[If Keith had been thinking rationally, he should have come clean days ago. He should have shared with Shiro the strange things happening with his body - or, at least, the odd discoloring of his skin - and maybe they would have both been able to figure something out. If they couldn't, maybe Black could. Red wasn't much help. She wanted repairs, and she wanted Keith to be less viscerally frustrated, but that was it.
And now Keith was locked away in her cockpit, pacing idly and trying to figure out just what to do.
He couldn't go out, now. Shiro would kill him. He would think they'd been found by the Galra and would cut him down without a second thought and then wouldn't ever be able to find his body. The communicator in his helmet had broken, and if he used Red's, then there was no guarantee there wouldn't be a video feed. He couldn't strike out on his own, because then he'd be lost and alone without Shiro and without his lion and with no way of getting back to the castle - and no way of proving his innocence, even if he did find a way.
He was screwed in every way except the one his body was aching for, and he hated that his mind kept drifting back there, too.
He spends what feels like hours fretting away in the cockpit before Red flicks Shiro's approach up on the screen, broadcasts his voice into the cockpit, and he can't let her let him in, but she's stubborn enough that he can't make her keep him out, either, so he tries to project confidence when he broadcasts his voice through external speakers.]
Uh. Yeah. Thanks, Shiro... Leave it outside? I'll grab it in a sec...
[Great. Good job, Keith. That wasn't confident at all.]
[ Even over the external speakers, Shiro feels the disquiet in Keith's voice as if it had been filtered through the mental bond they all share through their Lions.
The Shiro of before wouldn't have hesitated before pushing further. But the Shiro of before hadn't been the half-wrought creature the Galra have shaped him into. He knows that Keith still respects him; he isn't self-serving enough in his insecurity to believe otherwise.
Yet -- pragmatic or otherwise, he still stops to wonder: maybe Keith's not willing to share his weaknesses because he doesn't trust Shiro the same way.
Shiro leans forward, forehead tilted against Red's jaw. The scuffed metal is warm to the touch, sentient but utterly inhuman. He can feel her impatience, but not the reasoning behind: Black, in the periphery of his mind, has little to offer in response. ]
Sure. If it's space you need, I get it.
[ But that's not all he wants to say. Not when he knows Keith the way he does. When Keith escapes, he escapes to pockets of shadow and isolation. Left alone in the echo chamber of his anger, it only makes it all worse.
Shiro closes his eyes, projecting his concern in Red's mental direction. If Keith won't let him in, maybe she'll see the necessity of it. He takes a deep breath. Holds it in the bower of his throat, alien air burning all the way down. ]
But - whatever is going on, whatever you're struggling with - it'll be a lot easier if we deal with it together.
[ And this is where the hesitation draws near, Shiro's tongue dragging against his soft palate. Forming and discarding words from inhale to exhale. The plume of laughter that rises from his throat is a soft, wingless thing. ]
You know that, right? [ Like the hours under the stars, Keith's brilliance isolating him from his peers, his disregard for authority angering his instructors. Shiro shaping himself into a cliffside for Keith's white-tipped waves to crash upon. A moment away from reality, a silence too sweet for awkwardness. ] Just like old times.
[It aches, shutting Shiro out like this. He knows doing it will hurt him - it already has, if the twinge in the back of his mind from shiro to black to red to him was any indication at all... if how he knew Shiro was any indication at all. But he couldn't just let him in like this. He couldn't. Not when he was panicking, not when he knew Shiro would be worse.
And that, too, was a terrifying thought. Level-headed Shiro, always the pragmatic one, undone.
He wants to yell at him. He wants to shove him away. Wants to say anything to buy himself just a little more time, but it isn't so easy. Not with how Shiro's voice filters through. Not with how uncertain he sounds. Not with how hopeful his words are.
It'll be easier if they deal with it together - no it won't. He knows it - he doesn't. Just like old times... he'll ruin their old times. Everything they had before, every memory, every shared moment will forever be tinged with... this. Whatever this is.
He trusts Shiro, or he wants to. He doesn't want to hurt him. He wants to confide in him. He doesn't want to hurt him.
