Warning: language. And I guess a bit of injury, but mostly just angst.

Keith didn't know what it was, but something in his blood sang to him when he held his dagger. It was silent, he never heard anything but rather he felt it.

Like he was a tree leaning in the wake of a giant gale. It made no sound, but he could only describe it as singing. Rattling and shaking against his bones and muscles as his blood pulsed and it felt right.

The leather binding around the handle of his dagger had long since torn, they were stiffened and worn raw in the constant sand. Saturated in rabbit blood or cactus juice to the point where it flaked in his palms as his callouses rubbed it wrong.

The wind screamed through the canyons and the cracks in the dirt, a low moaning noise which made him bear his teeth in a semblance of a grin.

His lips were cracked, stinging as they flexed near the point of tearing. He'd need to stop by Garland soon and refill the water jugs, he hadn't thought to bring any with him.

Something was buzzing incessantly, twitching and causing him to crack his knuckles and jerk with his step.

He woke up and just knew he had to go- he had to rev his bike and swerve last minute before hitting a stump, a rock, a cactus even. He needed to move and feel the vibrations through his glove and go faster faster faster-

Sometime brushed in his skull, inquisitive and worried and wrong wrong-

Garland was repairing a sign in town, Keith could ride for hours and hours and nobody would bother him.

(Nobody to talk to, nobody to miss him,)

He tilted his head back, staring into the pale desert sky and squinting into the sun. He didn't have a helmet, no matter how many times Garland had sworn at him to get one.

His black hair stung as it smacked his face, the air leaving it stiff and grainy if he were to touch it. There were no clouds in the sky, no eagles, no faint pinpricks of jets flying high above.

(There's nothing there, there's nothing there, there's nothing there-)

Keith screamed, silent and unheard over the roar of the hoverbike.

"You know," Keith spoke, voice hoarse and raspy as he flicked ashes through the air, watching them flicker before drifting off to gravel and sandstone, "I was doing just fine."

He swallowed dryly, hand tapping frantically against his thigh over and over as nicotine seared and left him tingling and chemically calm.

He sniffed slightly, swallowing empty as he watched a small lizard pause in the sunlight, nearly invisible in the sand. He felt like that lizard, tucked away in the shade, leaning against a dinged up hoverbike that hummed oddly and moved too fast. Half galra.

Keith sighed through his nose, tilting his head back until it dinged against the busted fender, the coils ticked lowly as they slowly cooled down.

"I'm being honest," Keith croaked, hand shaking as he wiped his nose dryly, "I was doing fine out here. Made a name for myself. I had everything I needed."

The lizard skittered away, tail splashing sand over the bedrock.

Keith twitched, the bike ticked again. He fumbled his this pocket, flipping the corner of the plastic coated carton, pulling out another cigarette and a metal lighter that he'd burned himself on more times than he could count.

T-click.

Smoke burned foul, fumes that smouldered and choked him lovingly.

His fingers twitched again, thrumming faster than a Costa Hummingbird's wings.

"I don't need you," Keith spoke, voice muffled by thick white smoke, "I...I didn't need you."

His hands shook slightly, and he swallowed dry, tongue wetting cracked lips.

"I was ready you know," he confessed quietly, "To just...live, you know? I was done, I was happy."

There was a hush, a pause as the air itself held its breath. Then it condensed, pressing gently into something warm and sharp, like scalding coffee or the burn of expensive Scotch, "Were you really, Cub?"

Keith's breath was shaky as he inhaled hollowly, "Get the fuck out of my head, Red."

It paused, "Cub-"

"I'm not yours," Keith's voice was hoarse, bitter and burnt, "You've got nothing to say to me. So get out, get out right now or I'll fucking ride and not stop."

It withdrew softly, caressing him forlornly, like the caress of a widower on a mahogany casket.

He breathed out, and choked on smoke on something that sounded like a sob. He hunched over, curling his spine to press his knees against his temples. His hand curled in his hair, pulling and pulling as the other crushed the cigarette under his heel.

"Wait no-" He gasped, breaths shuddering as his entire body jerked, "Red, no I didn't-"

The desert was silent, cold, and empty.

