Twelve hours.

It had been twelve hours since Shiro had finally gotten to Keith, trying to stop those insane trials from proceeding. Twelve hours since Keith had awoken his blade, since Kolivan had agreed to help them. Eleven hours and forty five minutes since Shiro had helped Keith stumble into a healing pod.

A voice rang out behind him.

"What are you doing?"

Oh, and ten hours since he had promised to go get some sleep. Because, well.

Thirty-two and a half hours since he had last slept.

Lance sauntered up to him, gazing at the healing pod that promised to spit Keith out any minute now. He didn't speak for a moment.

"You're pushing yourself really hard. You deserve a break, y'know."

Lance's voice was soft and friendly, but that just added to the cacophony of voices in Shiro's head.

Deserve a break?

Of course. You're exactly the kind of leader who rests when his team is hurt.

He's pitying you

Pity? He just wants you out of the room when Keith wakes up so you can't hurt him anymore.

You're the reason Keith is hurt. Your own broth-

"Shiro?" Lance sounded concerned.

He snapped out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine, Lance."

Silence fell. Shiro relaxed slightly.

"With all due respect, I don't really believe you."

Shiro's eyebrows shot up. He finally looked at Lance, mouth opening to argue, but he stopped.

Lance was still in blue armor, but his shoulders were slumped. There were dark circles under his eyes. Eyes that weren't even looking at Shiro, but were solidly fixed on the dark, white clothed figure in the healing pod.

He looked as exhausted as Shiro felt, with the weight of the world leaning on buckling shoulders. Shiro went to speak again, to at least take his own weight off of Lance, but Lance interrupted him.

"He looks so peaceful." Lance squeezed his eyes shut. "It's wrong. He's not supposed to be that… quiet."

Shiro nodded softly. Keith looked like a wax figure in a museum. All of the fire, all of the passion had gotten bleached out of him by the soft blue light.

"And you blame yourself."

Shiro suddenly became aware of his fingernails biting into his left palm.

"And it's stupid. I have no idea what happened, cause Kolivan is being all mysterious, but there's a couple of things I know for certain."

Shiro could feel Lance's eyes burning into the side of his head.

"If there was any human way to stop Keith from getting hurt, you know what would have happened?"

Shiro flicked his eyes to meet Lance's.

"Keith would have come back bruised, bleeding," Lance stepped in front of him. "And carrying your dead body."

Shiro blanched, but Lance plowed on.

"And it's awful to think about, and honestly one of my nightmares, but it's true. Isn't it?"

"Lance, I-"

"Isn't it?"

Lance moved a little closer, forcing Shiro to look him in the eye. Lance's eyes were wide, earnest.

Just like Keith's, right before he had offered up the dagger to Kolivan, and collapsed seconds later..

Shiro swallowed down the nausea that threatened his ability to speak.

There's nothing here to hurt Lance, he's fine, he's okay.

Haggar's voice rang through his skull. Oh, Champion?

His vision tunneled, and the dark half moons of exhaustion under Lance's eyes turned to ugly, green-black bruises. The scar on his eyebrow began to bleed anew, painting soft brown skin a bright red. Lance opened his mouth, and Shiro watched with horror as blood dripped out of the corner.

Lance said something, but it sounded like he was very far away. Shiro blinked, and everything came back into focus.

"SHIRO!"

The bruises and blood faded away, revealing an incredibly worried Lance. It took Shiro a moment to realize that Lance was squeezing his shoulder tightly. He shook his head softly, and brushed Lance's hand off, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his left hand.

Lance bit his lip. "You need to sleep, Shiro. You can't help anyone when you're this tired."

"I can't sleep." The admission surprised both of them when it slipped out of Shiro's mouth. "Not when Keith-"

Shiro was interrupted by the soft pinging of the healing pod. They shared a glance before leaping to catch Keith as the pod whooshed open.

Purple eyes opened blearily, and Keith blinked slowly. Even when they were kids, Keith had a funny way of waking up, like he could only restart one organ system at a time. Shiro liked to refer to it as him rebooting. It was a good way to tell if he had slept well.

