…and burn.

o-o-o

Shiro's shaking when the medical pod closes on Keith, who had yet to wake since Shiro first found him. He can feel the fit coming on, but doesn't care.

You were gone.

So true. He had been, in more ways than one. Gone, nowhere to be found, torturing Keith with 'disappeared', and then suddenly back, only not really. He stares blankly at the screen, registering the Altean letters that flash, but not understanding. He's so tired all of a sudden.

"It's bad," Coran says quietly, "I won't lie. He's got a number of broken bones; collar-bone's broken in two places, that'll leave a mark. Worst is the dehydration. By what you five have told me about human physiognomy, he was at the limits when you found him." Shiro can only nod dully, and Coran looks at him, worried. "Shiro, are you ok?"

Wasn't that the question? He smiles bleakly, "As well as I can be Coran. I feel beat up." In more ways than one, but he didn't finish voicing the thought. Coran only sighs, grips his shoulder.

"If you need to talk," he says softly, and then the door opens, admitting the Princess and the others and anything else was cut off. Shiro, suddenly, feels his stomach clench. Something was coming, and he didn't want to be around for it, let alone participate in it.

"What we you thinking?" Allura demands after Coran repeated Keith's condition, her voice sharp, accusing. "Of all the foolish things—"

"Stop." His voice is sharp, firm, more solid than it has any right to be, based on the turmoil within. "Just stop." The mask falls, the one that is too familiar, and his back stiffens.

The Champion! the announcer's voice cries, and all he can do is stare and wish it would just go away. The mask allows no emotion, no weakness.

She stares at him in surprise, and then narrows her eyes, thins her lips. Shiro starts shaking, but continues anyway. He's so tired of being judged, watched all the time. His behaviour, leadership weighed and measured, held against some standard set 10,000 years ago that he can't ever meet.

"What were you thinking, letting yourself get captured?" He feels brittle. "Did you think about that, what you not being here means for this great fight to end the Galra's control?" Now bitter, starting to break. "I did the best thing I could, with what was allowed to me. We all did." He wants to say something about how Keith almost—but can't form the word, admit the fear, the thought.

"Shiro…" He stops, turns to see Hunk staring at his arm. His metal arm.

He looks down, stops breathing when he sees the purple energy oscillating around his clenched fist. The shakes are visible now, he can see it reflected in their eyes, and suddenly he just needs to get away now, as fast as possible, to flee the shame he feels and the pity that he knows will come. The fear that settles in their faces.

"I… I need a moment." The anger's gone, replaced by nerves and a twisting gut. And then he's gone, ignoring their cries, Coran's shouts after him. He runs after he turns the corner, flees towards Black's hanger and the quiet acceptance, the safety that awaits him.

He flees, and leaves Keith behind, despite his earlier promise that he would wait until Keith came out, catch him if he fell. It cuts at him, that he has to do this, but it's this or letting the fit catch him where everyone can see. He's not ready for that, just yet. Maybe never. The broken promise to wait mocks him as he flees, echoes in discord with Sendak's own mockery, laughing that here's the proof for his broken state.

Black throws up the particle barrier behind him, dips his head so Shiro can climb in, break down in peace and the isolation offered by the Lion's cockpit.

A while later, when the fit passes, he hears the Princess ordering him out over the com. He shuts it down angrily, thankful he didn't also have his helmet for her to badger him over. It had remained, left behind, in the room with the med pods.

"I thought I had it Black," he whispers in the silence that follows, knees curled up and his chin on his forearms. "I really did. But…" The image of his arm, flaring without his command, returned, turning his stomach. "What happened there? Did I lose control?" Will it happen again? The Lion had no answers for him, only reassurances that it was there, always would be.

He looked at the clock on the control panel. Coran had said that Keith would wake in two days and a few ticks. So, figuring in Keith's impatience, a little less than two days. He sighed. He'd go to his room in a bit, when it was quiet, lock himself in and take a shower, try to feel human again. Grimaced; was that still possible? Then he'd be there when Keith woke, regardless of whether or not the Princess was lying in wait. He had little over a day, based on the time he'd spent curled around his fears.

Yes. That's what he'd do.

o-o-o

Cool mist steams around him, and then one of the confining walls is gone, and he's bursting through into the open, free of the constraints he'd been pushing against for the past while.

Med pod? He thinks groggily, trying to get his bearings, but then he's falling, legs weak from the controlled atmosphere of the pod and his injuries. He lands, crashes, on the floor, grunting from the impact. But he doesn't feel the pain it causes, thoughts catching up and moving on to other, more painful things. He remembers, quickly now, always fast, always impatient to get things done; Shiro had found him, or at least he thought it was Shiro. That might have been another fever dream. He was back in the castle at any rate. But where was Shiro now?

Keith feels his heart contract, blinks away tears that threaten. He had tried to pretend otherwise, but to no avail. It was true, what his experience had always argued, that in the end, you could really only count on yourself.

The door opens as he's pushing himself up, heart hardening against the pain.

"Geez Keith!" Lance exclaims, suddenly at his side, helping him stand. "You're like, hours early!"

He can only nod, sit on the couch where Lance deposits him, accept the water that's pushed at him. Coran's peering at him, worried.

"It's generally not advised to come out early," he mutters, and Keith snorts. Of course it isn't. But the walls had been pressing in and he had wanted out.

More footsteps, the opening of the door, and he looks around. All present, save one. Where was Shiro. Suddenly he worries; had the Black Lion not made it back, had he been wrong?

"Shiro is fine," Allura's saying, her eyes sharp and a temper clearly stamped on her face. Keith starts feeling his back stiffen. "He's with Black." Lance's eyes flick to glance at Allura, then roll back, and his mouth sets at what Allura's tone and Lance's eye roll means. He knows well how fragile Shiro's emotional state has been; he's tired and drained, conflicted and unsure of himself, but that doesn't matter right now as he stares the Princess down.

"I've already asked him this," she continues, and his eyes narrow. Pidge nudges Hunk, staring at him, but the Princess doesn't notice. "But what were you thinking, taking on Zarkon like that? You could have been killed! Of all the foolish things possible, that has to be one of the worst." And that's it, it's the tone of her words that get him. They accuse him of being incompetent, of not knowing how to take care of himself. It's not quite patronizing, but it's getting there. His eyes blaze, and Allura stops talking, looks at him in surprise, then warily.

"What was I thinking?" he feels the fire burn, hot and steady, and knows this is going to be one of the bad ones. Everyone thought he had a temper; now they'd know just what that meant. A passing thought wonders if anyone'll talk to him after this; last time, everyone involved had been too scared to. "I'd ask you the same. Shiro's bayard was lost with Black's Paladin, isn't that right, Princess?" Coran tried to intercede, but Keith continued, voice low and furious. "So when, exactly, were you going to tell us that the Black Paladin wasn't lost, but currently heads the Galra Empire? Or how else do you explain Zarkon's use of the black bayard or the fact that he had pulled Shiro from Black?"

Allura stays silent, hands clenched, shoulders shaking slightly.

