Sporadic murmurs echoed down the sterile hallway under the sound of heavy leather boots pressing against polished linoleum. Shiro's face was set in a small frown, brows furrowed in concern. Updates every half-hour and only one visitation in the time between the paladins' crash and the memorial he was urged to headline did not quell the man's heart in the slightest. Fears wouldn't be quashed until he could see improvements with his own eyes.

Allura and Hunk had awakened not two hours after being brought into the hospital, both aching and bewildered to find themselves alive, but alive nonetheless. Hunk found himself wrapped in the arms of his mother and father, spending a good twenty minutes crying and babbling incoherently between shock, relief, and a hefty dose of painkillers.

Allura had suffered the least injury of the group, a minor head wound and a few bruises and cuts from Blue crashing into the water miles from the Garrison. She was up and coherent within minutes of her stirring, meeting a cheering, teary-eyed audience of mice and Coran with an exhausted smile and a soft, urgent query as to the state of the others.

Pidge had emerged next a few hours later, her parents and Matt bursting into joyous tears and leaving a dazed Pidge the subject of many a welcomed, squeezing embrace. Shiro had received that message from Sam himself, and he could feel the utter relief seeping out of an enthused "Katie is awake!" displayed on his communicator. The man had nearly lost both his children far more times than Shiro wanted to attempt to account for, he could only imagine the distress never eased.

Lance had followed the next day, waking up and immediately bemoaning a sharp pain running down his splinted right ankle. A minor fracture, Shiro had been told, but plenty enough for Lance to play it up and get a stream of affection from his family surrounding him. Veronica had sent Shiro a video of Lance back and alert, bandaged arms moving wildly as he dramatically recounted the tale of their adventure to his niece and nephew.

Keith's reports, however, had not been so laden with information.

He'd felt his communicator moving in his pocket during his speech as he received a message, having to force himself to remain focused on the task at hand despite a burning need to see what was being told. The moment the words stopped pouring from his lips, he'd turned away from a cheering crowd and snatched it from its hold, breath hitching at a simple "He's up" from Krolia.

As much as it'd pained him to do so, he'd had to hold off on full-on sprinting to the hospital, staying behind to shake the hands that needed shaken and nodding at the accolades of the victory they'd secured. War came down to politics, and unfortunately, he'd found himself as one of the main faces of those politics despite his distraction. People needed assured and tasks needed doled out and completed before personal matters could be attended to.

However, that didn't stop his mind from racing all the while.

Keith and Black had hit the ground the hardest from what limited knowledge had been shared with Shiro. A couple broken ribs and a fairly severe head wound had kept him out the longest, the one time Shiro had seen him had been met with not so much as a stirring. Instead, he'd found an unconscious Keith bleeding on the floor of Black's cockpit, terrified at the breaths so shallow rolling through his chest.

He'd wanted to remain in one place until each of the paladins were conscious, but duty called and he had been lead away, resisting every urge in his body to throw the responsibilities at another person temporarily and never move from hospital grounds until he could be sure.

But instead, as the memorial drew to a close after what seemed like days of forced polite smiles and congratulatory remarks, Shiro had given a salute and a farewell to the officers surrounding him. He lacked the patience to wait for a reply as he turned on his heel and found himself a vehicle to speed off and away. Other matters just required far too much of his focus to meddle with formalities.

The smell of abrasive cleaners and decorative flowers riddled his sinuses as he continued down the brightly lit corridor, a room number echoing through his mind like a mantra. He found his feet picking up speed without mental prompt, passing room after room in a bubbling haze of urgency. He could hear the faint sound of Pidge and Lance greeting him through their ajar doors, but they barely breeched his conscious. Shiro nearly stumbled over himself as he came to room 315 on his right and came to a hard stop. A gulp rolled down his throat as a metal hand's fingers curled and raised to the wood. His teeth nipped the inside of his lip before giving a simple two knocks.

"Yes?" came a response from Krolia.

Shiro winced to himself, wishing it'd been Keith that'd been able to respond so effortlessly.

He finally pushed open the door, Krolia and Kolivan watching him expectantly as he lingered in the doorway. Grey eyes brushed past their existence entirely, finding Keith still supine on the bed. Keith's head tilted down atop his pillow, taking lethargic blinks at the unexpected intrusion. His vision finally began to focus, lips curling into a small grin at the recognition of his visitor and setting Shiro's pounding heart just a tad at ease.

