Keith Connecting to the (Unnamed) Paladins

Mirror and Image

When Keith had looked through his binoculars and seen someone was here, he'd finally had purpose. After all his research, that deep calling in his very soul, the stories and signs all pointing to something, and looking through those binoculars and realizing that some thing had come, he knew he had a purpose. He knew the Galaxy Garrison's routines, he knew their procedures, protocols, directives. It didn't take much to set up a diversion and break out whatever had arrived. Then he'd seen it was Shiro. And that purpose crystallized. Shiro was his purpose, and he would rescue him. He hadn't been expecting the tag-alongs, but nothing mattered compared to getting Shiro away and safe.

The same way it was obvious to bring Shiro to the one place that still had memories of home. Most of the rest of that night had been spent tending to Shiro. The tag-alongs tried to help, especially the smallest, Keith didn't really care for that. He finally got Shiro back, he hadn't even spoken to him yet, he didn't want to deal with all of these... these extras.

"Just wait outside," Keith growled. "Let me at least get these rags off him!"

"And what," the freighter-class growled back, "leave him naked? Let him have some dignity!"

That wasn't his plan, but Keith didn't want to explain himself to these tag-alongs. "Out! This is my place; out!"

The largest one shrunk back and slipped out the door. The freighter-class started to argue again, but Keith ignored him and shoved him outside. Freighter-class was clearly caught off guard and started banging at the door, but Keith had locked it then put a chair under the knob just to be safe.

He turned and was surprised to see the smallest was still there.

"Get out," Keith growled. "Take the other two and go back to the Garrison."

"No," was the flat reply. "Commander Shirogane is the only link I have left to my family."

Keith's mouth was already open for a harsh retort, but something struck right to his heart. A last connection? Keith understood that all too well – Shiro was his last connection to anything and he'd been so lost without that. Wait... Shiro hadn't been the only one reported dead on Kerberos... This little white kid...

"Your name," he asked.

The kid smirked ironically, glasses flashing. "Pidge. Pidge Gunderson."

A fake id. Working towards a singular goal. Keith could understand all too well. He now had purpose again (protect Shiro) that he would to anything to fullfill.

"Fine. Just don't get in my way."

The small tag-along nodded.

Keith pulled out scissors and handed them to Pidge while he went to a trunk and pulled out some clothes. They were once his father's, he could only hope they fit Shiro, but that was for later.

The small tag-along had cut off the loose rag of a shirt, but the body suit was proving troublesome. "I've never seen a fabric like this before," Pidge said, pulling the scissors away. "It doesn't cut easily. I have to wonder at its tensile strength..."

"We can worry about the math later," Keith replied, and pulled out his knife. The blade slid through the material easily and Keith couldn't help but wonder why Pidge had had so much trouble. Once Keith had sliced the fabric, Pidge peeled it away to the waist, and for the first time, Keith noticed the strong smell of sweat and fear.

Shiro had been panicked. What had happened to him?

Then he and Pidge saw the scars.

Keith may have said some very impolite words. The small tag-along gave a harsh breath and Keith broke out of his negative tirade to rush for his first aid kid.

Unfortunately, after the long ride through the desert, zipping in zigzags to avoid trails or pursuits meant that whatever sedative the Garrison had used was wearing off.

Or, Keith later realized, Shiro was fighting it.

"... No..." was Shiro's first word. "No..."

"Shiro, you're okay," Keith soothed, still ignoring the freighter-class and his shouting outside. "You're home. We've got you."

But Shiro was struggling as Pidge gently tried to clean off dried blood (dear God the blood...). Eyes wide, Keith's closest thing to family looked every which way, wild and unseeing.

"My arm! Give it back!"

It was hard to stay calm to Shiro's shouts. "Shiro, it's me! Keith! You're not in that place anymore!"

"Witch! What did you do!"

"Commander Shirogane!" Pidge yelled.