"I mean, it's not like you would have lost anything," he snaps, a flare to the furious cold that coursed through him. "You had five captive pilots! Kidnapped by the Blue Lion," dimly he hears Lance make a noise in protest, attempt to defend his Lion, but he keeps going, "ages upon ages from home, one ready to reclaim whatever he could from the Galra, another desperate to find her family." Pidge shifted uneasily, but Keith doesn't care about her feelings right now. He's too angry, too hurt, to care about anything other than getting the fire out of his chest. "But you didn't tell us. And when we went in, you continued to not tell us." His angry gaze shifts to Coran. It hurt, that Coran hadn't told them, hadn't said anything more useful than he's too powerful! He had trusted Coran.

"You sent us in unprepared for this fight," turned back to the Princess. "So tell me, Princess of Altea, who should be reconsidering their actions? Shiro's managed the mess. Mine kept Zarkon from reclaiming the Black Lion. Yours almost got us killed."

She was shaking with anger, emotion, something, he didn't know really, or care to find out. "You lecture me on fighting Zarkon? My father—"

"Is dead and gone," Keith interrupted harshly, throttling an old ache. "And it's about time you stopped looking to the past and its ghosts and consider the present."

Gasps told him that he had gone too far, again, and he decided that he wanted to leave now, before they accused him again of being cold, of being out only for himself.

"Whatever," he said softly, pushing himself up. "I'm done."

He started for the door, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him. "You are sitting down," she ordered, eyes flashing. "And not also running out." But he only stares, silent, smoldering anger fueling his resolve. Normally he's impatient and caves; now? He can outwait the falling of the stars if he needs to. Eventually she lets go of his wrist, and he's gone, turning down the hallways until he can shut himself in his room.

He doesn't hear Lance swear, doesn't hear the sarcastic "Well that was fun. Two strikes, Allura, better be careful with the third."

He doesn't care, either, he tells himself as he curls up in the far corner of the bed, pressed against the wall, arms holding his legs as close to his chest as possible. Doesn't care that no one stood up with him, that Shiro wasn't there, that Allura had lied. What else did he expect?

As the ship dims, feigning night, he has himself almost convinced.

o-o-o

Pidge finds him as he eases his way out of the service tunnels, feeling raw, exhausted beyond measure. He'd fallen asleep, hunched against Black, but he might as well have been awake for all the good it did him. The memories that pushed in … nightmares, not memories. Or so he wished. How he wished. Then they wouldn't have happened, wouldn't be real.

You can banish nightmares.

She starts to say something then stops, stares, blurts out, "You look like—" Stops, covers her mouth, embarrassed. He can only smile bleakly, it not reaching his eyes, the muscles sore. "I know Pidge, it's ok." He's not sure how she can talk to him, after he lost control earlier, but doesn't question it.

She stares, as if to judge the merit of his words, and then starts babbling that Keith had blown up at the Princess when she snapped at him, that Keith had then locked himself in his room, and they were all worried because Keith wasn't answering when they knocked, shouted through the door, and he hadn't had anything to eat since he woke.

"And Coran says that it's imperative that he eat and drink something, since he came out hours early!" Pidge paused to catch her breath. "Lance suggested breaking in, but we figured that'd be a bad idea."

"That's probably the worst thing you could have done," Shiro agreed tiredly. "Look, can you get some flight rations, or something easy to eat? Not the goo. Drop them off by my door. I need to shower," he felt the dust of the desert planet crawling over him, restrained the shudder, "Then I'll go see if I can get him to eat something." He didn't say talk. He had missed Keith waking, had no right to expect anything anymore.

Pidge nodded, paused, then asked, tentatively, "Shiro … you and Keith…" He winces, cuts her off before she can finish whatever she wanted to ask. "Pidge please, not now." She nods, blushes. "Ok, but you should know, Lance has started speculating."

This is, right now, the absolute last thing he needs, and he presses the heel of his hand against his forehead, restrains the groan and fights the tears. "So long as I can't hear or see him doing so. And tell him to steer clear of Keith if he's in a speculating mood."

And then he's heading down to his room, trusting her to find food, cutting the conversation off before it can get worse. Pidge doesn't call after him, and he's thankful for that.

He stands in the shower for as long as he can stand the hot water, steam fogging the small room, clouding out the past. He tries to lose himself in the thud of the jets throwing water against his back, soaking his hair as water cascades down his face. If only the water could wash away his fears as easily as it rid him of dirt and dried sweat.

It couldn't end like this.

Shiro had once laughed frequently. He had once smiled easily, stood tall. He hadn't been afraid of greeting each new day, hadn't had a knot of turmoil that gripped his stomach. He had once been able to sleep through the night, woke each day refreshed, ready. Keith used to call him an infernal optimist in the mornings. He had once possessed confidence, could draw on it when unsure of what to do. All of those things now, though, came and went in fits, in bits and pieces, none in tandem with all the others.

As the water pounded, Shiro could let the tears fall without having to admit they were there.

I want it back, he grieved, I want it all back.

o-o-o

Keith sat where he had first curled up, back pressed against the far corner of his bed, the one that sat against the weird wall that jutted out, dissecting the rectangular room so that it had a hallway of sorts. He liked having the bed here; it was dark, as secluded as possible, and it gave him something to lean on when he read from his tablet.

When first Hunk, then Pidge, Lance, and finally Coran knocked on his door, tried to talk to him, he ignored them. Stopped hearing them at some point, in fact, studiously focusing on anything else. He was good at it. Good at retreating into himself, ignoring the world. 'Zoned out' is what one of his foster siblings had called it, annoyed at his behaviour. He called it 'break time,' not that anyone asked.

After the first round of door knocking, he locked the door, in case they decided to come back and open it despite the fact that he had made it very clear the last time Lance had shoved his fat head in that no one was to enter uninvited. So far they had respected that. He had a feeling tonight maybe not. When he heard scrabbling, and a "Dammit Keith, open the door already," he felt a small smolder of satisfaction. He had been right. Hunk and Lance tried to get him out, but he ignored them; the door was staying locked and shut.

A small part of him protested, clenching in on itself, demanding that he heed it. He had friends now, it protested, and they were worried. He ignored it too; he had plenty of practice with avoiding that sore. Only now… it was harder to do so.

He had trusted them.

When the sounds from outside his door died down, he drew his knees in closer and rested his forehead on them, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill. He didn't know how to handle the conflicted feelings, that he was glad they had given up and left, devastated that they hadn't remained and argued with him further.

The shell that had protected him for so long argued that it was for the best. After all, everyone left; wasn't that what always happened? But the arguments were weak, insubstantial in the face of what the past few weeks told him, jumbled as it was. That Shiro had left, but returned (and continued to try), even though he hadn't been there. That Lance and the rest of the Trio were annoying as hell, but he liked having them around, even if they didn't step in when the Princess started yelling at him. That Coran had seen him struggling to understand what was going on and had helped, unasked; surely that outweighed the fact that he hadn't told Keith about Zarkon? And the Princess had yelled, but she had also fought as hard as any of them, and she had made sure to find them all, bring them home.

