Ah yes, time for an idea that I've been tinkering with for awhile now! Also known as the series where Shiro inadvertently adopts a half alien orphan who lives in the middle of the desert, you know, as you do. This one his mostly driven by character interaction rather than plot, and will focus on each year of Keith's life after Shiro meets him up to his canon age- so expect nine chapters in total!

With that said, please enjoy!

desert born

ten

If he thinks back, he can still remember it like it was yesterday.

Which is impressive, given the head trauma.

He'd been seventeen, at the time. Old enough to decide that going on a trip to the desert was a good idea, but still young enough to not realize that maybe telling people where you're going beforehand is also a good idea. He actually, for the life of him, could not recall any longer why he'd wanted to trek through the desert that day in the first place, but he supposed that in the long run, the reasons kind of didn't matter.

The results did.

Namely, slipping and cracking his skull on a rock.

Not one of his better moments.

He'd blacked out, in the middle of the desert, with only enough lingering consciousness between hitting his head and passing out to comprehend just what a bad fix he was in. The odds of someone finding him out here in the desert?

Low, to say the least.

So when he'd woken up next in some kind of shack, he muttered a silent prayer to god.

It was what came next that had him wondering if he was seeing things- that maybe he was still out in the desert, dying of dehydration. Because hallucination would be a good way to explain the purple child.

The very purple child.

Said purple child was peering down at him, his eyes a solid yellow, devoid of any pupils. His stark black hair was a startling contrast to the lavender of his skin, wild and tangled, as if it hadn't been touched by a brush for years. There was a deeper brush of violet that touched each of his cheeks, like some kind of mark.

"Who...?" Shiro croaked out, his head still swimming.

"Water." The child spoke, his own voice cracking as if he hadn't used it for this purpose in years. "You need water."

Before he could say anything else, the purple child darted away. Grunting, Shiro tried to sit up, but judging from the pain that caused him, he quickly decided that was a bad idea, and laid back down again. He was in some sort of shack, dusty and rundown- hell, the only table in the room was just a board on top of some cinder blocks.

"Here." The child returned before long, thrusting a cup of water in his face. "Drink. It's clean."

Squinting, Shiro peered suspiciously down at the cup- before slowly accepting it from the child. It was only then that he became aware that in addition to being purple, he also possessed claws, rather vicious looking ones at that.

Still, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he was awfully thirsty. Taking slow, measured sips, he gradually drained the cup of water.

It didn't help with the head pain, but it did make him feel better.

"Thank you." Shiro gave the strange child a smile, not a hard feat to accomplish, given that he was, in fact, genuinely grateful for the help. Even if there was still a chance this could all be some kind of hallucination.

The purple child merely blinked, taking the cup from his hands. "More?"

"Later." Shiro told him. "Were you the one who found me?"

Nodding his head, the child seemed to frown, his brow furrowing. "You were hurt."

Surely, he thought, the child couldn't have brought him back here by himself. Even from his position on the couch, he could tell the kid was a tiny scrap of a thing. If he stood up, he'd probably come up to his waist, at best.

"Are your... are your parents around, maybe?" Shiro asked.

The purple child merely shook his head. "Gone."

There was a finality to his words that gave him the impression they hadn't just gone to the supermarket to buy a pack of eggs. And that was when concern kicked in- because purple or not, this kid was still a kid, and if his hair was any indicator, then he'd probably been alone for awhile now.

And he had saved him- so whoever this kid was, he couldn't be anyone bad.

"Gone... gone for how long?" He asked.

Frowning, the child set down the cup, seeming to count on his fingers. It was with a fresh sting of horror that he watched each finger go up, and before long, he held up four fingers.

"Four months?" Shiro asked.

Again, the child shook his head. "Four years."

Four years. Four years. Was this kid telling him that he had been alone in the desert for four years? Where... his parents, where had they gone? Died? Or maybe... they could have just left him, because just because the kid was purple, didn't mean his parents had been.

And that thought didn't sit right with him at all.

"How... how old are you, kid?" Shiro asked.

This time, the child held up his hands, and it took Shiro a moment to grasp he was showing him all his fingers. "Ten, huh?"

Ten. If his math was right, that meant he'd been alone out here since he was seven.