Then Keith, who had been trying to hold Shiro's shoulders, was punched in the gut by metal instead of flesh and sent sprawling on the floor. Shiro was struggling to stand, but still sluggish and slurred. Pidge tried to gently get him to get back on the couch and was shoved away. Keith made a split-second decision. He rushed to his door and opened it, letting Freighter-class fall through as he tried to again pound on the door.

"Big guy, hold Shiro's new arm," he ordered, "Freighter-class, get his legs. Shorty!" he turned back to the small kid, "get his real arm! I'll hold his shoulders!"

Freighter-class was offendedly saying he had a name-thank-you, but Pidge was shoved aside as Shiro continued to get more and more agitated.

"Galra witch! Give me back my arm!"

Freighter-class shut up and Shiro stumbled. The large one quickly grabbed the metal arm and Pidge the flesh. Freighter-class grabbed Shiro's ankles and pulled, tipping the large man back, but Shiro was still flailing and struggling, shouts turning to incoherent grunts and screams. Ketih tried to hold down Shiro's shoulders, but his almost-brother, even drugged and not in reality, was incredibly strong, fighting with everything he had. "Hey," the big guy said, "I don't think I have a good grip-"

The metal arm gave a high pitched whirring sound, and suddenly the hulking cadet was flung aside with unrealistic ease, metal fist reaching over to grab the kid and flip into the big guy. Keith's grip on the shoulders were long gone and all that was left was Freighter-class, looking up in confusion before the cyborg arm pulled back and punched. The second-rate pilot dodged enough to miss his face, but the metal connected with his shoulder and he crumpled into a ball. Free of all ties, Shiro turned to the open door.

"Stop him!"

Three of them, Keith, Pidge, and the bulk all leapt and managed to grab Shiro and drag the big man down. He was screaming to the top of his lung, but his metal arm was pinned under his stomach and he couldn't move with three people pressed against his back.

"Lance! Any time now!"

Freighter-class added his own weight to the pile, and for several minutes all anyone could do was contract and pull at muscles to prevent Shiro as he fought for his life. Energy – eventually – wore out and the struggles began to minimize. Keith risked getting off the pile and moved in front of Shiro, flattening out on his belly and moving slowly into eye range.

"Look at me!" he hissed. "I'm not whatever monsters you've been facing. I'm Ketih Kogane and you are the only person I've ever respected and looked up to!"

Something seemed to flash in Shiro's eyes, and his struggle – at last – stilled.

"That's right, Shiro," Keith said calmly, and the tag-alongs started to risk releasing pressure. "Look around. We're at my home. I told you about it. You're safe, nothing can touch you here. You. Are. Safe."

"Keith," Shiro's voice held a question – and hope and awe – raw and broken from his screaming, and recognition bloomed on his face. He looked around, finally seeing, before all color drained from his face from looking at the kid. "Matt...?" Keith didn't dare say anything, watching his almost-brother's eyes flood looking at a complete stranger. For the kid's part, Pidge held very still, brown-gold eyes almost as intense as Shiro's own. "We're... we're safe?"

A single track of sweat seeped down Pidge's temple, but the kid nodded. "Yes."

Shiro's eyes snapped back to Keith, drinking him in, and he watched as Shiro's dark eyes flooded again, two tears spilling over. "Oh thank god," Shiro went limp. "Oh thank God." He sobbed. And sobbed.

Everyone eased up, off of the older man, and Shiro just lay there, emotion pouring out of him.

"... Come on, Shiro," Keith said, pained to see someone he so admired be so broken. "Let's get you to bed. You can sleep the rest of this off."

Shiro let himself be pulled up by the big guy and Keith, each under one of Shiro's shoulders. "The couch or your bed?" the big guy asked softly under Shiro's sobs.

Keith hadn't expected the consideration. "Couch," he replied softly. More easily observed and defended.

As Keith and the big guy settled Shiro on the couch, more like futon, Shiro was clearly exhausted, both from whatever physical strain he'd gone through to leave such scars and replace an arm and the emotional wringer he'd clearly been put through. Yet by some miracle, once he was sitting, Shiro seemed to pull up a reserved of energy, breaking free of his relief as his metal arm surged out and grabbed Keith by the back of the neck, pulling him close.