He blinked away the tears furiously. How had it come to that, so quickly, that he could call the cold castle ship home? His stomach knotted on itself, betrayed and confused, unsure why he was even feeling these things. Hadn't he expected this, hadn't he known it would happen, that everything would fall apart, like it always did?

Keith tightened his arms around his legs, grappled with himself. He felt lightheaded, but didn't get up, didn't seek the source. He'd be fine; he just needed to figure this out first… or get things under control.

And then there's another knock, but this time it's accompanied by another voice, one that causes hurt to rise and he knows he shouldn't give into it but he's tired and confused, and he's not thinking straight. So when the knock comes again, with the quiet, "Open the door Keith," he snaps out the unlock command and when Shiro steps into the dim room, glares stubbornly, sullenly, at him. Shiro looks tired and like he's been through hell (again), but Keith doesn't move.

He's tired and hurt too.

o-o-o

When Shiro feels whole enough to leave his room, food and water are waiting by his door. A note told him there was enough for two, so he'd better eat too, and he smiles for a moment before it fades and he sets off to find Keith.

He knows this isn't going to go well, nor will it be easy.

Keith's door is locked, as expected, but it only takes two tries and then Keith lets him in, fixing Shiro with the very best angry stare that Keith can produce. But it doesn't hide the hurt, and so Shiro moves forward despite it, pushing his own to the side for the moment.

He kneels on the floor by the bed, directly opposite of Keith; he doesn't sit on it, lets Keith keep his space. "Keith, have you eaten anything since you woke?"

It's clearly the last question Keith expected, because the mask shifts, settles into a sullen shake of his head. Shiro passes him one of the ration bars and water bottles; Keith stares at them before accepting them grudgingly, gives Shiro a look that clearly says you can leave now. But Shiro just pulls out another ration bar, says "I'm not leaving until you eat that and drink all of that water." Keith's eyes narrow, mouth sets into a hard line.

"I thought you were going to die on me," he says softly, holding Keith's angry gaze, winces as shock and hurt flash across Keith's face at his words. "So please, just eat the damn bar." Keith complies, and Shiro has his own 'dinner,' finishes it before Keith does, who looks like he's trying to force the food down.

That's what you get for being impatient, he almost says, but they're too far apart for teasing right now.

"You weren't there," Keith says halfway through, setting the bar down and opening the water. His voice accuses, chooses anger to hide the pain. But Shiro knows Keith too well for that to work. You can fool everybody else, but not me, Keith had told him; Shiro could have said the same thing right now. But he knows it won't help, so he just nods. Here it comes.

"No, I wasn't. And I'm sorry." He sighs. "I can try and tell you why, if you'll let me." And he waits. Keith studies him, body still tense, still angry, and then he deflates, hunches in on himself. Shiro feels time stop. All the time he spent with Keith, before he left for Kerberos, all the time he spent watching him out of the corner of his eye, trying to gather the courage to ask Keith if he felt the same way about Shiro that Shiro felt about him… he knows what that posture means.

"I want to listen," Keith whispers, not looking him in the eye, "But I can't right now. It hurts too much. I'm too angry."

All Shiro wants to do is shout, scream, break down. Enfold Keith in his arms, take away the pain that he sees reflected in Keith's face and slumped posture, pain that he caused, that reverberates back to him, amplifies that inflicted by the probing fingers that sought to diminish his spirit, his ability to love. But he knows it won't help, that it will only make things worse.

"That's ok," he says hoarsely, trying to keep the tremors from his voice. Keith looks up, nervous. "Give me a few days?" To which Shiro can only smile in relief, nod, tell Keith to take as much time as he needs. Keith smiles weakly for a brief moment, straightens, and time moves again. Things just might be ok in the end.

"Now finish that," Shiro indicates the half eaten bar. "Coran says that you need to eat since you came out early." Keith's face clouds, but he does as he's told. When he finishes, Shiro stands to leave.

"Shiro," Keith whispers, looking off into space, eyes fixed on the wall against which he leaned. "I can't keep doing this."

"I know Keith," he replies softly, feeling the stab of pain at Keith's words. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it, that I wasn't there, that I haven't been here." Keith glances at him quickly, but otherwise Shiro might have been talking to a wall. And it hurts, hurts so much that when he reaches the door, he looks back and says softly, "You never told me how hard it is to get back what you bury deep inside," before he turns away and leaves, suddenly ashamed at the accusation, if it was one. It must have been; why else say it? Why say it at all? Keith was only being honest, admitting the truth of the matter. Ashamed, sick, Shiro flees.

He misses the shock on Keith's face that disrupts the emotionless mask. Misses the pillow that gets thrown at the door in frustration before Keith finally breaks down and cries.

o-o-o

The door's locked again, and he's pressed against the wall facing the door, breathing as deeply as he can, trying to keep the hurt at bay. He should have known, really should have. When had things gone any other way?

His fault; who was he to tell Shiro that he couldn't take this, when Shiro had spent a year with those bastards, fought like hell to get home and then got thrown back into the fire? What right did he have to claim to Shiro's attention right now?

He'd messed things up, just like always. Keith buries his head in his arms, tears streaming silently down. Who wants a sullen kid, angry young man anyways? Too much trouble for the good families, eventually, quickly usually, the same for the bad ones. One quiet, angry kid to be forgotten in the mass of unwanted, abandoned children. He tried to make sure that the little ones got the attention they needed, didn't call any to himself; he was already broken, just needed to make sure they stayed whole. And they did, mostly. Went off to families who cared for them, loved them. Keith bounced back and forth, never at one place long enough to make friends, never having a home. Not until the cabin.

Foster-fathers lectured him about his attitude. Foster-mothers guilted him into behaving, into 'being polite.' Foster siblings teased him, tried to play games with him sometimes, more often didn't bother. Sure, there had been a few good ones, but overall… But really, it had been his own fault. He had refused to trust the opportunities given him, had kept himself apart; lectures met sullen stares, silence. Who'd want that?

Keith shook, crying silently as he always had, since that day when he got the news. What had he been thinking? He knew it was over, it just had to be after that. But it couldn't, it just couldn't. For once, he didn't want it to be. But he didn't know how to stop the fall before everything broke to pieces for real. Or broke beyond repair.

o-o-o

They're all sitting in the kitchen when Allura comes in, stilling the aimless conversation they had going.

"Have either of them come out?" she asks quietly, almost timidly. Hunk shrugs, "If you can call it that. Shiro talked to Keith, but's back in his room. Pretty sure Keith's still holed up."

She nods, leans against the counter. "How badly did I mess things up?" Her face is sad, worried.

They look at one another, helpless, unsure as to the answer. "We're not the ones to ask," Pidge finally admits. "Lance is the only one who had classes with Keith really, and Shiro…" she shrugged. Lance echoed the gesture, conveying the relative lack of use his knowledge of Keith's temper was. "Your guess is as good as ours," Pidge continued. "Less badly with Shiro. More with Keith."