The child nodded, resting his hands on his knees. He had taken up squatting by the side of the couch, his feet bare- which were also very purple, and very clawed. His clothes had been cut to fit better with no small degree of clumsiness, but he still swam in them, indicating that he'd been alone out here long enough to outgrow all of his old clothes.

"You're not gonna die, are you?" The child asked suddenly, tilting his head. "Dad fell too."

Part of the kid's life story was spelled out in those words, and Shiro couldn't help but wince. Lifting a hand, he lightly touched the back of his head, surprised to find that it had been bandaged. And not too poorly, either.

"No, I don't think so." He told him. "Probably going to leave a nasty lump, though. You bandage me up yourself?"

The child nodded. "Dad taught me."

"He taught you pretty well then." Shiro observed, letting his head fall back on the pillow. "Is it just you out here?"

Once again, the child nodded his head. "Dad said it's not safe for me to go into town." He told him, scrunching his nose. "Cause people there might want to hurt me."

It was only then that kid seemed to connect the dots, jolting to his feet, scampering away from him in a hurry. "You don't- you're not going to-!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." Shiro assured him. "You saved me."

The child seemed to relax at his words, but still kept his distance, as if he had suddenly become wary of the near adult he had brought into his home. He'd done so without first thinking about the consequences- which was pretty telling over his overall character. "You swear?"

"I swear." Shiro told him, holding up one hand. "Here, we can do a pinky promise."

It was a bit on the childish side, he'd admit, but it seemed like it would do the trick.

The child merely blinked, tilting his head. "Pinky promise?"

"Yup." Holding out his pinky, Shiro smiled. "Come here, I'll teach you."

Frowning, the child hesitantly edged closer, until he lingered by the side of the couch. Holding out his own hand, he mimicked him, sticking out his own pinky. Carefully, so as not to startle him, he linked it with his own, slowly bobbing them up and down.

The texture of the kid's skin was rough, yet not dry. Not quite like anything he'd felt before.

"There. Now if I break my promise, I'll have to swallow a thousand needles." Shiro told him, drawing his pinky away.

"That sounds like it would hurt." The child remarked, brow furrowing.

"That's the idea." Shiro told him. "That's how you know I'll keep my word."

That seemed to convince the kid, enough for him to take his perch at the side of the couch back up, once more squatting before him, watching him with curious eyes. "Keith."

His name. It was... more normal than he expected, actually.

"Nice to meet you, Keith." Shiro smiled. "I'm Shiro."

"Shiro." Keith mouthed, clearly getting used to the feel of it on his lips. It struck him in that moment, that he was probably the only human contact the kid had in the past four years. "Do you want more water?"

"Maybe just a bit more." Shiro told him, briefly wondering where he was getting it from. If his father had been prepared to live out in the desert with him, it was possible he'd stockpiled it somewhere- either that, or he'd taught his son how to find it.

Watching as Keith wordlessly left the room, Shiro grunted, forcing himself to sit up. His head swam at the effort, his vision blurring for the span of a second, but it settled before long.

The shack had seen better days, clearly. He wondered how long it had been out here- how long Keith and his father had been out here, before he'd fallen. What drove a man with a small child out into this far into the desert?

Said child being purple, he guessed, watching as Keith returned with a full cup of water, all but thrusting it into his hands. Taking it from him, he gave him a small smile, drinking it again in measured sips.

Was it some kind of mutation? He'd never heard of any skin disease that could turn a person purple, much less let them grow claws. Now that he was upright, he noted that the kid's ears were pointy, sticking out from his mess of black hair.

What did he do for food, Shiro wondered. If his father had brought his son all the way out to the desert to hide him from prying eyes, he was willing to bet he probably had a stockpile of canned goods, but those could only go so far. And while Keith seemed on the scrawny side, he didn't appear malnourished, at least, so he must have been getting food from somewhere.

Hunting?

This, Shiro decided, was not a situation that he could leave alone.

"Dad said most people need a lot of water." Keith seemed to mutter, almost half to himself. "He used to drink a lot."

There was a distance to his words that made Shiro lift his brows. "You don't?"

The child merely shook his head, wordlessly taking the cup back from him. He didn't seem to be all that great at making conversation, but given how long he had been left alone, that didn't come as too much of a surprise to him.

"What was your father like?" Shiro asked.