"Keith," Shiro's eyes were still bright, drugged yet staring at him with clear determination. "We have to find Voltron. The Galra can't get it. No matter what, we must find Voltron."

Keith reached forward without hesitation, and held Shiro's neck as well. "We'll find Voltron," he vowed. "They won't ever get their hands on Voltron."

And, for the first time, Shiro smiled, eyes still wet, the last tension bleeding from his face as the sedative, exhaustion, and strain finally took over and he passed out in a dead faint.

Just like that, it was silent.

Keith pulled back, wiped sweat from his brow, and took a long, slow breath to try and calm his racing heart. Looking around, he realized the tag-alongs were still there. That he'd called on them for help. So he scowled and frowned. He couldn't exactly kick them out now, much as he wanted to.

"So... um... all this kinda made me hungry..." the largest said hesitantly. "I mean, we last ate at dinner and after all this I feel hungry again, so..."

"I don't have much," Keith replied. He hadn't needed much.

The big guy hesitated, then seemed to think that was an invitation and headed to the small fridge.

A glance at the clock showed it was past one a.m. Keith's eyes narrowed, thinking fast. Finally, he sighed. He'd been awake for pushing twenty hours now. A few more hours were needed, so he might as well. He went to his shelf and pulled a few books out. He had a lot to research.

"I'll take first watch," he said softly. He picked up the chair by the door that had fallen in his rush to stop Shiro's delusion and set it in the open doorway. The light from behind was enough to read by, so Keith started thumbing through his books, reading a paragraph, then looking out into the night.

Behind him, Freighter-class was already grumbling, muttering how they didn't need a watch, there was no way to find them, now what were they supposed to do, oh no, they couldn't return to the Garrison... Ketih just tuned them out. Paragraph. Check Shiro. Check outside. Paragraph. Check Shiro. Check outside.

"Here, this might help."

Keith blinked, realizing he'd been staring at the paragraph, not comprehending any of it, then he glanced over to the big guy and the offered cup of coffee.

"Oh," he muttered, taking the cup and sipping it. Oohh, that was good coffee. Keith hadn't known his machine could do anything other than sludge. And was that cinnamon? Mmmm... "Thanks," he muttered, communing with what was probably the best coffee he'd ever had in his life.

"No problem," the big guy smiled, gentle and warm, and sat down on the ground and leaned back onto Keith's tiny shack.

"Tonight has been kind of crazy, you know? I'm not exactly sure how we can sneak back to the Garrison at this point, and we're in sooooo much trouble, you know? And that guy, he's a little scary, don't you think? Not that I blame him, some of the things he said were pretty terrifying and..." The big guy's voice drifted off, Keith could see the other boy staring at him. Would he try to force a conversation? But the big guy just shrugged, and together, they both looked up to the stars. Keith appreciated the quiet and didn't feel any oppressive need for conversation. There was plenty of that going on quietly behind them with Pidge and Freighter-class.

Once Keith had finished savoring his coffee, wondering where he'd even had cinnamon in his kitchenette, he decided that the big guy was like Shiro in a way. Friendly and not having heavy expectations. Happy to let things be.

"Really," Keith said softly. "Thanks... uh..."

"Hunk," the big guy responded affably. "I'm not surprised you don't remember me. We were both in a mechanics class together."

"... Oh." Keith felt awkward. It had always been a little hard for him to make connections as a child, and that had only gotten worse once his father had died, leaving him an orphan. "Sorry..." he mumbled.

"No problem," Hunk replied gently. "You were always more focused on other things."

Like flying. The only time he'd ever felt truly free. Everything else was immaterial, if it didn't relate to flight. Most would call Keith standoffish, aloof, even arrogant. But the only reason he had joined the Garrison was to fly as far and as fast as possible.