Allura snorted, but nodded. "And with you guys?" She asked quietly.

They stare, didn't expect the question. Hunk finally answers, feeling the need to ease some of the worry flooding her face.

"We're ok," he assures. "Both you and Keith were right."

"Yeah," Lance chimed in. "Like, who does that? But really, don't get captured again. That sucked."

She smiled, laughed, "It's a promise." Then looks at Hunk inquisitively, asks what has him thinking so hard. He shrugs, looks uncomfortable.

"Asked Shiro what was up with Keith," he admitted. "When he was headed back. He looked like … like he had just lost something, someone, I dunno. He just said that everyone always left and why should we be any different?"

"Everyone left Keith?" Pidge's voice is quiet, tremulous. Hunk shrugs. "What does that even mean?" Lance demanded, but they could only look at one another helplessly. Two people knew that answer, but neither was talking, to anyone, at the moment.

"We gotta," Hunk said after a moment, voice soft but fierce, "We need to let Keith know that we're not going anywhere." Allura and Pidge nod, Lance looks like he's going to make a smartass comment before he thinks better of it and nods as well.

"Shiro as well," Pidge adds, face serious. "He needs to know he can talk to us about what happened." Lance looks confused, then understanding dawns. "PTSD," he whispers, Pidge nods. Allura looks confused, until, from behind they hear, "Heart-sickness Princess." Coran's in the doorway, looking tired. "He knows. We just need to wait until he's comfortable enough to do so."

o-o-o

Black's cockpit feels too close for his nerves right now, so Shiro's off pacing the hallways, the old corridors that servants must have used because they're full of dust and he's never seen anyone else back here. There's a track through the dust, evidence of his passings since he started avoiding his bed and his nightmares not long after this whole mess started.

Hagar's pressing her claws against him, telling him to give into the anger, to let go of the pain by embracing it. She's asking for those that he loves, croons that she knows he has parents out there, that he can't hide their faces from her, that she can sense the other, whoever it is that calls to his heart. Let her go, she hisses, probing into his memories, searching. She has it all wrong, not that he'll correct her. He pushed his memories deep, hid them from her as best he could, preferring to focus on the recent events, or his capture by the Galra over what she wants him to remember. They're small victories, when she snarls at his stubbornness, but he'll take them. They sustain him as the victories in the arena drain him.

There's a ghost of a fit lingering in the back of his mind, and he nods towards it, but it doesn't come forward, just lingers, mocks. Reminds him of the words he threw back in Keith's face. Keith had told him about his buried memories in trust; what the hell had been thinking, using that against Keith? He had no right to have done so. He had left. He had been gone after promising that he would always come back. Sometimes he wondered if he had come back, or if someone else had. Sendak's words still echoed in his nightmares on and off, adding to the cacophony that was Hagar's probes and laughs, the roar of the arena, the needing cries and clutches of the other slaves. Only one to survive the arena this long in ages, he gave them hope when before there had been none. Sometimes he had wondered about how good that hope had been; wistfully, some had told him that if he won enough acclaim, he'd be set free. A false dream, that. Was that what had happened, when Hagar tried to make him into a weapon for the Galra? He still couldn't remember how he lost his arm, wasn't sure he wanted to, ever.

Turning a corner, Shiro pauses, leans into the junction of the walls, head pressed against one arm with the other, hand in a fist, pushing against the wall. He doesn't bang it, much as he feels the need to, for fear that someone will hear it and disrupt his sanctuary, such as it is. Tears force their way past his tightly shut eyes, and he breathes raggedly, trying to control himself. It's done; it has to be. Keith's put up with enough, more than enough, far more than he should have had to because Shiro couldn't keep himself together.

Oh, but how he wishes for just one more chance. It can't, can't, end like this.

o-o-o

Lance finds him curled up in a forgotten corridor off one of the service tunnels, hiding from the accusations that linger, echo, in his room. He almost tells him to go away when Lance sits down beside him, quiet for once, but can't make the words work. The war inside continues, part of him yearning to have things turn out differently this time, part insisting that it doesn't matter, that it would always be the same.

"So …" Lance begins awkwardly, "You wanna talk?" He glares, shakes his head. "Yeah, figured. Guess you'll just have to listen then." And then Lance is talking, going on about ridiculous things that don't matter, like what everyone at Garrison is doing, and how Hunk and Pidge are trying to get the video game coding on her laptop to work on the Altean systems. How he managed to get Coran to print a deck of cards for them, that there's a new flavor to 'change things up' with the goo, and suddenly he can't take anymore.

"Will you shut up already?!" he demands hotly, not looking at Lance, who's stopped talking, but doesn't retort. Just looks at him. Ashamed, he turns away, pulls his legs in closer.

"We were talking about what we miss most about Earth," Lance said softly. "Started off with food and music, but then Pidge said she missed her mom and we're all bawling about our families." Paused. "What about you Keith?"

He doesn't answer; Lance already knows the answer to that, or so it seems.

"Hunk said that Shiro told him everybody always left you. What did he mean?"

"If you need me to tell you," he hisses, voice harsh, angry to hide the long ache of grief, "then you're denser than I thought."

"Ha ha. It's actually not that clear, genius. What, did you get shuttled off to boarding school every year? Gran's? Or—"

"Foster care, alright?" he snaps, temper frayed and short and just wanting, more than anything, for Lance to just leave so he could go back to comfortably ignoring the wound, instead of having an annoying idiot poke at it. Not that ignoring it was comfortable, but it was more so than what was currently happening. "Now get the fuck away." But Lance is just shaking his head, refuses to budge. Doesn't even move when Keith transfers his glare onto Lance, though there's a momentary flinch, a resizing of the situation. Not bad enough, though, for Lance to pack it up.

"How long?" Instead is all he asks, and a weariness settles over Keith. Lance clearly isn't going anywhere, and it's not like he's kept this a secret. He just doesn't like talking about it.

"Long enough," he sighs, turning to stare straight ahead. "Did nobody…" Lance begins hesitantly, stops when Keith shakes his head, knows how the question's supposed to end. "No. They all returned me."

"Returned?" He nods, and Lance rolls his eyes indignantly. "'Return' sounds like what you do with bad gifts or broken tech. Not people."

"Yeah, well," he hunches in. "We weren't always that." It takes a moment for his meaning to set in, and Lance swears softly. "Look Lance, whatever you want, just ask and then will you please leave me alone?"

"One, I wanted to make sure you're ok. Two, no." Snorts when Keith gives him a weird look. "Like we're not allowed to worry about you when you're being an idiot?"

He almost says no one has, but that's not true. He can count on two hands the number of people who have over all the years, homes, schools, and social workers, and while most have disappeared from his life, he won't do disservice to them. "Few have," he says weakly instead. "Yeah, and you're kind of arguing with one of them, aren't you?" He doesn't need to answer that, so he doesn't.