Keith's fingers squeezed the fabric of the white shirt he was wearing.

"Huh?" he mumbled.

Shiro suppressed a smile. Keith's brain always woke up last.

"You just got out of a pod, bud," Shiro said softly. "Remember, the Blade of Marmora?"

Keith blinked again, then surged upwards. Lance caught his arm, supporting him.

"Woah, dude. Slow down, everything's going pretty good."

Keith accepted that, then realized he was still shivering. Shiro threw a blanket over his shoulders, but Lance shooed him off.

"C'mon, dude. Let's get some food. Hunk was heading for the kitchens about half a varga ago, so this should be good." Lance steered the red paladin towards the door.

Keith hesitated.

"You coming, Shiro?" he asked.

Lance cut him off (again, he was doing that a lot today) and sent a meaningful look over his shoulder.

"Nah, Shiro's got something he has to do." Keith nodded, and began walking out the door. Lance turned back towards Shiro, drawing himself up in a manner that was intended to be reminiscent of Shiro himself, complete with the finger across the nose.

"Sleep." he said, deepening his voice as far as he could.

He looked so ridiculous that Shiro laughed. Honest to God, laughed out loud. Shiro nodded, and Lance, apparently satisfied, ran to catch up with Keith.

He smiled all the way back to his room. Lance had a talent for making people happy. Shiro felt… light. Like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. He thought about Lance's face when he had caught Keith, and supposed that it had.

His exhaustion hit him when he entered the hallway outside their rooms, and he barely made it to his room, locking the door behind him.

The lights were off. Well, all the better. He slipped his armor off, faceplanting onto his bed before flinging his shirt towards the dresser. He couldn't even bring himself to care that he was making a mess. He could take care of it when he had a few hours to sleep.

He blearily ran through the checklist in his head.

Keith was out of the pod, safe, and probably surrounded by friends

Lance was safe, with Keith

Hunk was safe, puttering around in the kitchen

Pidge had gone to sleep several hours before, and she was safe, just a few rooms over.

Coran was safe, providing support to Allura while she negotiated.

Allura was safe, at the castle's helm.

Satisfied, he drifted off to sleep.

—

Seven hours later saw Shiro still sleeping, sheets tangled tightly around his limbs.

Truth be told, it was one of the longest periods of time he had slept in years.

Coran hated to wake him, but negotiations were becoming more pressing. He knew from experience that the man did not appreciate others in his room, with the possible exception of Keith. But the red paladin was busy discussing the ramifications of his knife with a Blade through holocam.

The mustached Altean sighed, pulling out his tablet. He tapped a few buttons, confirming that Shiro's tablet was in his room, before sending a quick message.

Even on silent, the tablet would wake the man by lighting up the room.

On the other side of the castle, Altean tech began to glow, buzzing softly. The vibrations were muted by the black undershirt that had landed on top of the tablet. Through the shirt, the blue light appeared to be a bright purple.

Shiro shifted, murmuring softly. He attempted to push himself up, but the tangled sheets held his arms down.

His eyes shot open, and he thrashed, rolling onto the floor. His arm activated, and the cloth wrapped around him fell away. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily. Blood rushed to his ears, and his heartbeat grew louder and louder until Shiro couldn't hear the buzzing anymore. His throat tightened, and he gasped for air.

He opened his eyes and looked directly into the glowing purple rectangle.

And then he was gone.

—

Coran looked at the clock. Even if he had woken up slowly, Shiro should have been to the bridge already. And he was never late.

Coran considered what Lance had told them about Shiro's recent sleeping habits, and decided to give him a break. He sent another message, resolving to check on him in half a varga.

A castle away, purple glowed, and Shiro felt the gag around his mouth tighten, cutting into his nose, and he cried.

—

Pidge crouched under her bed, moving Hunk's garbage head to the side. She normally blew Shiro off when he told her to keep her room clean, but quiznack. It should not take this long to find a pair of headphones.

Unless…

She cast a look across the room, at the garbage version of Lance. It didn't have her headphones, but she would bet serious money that Lance did.

