A/N: Ah! I totally forgot to upload this chapter here. Sorry for the delay! I'm more active on tumblr and AO3, so come find me there-username on both is littlewhitetie.

-x-

Keith and Shiro share a lot of things. They share a history, they share a deep bond, and they share a Lion, at least for the time being. They share things they enjoy, like flying and open spaces and quiet moments. They share a desire to find missing pieces of their pasts, and a need to always be working towards something. They share certain traits, like resolve, conviction, and a strong sense of morality.

They also share a steadfast unwillingness to open up about their feelings.

Keith can tell when something's wrong with Shiro, and he has a sense of how to give him what he needs in that moment, but exactly what it is that Shiro's thinking or feeling is never put into words.

So Keith has no idea what Shiro must be feeling right now. He needs to connect with Shiro's emotional state, but he doesn't even know where to start.

Keith's not naturally an empathetic person. He's never really tried to understand emotions, whether they're his own or those of others; it's a language he never bothered to learn. His own emotions have always just been a stormy, tangled mess, and those of others have been just as, if not more, confusing. He hadn't seen the point of even trying to make sense of them, but now Shiro's paying for it.

Keith's been able to locate Shiro several times, but he can never get through to him. He can feel him, but not in the way he needs to. It's like trying to hold smoke. He just doesn't know how to feel whatever it is that Shiro's experiencing.

He can see Shiro in front of him. He's right there. He's alone in a cell, bathed in dim violet light, staring down at the metal arm in his lap. He's not doing well, that much is obvious. But more specifically, he's… sad? Scared? Angry? Keith doesn't know. He doesn't know, and it's frustrating to the point of tears.

The tears slip loose when, unable to make the connection, Shiro fades from view and Keith loses him again. Fucking again.

His fists shake as his nails dig into his palms. His teeth are clenched so tightly his jaw trembles. He wants to hit something. He wants to scream.

Patience, Keith. Focus.

Shiro's calming voice fills Keith's head, his mind supplying the words Shiro would say if he were here with him. Shiro's always helping him, even when they're apart, and Keith can't do a goddamn thing to help him back.

Come on, Keith. You can do this.

Shiro's advice has never led him astray. Keith needs to calm down. "Okay," he whispers shakily, taking a deep breath.

He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, the way Shiro taught him to do. Inhale for four counts. Hold for seven. Exhale for eight. Repeat. He does this over and over until his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes, and hot tears stop leaking from his eyes.

After he's simmered down, he wipes away his tears and tries again.

He focuses on Shiro and his energy signature, his quintessence. He's acutely attuned to it; he can sense it in the way he can sense the Lions. It feels off, distorted, but the others have restored it to something that's at least recognizable. He concentrates on it, on Shiro, following faint traces of his warped quintessence like a bloodhound until he homes in on his location.

When he finds him, there are two Shiros. One is the Shiro he knows, his Shiro; the other wears tattered prison garb and a wicked grin, his eyes a terrifying, glowing yellow. The latter holds the former in a chokehold, metal fingers crushing his windpipe.

His Shiro's eyes are wide, pupils blown. His teeth are clenched tightly, jaw tense. He's grasping at the hand desperately, trying to pry it away, but otherwise, he doesn't move. He's close enough to kick, but he doesn't. His hand remains unlit.

Keith does his best to compartmentalize the distress that bubbles up as he takes in the scene, shoving it to the recesses of his mind. There's no time to worry. He needs to figure this out.

What's happening here?

With careful eyes, Keith studies the scene before him. The hand doing the damage is the Galra one. It's a weapon, capable of great harm. And that's fear in Shiro's eyes. He's… afraid of himself. He's trying to resist, he doesn't want this, but he's not actively fighting back. Like he's resigned to his fate. Like he knows what he is. He's a…

Monster.

The word reverberates in his head, loud and familiar. The concept has occupied Keith's mind before, unrelenting and overwhelming. And now that he thinks about it, it's not the first time Keith has seen those glowing yellow eyes, either: Keith used to see them in the mirror in his nightmares, alongside sharp teeth and purple skin.