A knowing smirk crossed Krolia's mouth, turning her attention towards her counterpart. "Kolivan, let's let them talk, we should find Keith some food," she said. She raised a brow at Kolivan's irritated sigh with having to maneuver himself off the window bench and back onto his feet before joining him. She gave Keith's blanketed leg an affectionate pat before turning to lead Kolivan out into the hall, gently pressing a still-motionless Shiro out of their way. She gave him a grin, one that screamed of both relief at her son's improvement and thanks for his visit before the two of them turned and made their way away from the pristine room.

Shiro still stood, just staring before snapping back with a subtle raise of Keith's brow and a silent question of just what he was doing breeched between them. He cleared his throat, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him, the click of the latch echoing in the silence. "How are you?" he asked, forcing down a worried tremble.

A small huff of a laugh left Keith's nose. "Been better, been worse," he said, voice croaky from a parched throat. "How about you?"

Shiro's shoulders slumped with relief, finding a smile crawling up his face as he walked forward, grabbing a chair on his way and sitting himself down by the top of the bed. He watched his head flop over lazily to the left to look at him. "I'm not the one in the hospital, so I think you may be the priority here," he said.

"Ehhh," Keith replied, right shoulder rolling in an exaggerated shrug. "Get me a ship and I'll still fly better than anyone here."

Shiro snorted, head shaking. "Seriously, Keith. How do you feel?"

Keith paused, hesitation dancing on his tongue before letting out a long, tired sigh. "Breathing hurts. Thinking hurts," he admitted, dark blue eyes glazing over with exhaustion. "Is everyone else okay?" he asked, voice gaining an edge of timidity at the impending answer.

"They're all fine," he promised. "Few scratches and bruises. Plus Lance hurt his ankle, but otherwise, you're the one we've been the most concerned about."

He scoffed, losing the softness to his features and rolling his eyes. "I was still breathing."

"We weren't sure for a while…" Shiro said, voice trailing off and another gulp finding its way down his throat. His eyes dropped from their lock with Keith's, feeling him still staring in concern from the way his posture slumped in weariness. "You all went down, none of you were conscious," he murmured, shaking his head, feeling that twisting sensation in his heart all over again from watching the five of them falling lifelessly from the sky. "We got you all out, everyone else either… moved or made noise. You didn't." He finally met stares with him again, giving him a weak smirk and pained eyes. "You scared me."

Keith granted him an assuring, somber smile. "You've scared me way more times," he reminded him, timbre teasing and light. "Consider this payback."

"Maybe we could not make it into a competition," Shiro suggested. "I don't think either of us wins anything from it."

He chuckled softly, giving a nod. "Fine, fine. Hey… can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

Keith cringed, looking at him with a hint of embarrassment. "Can you help me sit up? I've been trying the whole time we've been talking."

Shiro nodded, reaching behind himself to the window bench and snatching one of the spare pillows set aside. He leaned forward, sliding a warm hand under Keith's upper back, heart lurching at the aggrieved expression as he moved his arms to help prop himself up. "Are you sure you want to move?" he asked, teeth grinding anxiously as Keith let out a long groan of pain, pressing his hands against the mattress and pushing himself back towards the headboard.

Keith merely nodded, eyes scrunched tightly as Shiro hurriedly maneuvered his used pillow to support his lower back, sticking the other under his head and neck and assisting him in leaning against them. Keith all-but-collapsed against the comfort, chest hurriedly raising and lowering from his exertion, head flopping back to rest on his left cheek against the pillow and gulping, giving a concerned Shiro a shaky smile. "Thanks," he whispered, biting his inner cheek as Shiro took his hand back from under him. He noted the purple residing under his eyes, echoes of days of stress streaming through his pupils. "Are you okay?" he prodded again.

Shiro blinked before offering him a small, sad shrug. "I think we can all agree it's been a rough couple of weeks. Months. Years," he laughed stiffly. "Getting home just… it was one disaster after another."

Keith nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but we made it," he reminded him.

"If we'd gotten here sooner, more people would've made it," he sighed, raising his hand and scratching through silver hair.

Keith sank, plainly seeing the guilt splaying over Shiro's face. He dropped his eyes, staring at the blanket bunched up to his side. "Have you… had time to mourn at all?" he asked quietly.