"Nice." Keith told him, his voice almost a whisper. "He taught me all kinds of stuff. He used to be a pilot."

He had to admit, that came as a bit of relief to him. "A pilot, huh?"

Nodding his head, Keith almost seemed to beam- and it was only then that he took notice of the kid's fangs. "He told me that he worked for a place called the Galaxy Garrison. He built the shack here because it was close."

Now that caught his attention. His father had been Garrison?

"You know, I'm a cadet over at the Garrison." Shiro told him. "I'll be graduating in a year. I'm going to be a pilot too."

Keith seemed to perk up at that, leaping to his feet. "You're going to be a pilot? Have you been to space?"

Unable to help himself, Shiro smiled. "Not to space, not just yet. But I'll get my chance soon enough. That said, I'll only be orbiting around Earth, but I'll be up there. Do you like space?"

Keith nodded his head, those strange yellow eyes bright. "Dad said mom came from space."

And at that, Shiro couldn't help but blink. Because that explained a lot.

It also apparently meant extraterrestrial life was real, and that he was currently in the process of making first contact. Or well, second contact, he guessed- first contact would have been Keith's father, whoever he was.

Although if Keith had been born on Earth, did it really even count?

"Your mom, huh?" Shiro asked. "Does she... where is she now?"

Glancing down at his feet, Keith's toes curled. "She had to leave." He told him, reverting back to that faint whisper. "She had to go fight a war against some real bad guys."

It sounded like something out of a fairy tale- or a space opera, given the setting, but when the words came from a purple child, he felt more inclined to believe them.

"She wanted to take me, but she couldn't." He told him. "It wasn't safe."

He... couldn't dispute that, not exactly. Bringing your child into a war zone did not sound like the world's best parenting decision. He couldn't imagine she would have ever anticipated that the one she had left him with would have died so unexpectedly.

Although the idea that there was some kind of space war raging out there was... concerning, to say the least.

"Do you know why she came to Earth?" Shiro asked, more than a little curious about this apparent interstellar visitor- one who had, presumably, left behind a half human son.

"M'not supposed to tell." Keith told him.

...well, that was cryptic.

But he wasn't going to force the kid to talk- he had basically just earned his trust. "That's okay, you don't have to."

"Any chance you remember where you found me, though?" Shiro asked. "If I don't head back to the Garrison soon, they'll probably send a search party out after me."

Jerking his head up, Keith seemed to frown. "You're leaving?"

There was something so... heartbreaking about the way he said that, a yearning to his words. It made sense- he had been alone out here for so long, and he was probably the first human he had spoken to since his father passed.

Humans, even half humans, were not meant to be creatures of solitude- especially not ones so young.

"I'll come back." Shiro promised him. "If you want me to."

To say that Keith leapt at the offer was an understatement. "You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise." Slowly rising to his feet, he ignored the stinging pain in his head. "Do you want to make another pinky promise?"

Keith seemed to think about it for a moment, before he shook his head. "I don't need it. I trust you."

He had to wonder at that. After living in hiding for so long because he'd been told people from the outside world would hurt him, what was it about him that had earned Keith's trust so easily? Maybe he was just so lonely, that anyone would have done.

Good thing it was him who he had found, then.

Because he had zero intentions of breaking that trust- or his promise.

Because purple half alien or not, there was no way he could leave a ten year old child all alone in the desert to fend for himself.

Just as he said he would, he kept his promise.

He'd had to sneak out of the Garrison to do it, but he'd kept it. His injury wasn't severe- although a bit haphazard, Keith's treatment had proved effective, but he was still technically supposed to be resting. Only a week had passed- but with a kid like Keith, who knew what staying away longer would imply.

He didn't come empty handed this time either.

A week's time wasn't long enough to gather everything that he had wanted. There were clearly a lot of things that Keith needed, but this would do for a start, he thought, hefting the bag over his shoulder.

The shack was right where he remembered it, though he'd had to take a roundabout path to get there. He had memorized the path Keith had shown him, how to get from the shack to where he had left his hoverbike. Parking it a bit away from the shack, he made the rest of his way on foot.

He didn't want to risk startling the kid.

Striding up to the front door, Shiro frowned, setting the bag down next to him. Knocking on the door, he shifted on his feet. "Keith?"

There was a long silence, and then-

"Shiro?"