He breathed, in and out faster and faster until he curled in and screamed.

It burned, hurt his throat and split his lips further until he tasted iron and salt.

"Fuck you," He gasped, choking over words and spit and eyes that had dried up years back, " Fuck you, Red."

He pushed himself upwards from where he sat, gravel and sand pressing into the meat of his palms as he pushed himself upwards.

He stumbled out from the overhang, into the unforgiving sun and heat with shoes sliding. Dragging rubber through twigs and over ground like coarse sandpaper.

He walked, leant forward with an inhuman balance point and a strange prehistoric walk that was too disgusting to ever be considered elegant.

(Too Galra to be normal. Too human to be Galra. What a monster I am. What a freak I am.)

He pulled his knife out, held steady in a nicotine stained grip, fingernails almost blue.

The sun glinted off the polished edge, ethereal ore that would never tarnish, never chip. The rune on the side glowed, stinging his eyes as if he was staring into the sun.

"Well?" He shouted, voice ringing strangely off the sandstone, "Well Red? Come and get me!"

He turned, swaying slightly as he squinted in the sun, across the sky and in the gaps of the sandstone, "Show yourself!"

There was a rustle, something dark and scrawny peered out, looking at him from a gap in weeds with the look of something starving.

Keith looked at it, lips pulled back in disgust as he shifted his hold on his blade, adjusting his grip for a fight.

The coyote yipped, high pitched an angry. A call.

Two more appeared, than a third. All beady eyed and staring hungrily, and Keith did have a strange limp.

Except it wasn't that much of an injury anymore.

"This what you want?" He breathed, voice dropping lower and hoarser as he lowered himself, "Is this what you want?"

The main coyote padded forward, emaciated and hungry and with nothing to lose.

Keith should have turned and walked to the speeder, he should have sped off and gotten the jugs of water from Garland's place and went back to his cabin for the night.

He didn't he held his knife up and grinned through the nicotine buzz as the coyote's stared him down and slowly stalked closer.

'If I wait,' he thought deadly as adrenaline pulsed like a bonfire, 'Will that anger you, Red? Do I have to fucking prove myself again for you?'

Nothing answered.

A coyote gave an inquiring chatter, yipping excitedly as it smelled the blood from Keith's split lip.

"Knowledge or Death," he sneered, and leapt himself forward towards the mangy mutt.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Shiro asked once more, fretting nervously as he pulled at the thin jacket that didn't look that normal.

Garland rolled his eyes, "Not at all. Not much space, but y'all can stay the night. I need to head over again anyways, so you ain't being a hassle."

"Hear that?" Lance shouted from the back of the truck, "Campout baby!"

"Hot dogs! Real, genuine, hot dogs!" Pidge screamed, whooping in the air as if they had won the lottery.

Garland snorted and shook his head, "Y'all are characters. Forget what it's like having normal people around."

Shiro chuckled and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "We're ah, not that normal."

"Compared to my usual company, y'all a bunch of sunshine."

They turned back onto a more modern road, dirt packed but recognizable. Garland's house rose in the distance, standing out from its slatted roof, busted silo, and tall standing well that still functioned just fine.

"Hey! Hey Gearford! You have Wifi?"

Garland didn't even blink, "You call me that 'gain, I'm kicking you out right here, kid."

Pidge didn't even blink, "Is that a no?"

"You fix the generator, it's all yours."

Pidge cheered loud enough the hounds joined in out of confusion.

They pulled up to Garland's house, easily four times the size of the shack. They unloaded, the hounds springing to the mailbox to fetch old bills Garland would get around to paying one day.

Pidge leapt at the generator, muttering something about antique furniture as she pried at the old bolts with her own fingernails. Hunk joined her with an endearing smile, pulling out strange metal tools that folded away in a nondescript pouch on his side.

"Y'all wan't some water?" Garland asked, kicking off his boots as he made his way towards a small kitchenette was built into the corner.

"Oooh," Lance followed him like a puppy, peering over his shoulder obnoxiously as Garland pulled out a metal pitcher of well water.