Silence settled over them again, and though Keith still felt awkward, Hunk's gentleness and easy going nature made it easier to bear. More awake after some delicious coffee, Keith went back to keeping watch. Eventually Hunk started to nod off, so Keith softly prodded him with his boot and gestured for the big guy to head in and get some sleep. Hunk looked up blearily before half staggering, half crawling to the inside of the shack.

The moon was just passed its zenith now, and Keith tried to read his book again. It didn't have what he needed, and he headed back in briefly to grab another. Freighter-class was glaring at him from across the room, frown low on his chin and arms crossed, but Keith ignored him, looking through his shelves. Here, this one might have what he needed. He pulled it out and went back outside. A breeze sent a light shiver over his back, and he buttoned up his jacket, flipping through the chapters before he found the most likely one and started reading.

The book slowly pulled his attention, but not in a good way as he tried to find something specific and failed. Frowning, he got up to get another book. Hunk, the big guy, was sitting in the only other chair, snoring slightly, and Freighter-class was trying to stay awake and failing. Pidge, the small one, was still wide eyed, tapping at a laptop pulled from... somewhere.

Their eyes met briefly, and Keith only nodded, going back to his chair and skimming the book between observing the perimeter.

This book didn't have anything either. He frowned heavily. As a member of the Galaxy Garrison, any cadet had the same required courses in first aid. After all, one was going to be out amongst the stars for months, possibly even years at a time as they explored the far reaches of their solar system. Being able to handle colds, broken bones, burns, those were all standard, as well as a long list of mental disorders such as isolation and its effects on the human psyche. The largest concern was post-traumatic-stress-disorder. If something went wrong on a mission, there was no doubts that PTSD could occur. All cadets knew the signs and the rough basics of treatments.

Watching Shiro, Keith had no doubt that his only friend was suffering from whatever ordeal he had gone through. Shiro's hair was turning white after whatever had happened in the year since the Kerberos mission went bad. And Keith had only one goal. Learning all Shiro's PTSD triggers so that he could prevent them. Yet Keith didn't dare start anything without refreshing what he knew. He didn't want to mess this up. It was Shiro. He couldn't afford to fail or stumble.

So Keith went back to his shelves to pull another book.

At his chair, he once more glanced along the perimeter, listening to the natural sounds of the night and then glanced back at Shiro. Only the glance back showed the small white kid coming over with the laptop.

"Here," Pidge said softly, "I think this is what you're looking for."

A glance at the screen showed a website and lists on PTSD and various treatments. He looked to the kid. How...?

Pidge shrugged. "It was pretty obvious." The kid looked away. "He's going to need a lot of help."

Keith didn't need to be told that. He would shoulder the burden gladly and do whatever it took to help the only thing he had left that looked like family. His eyes strayed unerringly to Shiro, still passed out on the futon, face pinched even in sleep. It hurt so much to see him like that... he had to get better. Keith had to do his best. Better than his best. For Shiro. He took the laptop and started reading.

The kid didn't say much after that, had some kind of headphones on and a small dish pointed to the sky, pad of paper in hand and taking notes. Someone else who wasn't a conversationalist? Keith was in heaven. He threw another look at Shiro, and kept reading.

Pidge's laptop was a gold mine, Keith learned more than he thought he would in less than an hour: stressors, neuroendocrinology, biochemical changes, neuroanatomy... the science of it whistled over his head, but he found an online checklist to diagnose it and Shiro checked all the boxes in the span of one night: vivid remembering to the exclusion of reality – flashbacks, hypervigilance, clear outbursts of anger... he hadn't thought of exaggerated startle response – he would have to keep an eye out for that. Difficulty sleeping... he glanced over at Shiro. Something to watch very carefully.

Treatment was something called cognitive behavior therapy. Exposure therapy (which was never going to happen, he would never expose Shiro to whatever had given him a metal arm), stress inoculation training, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, more things that risked going over his head, but he had at least wrapped his head around the basics. The trick would not be with him, but with Shiro, every time he had a flashback or an episode Keith would need to ask what triggered the event, and then try to figure out how to rearrange Shiro's thoughts to make the trigger less damaging. That... would require more than Keith might be able to give. He wasn't really good with... with people. Interactions. Talking. He feared he might not be up to the task, but the vision of all the tag-alongs piled on top of Shiro, trying to prevent him from hurting himself or someone else...