She threw a shirt she'd stolen over her sports bra, and padded out into the hallway. Her room was a bit farther away from the rest of the paladins (because stupid gender roles), but at least it was bigger.

She passed Hunk's room, then Shiro's, stopping at Lance's. As she raised a hand to knock, she heard a soft thump. She listened carefully, and something shattered.

It wasn't coming from Lance's room. Hunk was still in the kitchen, and it was coming from the wrong direction to be Keith.

Pidge approached Shiro's room carefully. She softly rapped her knuckles on the doorframe.

"Shiro?" she ventured. "Are you okay?"

There was no reply. An awful feeling crept up the back of her spine. Something's wrong.

She pressed her ear up to the door, listening.

Harsh breathing rattled through the door.

"Shiro?" she paused, panic rising in her chest. "SHIRO!"

Hunk whistled softly, shuffling around the kitchen.

Across the counter, Keith huddled under his blanket, gratefully digging into a bowl of space rice and chicken.

Hunk had found that it was an excellent comfort food, especially after a span in the cryopods. Light, tasty, and warm. Exactly what Keith needed.

Hunk's communicator buzzed. He fumbled, wiping his hand on his dishtowel before fishing his comm out from his apron pocket.

Pidge?

He pressed answer, and Pidge's face popped up on screen.

"You're supposed to be asleep!" Hunk admonished. Then he looked, really looked, at the screen. Pidge's tearstained face crumpled.

"What's wrong?" Hunk asked, swallowing the panic threatening to climb up his throat.

"Is Keith with you?" she asked, breath hitching.

"Uh, yeah?" Hunk slid the comm over to the red paladin, who had abandoned his chopsticks to grab the device. He took one look at her face, and his eyebrows narrowed.

"Are you okay?" Keith asked, voice low.

Hunk had turned around, stripping off his oven mitts. But at the sound of her next words, he froze.

"It's Shiro."

Keith dropped the phone and ran, knocking his bowl over in his haste.

Hunk was right behind him, snatching the comm off of the counter.

They were out the door before the bowl shattered, spilling rice all over the floor.

—

Keith couldn't stop the feeling flooding his chest. It was anger, it was panic, it was fear.

He couldn't lose Shiro again. He couldn't. He -Pidge's voice echoed through his brain, stark and terrified.

He might have already.

He turned down the corridor that held all of their rooms.

Lance was there, leaning up against the door. Pidge was wrapped in his arms, tears streaking down her face onto his loose shirt. Lance was mumbling softly, whether to Pidge or Shiro or both, Keith couldn't know.

He skidded to a stop in front of the door, and Lance looked up sharply, cutting him off.

"Pidge heard a crash ten minutes ago. He's not responding, and it sounds like he's freaking out." Lance spat out worriedly.

Keith's heartbeat began to grow louder. He pressed his ear up against the door.

Harsh, ragged breathing. Shiro sounded like… Christ.

He sounded like they were trapped back on the desert planet after Haggar separated the paladins with her freaky wormhole. Like he was dying.

Shiro moaned softly. Lance had started mumbling soothingly again, and Keith joined him.

"Hey, Shiro? It's me, Keith. Your…" he glanced towards Pidge and Lance. "It's your brother."

He felt Lance's eyes zero in on him, but kept talking. He used every platitude he knew, useless as they were, and promised up and down that everything was alright.

Shiro's breathing began to slow, and Keith allowed relief to creep up his spine. Then thuds echoed down the hallway.

Hunk and Coran charged towards them. They slid to a stop, but Hunk tripped, crashing into Lance and Pidge. Pidge screeched in surprise.

And Shiro stopped breathing.

Keith strained to hear what was happening beyond the door. Nothing.

Coran saw the look on his face, and blood drained out of the Altean's already pale complexion.

He's not breathing. Keith mouthed the words at Coran, before turning back to the door.

"Shiro, I can't hear you anymore." Urgency slipped into his voice. "You gotta breathe. Please, Shiro, you have to breathe."

Hunk appeared by his side.

I can open the door. Hunk mouthed at him. Just say the word.