Allura, the alien one, hadn't stopped smiling once, "I simply adore this residency. And such loyal confidants!" She laughed, petting the two dogs happily.

"Just wait until we introduce you to our television." Shiro smiled, leaning against the door frame fondly looking around the house.

"KPop!" Pidge chirped up from where she was essentially deconstructing the generator, "You'll love it!"

"Do you have any junk food?" Lance blurted, squinting as if skeptic, "Maybe something with corn syrup as a first ingredient?"

Garland sighed through his nose, "Twinkies, top shelf."

Lance's eyes welled with tears, "Quiznak bless you."

Garland blinked slowly, "No, I really think you're the one that needs help here."

The sun began to set slowly, casting the night with shades of red and orange. It was something Garland would never grow tired of, and by the delighted noises from Allura, she too was in awe of the view.

Then Shiro paused, lifting one hand in a wordless symbol that had everyone snapping taught like a bow string. Everyone's expression stilled, egging on worry yet prepared for the worst. Garland blinked in confusion, and casually approached the one locker he kept his shotgun in. He pulled it out, loudly loading it with a sh-lickkk that caused everyone to jump.

"Don't worry about it." Garland gruffly nodded, just now hearing the high pitched whine and the strange rattling groan of a highly modified hovorbike, "I've got this one."

Shiro shook his head and looked pensive, "I'm sorry, sir. The noise of that engine doesn't sound-"

"Yeah no, that's the twice damned hoverbike." Garland nodded, sliding out of the front door and letting it bang shut behind him.

He had his shotgun propped loosely in his arms, and didn't bother putting it down even as the battered bike blasted towards the house and didn't bother slowing until near the front fence. The wind blast knocked Garland's clothes, leaving them flapping twice before stilling.

"Hey Asshole!" Garland shouted, shifting his weight, "You were supposed to be at your shack."

The figure paused while dismounting, taking a few seconds to just sit on the seat even as the bike whirred and slowly shut off.

Slowly, Keith slid off the bike and limped, closing the distance much slower than usual.

Garland saw blood, staining through Keith's cheap shirt and dripping down his arm. Garland had seen more blood, he wasn't worried.

"Yeah well," he sounded winded, likely from the long bike ride, "You had a sign to fix,"

Keith brushed past him, looking tired and exhausted.

"Hey!" Garland shouted behind him at Keith who hadn't entered the house yet, "I've got guests over. They need your help finding something."

"Yeah well I'm not about that," Keith grunted lowly, kicking the door open where it had began to swing shut. Garland hadn't gotten around to fixing it from when Keith had done that before, so the screen flew off and banged against the floor something horrifying.

"I fucked your door!" Keith shouted, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic.

Garland sighed and rubbed his temple with one hand, snagging the cheapest bottle of tequila he had, near paint thinner levels of burn.

He came back out, passing the bottle over as Keith peered around the abandoned entryway suspicious, "You said you had someone over?"

"Yeah, looking for something out in the desert, figured you'd be the one to already have it."

Keith didn't deny it, instead he tilted the tequila back and took a swig.

"Smartass," Garland cursed, "That's for your damned arm."

Keith swallowed and didn't even grimace, "I know. Damned coyotes are getting hungry."

Garland scoffed and split towards his first aid hit was stashed near the living area where the congregation of awkward guests were gathered.

"Yeah well," Garland shouted, ignoring how Hunk flinched at the noise, "Maybe if you stopped using a toothpick you wouldn't get bit! Remember the Rattler!"

"Fuck you too!" Keith shouted, his voice louder and less garbled as he limped his way through the hall to the main room.

Something fell and broke. Garland jumped, just as he saw Keith pull out his damned knife and point it right at the throat of the big one- Shiro.

The sound was Lance having dropped his glass, the shattered remnants of Garland's Alaska themed coffee mug was scattered on the fake wood floor.

Garland breathed out slowly and reached for the Tylenol in the first aid kit just to stop the headache, "I swear to god, if you goddamn stab someone again."

Keith's face twitched, "Fuck you Garland." He hissed, voice vicious and promising injury.

Shiro didn't move, but he did pale slowly as if seeing a ghost.