Keith nodded to himself. He would make himself do it.

Other treatments were exercise, sports. That, at least, Keith could do, and... playing with children?

His eyes snapped to the kid. Their eyes met and Pidge lifted tiny shoulders, a defensive shrug. "What?"

Keith handed over the laptop.

Pidge read it for several minutes before a flat gaze settled on the kid's face. "Play therapy is for kids who suffer PTSD, not adults. Read it again."

Keith blinked, looking over the material, and sighed when he realized the kid was right. He rubbed his eyes; man he was tired. "Sorry," he mumbled into his hands before running them through his hair. "Long day."

Pidge's flat stare seemed to soften, just a little, and the kid took the laptop back. "We all have…"

Keith doubted that, they hadn't spent a year flushed with energy and trying to find the root of it while searching for Shiro and - oh...Keith had never paid attention to the other members of the Kerberos mission, Shiro was the only one that mattered, and only now did he realize just how connected he and this kid were. The understanding flooded his body with adrenaline and for a brief moment he was very awake, staring at the kid, wanting to talk about… about everything. Shiro, the Kerberos mission, what it was like after, so many thoughts were firing through his synapses, he opened his mouth to ask one of them, any of them, and the one that came out was, "How old are you anyway?"

He winced. That wasn't what he wanted to know!

Pidge stared, gaze flat and shoulders defensive again, but the kid answered. "Fourteen."

… what? Minimum age for the garrison was sixteen. How'd this kid even get in?

Something must have shown on his face because Pidge's lips pursed and the small kid looked to the side. "I tested in and passed all the physicals. Top of my class. That doesn't sound like much with Lance here but I guess it's pretty impressive. Not that it mattered… I had to get in. After it happened."

"... and I had to get out," Keith mumbled, eyes looking over to Shiro.

The silence drifted over them, comfortable and simple, and Keith looked up to the stars for a long, long time before he heard Pidge close up the satellite dish and go into the cabin. "See you in the morning," the kid muttered.

Keith looked over the perimeter again and actually walked around his shack, eyes sharp and ears listening. With everyone else asleep he needed to be extra vigilant. While he doubted the Galaxy Garrison would be able to find him, he didn't dare take any chances. Not with Shiro defenseless. That wasn't an option.

He walked back to the doorway and sat in his chair. His eyelids were dragging down despite the (delicious) coffee Hunk had prepared. He had been up for over a day now, his second wind had ended and he was drained and exhausted. The nighttime wildlife was his usual lullaby, which wasn't helping in the slightest.

That all changed, however, when there was a shift behind him in the house. A thrash. Keith was up in an instant and rushing to the couch where Shiro was moving. The tag-a-longs, as exhausted as Keith, were sleeping through it, which was fine for Keith. He carefully knelt by the couch, touching Shiro's sweaty forehead. No fever... Good. Shiro stirred, then, hissed out a gasp, eyes snapping open.

"Where-"

"Shh," Keith said softly, drawing Shiro's roving eyes to him. "You're home and you're safe."

"Keith..." Shiro looked around, clearly confused and still partially in whatever nightmare he'd just been in. "Where are we?"

"Home," Keith replied. "You're home and you are safe."

"I'm on Earth?"

"Yes."

The tension started to bleed out of him and Keith gently guided Shiro to going back down on the couch. "And Voltron...?" Shiro slurred.

"We're still looking," Frieghter-class said softly, leaning over.

Keith's spine went rigid, but he said nothing. Shiro was looking to the tag-a-long, confusion clearly in his eyes. Tension was starting to return with the unfamiliar face and Keith wanted nothing more than to punch Freighter-class in the face. Instead, he just leaned forward again, got Shiro's eyes on him and repeated. "You are safe. Rest. I'll keep watch."

