling of being tucked into a warm bed making the dismal soundtrack that played repeatedly pause for a moment.