Keith takes a deep breath. He can do this. He dredges up every memory he has of when he found out he was Galra, trying to remember exactly how it felt.

He recalls the revulsion he felt when he'd catch sight of his reflection in the luxite blade. He recalls the way his heart hurt, pounding heavily and beating too fast and caught in his throat. He recalls the sinking feeling in his gut, a sensation of falling. He recalls feeling disoriented and confused and lost. He had been anxious. Sad. Afraid. Hurt. Lonely.

Monster.

Keith knows what that feels like.

"You're not the only one," Keith says quietly. He reaches for Shiro, and this time, he makes contact.

As soon as he's drawn into the scene, Keith sprints toward him. He unsheathes his blade and runs it through the dark facsimile that's hurting his Shiro, causing it to sublimate in wisps of black smoke.

Keith catches his best friend with clumsy arms before he hits the ground. "I've got you," he reassures him.

Staggering to his feet, though, Shiro pulls away immediately. Keith winces slightly. The rejection stings.

"You shouldn't be here," Shiro rasps.

Before Keith can argue, sand materializes beneath their feet, the lights of Zarkon's arena glaring overhead.

Shiro's beside him on his left. On the other side of the pit are four very large, very dangerous-looking creatures, facing them down. It's not a fair fight.

"Stay back, Keith," Shiro commands, moving in front of him as the beasts charge.

"What? No," Keith says stubbornly, drawing his sword.

He never gets a chance to use it. One of the creatures—feathered, fanged, and clawed—spews a stream of fire at him, burning his right arm and hand. He yelps in pain and loses his grip on his weapon.

"I told you to stay out of this," Shiro growls, diving forward and driving his Galra arm into the monster's heart, his hand coming out covered in crimson.

"And I said no," Keith snaps back, pushing through the pain. He reaches for his blade with his left hand as the other creatures round on Shiro.

Keith goes for the closest one, a hulking, mammoth-like creature with a rocky hide, but before he can reach it, another creature twists its long neck and shoots a bright beam at him from its gaping mouth.

"Keith!"

Keith tries to dodge, but the beam still catches his right foot, encasing it in thick ice and rooting him to the ground. He's trapped.

The ice creature slithers forward, jaws wide.

Shiro twists out of the grip of a fourth, scaled creature, using his momentum to launch forward and cut the ice creature's throat in a spray of azure.

The reptilian organism that had Shiro before crackles with electricity. Impossibly quick, it grabs Shiro again, this time shocking him before he can get away. Shiro cries out, but taking advantage of his position, he lunges forward and puts his hand through its skull. Dark green liquid trickles down the side of its head as it falls.

The last creature charges at Shiro, but Shiro's quicker and manages to dodge. When it rears to attack again, Shiro darts in and, with its soft underside exposed, he drives his hand deep into the creature's stomach. It bleeds gold.

The fight is over quickly, and it's not difficult to see how Shiro earned the title Champion.

Shiro stands at the centre of the slain creatures, panting for breath, teeth bared. Keith's no stranger to gore, but the sight is rather grisly. A rainbow of blood coats Shiro's arm and soaks his clothing, red and blue and green and yellow mixing together in an awful mess.

The four creatures around them are no longer breathing, their hearts no longer beating, but their lifeless bodies don't stay still. They shrink and then they transform, taking the form of human-looking corpses. They morph into Hunk, Pidge, Lance, and Keith.

Shiro pales as he watches the transformation, his expression absolutely horrified. He sinks to his knees, a hand covering his mouth, shaking.

"Shiro! This isn't real!" Keith shouts, tearing his leg free of the ice. He runs over to Shiro, grabbing his shoulders. "Shiro, look at me. I'm right here," he says, gripping tightly.

Shiro's eyes are wide when they meet his. "Keith…"

"It's okay. I'm here."

Shiro shudders and collapses into him.

"This isn't real," Keith repeats, more softly this time. "This is something you're afraid of, and I get that. But it could never happen. You would never hurt us."

"You don't know that," Shiro says quietly.

"Yes, I do," Keith insists, jaw set.