"Whaddya mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Shiro's lips twisted, his hands folding on his lap as he gave a soft shrug, watching skin and metal fingers clashing as they intertwined with one another. "There's only so much mourning I can do," he admitted. "There's a lot to be done and I can't just… linger."

Keith winced, "Linger, no. But stopping for a moment and accepting it could help."

Shiro gave him a small snort, eyes meeting his again. "Surprising theory coming from you of all people."

He smiled, shrugging and folding his right arm over his stomach. "Do as I say, not as I do."

Shiro sighed, gazing into eyes of patient understanding and feeling a calm spreading throughout his chest. Ease found its way into his words again, "I've been through a lot the past few years. I mean, we all have, but…" he paused, looking for the right phrase.

"But experiences have varied?" Keith tried, getting an agreeing nod out of him.

"Right. And in my own experiences I figured out that I can't just… let it fester," he said, eyes drooping tiredly. "If I sit still with something for too long, it's going to get to me and I can't afford that right now. Maybe when it's really all over, but right now, I can't."

He nodded, "I get that."

Shiro leaned back in his chair, smiling at him sadly. "I went back to our old apartment yesterday. They told me they'd kept it as it was since there hadn't been a replacement pilot by the time I got back to Earth. There was no need to spend the money to clear it out." Keith's eyes widened in slight shock and Shiro let a heavy, somber breath expand his chest. "Well…" he trailed awkwardly, "I guess at that point it was just my apartment. He'd left, just like he said he would," he murmured.

Keith fought down an aggressive flare firing through his chest, opting to curl his fingers into his blanket in a tight fist. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Did you ever think… you and he… uh…" Blue eyes flittered around the room anxiously for comforting words. This was not his strong suit at all.

Shiro caught the unasked question, shaking his head. "No. I didn't think we'd go back to how we were," he answered. "I thought that even before Kerberos. But I was hoping for… closure. For both of us. I'm sure he had his own mourning period for me when everyone thought I was dead. Well. Almost everyone," he gave Keith a breath of a grateful smile before it dropped again. "Made the mistake of mentioning him to another officer. Adam had already moved on to someone else before Sam, Matt, and I went missing. Can't say I blame him, and it's kind of nice to know he wasn't alone when the Galra showed up," he shrugged.

"Can't imagine it's that nice," Keith muttered.

"Made me feel a little better, actually," he admitted. "Not great, but I understand why he did what he did."

"Well I don't," Keith scoffed. "I'll never get that."

Shiro smirked, "Yes, you made that very clear before I left. Kept expecting to get a transmission one day that you'd beaten him to a pulp."

"If I'd had the clearance to get into the pilot barracks, I probably would have," he concurred in a flat tone, shoulder tension lightening as Shiro laughed quietly, watching the stress lines just barely fading off a tired face.

The chuckling quelled and Shiro took another long breath, glad to see that hint of wryness worming its way back through Keith. That protective streak for him was still strong, despite, for once, Keith being the one laid up between the two of them. His face melted into a weary state as they watched each other and the bloodstained bandage on Keith's head seemed so much more prominent in the momentary quiet. Grey eyes smoldered with the memories of days passed and the frantic feelings he'd had to fight his way through by himself.

Keith raised his brow just a bit at the shift. "What's wrong?"

"I…" he paused, chest wrenching with guilt as his eye caught the long scar sliding down Keith's right cheek. He leaned forward once more to the edge of his chair, reaching up with his hand, fingers twitching with reluctance but finding themselves touching his scar. He didn't note how Keith's face began to flush, heat rising under the doting digits. "Does it hurt?" he asked, voice empty.

Keith gulped, "No… i-it hasn't for a long time," he assured him, trying to stop his eyes from closing contentedly as his finger pads traced the length of the mark time and again, guilt falling hard with each swipe up and down the trail.

Shiro seemed lost, trying to find pieces of someone else's memories long since scattered and lost amid a battle he both wanted to remember, to rue, and wanted to pretend didn't happen. He wanted to pretend that he wasn't the one that had so obviously hurt Keith, that he hadn't been the one to make it so Keith could never look into a mirror again without thinking about what he'd done.

Lips twisted at the marred expression on Shiro's face, Keith reaching up and grasping his hand, pulling it from his scar and letting them both fall together to his lap. "Shiro," he whispered, heart pounding and bringing pained propulsions against his fractured ribs as the man met his gaze yet again. "I'm okay," he promised.