"Mullet?" Lance breathed, voice pinched as if he was decked in the chest.

Keith took one second to lower the knife in favor of lifting the paint thinner tequila and chugging down what would have been three shots straight.

"Keith." Shiro spoke, voice halfway scolding and halfway horrified.

"Oh fuck you too." Keith sneered, hand clenching and spasming. Garland knew what he was going to do a second before he did it. The others didn't.

The sound of Keith spinning and smashing the thick glass bottle against the wall. The plaster dented and stained the peeling paint with alcohol.

At the same time, Pidge snuck around and in a move similar to something in the military, she twisted, grabbed the knife and tore it free and out of Keith's grasp.

Keith snarled something savage, lashing out with one arm before giving a pain filled whine and curling in on himself. Blood seeped out anew.

"Moron," Garland snorted under his breath, "I told you to disinfect it but instead you smash it on my damn wall."

"You brought them here?" Keith looked like a cornered animal, face twitching as he frantically looked all over, "What the actual fuck?"

"Hey!" Garland pointed threateningly, face serious for once as he cleared the air, "I don't give a shit how you act with me. But we've got guests here, and you damn well remember it, or I'm kicking your sorry ass out."

Keith's eyes were aflame, "Fuck you, Garland."

"Whoa, let's calm down." Shiro interjected, voice still sounding pinched and dazed, "We're just...we weren't expecting him."

"You know each other then?" Garland suspiciously eyed them.

"We do," Allura spoke, the only one who really seemed to have a calm composure, "Perhaps we could discuss this reasonably, without weapons and as friends. We are no threat to another, and we hope to remain as such."

Keith shifted his weight, shifting forward in that strange crippled pose which meant he was about to bolt.

"You move to the door, I'll shoot your bike." Garland threatened, and the two knew he'd do it too.

Keith's nostrils flared, "Fine."

"So…" Lance started first, "How have you been?"

Keith twitched, fingers moving in the rhythmic jitters which meant he wanted a cigarette, or a knife to twirl, "Fine."

There was another awkward pause, before Allura leant forward with a professionally friendly face, "We hadn't heard from you in forever! The others must be so worried, I know Kolivan was quite stressed near the last battles near the Eiol systems-"

Keith stared at her guarded, "What are-"

Then something dawned on him. His eyes widened, a sharp inhale before he turned and curled in on himself even further, cradling his injured arm as if it would separate him from everyone else.

He wasn't going to say anything else, so Garland interjected.

"Right," He sighed, rubbing the meat of his palm against his eyes once again, "So ah, the uh, these alien things, war's all fought, right? And ah, you all fought together?"

"Yeah," Pidge was staring at Keith as if he was an enigma, "We lost contact a year back, it...there was a really bad run, Kolivan's troop got wiped out by Haggar."

Keith flinched, but his eyes didn't deviate once from the wall where he was staring.

"Right…" Garland sighed, feeling more overwhelmed than he was ready for, "Alright, I'll get the whiskey."

Shiro looked alarm, "Ah, no thanks. We don't drink."

Garland gave a dry hack that caused Allura to grimace although she hid it well, "It ain't for you. It's for him." Garland jerked a thumb over where Keith scoffed quietly, "He's more chatty when he's half a bottle in."

Keith glared, "Am not."

"Damn are," Garland casually threw back, "You're getting twitchy and dammit you're too emotionally constipated to just cuss it out."

Keith recoiled and looked offended, "Excuse me? You're the one who already told me to watch my fucking language!"

Garland threw both arms in the air, "Language!"

"See!" Keith cried incredulously, hands flexing and relaxing as he glanced around towards the nearest window. He knew better than to smoke indoors, it caused the hounds to get anxious.

"Right…" Hunk blinked looking incredibly uncomfortable, "So uh, I didn't know you ah...you know."

Keith flipped him off, which caused half of the Paladins to outright twitch from the hostility.

"Keith," Shiro spoke, his voice low, "You shouldn't drink."

Keith jutted out his chin and caught the bottle when it was tossed to him. He cracked the seal like a pro, not even hesitating as the metal snapped free.