Red is in the back of his mind, urging him to trust, and he can't be sure but it's probably her stubborn insistence that gets him to speak, finally, if only to buy a few more minutes of her not opening up and letting Shiro in, impatient and unwilling to see her boys hurting without reason.]
I... know, Shiro... I just... I don't want this to ruin everything else, okay?
[And he bites his lip at that, because no way was that inspiring any kind of confidence, but it was honest, and open, and maybe - maybe - it would get Shiro to steel himself for whatever happened.
[ Keith has a tendency to wrap his hands in certainty before going for a punch, whether or not he truly believes in what he does. It's part and parcel of who he is. That's why his hesitation strikes deeper than anger or fear might have: whatever has happened, it's enough to make Keith doubt himself.
It makes it easier to bolster his resolve. They'd worked together well as a team even before their reunion, but the past few months have taught them cooperation to a near precognitive level. Where one falters, another steps forth. Give-and-take.
Here on this alien planet, with the violet sky painting Red a quieter color than her norm: Shiro unknots his concern, replaces it instead with the belief he has in his team. In Keith, beyond the rest, whose abilities are a supernova in its prime.
He takes a step back, looking up into Red's visage. The smile carries in his voice. ]
I can promise you — whatever it is, it won't ruin anything. What we've built together can't be dismantled that easily.
[ And he doesn't have to feign the confidence in his declaration; it comes as naturally as his next exhale. It's easier when Keith is within distance, when he can bolster him with a hand to his shoulder - physicality works much better with Keith, who has always struggled with words - but this will have to suffice.
Black rumbles in the periphery, her encouragement warm and unobtrusive. He can feel her withdrawing, trusting him to deal with Red and her paladin on his own merit. ]
[Shiro promises him, and Keith hates, hates that he can't believe him entirely. He wants to. He aches to. But he can't. Not when he looks - is? - Galra, not when he knows how Shiro reacts even seeing them in person, not when the seriousness of the situation weighs all the heavier on his shoulders for how his body aches.
But Red nudges at the back of his mind to trust not in Shiro's reactions, because they both know they'll be visceral and will hurt, but in their bond from before, in their bond now, in how they slotted together perfectly. Personalities haven't changed, after all, not appearances.
So he sighs. Tries to steady himself.
It doesn't work, not really.]
Okay, Shiro.
[Okay. He'd agreed to come out, but that doesn't make the act any easier.]
Just... remember it's me... okay? Try not to freak out?
[Enigmatic, maybe, but it's a moment later before Red's cockpit is opening and Keith peeks out, eyes bright and glowing in the dim light, ears down in abject uncertainty. One step. Another. And he's standing in the planet's oddly tinted sunlight, eyes on the ground and fidgeting from foot to foot.]
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it's accurate tho
And now Keith was locked away in her cockpit, pacing idly and trying to figure out just what to do.
He couldn't go out, now. Shiro would kill him. He would think they'd been found by the Galra and would cut him down without a second thought and then wouldn't ever be able to find his body. The communicator in his helmet had broken, and if he used Red's, then there was no guarantee there wouldn't be a video feed. He couldn't strike out on his own, because then he'd be lost and alone without Shiro and without his lion and with no way of getting back to the castle - and no way of proving his innocence, even if he did find a way.
He was screwed in every way except the one his body was aching for, and he hated that his mind kept drifting back there, too.
He spends what feels like hours fretting away in the cockpit before Red flicks Shiro's approach up on the screen, broadcasts his voice into the cockpit, and he can't let her let him in, but she's stubborn enough that he can't make her keep him out, either, so he tries to project confidence when he broadcasts his voice through external speakers.]
Uh. Yeah. Thanks, Shiro... Leave it outside? I'll grab it in a sec...
[Great. Good job, Keith. That wasn't confident at all.]
no subject
The Shiro of before wouldn't have hesitated before pushing further. But the Shiro of before hadn't been the half-wrought creature the Galra have shaped him into. He knows that Keith still respects him; he isn't self-serving enough in his insecurity to believe otherwise.
Yet -- pragmatic or otherwise, he still stops to wonder: maybe Keith's not willing to share his weaknesses because he doesn't trust Shiro the same way.