Shiro let out a breath of a disbelieving laugh as he came back into the room from his haze, looking down at their hands still clenched around one another's. "I ran for you," he murmured, head shaking.

"What?"

A dry throat forced down a mouthful of air, Shiro shuddering. "When you all went down… Hunk was the closest to our position and I… I feel awful about it, but I sent someone else to him and everyone else and just… ran to find you." Keith blinked, waiting for clarification and he winced. "When I managed to get there, you were… barely breathing. Just… twisted up like everything was broken," he said, nose scrunching to force back watering eyes. "When I saw… that Adam was gone, it hurt. It hurt a lot. But in those few minutes I thought you were gone, it was…" he paused, struggling for the words as redness splashed across his cheeks.

Keith ducked down, his face mimicking Shiro's and he cleared his throat. "Like the universe stopped and the mission didn't matter anymore? Nothing did?" Shiro gave a subtle cringe at such an accurate depiction, nodding slowly. Keith gave a shy, awkward half-smile and shrug, averting his stare. "Yeah, been there. Not a fun feeling. And I've gotten to live through that about four times now."

Shiro fell silent before a bubble of quiet, surprised chuckles eked their way through his chest. His fingers moved on their own accord, linking smoothly through Keith's. He couldn't help but smile, affection resting comfortably on his face as red spread its way through Keith's cheeks and ears, Keith desperately trying to keep his eyes anywhere but back on Shiro.

"I'm sorry I put you through that," Shiro said softly.

"Well, stop being a damsel in distress and it'll stop," Keith said, voice sharp and flustered, his leg beneath their hands restlessly shaking. His teeth bore down on his lower lip, "And uh, I'm sorry, too."

Shiro sighed, smirking at the influx of nerves seeming to bear down on them both suddenly. He raised their conjoined hands, resting his forehead against the back of Keith's and staring down at the bed. "Hopefully, soon, we can both stop doing that to each other," he murmured.

"Hopefully," he agreed, shyly looking at the mop of silver hair cresting over his wrist. He gulped, chest and head pounding, but his stubbornness stronger than his pain as he lifted his index finger and curled it around a lock of hair, tugging lightly.

Shiro raised his head, following his dictation as he pulled their hands towards himself yet again, nearly falling off his chair as he balanced on the edge. "What?" he asked, breath hitching at a flurry of embers sparking from deep blue eyes.

The air between them was nearly unbearable, the tension spiking their adrenaline and their hearts like few battles had before then. The question screamed between them, seeking silent permission from the other and, for once, both were unsure of what the other would have to say.

It took ten seconds, some of the longest they'd ever staved through, before Keith finally broke.

"Screw it," he muttered, ignoring the painfully dull thud of his ribs as he leaned forward, planting his lips against Shiro's. Shiro blinked in shock before simmering down, smiling under his touch and gladly returning the motion, pressing back with a happy breath coming through his nose.

Keith nearly fell over in relief, was half-expecting to have to pretend he'd had a truly traumatic brain injury to babble his way through an excuse. His nose scrunched in pain as he planted his free hand on the bed and pushed himself back towards the edge, reaching up blindly and snaring the sleeve of Shiro's uniform coat to urge him closer.

Shiro pulled back for a breath, laughing hotly against his mouth and feeling Keith's lips touching his own by the smallest filament of skin as they curled into a pleased smile. He obliged Keith's tugging, standing to twist and sit with a leg curled under him atop the small bed, taking dramatic height over Keith and grasping his face with the cooled metal of his prosthetic. He tilted his chin up, watching blue flutter open into the world and smirking. "Pretty bold of you," he teased.

"You complainin'?"

He shook his head, murmuring a simple "No" before immediately pressing back down and reclaiming his spot. Keith's free hand found its way upwards, brushing over his chest and maneuvering to curl around the back of his neck. A harmonious, staccato hum wormed between them as mouths shyly pried open and timid, curious tongues found their way towards one another. Shuddery breath bounced off eager, trembling lips, hands continuing to attempt to somehow draw the other in closer, to absorb them entirely.

"HA! TONGUE! TOLD YA! THAT'S TEN BUCKS, HUNK!" a voice screamed between them and echoed through the small room.

They ripped apart in shock, still clasped around one another and looking with wide eyes at an opened door and three faces watching them with knowing smirks. Their faces blossomed with color, paralyzed with confusion as their lips remained glistening from one another's enthusiasm.