"We're safe?" Shiro asked again, sleep pulling him slowly under.

"Yes."

"Good... Find... Voltron..."

Keith and Freighter-class watched over Shiro until he fell asleep, oblivious to the sparks between the two. Keith intended to keep it that way, because Shiro clearly needed rest and the oncoming argument, because there was going to be an argument, couldn't happen over Shiro's sleeping form.

"Outside," Keith growled quietly.

"Fine by me," Freighter-class hissed back. The lanky tag-a-long stalked outside, Keith following on much quieter feet and he carefully shut the door. Slowly, he let out a breath and reminded himself that his walls were paper-thin and he needed to control his voice carefully. And not just for Shiro, though he was the primary reason. Pidge and Hunk were just as exhausted as Keith felt, and they needed sleep as well.

So, with a calm he really wasn't feeling, Keith slowly turned and crossed his arms. "What do you think you're doing," he demanded as softly as he could.

"Helping!" Freighter-class hissed back.

"No, you weren't!" Keith whispered. "Shiro doesn't know you, he was getting confused and tense when he saw you, you almost undid all the work we did earlier to get him calm."

"Hey, he asked a question and I answered it!"

"Without thinking!" Keith hissed back. "Give him time to adjust to being home and knowing it!"

Freighter-class rubbed both hands frustratedly through his hair, clearly biting back his volume with the others still inside. "Dude, Commander Shirogane is a legend! Getting to pilot the Kerberos mission at his age? Not even twenty! Every class has him as a record-holder! I-"

"That has nothing to do with barging in and upsetting any calm he barely has at the moment!"

"You don't understand-"

"You aren't thinking straight-"

"-he's been a legend-"

"-and you just put yourself in the middle-"

"-and you aren't the only one-"

"-without any thought of consequences-"

"-that gets to respect and admire him!"

"-and you'll do more harm than good!"

Both took a deep breath, in each other's faces, voices only barely below shouting level.

Keith stepped back, took another deep breath. Shiro was the priority, Shiro was the priority, Shiro was the priority!

"Look," freighter-class growled in a quieter tone, "you don't get to be the only one who sees him as a hero. You don't get to be the only one to interact with him. You don't get to be the only one who knows him. I knew Shiro before as well. Even if we only talked once. You don't get to hog all his attention like some special hotshot."

"I never claimed to do any of that," Keith hissed back. Because freighter-class was wrong. Keith didn't think he had the only claim on Shiro. But at this moment, he was the only one Shiro knew and recognized, and as such, Keith was the only one who could talk to him until Shiro was more with it. Carefully, Keith took another controlled breath. Patience yields focus. And Shiro was his focus right now. So he needed patience, even if this lanky freighter-class did nothing but get on his nerves.

Another breath.

"Look," he hissed, "do you, or do you not see, that you almost damaged him just now?"

Freighter-class at least looked guilty. "Yeah, I do. But that doesn't make anything I said any less valid."

"I never said-" Keith cut himself off, knowing that it would just devolve into another argument that might actually get to shouting, which is what Shiro didn't need. "Fine," he growled.

"Look, Shirogane has been my hero!" the lanky tag-a-long whispered defensively. "Don't stop my once chance of talking to him."

And that, Keith sighed. That, he could understand. Keith didn't have heroes the way most people did. His life had been too chaotic after his father had died, and home after home. He had only joined the Galaxy Garrison to fly as far and as fast as he could. But Shiro had changed that. He had been the first connection Keith had had after his father had died. And the same way Keith wouldn't let anyone keep him away, maybe he could see that in what freighter-class was saying.

The lanky tag-a-long was still an idiot for just barging in, but maybe, Keith could understand why.

"Fine. Just wait for him to be aware of where he is and that he's safe."

Freighter-class nodded. "I can do that."

He should have done that in the first place, but Keith didn't want to rehash the argument. "Fine. Come on, freighter-class."