Keith's stomach turned. Shiro would be furious, probably humiliated. He slammed his fist onto the door.

"Shiro, please." he begged. Not a single sound came from the other side of the door. He waited a moment more, before nodding at Hunk. The engineer, with assistance from Coran, began tearing away at the panel beside the door. In moments, it was open.

Keith hesitated, motioning the others to wait.

He slid the door open, hiding the room with his body.

"Shiro?"

The man in question was not immediately visible. Keith slid into the room, heart pounding

A tuft of white hair stuck over the bed, and Keith rushed around it.

Keith had never been a particularly religious person, but the sight that greeted him inspired a cry for help to Lance's God, if he was listening.

Shiro was white as the shredded sheets draped around him. His face dripped with sweat, sticking hair to his forehead, and his arms, held stiff and tight as if bound, were splattered with blood and glass. Keith dimly noticed the shattered tablet as he zeroed in on Shiro's face.

His eyes were screwed up in agony, pulling the scar tissue tight around his nose. Tear tracks streaked down his face. His mouth was opening, gasping for air, but none was passing through. Keith fell to his knees and reached out to his brother.

—

He was screaming and drowning and crying and it hurts, everything hurts, please, stop, please.

He struggled to rip the muzzle off of his face, to stop it cutting into his skin, but his arms were tied, although there was such a fiery pain in his shoulder that he wasn't sure if it was there anymore.

He sucked in breaths like a dying man, which, the back of his mind reminded him, he probably was. It was okay, wasn't it? He'd kept them safe for as long as he could. If he was going to die, he could console himself with the knowledge that Matt and Sam were safe.

A crash echoed, and someone screamed.

Matt.

He began to thrash against the gag, to try to call out to Matt, to comfort, to apologize,

But he couldn't breathe.

The metal cut into his face, and he coughed up blood, blood that filled up his throat, choking him, drowning him in his own self.

A voice slipped through his torturous fight for breath, sounding familiar and scared.

The voice called his name, over and over, and Shiro latched onto it like a lifeline. It begged him to breathe. And he did. He sucked in, and suddenly the muzzle was gone.

He opened his eyes. Purple light was replaced by a pair of dark purple eyes.

"Keith?" he mumbled, forcing the words out of his dry mouth. Keith nodded, smiling in relief.

Keith kept talking, murmuring soft words. Shiro noticed tears running down his cheeks. He tried to reach up to wipe them away, and found that his hands weren't bound. Keith's hands were the presence on his wrists, gripping them tightly. Shiro mumbled Keith's name again, and the pressure released. Shiro's attention drifted downward, and it was… red? Keith's hand moved to either side of his face, pulling his attention back to his eyes.

"Listen to me." Keith enunciated slowly and clearly. "Do you remember what oijisan told us? How he taught us to calm ourselves?"

Yeah. Shiro did. Keith began to count slowly, and Shiro did with him, grounding himself.

Ichi- one taste. The air tasted cool.

Ni- two smells. Keith smelled like the soft disinfectant of the healing pods. The room smelled like jujuberries.

San- three sounds. His heartbeat, beginning to slow. The sound of fabric rubbing together as he reached out to grab Keith's shirt. Keith, tripping over the unfamiliar syllables of the Japanese numbers.

Shi- Four things he could touch. Keith's shirt. The shredded remains of the blankets. Was that glass? His own stomach, bare and slick with sweat.

Go- Five things he could see. He cast his eyes around the room, picking object after object.

Keith moved his fingers slightly, grabbing Shiro's attention.

"You okay?" his voice cracked. Shiro nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They stayed there frozen, as Shiro struggled to keep his breathing even.

After a short while, another presence slipped into the room, wrapping their small arms around his torso. Shiro didn't need to open his eyes to know it was Pidge. A few moments after, someone pressed up against his side, straightening his back, and supporting him in his soft, unyielding way. Hello, Hunk. Long fingers clutched his flesh hand tightly, rubbing his knuckles in soothing circles. Lance, per usual, knew exactly how to help.

They stayed there, those paladins, those humans, holding onto each other as if nothing in the universe was left but them.

But that was all Shiro really needed.