Shiro shakes his head. "You don't know what I've done, Keith. I've hurt a lot of people. I've taken so many lives."

The carcasses in the sand shift and multiply. Corpses pile higher and higher, bodies on top of bodies like in a plague pit, forming a veritable mountain.

"That looks like an exaggeration," Keith says, eyeing the mountain. "But I'm still willing to bet I've taken more."

Shiro frowns, pulling back slightly to give Keith an incredulous look.

"Shiro, you've been gone for months," Keith says softly. "Do you know how many Galra ships I've taken out in that time? How many entire fleets? And sure, some of the people on those ships would've been bad, but a lot were probably only guilty of following orders—feeding their families, or doing what they thought was right, never knowing anything different. I'm sure there've been innocent prisoners being transported on those ships, too. Not to mention people like Thace or Ulaz, trying to take some of the worse Galra factions down from the inside out."

Maybe it's not the best idea to remind Shiro of how many more lives he's taken outside of the arena, but Keith needs to make sure that Shiro knows he's not the only one with a kill count. Shiro will forgive the other paladins for it, of that Keith is sure, so at least in theory, he'll have to forgive himself.

"It's not the same," Shiro offers weakly.

"Yeah, you're right," Keith concedes. "We chose to take those ships out. You didn't have a choice in the arena."

Shiro's lips twitch into a grim smile. "I did. I didn't have to fight back—"

"Don't," Keith snarls, giving Shiro a sharp glare.

Shiro has the decency to look at least halfway apologetic. Sorry, his eyes say.

Keith sighs. "Look. I don't know how many people you had to kill. Maybe it was a lot. But I can guarantee that your survival has saved so many more lives. We've saved entire planets as Voltron. We took down Zarkon. That never would've happened without you coming back."

Shiro can't contest that. He knows it's true.

"It gave me my life back, too," Keith continues quietly, his expression softening. "It gave me purpose again, and it… it gave me back the person I care about more than anyone else in the entire universe."

The torn expression on Shiro's face is definitely not what Keith had hoped to get from that admission. It was heartfelt, dammit.

"You shouldn't," Shiro whispers, pulling away.

The arena crumbles. They're somewhere dimly lit, the purple telling of somewhere distinctly Galra, but this isn't a cell. It's a laboratory.

An assortment of thick black tubes creep under Shiro's skin, violet seeping through the cracks. The metal of his arm comes alive, twisted sheets snaking up past his shoulder, spreading like an infection. It takes the place of his scarred flesh.

Something inorganic pulsates where his heart should be, the same shade of sickly purple as the poisoned wound he'd received from the witch.

Shiro looks down at his right arm, the source of his affliction, a pained expression on his face. "I'm a weapon," he says quietly. He's more metal than flesh, like one of Haggar's robeasts. "I'm barely human. I'm a monster."

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Know who else is barely human and literally part monster?"

Keith's voice shakes Shiro out of his ruminating and he flinches, contrite.

"Does that make you care less about me?" Keith challenges.

Shiro shakes his head. "Of course not."

"You're gonna need a better reason than that to get rid of me," Keith says stubbornly. "Would you please stop trying?"

Shiro falters. "I…"

"Listen. I don't care what you've done or what you think you are," Keith asserts, wrapping his arms around the silvery metal that's taken over Shiro's back and shoulders. "You're still Shiro, and I still love you. Nothing will ever change that."

Keith's words seem to finally get through. The metal recedes. Shiro lets out a soft sigh, a grateful, contented sound. He leans into Keith and returns the embrace.

They stay like that until their surroundings start to fade. They're out of time, but Shiro is still solid in his arms, still holding on. Keith squeezes a little tighter.

"You're strong, and you are brave. You're worthy of everything good in this universe, and you're a better leader than any of the rest of us could ever hope to be. You're in control and have helped so many people," Keith reminds his closest friend gently before he leaves. "And monster or not, you are loved."

-x-

"Keith."

…

"KEITH."

…

"KEEEITH."

Keith blinks his eyes open, starting when he finds Hunk's face two inches from his own.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, get up," Hunk insists, yanking him away from his pillow.