"My name is Lance!"

"Whatever, Lance," Keith hissed back. "You take watch."

Freighter-class stumbled. "Wait, what?"

"You take watch," Keith repeated. "I've been up for about twenty-two hours now."

"I... uh... huh?"

But Keith left him at the door and went to the shack. If he was going to be any good to Shiro when Shiro woke up, he was going to need some sleep. Lance was still sputtering behind him, but Keith could care less. He glanced around. Shiro was in the futon, which was where Keith himself usually slept. Hunk had the one other chair he had, and Pidge was curled up by a stack of scavenged tech. With a sigh, Keith just stretched out on the floor, kicking his legs up to his excuse of a coffee table, a plank of wood on cinder blocks. He was exhausted, so sleep quickly took over.

The next thing he was aware of, was the smell of something. Something good. His stomach may have rumbled but that was less concerning compared to the presences that were in his shack. That wasn't good. He was supposed to be safe here. Someone had invaded his home. He had to protect...!

He shot up, not really with it, knife already in hand, before his brain actually woke up enough to process anything, and he blinked.

"Oh," he said awkwardly, staring at the stock-still and tense form of Hunk in his kitchenette, more of that divine coffee in his hand. The knife in Keith's hands was suddenly woefully out of place and he quickly sheathed it back behind his back. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Oh, uh, no, uh, it's good," Hunk said, stepping, albeit more cautiously, from the stove. "Last night was wild, we're all going to be on very little sleep, I get it."

"Sorry," Keith repeated, looking with a touch more longing than he meant to at that coffee. He disciplined himself and looked out the window above Shiro. Dawn. He had gotten, what, three hours sleep? Nowhere near enough. But something was going to be better than nothing. "Shiro?"

"Still asleep."

"Good." Keith took the offered cup and took a moment to commune with the cinnamon and caffeine. "You're up early."

Hunk gave a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, sleep wasn't really that easy after last night. My circadian rhythm is all out of whack."

Keith nodded, not really knowing what else to say.

Hunk looked away, awkwardly, "Yeah, give me time like this where I can sleep in and I'll keep taking it. Sleep is such a precious commodity."

Keith couldn't quite stop the chuckle that bubbled up. Must still be his tiredness.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said softly.

"Sure, no problem," Hunk gave a soft smile and handed the delicious smelling beverage over for Keith to savor.

Another sip helped wake him up. Patience yields focus. He took a deep breath, enjoyed the smell of his coffee, and looked at how the day could go and how to make it easier for Shiro. Voltron niggled at the back of his mind, something about the research and energy readings he'd been doing. The purring he could almost feel in his soul. He'd look closer at that when he was more awake. Keith grimaced against his will. He still had a bunch of tag-a-longs to deal with. That wasn't going to take thought. That was going to take discussion. Preferably when they were all awake and conscious.

"Want some breakfast?" Keith offered.

"Sure," the bug guy smiled.

"I don't really have much," he replied, needed to forewarn his more barren cupboards.

"Not looking for gourmet cooking," Hunk said lightly. "Bowl of cereal will do."

Keith gave a small smile. "I can manage that."

Freighter-class was still at the door, though his slouch indicated that he might not even be awake. Keith sighed, but didn't feel like getting into an argument at the moment. Not when he didn't know when Shiro would awaken. He was proven wrong, however, when the mere sound of pouring cereal made Lance sit up and peak over. "Hey, Hunk. Mind pouring me a bowl?"

"Got it!" Hunk easily replied. The two of them quickly started conversing like old friends, and Keith admitted to himself that he felt left out. But he didn't say anything and just grabbed his cereal and pulled the only available chair to the couch to watch over Shiro. Pidge was still curled up around the laptop, sound asleep, and Keith squished down his envy. He, instead, settled in and watched over Shiro, letting Hunk and Lance's words wash over him.

Apparently unusual rise times were still ingrained in all of them, as a half-hour later Pidge finally stirred enough to grumble about insentient conversations waking up sleep-deprived cadets. But the kid put on glasses and trudged over to the cereal and dutifully started eating before perking enough to get back onto the laptop.