Shiro leans forward, forehead tilted against Red's jaw. The scuffed metal is warm to the touch, sentient but utterly inhuman. He can feel her impatience, but not the reasoning behind: Black, in the periphery of his mind, has little to offer in response. ]
Sure. If it's space you need, I get it.
[ But that's not all he wants to say. Not when he knows Keith the way he does. When Keith escapes, he escapes to pockets of shadow and isolation. Left alone in the echo chamber of his anger, it only makes it all worse.
Shiro closes his eyes, projecting his concern in Red's mental direction. If Keith won't let him in, maybe she'll see the necessity of it. He takes a deep breath. Holds it in the bower of his throat, alien air burning all the way down. ]
But - whatever is going on, whatever you're struggling with - it'll be a lot easier if we deal with it together.
[ And this is where the hesitation draws near, Shiro's tongue dragging against his soft palate. Forming and discarding words from inhale to exhale. The plume of laughter that rises from his throat is a soft, wingless thing. ]
You know that, right? [ Like the hours under the stars, Keith's brilliance isolating him from his peers, his disregard for authority angering his instructors. Shiro shaping himself into a cliffside for Keith's white-tipped waves to crash upon. A moment away from reality, a silence too sweet for awkwardness. ] Just like old times.
no subject
And that, too, was a terrifying thought. Level-headed Shiro, always the pragmatic one, undone.
He wants to yell at him. He wants to shove him away. Wants to say anything to buy himself just a little more time, but it isn't so easy. Not with how Shiro's voice filters through. Not with how uncertain he sounds. Not with how hopeful his words are.
It'll be easier if they deal with it together - no it won't. He knows it - he doesn't. Just like old times... he'll ruin their old times. Everything they had before, every memory, every shared moment will forever be tinged with... this. Whatever this is.
He trusts Shiro, or he wants to. He doesn't want to hurt him. He wants to confide in him. He doesn't want to hurt him.
Red is in the back of his mind, urging him to trust, and he can't be sure but it's probably her stubborn insistence that gets him to speak, finally, if only to buy a few more minutes of her not opening up and letting Shiro in, impatient and unwilling to see her boys hurting without reason.]
I... know, Shiro... I just... I don't want this to ruin everything else, okay?
[And he bites his lip at that, because no way was that inspiring any kind of confidence, but it was honest, and open, and maybe - maybe - it would get Shiro to steel himself for whatever happened.
Maybe.
Hopefully.]
no subject
It makes it easier to bolster his resolve. They'd worked together well as a team even before their reunion, but the past few months have taught them cooperation to a near precognitive level. Where one falters, another steps forth. Give-and-take.
Here on this alien planet, with the violet sky painting Red a quieter color than her norm: Shiro unknots his concern, replaces it instead with the belief he has in his team. In Keith, beyond the rest, whose abilities are a supernova in its prime.
He takes a step back, looking up into Red's visage. The smile carries in his voice. ]
I can promise you — whatever it is, it won't ruin anything. What we've built together can't be dismantled that easily.
[ And he doesn't have to feign the confidence in his declaration; it comes as naturally as his next exhale. It's easier when Keith is within distance, when he can bolster him with a hand to his shoulder - physicality works much better with Keith, who has always struggled with words - but this will have to suffice.
Black rumbles in the periphery, her encouragement warm and unobtrusive. He can feel her withdrawing, trusting him to deal with Red and her paladin on his own merit. ]
no subject
But Red nudges at the back of his mind to trust not in Shiro's reactions, because they both know they'll be visceral and will hurt, but in their bond from before, in their bond now, in how they slotted together perfectly. Personalities haven't changed, after all, not appearances.
So he sighs. Tries to steady himself.
It doesn't work, not really.]
Okay, Shiro.
[Okay. He'd agreed to come out, but that doesn't make the act any easier.]
Just... remember it's me... okay? Try not to freak out?
[Enigmatic, maybe, but it's a moment later before Red's cockpit is opening and Keith peeks out, eyes bright and glowing in the dim light, ears down in abject uncertainty. One step. Another. And he's standing in the planet's oddly tinted sunlight, eyes on the ground and fidgeting from foot to foot.]