Lance is silent for a while, and Keith begins to think that that's it. But then, "You know, when I first saw you in class, I thought you were the biggest asshole ever." Keith raises an eyebrow, wondering how that was supposed to help at all (he had figured out how Lance felt about him pretty quickly; the feeling was mutual). "But until you blew that record in sims, I could ignore you. But once that happened, man." He blows out a sigh, shakes his head. "All these people I thought were my friends suddenly wanted to spend all their time with you, talked about you all the time. To hear it, you were the next star of Garrison. And all that attention? You didn't even want it, and that made it worse."

He remembered that. He had hated the brief accolade that he scores had given him; everyone had figured out pretty quickly, though, that the recognition of his skills did little to change his opinions on socializing. "Thing is," Lance continued, voice tight. "I had never been alone until I came to Garrison. I have a huge family." Keith nods, remembers the image Lance had been thinking of from when they first tried to meld and practice forming Voltron. "Always surrounded by people, ton of friends back home too. So when everyone flocked to you, I realized that all those friends I had made weren't really friends. And I was mad. But when everyone came back, it was easier to be mad at you, blame you for taking my friends than to admit that they had never been friends in the first place."

"Or that people are horrible creatures?" Lance shoves him in annoyance at his cynical tone. "You're a dumbass, you know that? But I'm no longer mad at you, and you're my friend now. And that means I'm going to sit here in this cold hallway until I'm convinced you're ok. You're stuck with me."

He had clearly included the last bit as a joke, an invitation for Keith to chip back, join into their familiar pattern of argument. But the bald, honest statement that he was Lance's friend had his brain on overdrive, panic almost.

"Do you know what the longest I stayed in one place was, before I got dumped at Garrison?" he asks quietly, answers one year, barely, when Lance shakes his head, doesn't give the number of homes he stayed in; Lance gets the idea. "I don't know how to have friends. I break everything."

"You remember Kyle and Harrison?" His roommates, of course he does. "After you skipped town, they defended you whenever someone made fun of you. Before too, really, though everyone was so scared that there was less of that. They said you guys were all friends." He doesn't know what to say, just stares. Lance smiles. "Keith, you can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Actually, a lot of the time." Grins when Keith rolls his eyes. "We get that, it's ok. How is that any different from us putting up with Hunk and Pidge going on about all that tech crap?"

He hunches in, wanting so much to believe what Lance is saying, but feeling the fear that again, everything will just fall to pieces around him. "Why do you even care?" he asks, not angry, just confused. Lance shrugs. "Why not? Hard to tell if you'll find a friend in someone unless you try." That's what his gran always said anyway, he told Keith.

At that moment, Keith understands why people gravitated to Lance despite his aggravating stories and childish behaviour, why the Blue Lion had chosen him as its pilot. Sure, he was annoying, but that acceptance that anybody could be a friend was a welcome change to the indifference that most people gave off.

He leans his head against the wall, stares at the ceiling, then sighs. "Figures. Any good thought you have comes from someone else." Lance punches him and he smiles weakly as Lance smiles in return.

"Good to have you back, Mullet-head."

He leaves Lance at the junction to the kitchen, claiming that he needs to change. And he means to, but in the dark of his room, the fight with Shiro comes back, and suddenly the strength of what Lance told him fades in the face of what's happened. So he stands there, staring into space, trying to get past the self-doubts, the assurance that he will continue to break everything he touches, to get back towards that hope that things will be better. He had believed that once, before Kerberos.

o-o-o

Hunk finally tracks him down, after he had brushed past him earlier, fleeing, ashamed, after letting out what he had about Keith's past. It wasn't his story to tell.

"Shiro man," he clapped his hand on Shiro's shoulder, startling him. For a moment he panicked, looked down at his hand, but it was cool and dark, not responding to the shock. "Sorry. Look, you ok?" Question on everyone's mind, it seemed.

"Fine Hunk." But Hunk doesn't believe him because he just shakes his head, hands Shiro a box with food in it. "Yeah, sure man. Like those ration bars Keith likes are actually food. I made it myself, so you better eat it." He smiles weakly, takes the box and starts eating. Hunk moves over to stare out of the small window that Shiro had been standing in front of.

"Looks so dark, doesn't it?" he asks. "I remember, when we had to go on that survival trip, how out in the desert there was no light from the buildings, so you could see all the stars." He's smiling at the memory, and Shiro nods, remembers his own survival trip from his final year as a cadet.

Hunks rubs the back of his neck. "Look, I know you don't like talking about it, but Coran figures he knows enough about Galra tech that he can run check-ups on your arm, make sure things are holding together." His blood goes cold, but he nods. "Was probably just a tech glitch, y'know," Hunk continues, offering him something other than breaking to pieces to explain what had happened. He appreciates it, tries to hang onto that rather than what he fears is the real reason.

"We're making good progress with Red," Hunk continues, moving on to a more comfortable subject. "No idea where Keith is, but will you let him know if you see him?" Nods again, can try to at least. If Keith is even still speaking to him.

"How's the food?"

"Really good," he shoves the last piece into his mouth, hands the box over when Hunk holds out his hand. "Can you convince Coran to let you cook more often?" Hunk laughs, he grins. "Thanks Hunk."

"Anytime man; what're friends for? You hear about the games night?" Hunk's so excited, it's catching. "It'll be in a few days, I think. Pidge has dug out the coding for some games that she put on her laptop for a dare. Just trying to get the Altean tech to work with it. Focusing on the multiplayer games for now."

"That sounds great Hunk," he says, grinning widely. "Let me know when you guys get it set up. I'm a wicked Mario Cart player."

Saluting, Hunk returns the grin. "Good, you can kick Lance's ass for me then. And will do." He stays for a bit, but then leaves to return to Red's hanger, to continue the repairs. Shiro turns back to the stars, thoughts first on video games and then on home, on that place he can never return to. There's a hole in him, gaping and empty, and it hurts. There are people there he wants, needs, to return to, his parents, but his broken brain shies away from the thought of them as soon as it can.

He turns away from the hangers, retreats to the dark hallways. The fight, the loss… it all has him so upturned that he can't think straight, can't focus on one problem enough to solve it and move on to the others. Everything is muddled together, mud that he sinks into. He sighs. One step at a time, that's what he'd always been told. He remembers the comfort of the voice saying that, the steady presence that accompanied the voice, his father's. He breathes, draws on the security the though provides. One thing at a time. Then the next.

He settles into a cross-legged seat, back leaning against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed. Time to sort the mess, first thing to do. Then move on to the first complete mess he unearths.

One step at a time.

o-o-o

He needs to remember that he can do something, that he can do something that doesn't end in disaster, that doesn't break. He's good at two things: fighting and flying, and he's had enough of the first for now.

Red's still out, but there's no challenge there even if he had been awake. Keith knows that he could fly Red through anything now. No, no challenge, nothing to force the crippling self-doubt he's feeling to go back to its cage. But the Altean pods? Those might offer the challenge he needs.