"Hey, Keith?" Pidge asked.

"Hmmm?" Keith murmured.

"What's all this?"

He glanced over and found the kid staring at his wall. His materials on all the research he'd been doing. Because something had been calling him an he wanted to know what. But that was something that only related to him. The others weren't a part of it. "Research," he replied.

"Fascinating," was the response, along with careful study.

Frowning, he grabbed a sheet and covered the wall. It wasn't any of their business. He'd share with Shiro, because maybe this was related, but he didn't want anyone else looking through what he'd been working on for months.

Keith left the kid do whatever and decided to the chair again. He was still tired, after all.

He zoned out for a while, letting words and puttering wash over him as he almost-slept.

The only thing to truly grab his attention was when he noticed Shiro shifting.

Keith immediately stiffened, leaning forward. Around him quiet seemed to settle, as if the tag-a-longs realized what was happening. Thankfully, freighter-class didn't say anything as Shiro slowly woke up. Keith shifted, standing and then carefully kneeling by the futon. He was in the reaction radius, which was dangerous, but Shiro needed to see a friendly face first and foremost.

Those dark eyes finally opened, and looked as clear as Keith remembered them.

Keith's sigh of relief was very small and very contained.

"Keith?" was Shiro's first word.

"Shiro."

"I'm home." A statement and not a question.

"Yes."

Shiro's sigh of relief was long and pronounced.

"I remember landing. Crashing. People from the Garrison. Then it gets confused."

"They drugged you," Keith replied. " You… weren't really with it and were hysterical."

"Hysterical." Shiro actually raised an eyebrow at that. More tension in Keith's frame bled away.

"Yes. I… We took you out of there without permission."

"We?" And Shiro finally seemed to blink and look around. His eyes lingered on Pidge, but Keith had a strong idea of why, while Lance and Hunk were clearly unfamiliar. Lance deflated. "Thanks. What about-"

"Shower, Shiro." Keith interrupted. "Eat. You were very confused and out of it. Take some time to feel normal again."

A corner of a mouth quirked up in dry amusement. "Normal. Wonder what that is."

"Not sure I ever knew," Keith replied lightly. "Now come on."

Keith stood and offered his arm which Shiro gratefully grabbed.

With his metal arm. Keith ignored the strong grip, didn't wince, and helped his damaged friend up.

Once upright, Shiro looked around and his shoulders suddenly lowered. "I'm home," he repeated, with a large sound of relief and awe. The next thing Keith knew, he was pulled into a tight hug, metal arm grasping flesh arm still between them. He awkwardly reached up and patted Shiro on the back.

"It's okay," he muttered, glancing away, embarrassed.

"You said something about a shower?"

"And breakfast!" Hunk offered. "Nothing like being clean and having a full stomach to be normal."

Shiro smiled.

That was enough for Keith.

End

Author's Notes: Another of Mirror's babies, Keith is her favorite and she wanted to take the time to take the character with strongest connection issues and show him make at least tentative connections with the rest of the Paladins. It has to happen SOMEWHERE in order to make Voltron, and this is a nice what-if. The fic is self-beta'ed (Tenshi-! Where's you go-? We haven't heard from you in forever!) so we're sorry if a spelling or grammar mistake slipped our notice.

The Voltron cast is drawn pretty broadly, they all have their archetypes and nobody deviates all that far. The one with the strongest character is Shiro, but even then we don't know his relationship with Keith, how they met or how they got to be like brothers (we only even know they're brothers from Keith's confession in season 2) so we tried to keep things a vague as possible to keep it canon compliant and still add depth to what was seen on screen. Also, it was an interesting challenge to write about Pidge with no gender pronouns whatsoever. Did anybody notice? Hunk and Lance didn't get as much as we wanted because we don't yet know them as well, but the each got moments to shine.

We have another Voltron fic in the works, but it's nowhere near done yet. Stay tuned!