Keith frowns, head still muzzy with sleep. "What—"

"You did it, man! He's close enough for Allura to reach!"

Keith's head clears quickly at that. Shiro's synchronized closely enough for Allura to bring his mind back to his body. They can bring him pounding with excitement, he kicks off the blankets and leaps out of bed.

"C'mon!" Hunk grabs Keith's wrist, and together they sprint towards the infirmary.

Everyone else is already there. Slav is behind the screen of a complicated-looking machine; the rest are crowded around Shiro's bedside. He's greeted with cheers and broad smiles.

"There you are," Allura says, beaming at him.

Coran carefully places a metal circlet dotted with lights atop the Princess's head, resting just above her diadem. It flashes in a pattern that's mirrored in the corner of Slav's screen.

"Now, remember, you must be careful, Princess," Coran reminds her. "We've never done anything like this before. Even with the transducer we built, finding and retrieving someone from another realm will take an extraordinary amount of your energy. It could take more than healing an entire balmera."

"There is no cost too great if it means bringing Shiro back," Allura insists.

Coran frowns; it's not exactly what he wants to hear.

Allura casts him a reassuring smile. "Coran, the paladins will be lending me their quintessence and guiding him to me. With their help, we cannot fail."

Lance and Pidge each have a hand on one of the Princess's shoulders. Hunk has returned to her side as well and rests his hand on her upper arm. "Come," she beckons to Keith.

Keith moves in closer to rest his hand on Allura's other arm, standing next to Shiro's still form. Shiro's too still, too pale, but at least he's no longer hooked up to all that medical equipment.

They hadn't been able to use a pod—they couldn't chance it with the involuntary brain wave reactions the pods sometimes caused—so they'd had to hook him up to what were essentially the Altean equivalents of an IV, feeding tube, and catheter. They were more sophisticated than the devices on Earth, but the whole set up had still screamed comatose.

They'd all agreed they should remove the devices before bringing him back; it wouldn't be the best thing for him to wake to. The equipment's gone now. It's really happening. Shiro will be waking up soon.

Gently, Allura brushes Shiro's snow-white bangs from his face and presses her fingertips to his temples.

Coran takes his place behind the other machine and nods. "Ready when you are, Princess."

With a calm, deep breath, Allura's hands glow with turquoise light, stray particles of light falling around them. "Let us begin," she says, closing her eyes. "It's time to bring Shiro home."

-x-

There's a sense of emptiness that fills Shiro when Keith leaves, reflected around him in the void. He feels better after seeing him—he always feels better after seeing any of them—but the stretches in between the paladins' rare visits are long and lonely. He misses Keith already.

At least the nightmares and awful visions have become easier to bear. He's better able to tell what's real and what's not, better able to distinguish fears from memories. Even when he's caught up in the same things as before, his mind unable to let things go, what he sees and what he thinks aren't nearly as distorted.

Myzax roars from the pit, audible even above the deafening cries of the audience. The sentries come for Matt. He's not gonna make it. But he doesn't die, not this time. Shiro intervenes. He hurts his friend, but he keeps him safe. Matt's still alive.

Stars and darkness surround him in the astral plane. He's hurt and exhausted; he can't take much more. Zarkon's strong as ever, his claws tight around his throat. It seems hopeless, but Zarkon doesn't win. The Black Lion attacks Zarkon, rescuing him. She chooses Shiro. She protects her paladin.

He's back in the druids' laboratory, restraints burning his wrists and cold metal at his back. Haggar watches him with narrowed eyes and a vicious smile. The circular saw looming overhead comes alive, its glowing, fuchsia blade moving ever closer. Dread and terror grip him; he knows what comes next. But he's not here anymore.

The scenes are easier to get through, but his heart still twinges with loneliness. Back in the void, there's nothing around him, just emptiness stretching out forever. The silence is deafening. He's all alone.

And then he's not.

Something calls to him, something familiar that fills him with warmth. It sparks with life, intense and razor sharp. It feels like Keith.

Come back to us.

Keith's presence pulls at him. Shiro follows without hesitation. It leads him away from the nothingness and toward a sweeping expanse of golden sand under a crimson sky.