He shuts off the coms before he fires it up, meeting no one as he took the service tunnels down to the pod hanger. Coms are off, so he can't hear Coran shouting at him as he takes off for the planet they're orbiting. He doesn't know if he can breathe its atmosphere, but the pod's readouts assure him that there are no corrosive gases and that it's unpopulated. Perfect for what he wants, needs. He doesn't need to get out, only to cut through the air and spiral around the planet's surface. Rise only to plummet, to test his skills, court disaster and then dive away. He's such a mess, this is the only way he can feel like a competent human being. But whatever works, right?

The pod flings itself away from the castle, flying fast, faster towards the planet's atmosphere, a red-hot point of light as it tears through. Adrenaline rushes through him, and he loses himself to the thrill of the stolen flight. He can't hear anything other than the soft whine of the ship, the echo of his breaths. The walls aren't pressing down, no one to yell at him. He can't hear Coran freaking out, Lance's comments, the Princess' frustrated demand about whether he solved all of his problems by stealing ships.

But most importantly, he can't hear the echo of his anger at Shiro, or Shiro's at him.

o-o-o

The castle's sirens knock him back to reality, and he makes his way as quickly as he can to the castle's command room. The others are staring at the screens, and he sees a pod enter the atmosphere of the planet they're orbiting.

"Someone's gotta go after him," Hunk whispers, to which Lance just rolls his eyes. "Cause we can catch him?" They're arguing over the merits of chasing Keith. At least Lance has, momentarily, admitted that his abilities aren't the same as Keith's.

"I'll go," he hears himself say, and they stop, stare, as if they hadn't heard him come in. Maybe they hadn't, attention focused on the screen and Keith's defiance of sanity. As his words process they all look concerned. "It'll be ok," he assures, not sure if it will be or not. "I need to talk to him anyways." And he won't listen to you, but he didn't say that. They didn't need to hear it confirmed, their suspicions about Keith's current temper.

"Shiro," Allura says as he's leaving, and he stops, looks at her. She looks tired, but don't they all? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. And you're right, I should have been more careful on the Galra cruiser." He smiles, glad not to be fighting with two people. "It's ok, but thanks. I'll be back soon hopefully, with Keith." And it is. After all, she was right; it had been a foolish decision to go after her the way they did. They should have known that Zarkon would expect them, be waiting. And tempers had been high, so he couldn't really blame her for being short, though he did appreciate the apology.

And then he's gone, heading for Black, taking the Lion out and aiming for the planet's surface where Keith entered the atmosphere. He doesn't bother chasing Keith, knows the Lion could reach the pod but that the ship's small size and dexterity in Keith's hands would mean that Keith would have him chasing dust trails in minutes. Instead he sets down and, assured that the atmosphere is breathable (he's not wearing his suit, can't rely on it), exits, sits on top of Black's nose. He watches the pod streak across the sky, weave itself in and out of the fantastic rock formations that dot this part of the planet. The grasses mix purple stems with green-gold tufts, and strange tree-like plants clump together on small hillocks. Outside of the ship, he feels himself relax, content for the moment to watch Keith show off.

His right arm processes the feel of the wind against it, and he looks down, nervous. Nothing else had happened, yet … Perhaps it had been a one off, caused by the stress of searching for Keith and finding him, the fight with the Princess. Perhaps. He clenched his hand into a fist, staring at the metal appendage. Perhaps, but he feared the loss of control would prove to be like the fits, repetitive and here to stay.

o-o-o

He notices the Black Lion as soon as it enters the planet's atmosphere, but when Shiro doesn't come after him, Keith puts Black's appearance to the side and concentrates on flying the pod. When he's flying Red, there's something so intrinsically right about it, that he doesn't have to think really. Most of the thinking has to do with keeping tabs on everyone else. But flying a pod requires a different set of skills and concentration, and it's pure joy to work them again, realise that they hadn't been lost. He won't give Red up for anything, but he doesn't want to give up this as well.

Shiro's waiting for him when he lands the pod by Black, a calmness on his face and in his posture that Keith hasn't seen in a long time.

"Sun's setting," he whispers once Keith clambers up to sit by him, and when Keith turns to follow Shiro's gaze, he sees that it is, in fact, doing so. They sit in silence, watching the dying light filter through the atoms in the atmosphere and stain the sky myriad colours. It almost feels like before Kerberos.

"Remember when we used to sit out on the admin building?" Shiro asked, eyes distant. He nods. "When I was locked up, when Hagar wasn't trying to change me, or whatever it was, that's what I remembered. The way the sun looked, how it turned everything red. How you always seemed so at peace with everything then."

"You were there," Keith admits before he can think about the words and what they mean. What they might mean. "And we were there, out of the walls. That's all I needed." He pauses. "I thought about those days too, when you were missing."

Shiro doesn't say anything, just stares at the sky. Keith looks out across the land, noticing how here the dying light turns the land a deep purple, drawing out the colour in the grass stalks, under the red of the light.

"I buried you Keith," Shiro whispers hoarsely. "I buried you as deep as I could, because Hagar had found my …" he sighs, shakes his head, and Keith knows the memory is too painful to admit. "I couldn't let her get you too. But now, I can't get back. Every time I try," he shuts his eyes, hangs his head. "It just falls to pieces. And I don't know what to do. Everything just … fails. And I've hurt you because of it."

It's true, but Keith realizes with a (welcome) shock that he's not angry. So he moves forward, shifts so that he can wrap his arms around Shiro, press his chest against Shiro's back, rest his forehead on Shiro's shoulder. Shiro's hands grip his, fingers interlace, and they're both hanging on for dear life.

"We can only move forward," he whispers, "That's what Nan told me, when I stayed with her. She said I'd lost too much to go back; best thing was to pick up what I could, move forward with who I was now. I think … I think she'd say the same to you." She had been one of the good ones, an older woman who took the problem children. But a few months after Keith arrived, the doctors pronounced she had three months to live, terminal brain cancer. She had made it six, but died all the same. He'd gone to her funeral, silent at this one.

"How did you manage it?" Shiro asked, voice rough, clutching at Keith. He thinks, sighs. "I don't know. It was hard. I don't know if I've even managed it, but I tried, keep trying." Pauses, clings to Shiro. "Just … if I'm not a piece you can pick up, le—"

"You are the piece I will always pick up," Shiro interrupts him fiercely, twisting so that he can face Keith. Then softens, "If you want."

He extricates one of his hands from Shiro's, but it's only so he can throw it around Shiro's neck, pull them closer together as Shiro lets go of his other hand, wraps his arms tightly around Keith.

"I missed you so much," he whispers, face buried in the press of Shiro's shoulder, feels the strong arms around him tighten. "I missed you too Keith," Shiro whispers back.

"Don't go again, please?" he begs after a moment, and Shiro is still before he promises that he won't, that he will keep this promise, no matter what, and Keith feels the tension inside release, settles so he can watch the last of the sunset with Shiro, arms wrapped around one another.