"Yeah, it's me." Shiro told him, a faint smile on his lips. "I said I'd come back, didn't I?"

No sooner than had he said that, was the door thrown open. There was Keith, just as purple as he remembered him- so he hadn't actually imagined that part, then. Huh.

He'd half convinced himself it was because of the minor concussion, but no, guess Keith really was purple. That was... yeah, he could roll with that, he guessed.

"Shiro!" Keith sounded excited- genuinely excited to see him- and if he had any hesitation about coming to visit a purple half alien out in the middle of the desert, that pretty much took them all away. "You came back!"

"I promised, right?" Shiro told him. "And hey, I brought some stuff too."

Peering curiously at the bag, Keith brushed past him, jerking it open before he could stop him. Reaching in, he pulled out a can of beans. "Food?"

"Can't be that easy to get out here, right?" Shiro said.

"Not in cans." Keith said, making a slight face, putting the can back. "I kind find my own food, Shiro."

So he did hunt, then. Somehow... maybe it was the fangs and the claws, but somehow he couldn't actually picture Keith having too much trouble with that.

"A varied diet is good for your health." Shiro told him, picking up the bag and dragging it inside the shack.

Crinkling his nose, Keith followed him in, shutting the door behind him. "You sound like my dad."

In spite of himself, Shiro let out a snort. Picky eater, then.

"You got a kitchen in this place?" Shiro asked. "Now I'm not much of a cook, but I can make some mean eggs."

Keith nodded, scooping up the bag he'd brought with him without another word. Opening his mouth to protest, he didn't get the chance, Keith already moving into another section of the shack with it, as if it weighed nothing.

Then again, he had carried him out all this way, so... guess the kid was stronger than those scrawny arms of his let on. Huh.

Following behind him, Shiro ducked into the doorway. The kitchen was small, barely big enough for one person to move around in, much less two, and looked as if it hadn't been used in quite some time.

"M'not supposed to use the kitchen." Keith informed him, setting down the bag. "Dangerous."

Shiro blinked at that. If Keith had been catching his own food, then how was he...?

Had- had he been eating what he caught raw?

He was just... going to file that piece of information away with things he didn't want to think about right now, for the time being.

"I can teach you." Shiro told him. "If you want."

Shifting on his feet a little, Keith chewed on his lip. He was half convinced he'd pierce his skin with those fangs of his, but no blood was drawn. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Shiro smiled. "Well, first things first- where do you keep your pans?"

Pulling himself wordlessly up onto the counter, Shiro had to grimace as Keith placed his bare feet on it. He'd clearly have to review some basic hygiene rules with him at some point.

The pan that was presented to him was well worn, almost burnt. Mentally adding cookware to his list, he inwardly grimaced, already tallying up the costs. He was sent a regular allowance, but somehow he sensed that it wouldn't quite be enough to cover everything that Keith needed.

Watching as Keith jumped down from the counter, Shiro let out a faint sigh. The stovetop was gas, and looked like it hadn't been used since the kid's father had died- hopefully it still worked, and didn't just blow up in his face.

Holding his breath, it took a moment for the flame to light- but once it did, he let it out. Okay so, the stove worked. As far as he could tell, there was no oven, or even a microwave here, and the small fridge didn't look like it could hold much.

...actually, how was this place even still getting power?

Filing that away with questions to ask later, Shiro instead focused himself on the task at hand- eggs. He'd have to use them all up, but that wouldn't be a problem. Something told him Keith had a hearty appetite.

"Alright kiddo," glancing down towards Keith, he flashed him a grin, "...ready to learn how to make some fried eggs?"

The wordless, eager nod of his head was all that he needed.

By his second visit, Shiro knew money was going to be an issue.

And okay, sure- there was no reason that he had to buy stuff for Keith. He had been surviving out here just fine with what he had. But there was a big difference between surviving and living, and it was about time Keith got to experience some of the latter.

"It's for me?" Keith asked, giving the large box a shake.

"I don't see anyone else around here." Shiro told him, a faint smile on his face. The lack of pupils did nothing to undermine the excitement on Keith's face. "Go ahead and open it."

Keith watched him for a moment longer, before he set the box back down. For a second, he almost thought he'd disappear somewhere into the shack again, to fetch something to cut it open with.

He forgot about the claws, somehow.