Shiro's face became even more stony at the swig, realizing quickly that with the ease of the movement and the lack of hesitation, this wasn't only 'common'.

"So ah, how'd you get out of the blast?" Lance asked, trying to look excited or interest, "Your ship break down? Did you join a band of pirates? Oh oh, you crash landed in the middle of the desert and slowly made your way to civilization?"

Keith grumbled wordlessly and took another sip. Shiro twitched, his metallic arm whirring and clicking quietly.

"So uh, you must live nearby?" Allura asked, trying to save the conversation.

"We were at your shack earlier, you weren't there." Garland helpfully added in.

Keith prickled, "The fuck were you doing there?"

"Looking for your scrawny ass, sorry I didn't think that you were out stabbing Coyotes again."

"Again?" Hulk gulped eyes bulging, "Aren't Coyotes like, super mean? And fast? And have Rabies?"

Keith waved his bloodied arm, "Genetics. Newsflash, I don't fucking die."

"You should really clean that up." Lance winced, "It ah, It'll get gross, Mullet."

Keith scowled and searched around for his knife. Garland had taken it prior, but carefully handed it back. Without a care, Keith sliced up the side, hacking through fabric and worn cloth as if he wasn't attached to his shirt at all. It tore frighteningly easy, and peeled away from the bite by breaking black scabs.

Blood started up again, a lazy trail from the back of his bicep and deltoid down his arm like melted chocolate. Keith didn't so much as blink as he sloshed booze onto the injury, hissing lowly under his breath as it burned.

He used the scraps of his shirt to wipe away some of the nasty bits, highlighting the puncture marks and the strange red that wasn't wiping away.

"Is that a tattoo?" Lance gawked, leaning forward to see it better in the dim lighting.

Shiro stiffened in surprise, looking more and more alarmed by the second.

Pidge...her face had gotten stony and now was looking more and more hesitant.

"Yeah," Keith muttered, curling in to try and hide the black and red mark on his arm from sight. A half sleeve, dark black and bold red that was fading in some spots and scarred over in others. It looked old, and poorly taken care of.

But it was a lioness, a red lioness inked carefully but not without some hitchups.

"Keith," Pidge spoke lowly, voice breaking the low chill that seemed to permeate the room, "How long have you been here?"

Keith twitched, "I...I need a break-"

"No you don't." Shiro firmly interrupted, reaching out with his metal arm to hold Keith's forearm firmly, "You're not going anywhere. We thought you were dead."

"Yeah man, we...we had a funeral." Lance's voice cracked halfway through, "there's monuments and stuff, man."

Keith tugged his arm, Shiro didn't let go.

"Hey, we don't mean to upset you." Hunk started, worrying his lower lip, "You ah, you don't need to run off-"

"I'm not running off," Keith growled lowly, "I just-..I just need a smoke-"

"Whoa whoa, you smoke?" Lance's jaw dropped.

Allura looked at Pidge for more information, and Pidge blinked, "Like, uh, when Coran had that Mengu Worm?"

Allura gasped, one hand lifting to hide her mouth as if she was politely shocked.

"Keith," Shiro's tone was the worst, heavy and overbearing, unspoken 'I'm disappointed in you.'

Keith twitched, and felt the urge to lash out or kick or even bite something.

Garland seemed almost amused by the situation, "You gon' show 'em your feet too, kid?"

Keith bristled, like a porcupine narrowed into a corner.

"Uh, what's wrong with his feet?" Lance asked Garland, looking as if he didn't want to know.

"I mean, he was limping." Hunk added helpfully.

"What?" Shiro asked, his voice even lower.

That was it, that was the last straw.

"Oh fuck you!" Keith spat, and although he had sworn before, this one seemed to carry a lot more weight behind it, "Fuck all of you! I don't need you- I was doing fine! You want to know what happened? I didn't leave, or escape- I got kicked out. I've been stuck here for years, assholes."

Pidge was the only one who didn't pale.

"How long?" She asked, her voice almost dull as she adjusted her glasses, "Since Gorblon II?"

Keith's lips were pulled back like a feral dog, "Since Naxzela."