It's twilight and deep green settles over this strange world, but for the two on top of the great Lion, it may as well have been the secluded space on top of the old admin building on Earth that looked out over the desert.

o-o-o

He remembers this, the way that Keith goes limp, boneless when he's completely relaxed and he can only smile at it. They sit in silence, Shiro mulling over what Keith had said. Pick up the pieces, move forward. Could it really be that simple? He was broken, they were everywhere; could he put Humpty Dumpty back together again? Perhaps, one step at a time. Starting now…

"Keith," he says softly, feels Keith shift, look up at him. "I wasn't there because I panicked." Keith's silent, but his hands tighten their grip on Shiro. "I fought with the Princess, and I could feel it come on, and …" He chokes back the words, suddenly unsure what to say, shakes his head helplessly.

"It?" Keith asked quietly, moving one hand so that it rests on Shiro's arm, thumb lightly rubbing circles. The touch is familiar, comforting, reassures enough that he can let go a ragged breath and answer, admit to the trembling fits that seize him, the black-outs of fear that Keith calls panic attacks and that he admits is as good a name as any.

"They started when the Galra crystal took over," he admitted, and Keith's face darkens, admonishes him that he was to have gone to Keith, as he kind of said he would. "I just couldn't …" Sighs. "I kept hearing Sendak, over and over. I thought if I gave it enough time, they'd just go away and things would go back to being normal." He snorts. "As if that'd happen."

"Life's a bastard," Keith agreed. "What did he say Shiro? You never said." His blood goes cold, but nothing else has worked, and Sendak still lingers in his nightmares. Tried everything else, only one thing left. But he couldn't, didn't want to think, let alone say the words. He'd already said them once, in the silence of Black's cockpit. But then he remembers how he had come back to himself after that and so he sighs, presses his head against Keith's, tries to hide his face in Keith's hair so that even though he will have to hear the words he will speak, at least he won't see anything.

"A broken soldier," he whispers. "A monster." He's shaking, but it's from nerves, not a fit, or so he hopes. Telling Keith about the fits is one thing, making him sit through one is another; he doesn't think he could handle that.

"Galra lie," Keith said fiercely, cupping his chin and moving Shiro's head so that Keith could look him in the eyes. "Look at me Shiro. You've been through hell, but you came out of it still you."

"But my arm…" Keith's shaking his head, maintains his light grip on Shiro's arm, the metal one. The tech that betrayed him earlier. "It's yours Shiro. Not theirs. It obeys your brain and your commands, just like your other arm does."

He wants to believe it, but the memory of the fight with the Princess comes back, and when Keith asks what he's thinking about, he knows that Keith can see he's unconvinced. Admits to the loss of control. Keith only looks down to his arm, slides his hand down to interlock his fingers with Shiro's, refuses to let go.

"Did you ever think that it was trying to protect you?" Shiro stares; that thought had never occurred to him. "Against Allura?" he asks, doubtful. Keith shrugs. "Tech doesn't know the difference between an emotional threat and a physical one, especially if you were about to have one of those fits." He frowns, but nods. Maybe. "Just think on it," Keith whispers.

He will, but right now he just wants to turn back to the moment. But first… "Can you forgive me?" he asks. "For being too caught up in my fear, for not being there?"

"Will you actually talk to me about these things now?" Laughing ruefully, he says he will, that even if he can't get the words to work he will try, and Keith smiles, says yes. And that's all he needs to hear before he draws Keith into a long kiss that turns fierce and fast.

o-o-o

It feels good to be in this moment, to feel Shiro pressed up against him, the fire of his touch and kiss. But, too soon, the annoyingly familiar tension in his chest starts up, and he pulls back, still clutching at Shiro, but trying to get the space he needs at the same time.

"You ok?" Shiro asks, loosening his grip slightly. He nods, sighs. "Sorry," he breathes, embarrassed and frustrated at himself. "Don't be, it's ok," Shiro tells him, placing a light kiss on his forehead, pulling him down so that they can lie in a loose embrace, staring up at the stars as they come out.

He can hear the slow beat of Shiro's heart, feels the rise and fall of his chest. He's missed this, and the fact that he has it again is enough to push away his lingering frustration at himself and his own issues.

"I wonder which one is the ship," Shiro says absently as the twilight darkens. Keith shrugs; doesn't know, doesn't care at the moment. All that's waiting for him there is lectures and trouble. Shiro seems to sense his discomfort, since he asks what Keith and the Princess argued about. He frowns, doesn't want to talk about it, but since they're sharing … he sighs.

"She asked me what I was thinking, like I wasn't able to think of the consequences." Shiro sighed, said she had demanded the same of him. "I asked her why she hadn't told us about Zarkon, and then she told me not to lecture her on fighting Zarkon. Was about to say something about the king before I cut her off." He pauses. "It didn't end well. I yelled at Coran as well."

"Same reason?"

"All he said was Zarkon was too powerful; it would have been helpful to know why."

Shiro's quiet, but he pulls Keith in close, and he remembers what Shiro had said about finding him. "I'm ok," he reminds Shiro, hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. He could see Shiro's weak smile, just barely, in the fading light. "I know," he whispers, "But you scared me. If the ship hadn't arrived when it did…" Shakes his head, doesn't finish the sentence, but Keith doesn't need him to. From his own memories and the fact that he woke up in a med pod, he knows it had been bad. "But it did," he says softly, "and I'm ok now." Shiro just nods, presses a kiss against Keith's forehead, rubs a hand up and down Keith's arm. He wonders if Shiro is reassuring himself that this is real, that he is in fact here and ok. He doesn't say anything, just maintains his hold, shifts to a more comfortable position so that his hip wouldn't keep digging into the metal below them.

Shiro laughs when he mutters that this would be more comfortable on the ground, teases that that's what he gets for being so skinny. He falls back into the old pattern, retorts that Shiro sounds like his mother, only to push himself up in concern as Shiro freezes, clutches at him.

"You're ok, I'm sorry," he babbles, unsure what to do or say. Shoves the panic of I've done it, messed up again, down, that isn't helpful right now. "You're ok, you're safe." Shaking his head, Shiro tries to say he's fine, but Keith can see the fear in his eyes, so when Shiro pulls him close, Keith lets him and then rolls onto his back, pulling Shiro with him and wrapping his arms around him.

"My parents…" Shiro begins hoarsely after a few minutes of clinging to Keith, head buried as Keith holds on, trying to give what comfort and security he could. "Do you know, are they safe?"

"I haven't seen them since they came to Garrison for the official ruling on Kerberos," he admitted, "A few months after they recorded your expedition as missing. They were worried about you. They didn't believe what Garrison was saying either, or at least, your dad didn't." He can feel Shiro relax slightly, and he relaxes too.

"Hagar found them," Shiro whispers. "When she dug around in my head. Told me that they were gone. I'd have these nightmares, see them die in all sorts of ways." Keith clutches tighter, remembers Shiro's parents and how close Shiro was to them and thinks that there is little worse than that to torture Shiro with. "I didn't want to believe her, but I couldn't get away from it." Laughs bleakly. "Been avoiding that, just like everything else."