They were sharp enough to slice away at the tape, tearing it apart. Keith, he was starting to learn, could be patient, but in the fashion of just about any other child his age, didn't like being patient.

Patience yields focus, some part of him wanted to supply, but for now he'd just let the ten year old boy be a ten year old boy. Who knew how often he got the chance.

"...red."

Keith's whisper was faint, but just loud enough for him to make out. Taking a seat on the floor across from him, Shiro watched him peer at the box's contents. "You said you liked red."

"Yeah." Keith said, nodding his head. "It's my favorite."

"So I got red." Shiro told him. "I thought you might want to have some clothes that fit, but if you don't like them..."

"No!" Keith said quickly, draping himself over the box as if he thought Shiro was going to steal them away from him. "I like these. They're mine, you said so."

Holding up his hands, Shiro merely grinned. "They're all yours, kiddo. Hope they fit okay, I kind of guessed at your size."

He'd ordered them online- maybe he was just overthinking things, but he couldn't help but feel weird about walking into a store and buying children's clothes. Thank goodness he had a gift card lying around that he'd never found a use for, which solved the money issue for the time being, but even if the clothes had been cheap, they'd still added up.

And kids generally did this thing where they grew.

Come next year, he would graduate, and get a job with the Galaxy Garrison as a pilot, but until then... maybe he should consider a part time job.

Wow, he'd... he'd really committed himself to this, hadn't he?

What else was he supposed to do? Just leave Keith out here by himself? Now that he was damn certain that he wasn't just the product of head trauma, he couldn't just forget about him. He had no one else, and purple or not, half alien or not, a child was still a child- and he was not about to let a child live by himself, out in the middle of the desert.

And since taking him out of the desert wasn't an option... well, he would just have to make do.

So... yeah, he'd committed himself to this.

(Should he call his mother and tell her that she had a grandson now? His name is Keith and he's purple.)

God. Of all the things he expected to do at seventeen, inadvertently adopting a half-alien child wasn't one of them.

Washing Keith's hair was perhaps the biggest trial yet.

"You said," he gasped out, through big, dramatic (a little over dramatic if you asked him) tears, "...you said you wouldn't hurt me."

"I know, buddy." Shiro told him. "But we gotta take care of your hair at some point."

The low whine that escaped Keith was one he was damn sure no human could ever hope to reproduce. At least he had stopped thrashing, seeming to have resigned himself to it. Instead, he'd taken to sulking, going limp in his hands like he was just waiting for the torture to be over.

"You know, if you'd been brushing your hair, it wouldn't have gotten this bad." Shiro reminded him, frowning as he ran into yet another matted tangle. He had expected it to be bad, he just hadn't expected it to be this bad.

"Don't wanna."

"You gotta." Shiro told him, carefully working the knot out of his hair, bit by bit. "Otherwise you and I are going to be doing this every month."

Jerking his head back, Keith glowered at him. "No."

"Then you gotta start brushing your hair, kiddo." Shiro told him. "Now close your eyes, time for more shampoo."

By the time Keith's hair was thoroughly washed, the worst of the mats out of it, Shiro was thoroughly soaked. If he'd known it was going to be this bad, he'd have stripped to his pants, just like Keith had. It was a good thing he'd dry off quickly in the desert air, because he'd have a hard time explaining to anyone at the Garrison why he had come back soaking wet.

"There." Shiro told him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Keith, however, was still sulking, his arms now tightly folded in front of his chest. "I hate you."

"No you don't." Shiro said, using a towel to dry Keith's hair. "Trust me, you're going to feel a lot better without all those mats in your hair."

"Am not!" Keith protested- and at this point, he was damn sure the kid was being stubborn purely for the sake of being stubborn. "Shiro's just mean!"

"Does that mean you don't want me to come back?" Shiro asked.

Keith went rigid under his hands- and before he could even react, he'd jerked to his feet, spinning around, golden eyes wide. "No!"

"...no, you don't want me to come back?" Shiro asked, even though he knew damn well what he meant.

"No, I-!" Keith stammered, dropping his gaze, shuffling his feet. "I want- I want you to come back."

"I thought you hated me?" Shiro asked.

Gaze dropping more, Keith's brow furrowed. "I don't... that was a lie."

"You shouldn't lie, Keith." Shiro chided him.