"What!" Lance cried, blinking in confusion and shock as he rapidly counted on his fingers, "That was like, like Deca-Phoebs ago!"

Allura blinked quickly, "That was- my, that must have been at least four Deca-phoebs."

Hunk jarred with a high pitch squeak, "Isn't that like-"

"What," Keith gave a single dry bark of laughter, eyes burning yet glassy like he was about to- "You mean five years?"

"Oh," Shiro spoke, pausing as he looked over Keith from head to toe. He saw the bloodied arm and the array of thin scars, some old but brand new at the same time. He saw how long Keith's hair was, and how dry and twisted it was, gnarled in nearing mats. He saw Keith's skin, tanned and calloused, how the tattoo had faded where the sun always burned it.

And he saw the shakes, the thin micro tremors that weren't going away and looked like they hadn't in a long, long time. Keith had lost weight, a startling amount as his hip bones were sticking out and a few ribs pulled skin taught. He was standing odd, jolted and uncoordinated in a way that somehow was reminiscent of Galra yet still not.

"Oh Keith," Shiro breathed, and Keith gnashed his teeth and pulled apart a scab on his lip and blood trailed down his chin.

"Well…" Hunk swallowed faintly, "I'm...I'm feeling like an asshole right now."

"Yeah, no shit." Lance added in, giving an obnoxious sniff.

Oh, oh no. Lance was crying, and Lance had never been a pretty crier.

"Keith," Shiro's voice was calm, gentle, the one he had always used on refugees they found on planets where Galra had invaded. As if Keith had undergone some sort of traumatic experienc-

Oh.

"Well," Garland added, standing up obviously and with a small groan as his back cracked, "I'll go do a perimeter check, run the dogs, the usual."

Keith was about to argue that Garland didn't do that, but his throat felt like he was choking.

The door rattled shut, and Keith was left breathing painfully loud in the room, hands shaking and itching for a fight.

"What happened to your feet?" Shiro continued with the twice damned calming voice, and it was working.

"I-" Keith blinked, and he couldn't think, he was stuck blinking dumbly as his brain skittered and struggled to get back to the present.

He couldn't- they were here. They had found him.

He was shaking, and- and he was sitting?

Shiro guided Keith down, nudging his unresponsive body into a safer position where he curled up once again, this time pressed against Shiro's side.

"What happened to him?" Hulk whispered rhetorically.

Shiro held his breath, and released it slowly- he had to keep composed until he knew exactly what they were dealing with.

Keith's pant legs were pushed up carefully and Shiro's heart throbbed painfully at the sheer amount of discolored scar tissue. Strange lumps and nodules from blister rub marks, poor fitting shoes and miles and miles of walking with no pause in sight.

Lance swore something in a different language, eyes wide as dinner saucers as he spotted what Garland had been talking about- where had his heel gone?

"Is that a partial foot amputation?" Pidge spoke under her breath, vicious and seething as she peered closer to look, then at Keith's face. "Hey, Keith."

"He's in shock," Shiro muttered, gently sliding the prone boy into his lap to hold closer slightly, "Garland said something about a Rattlesnake bite."

Lance muttered something low and in Spanish, taking a few seconds to just press his face into his hands.

"Paladins, this is alright." Allura grimaced, "It...It is horrid, but now that we have halted Galra, we have time and I will dedicate all of my resources to correct this horrible error."

"Same," Lance spoke, muffled in his hands, "I- I'll take him home with me, he'll like ah, like Cuba and water and-"

"We fucked up," Pidge deadpanned, "really badly."

"Well, no shit." Lance scoffed, starting to shake into his hands.

"No I mean, Naxzela Matt told me Keith was suicidal idiot but I didn't...I thought he was exaggerating."

"What?" Shiro asked sharply, eyes like flinty steel, "What?"

Pidge rubbed her temples, "We fucked up. That's what happened."

"What do we do now?" Hunk asked quietly.

The wind whistled outside, rattling the window panels and sending dust and grit under the door.

A coyote screamed in the distance, from the top of a cliff as if curious if someone would answer its call.

"We try to fix this." Shiro whispered.

(Nothing would answer, because it's friends and pack had been slaughtered hours prior.)