Hunk broke his attention from their embarrassment, "Lance, we've been gone for forever," he emphasized. "I don't have ten cents, let alone dollars."

"So," Pidge said, leaning casually against the doorframe and crossing her arms, ignoring Lance's scoffing rant of pinky-swear bets being law behind her. "I take it you're feeling better then?" she grinned cheekily at Keith, brows wiggling.

Keith blinked before his face twisted into a furious scowl. "What are you people doing?!" he shouted. "Get out!"

Lance cackled as his attention was torn from Hunk, shifting his weight on the crutches under his arms and letting them support a dramatic guffawing show. "But how could we miss this?" he taunted, loving the fury crawling up Keith's face, knowing that it was only broken ribs and distance protecting him from an assault to be had. He relished in it.

"Why are you in here?" Shiro winced, unwillingly unwinding from Keith.

"Because you were practically tripping over yourself trying to get in here," Pidge raised a shoulder dismissively. "And we saw you on the news. We got the message Keith was up at the same time you did, you looked ready to punch people out to get here. We figured we should let you see him before we came and visited."

"Didn't take a Pidge to see where this was going," Hunk added with a grin, Shiro looking off in embarrassment through the window and scratching at his head.

Keith narrowed his eyes, face still burning. "Obviously, if even Lance had a clue."

"Hey!" Lance pouted, raising a crutch and stomping it on the floor childishly. "Better be nicer to me."

"Why?" he spat, feeling Shiro gently clutching his shoulder and pressing him back down to keep him from exacerbating his injuries.

An impish grin spread widely over Lance's face. "Because I CALL BEST MAN!" he shouted, waving his arm wildly.

"Oh, oh! Second best man!" Pidge called, joining his motion and jumping in place.

Hunk nodded, "That's fine, I hate making speeches. I'll cater!" he waved.

Keith's jaw dropped slightly, Shiro doing the same. "Uh…" Shiro looked down at Keith's rouge face and vicious, growling glare and cleared his throat. "May wanna leave," he suggested. "Broken bones will only hold him so long."

"Well if it was your tongue holding him back he'd never move again," Lance drawled.

"LANCE!" Keith shouted, hissing as he tried to get himself up and moving despite Shiro grabbing around his shoulders.

His face lit up joyously, screeching with glee through gasping, dramatic breaths. He pivoted on his crutches, starting to hurriedly hop down the hall. "Allura!" he called, voice echoing down the way. "Allura guess what!"

"LANCE, COME BACK HERE!" Keith snapped, groaning at a sharp pain rocketing through his chest and falling back in crumpled defeat into the crook of Shiro's arm. "Gonna kill him," he muttered, catching gazes with a sympathetic Shiro.

He nodded, "When you're better, we'll let you have a free punch," he promised.

"So, kidding aside," Hunk awkwardly broke through as he and Pidge walked into the room. "You all right, Keith?"

"I'm fine," he sighed, humiliation still prevalent on his face. "You two?"

"We've been fine for days," Pidge shrugged. "We're just here for observation at this point. We needed something to amuse us," she gestured between the two still on the bed.

Their faces fell wryly. "Thanks for making us your entertainment," Shiro said, Keith rolling his eyes in agreement.

"Don't be so obvious next time and we won't," she said smartly, turning on her heel. "We'll let you two pick up where you left off," she winked, leading Hunk out the door.

He waved back at them with a big grin, "Super happy for you two."

"Get ouuuuuut," Keith groaned, head flopping back against his pillow as the door closed again.

Shiro watched him beating the back of his head, lips cocked in a crooked grin. Keith creaked his eyes open, looking at the mischief on his face and raising his brow suspiciously. "What?"

Shiro considered the danger of his inclination for a moment before laughing to himself and shrugging. "I call Pidge as my best man."

"Oh, you can leave, too," he spat with a pout, nose scrunching in frustration.

Gentle lips pressed different spots of his cheek time and again through tiny spurts of laughter at his dramatics, Keith trying but failing to maintain his facial hissy fit and turning towards Shiro with a grimace. "Cheater."

"You complainin'?" he mimicked.

Keith finally broke back into a small smile, body moving with a silent laugh before he pressed back up and met his lips. He sighed, pains, aches, and the tumultuous memories between them fading into the background as his voice dripped into a heavy, wanting murmur. "No."