"You lied." Keith huffed, leveling his gaze with him. If there had ever been any creep factor associated with those eyes, it was long gone now. "You said you wouldn't hurt me, and that hurt a lot."

Back to that again, huh.

"Only because you let your hair get that bad." Shiro told him. "Can you promise me you'll take better care of it so that we don't have to do that again?"

Frowning, Keith folded his arms in front of his chest- before letting out a loud huff. "Fine. I promise."

"Good to hear it." Shiro told him. "Now sit back down, I need to finish drying your hair."

Grumbling, Keith plopped back down, crossing his legs in front of him.

It came as no surprise to him that just like any other ten year old boy, Keith did not care for cleaning.

That much was evident from the state of the shack- it was hard to find a surface that wasn't covered with a thin layer of either dust or sand, sometimes- often- both. He'd lost track of the times he had sat down somewhere without first wiping it down, only to rise with a generous helping of sand stuck to his pants.

So cleaning- cleaning was his next priority.

Keith had grumbled about it at first, saying there was no point, but once Shiro had gotten started, he'd eventually caved. He liked the idea of sitting around and doing nothing while others were working even less than he liked the idea of cleaning.

Which was good, because he'd need the extra hands. The shack itself wasn't that big, but it was crammed full of all kinds of papers and old books- research, of some kind. More than half of it was written in code, and he could only assume that Keith's father had been working on it before he died.

Keith's father.

He'd meant to look into him- to maybe check Garrison records, but he'd never gotten around to it. If he'd really been a pilot there, then there likely would have been something on him- especially if he just vanished one day.

He wanted to learn more about what kind of man he was- what kind of man would isolate himself out in the desert in order to protect his son. There didn't seem to be any pictures of him around- or of Keith, for that matter. Maybe there just weren't any.

It was a reasonable assumption, until it proved otherwise.

It slipped out from the pages of one of the old books- he might not have even noticed it if it hadn't fallen on his foot. Stooping down, Shiro scooped it up, turning what he at first thought was a piece of white paper over in his hands.

It wasn't paper.

It was a photograph.

Staring back at him was a broad shouldered man, a scar nicking one of his brows. He had black hair and a warm smile, and was kneeling down, hands on the tiny shoulders of a child that couldn't be older than two or three. Some small part of him supplied that the child was probably Keith.

Except they weren't purple.

The black hair was the same, but the toddler's other features... he had pupils, for one. The color seemed to be blue, or maybe even purple- it was difficult to tell from the photograph. There was no trace of any claws, and the teeth that were bared in a broad smile were all rounded, no fangs in sight.

"Keith?"

He caught his attention, the child wordlessly plodding over towards him.

"What's this?"

Passing the photograph to him, he watched as Keith's face lit up. A clawed finger hovering over that of the man's face, he peered up at Shiro. "Where did you find it?"

"In one of the books." He told him, carefully watching him so as to gauge his reaction. "Is... is that your father?"

Nodding, Keith smiled, holding the photograph closer. "Yeah."

"And that's... you, right?" Shiro asked, almost hesitant. What if he was wrong?

Keith merely nodded, as if he didn't see anything strange about it.

"So I take it you haven't always been purple then, huh." Shiro observed. He didn't... really know what to make of that revelation.

Shaking his head, Keith scrunched his nose, then shrugged. "I got real sick. Dad says turning purple made me better."

It was an explanation that made him blink. From the sound of it, it must have happened when Keith was still pretty young- too young to remember it clearly, only his father's word to go off of. He couldn't even begin to claim that he understood enough about biology- much less alien biology- to turn it into something sensible, so for the moment, he just decided to leave the explanation as is.

"It's good that you got better." He said instead- and meant it, too.

"Yeah. Dad said he was really worried." Keith told him. "Can I keep this?"

Sensing he meant the photograph, Shiro smiled. "It's yours, kiddo. Why don't we find somewhere to put it?"

There was a gleam in Keith's eyes at that- and Shiro couldn't help but let out a faint snort. Learning how to read them had taken time, but once he picked up the trick of it, it wasn't hard. Keith was actually pretty expressive.

"But we'll be going back to cleaning after."

The gleam died, turning into a glower.

Yep, Shiro thought to himself, watching him sulk, definitely just like any other ten year old.

The day he realized that Keith had to bury his own father was the day he decided.