The desert is vast, nothing but sand in all directions. Shiro doesn't know which way to go, and he's a bit apprehensive, but he can feel Keith's reassuring presence at his side. With a gentle nudge, Keith shows him the way forward.

It's difficult to traverse through the sand, and the sun burns bright overhead. It's hard to keep going; he's just so tired. But Keith urges him to endure.

Hang in there. Just a little longer.

Keith is vitality and passion. He is courage. He is resolve. He gives Shiro strength.

He keeps going.

Eventually, the sand tapers out and the sky changes from red to blue. The heat dissipates, replaced with bone-chilling cold. Ice spreads out beneath his feet, forming a narrow bridge over dark, frigid waters.

A second presence makes itself known, shifting and fluid, cool and soothing. This one feels like Lance.

Lance's presence tugs at him, drawing him toward the thin strip of gleaming ice. Shiro eyes it warily. It could crack beneath his feet and send him plunging into the depths.

Don't worry. We've got you.

He tests the ice, and it seems strong enough to bear his weight. He follows the path across the sea.

A blizzard brews, wind and snow buffeting him. But when Shiro's pushed to the edge, the ice spreads out beneath him, keeping him from falling in.

Lance is dynamism. He supports him, adapting as needed. He's a tether. He's so very human, and he keeps Shiro feeling connected.

The bridge guides him to rocky shore, the cold abating. A mountain towers before him, craggy and impossible to climb.

There's another presence behind him, though, that guides him toward a tunnel. It's gentle and wholesome, apprehensive yet steady. Hunk.

Bits of rock crumble overhead, and it's pitch black inside. He's uneasy at the thought of entering.

We'll keep you safe.

Cautiously, Shiro makes his way into the unlit tunnel.

Anxiousness hits him like a brick as soon as he enters. Shiro doesn't like enclosed spaces, he doesn't like not being able to see what's around him, and he doesn't like what the dark reminds him of. But he's okay; he's safe. Hunk's presence wraps around him like a blanket, protecting him.

Hunk has his back, a steadfast, grounding presence. He's there to keeps things from getting too heavy, providing levity when the weight on his shoulders becomes too much to bear. Hunk is stability and warmth, and he makes Shiro feel safe in times of need.

The tunnel is long, but it finally ends, and there's light. It's scattered, filtered through leaves and tall branches.

A forest grows around him, trees shooting up high enough to catch on clouds. It's dense and thick with no path. The way through isn't clear, but he can sense Pidge's presence darting around him, bright and jagged and quick. Insistent and unwavering, she urges him to follow.

Come back to us.

He forges a trail through the forest with Pidge there to guide him, finding openings and ways around whatever's in their path.

Pidge is inquisitiveness, but also faith and tenacity. She won't give up, not on him. Pidge lends him hope.

Pushing past the branches and thick vines, Shiro finds a clearing. The forest ends.

A sweeping field of magenta flowers lies before him, the rising sun washing the petals with gold. Allura stands at its centre, her expression lighting up when she sees him.

Her eyes are more vibrant than he'd remembered; her smile is luminous as the sun. Everything about her is vivid and full of life. It's really her.

"Come, my paladin," she says softly, extending her hand to him. "It's time to go home."

He takes her hand, and in a brilliant flash of turquoise light, Shiro wakes.

…

Shiro's senses come back to him. Cool fingertips graze his temples, and there's a soft surface beneath him. He breathes in the pleasant, clean scent of the Castle. Altean tech hums quietly in the background, familiar voices whispering excitedly above it.

The voices hush as his eyelids flutter open. There's a small crowd surrounding him. Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Coran are all there, waiting for him.

He sits up and Keith moves first, pulling him into a desperate hug with no intention of letting go. The others quickly follow suit, and soon, he's enveloped in a tangle of arms and tears and bright smiles.

Each touch is warm and tangible, and he knows for certain that this is real. All doubt fades from his mind. Shiro knows who he is. He knows where he is. He's Takashi Shirogane—leader, Black Paladin, and a part of this eclectic found family—and he's right where he's supposed to be.