"They're safe on Earth," he says, trying to give Shiro something to counter that particular nightmare with. "Far away from all this mess." Shiro's answering question of "for how long?" is cynical, and Keith has no answer for him, only holds on and hopes that whatever happens in the fight against the Galra, that Shiro will be able to make it back home and be with his parents again.

o-o-o

Hearing that his parents are on Earth, even if Keith only saw them months ago, helps calm him, as does the feel of Keith's arms around him and the steady presence of Black, supporting them both.

"Thank you," he whispers, feels Keith tighten his arms briefly in response. Sighs, he then lets go and pushes himself up so that he's sitting, staring out over the dark landscape before him. He nods when Keith asks if he's ok, pushing himself up as well, admits that he's getting tired of regaining his memories only to have something new to panic over. "You'll get it," Keith tells him, and Shiro wishes he had that kind of confidence in himself right now. He wants to ask how Keith does it, but instead looks around. Sees the pod, smiles ruefully.

"Why the pod?" he asks, and Keith ducks his head, embarrassed. "To remind myself that I can actually do something other than fight with everyone," he mutters quietly. "Maybe that's what I need to do," Shiro says absently, and Keith laughs. "Model cadet and officer, stealing a pod?" He joins in, admitting that the image is as ridiculous as Keith finds it.

The stars are out in full now, but none are familiar. He looks up, finds it odd that these dying balls of light can feel so comforting, but so alien at the same time.

"Sometimes I wish I could just make them shift into the right spots," Keith sighs, staring up at the stars as well. "Just …" Fall silent, shakes his head. "Just to have something familiar?" He finishes, and Keith nods, eyes still on the stars as if he could do just that right now. Shiro shifts so he can pull Keith into a loose embrace, Keith's back against his chest. At least this is familiar.

"I read the book you gave me," Keith tells him, voice thoughtful, and Shiro smiles. "Catch-22?" Resting the back of his head on Shiro's shoulder, Keith nods. "You were right, I did like it. Weird at times, but I liked it."

"I didn't know what to think of it," Shiro admits, "When I had to read it for school. But it grew on me."

"I miss my books," Keith whispers after a moment. "I can't read the books in the library, they're all in Altean."

"Maybe Pidge can rig something up for you with Coran," he suggests, and Keith shrugs in that way that says 'yeah maybe' and means that he isn't convinced. He made a mental note to ask them about it, at some point when both he and Keith were no longer in whatever trouble they'd gotten themselves into.

They sit there, silent, watching the stars and content to just be. Eventually, a low rumble from Black brings them back to reality, to the fact that it was late and getting cold.

"Is he telling us to go to bed?" Keith asked skeptically, causing him to laugh, because that was, essentially, what Black's rumble had been for.

As they get up, he feels Keith tense. "You don't think they'll be waiting…?" Shaking his head, he pulls Keith in for a kiss, says they'll be fine, then pauses and groans as he remembers what Pidge said about Lance. When Keith demands what's going on, sighs and tells him. "I'm going to kill him in his sleep," Keith promises darkly. He laughs, admonishes Keith to at least wait until they find a replacement pilot for Blue; grudgingly, Keith assents.

"Come on," he says, "Let's go back. Hunk says that they're making good progress with Red, you can check in on him." Keith nods, smiles as if some tension has just left.

o-o-o

Shiro finds him in Red's hanger, staring at the damage he caused, his earlier relief fading in the sight of what remains. Most of the body work is done, but the exposed wiring on the leg betrays just how damaged it had been.

"You ok?" Shiro asks quietly, and all he can do is shrug. Maybe? Guilt eats at him; this is what his anger and impatience caused. "Give me a moment?" Shiro nods, waits as Keith goes up to Red, places his hand on the Lion's foreleg and looks up.

He had told himself and the others that he fought Zarkon to keep the king from reclaiming the Black Lion, and that's how it had started. He had planned on just keeping the Lion out of Zarkon's reach. But then the fight started and his impatience won out. He should have listened to Coran; Zarkon was too powerful for just one to take on. But what was the other option, let him take Black? Keith didn't know, the pull between the two, equally bad options too strong.

"Sorry Red," he mumbles, turning back to the wrecked leg. "I should have listened to Coran."

Fiery denial shudders through him, and Keith feels an anger against the Galra to match his own, to exceed it. An anger derived from capture, pain, and loss. And then he remembers that of the entire race of Alteans, only Allura and Coran remain, and neither a Paladin. Red's pilot, like all those of the dead kingdom, had been lost, killed in the war with the Galra.

He laughs ruefully, shakes his head, tells Shiro what he had gotten from Red when Shiro asks, who only rolls his eyes, as if he expected no less.

"You should have listened," Shiro whispers when Keith walks back to him, content that he and Red are ok, despite the damage from the fight. "But thank you for not listening, for keeping Zarkon away from Black." He leans into Shiro, accepts the arm that wraps around his back, tightens on his shoulder.

"Black is yours, and you are his Paladin," he says simply; that's all there is to it, really. Shiro looks surprised, then smiles and nods. Halfway down the hallway, he looks down though, serious. "Let's just not do that again." Keith snorts. "Agreed."

Shiro steers him towards the kitchen, doesn't let him veer off when they hear voices softly emanating from down the hallways. "You need to actually eat something," he says, pushing him through the door, and Keith restrains the urge to complain that Shiro sounds just like his mother, who, upon meeting Keith, promptly insisted that he was too skinny and continued to make the point that he didn't eat enough. Shiro had told him that it was what she did, a 'mom thing,' but the maternal chiding was unfamiliar, uncomfortable and hard to get used to.

Everyone's in the kitchen, trying one of Hunk's new creations. Allura and Coran look at him warily, Lance smirks and promptly opens his mouth, only to wince and shut it as both Hunk and Pidge elbow him in the gut. Pidge snickers when Lance complains about her 'tiny sharp elbows.'

Coran speaks first, apologizing for not telling Keith about Zarkon, but admonishing that next time, he should put his impatience to the side and actually listen to those with more experience. Hunk has given him food, and a hurt look when he hadn't immediately started eating, so his mouth is full and all he can do is nod. Coran seems mollified. Allura's still watching him guardedly. He doesn't blame her; it had been a low blow, what he had said when she started to bring her father into the argument.

"Try asking," Shiro suggests mildly, earning a glare for his trouble, but Keith's heart isn't in it. So she does, admitting that he had been right, even if he had been superbly reckless, asking if he could forgive her, try to be less rash if there would be a next time; he can hear the warning of there better not be a next time. He thinks on it momentarily, then nods, realizes he already had, that his anger had burned itself out, not as quickly as it had risen, but quick all the same.

Coran and Allura were happy with his nods for answers, but Pidge obviously wasn't. "You do know you can use actual words, right?" she asks, eyebrow raised, teasing. He snorts, shrugs as if to say why bother?, earning a groan from the three Paladins across the table.

"I'll translate," Shiro promises, voice light and amused, drawing everyone's laughter. Keith feels himself smiling despite himself, grins wider as he realizes it. Maybe, things would be better this time.

o-o-o

Crash and

Burn.

Let the wildfire burn through,

Burn and burn and

Grow.

A/N: Originally published on ao3 under the same title.