Keith hadn't been in the shack when he came by that afternoon- which wasn't all that odd. He'd determined that he did, in fact, hunt- and oftentimes he would be out doing just that. But usually on such occasions, he would have left some kind of note.

(Keith could write- his handwriting was sloppy, but it was getting better. He just hadn't had that much practice.)

None today. Frowning, Shiro cracked open the door to the shack, quickly determining that Keith was not simply asleep somewhere inside. That happened a lot too. He slept near as much as cat, he swore.

Closing the door behind him, Shiro shifted on his heels, a deep set frown on his features. Had something happened? This was what he always worried about, leaving Keith alone out here like this- and if he had a choice in the matter, he would have brought Keith back to the Garrison with him long ago.

But even if Keith wasn't afraid of the outside world, he could tell that was a bad move. If his father, who worked for the Garrison, had never consulted with them about his son, then it was safe to say he probably knew something he didn't.

Stepping away from the shack, he walked around to the back. He'd never actually looked around the place before- just inside. The first thing he that caught his eyes was what looked to be a half finished project of some kind, covered by a dusty tarp.

The second thing was the stack of stones, and the small child kneeling in front of them.

In that sinking instant, he recognized it.

A grave.

It should have been obvious, in hindsight. Keith knew his father was dead- and no one else knew that they had been out here.

Ergo, Keith had been the one to find his father.

Ergo, Keith had buried him.

At the foot of the grave, Keith faintly stirred, looking up at Shiro. He hadn't been crying, but there was... he'd seen Keith go quiet before, when they talked about something he didn't like, but he'd never actually seen the kid looking sad.

Now he had.

He wished he could take it back.

Not the sight of it, just... everything. Everything bad that had happened to Keith. Everything that had lead up to this moment.

"Shiro."

His voice took on that soft whisper, the one it took on when things hurt.

Standing next to him, Shiro gazed down at the stack of stones. For a split second, he wondered if his father had been dead or alive when Keith brought him back to the shack, but that thought was so morbid, that he pushed it out of his mind. "Your father?"

Slowly nodding his head, Keith's gaze fixed back on the grave. "He died today."

He didn't question how Keith knew- he had an old calendar that he used to keep track of time. He didn't have the heart to tell him since it failed to account for the leap year, he was off by exactly one day.

(His birthday, screwing things up.)

"I'm sorry."

The words sounded so weak, so meaningless, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Not your fault." Keith whispered. "Mine."

Stooping down next to him, Shiro frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"Cause if I were normal, we wouldn't have to live out here." Keith muttered, his voice so low that he nearly didn't catch it.

The words seized at him. All this time, he'd been under the impression that Keith was never bothered by how he looked. After all, he never said anything- not even when he'd been shown a photograph of his own human face. Thinking back on it though, he hadn't paid any attention to the image of his toddler self- just to the one of his father.

But he... Keith was.

He had been raised in isolation, but he understood enough to know just how different he was. It was why he had never sought help after his father died, even though he'd easily be able to make it to the nearest town on foot.

His being here was... did their encounter only serve to reinforce that fact? A reminder that he would never be able to live a normal life, that he would always have to remain on the outskirts, an outsider?

He was human, but not enough.

"Keith, you're not-" Shiro began, before cutting himself off.

He couldn't claim that Keith was normal. That would just be lying.

"It's not your fault." Shiro told him. "I promise you, your father didn't die because of that."

He wasn't convinced, but he did finally look at him. "Do you think mom would come and get me if she knew I was purple like her?"

"I'm sure she would, kiddo." Shiro told him- though he had no way of knowing that for sure. He knew even less about Keith's mother than he did about his father. "She'd have come in a heartbeat if she knew your dad fell."

Slowly nodding his head, Keith leaned over, resting it against Shiro's arm. Careful not to disturb him too much, he shifted it, pulling Keith closer.

"I miss him."

Softly stroking his hair, Shiro listened to the faint rumble that rose from Keith's chest. "I know, kiddo."

"You won't leave me, right?"

Glancing down at him, Shiro let his gaze fall over Keith- and caught himself wondering how he'd ever found himself so strange the first time he'd seen him. Now that he'd spent time with him, all he could see was the human in him, past all the purple.

"I won't." He told him. "I promise."

And he meant every word of it.