"Keith," Shiro whispers, taking the unconscious paladin's hand in his. "Keith, please. Wake up."

Just like every other time, Keith doesn't respond. There's nothing to hear but the low hum of the primitive medical equipment he's hooked up to. It's the best they have on this war-ravaged Earth; it's not enough.

Shiro loves Atlas—it's integrated into his very being—but right now, he'd give it all up if they could have the Castle of Lions' cryopods back.

"Just open your eyes," Shiro begs, giving Keith's hand a pulse. "I—I can't... I need you, Keith."

'I'm not going anywhere,' Shiro imagines Keith saying, in response. Or maybe he'd say, 'I need you too.' Maybe his response would be surprised, or shy, or disbelieving—something that would have Shiro reassuring him with utterances quiet but strong. Or maybe Keith wouldn't say anything at all, responding instead with a hug that would make Shiro's heart race.

Shiro doesn't know how he'd react. He wishes he did.

"Come back to me," he pleads. "I need you. Come back."

…

"I've spent a lot of my life waiting," Shiro says, fingers clasped around Keith's limp hand. "Waiting with no end in sight. A year in Zarkon's prison. A year trapped in the Black Lion. But this? Days of not knowing when you're going to wake? This is worse. This is so much worse.

"I guess you know what it's like, though, don't you? You've waited for me, too. I wish you hadn't had to. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry."

With the tip of his thumb, Shiro traces the grooves of Keith's palm. Life line, fate line, health line, heart line. They don't mean a thing, but they're there.

"I'm scared," Shiro admits. He can't remember the last time he said those words aloud, if ever.

"I shouldn't be. I know you and the others are going to wake up. I know that, regardless of what anyone else says. You're going to be alright, but I just… You're all I have left. I can't lose you. I can't.

"So please." His voice quivers, and for once, he doesn't try to suppress it. He doesn't have to, not here. "Don't keep me waiting much longer. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

…

"I wish I could spend more time with you," Shiro says, running his thumb over Keith's knuckles. "I wish I could visit more often, stay with you longer. But I've just been so busy. There's so much I've had to do, and there's still so much more to be done.

"It's a good thing, I think. Being kept busy. But between captaining Atlas, and liaising with Coalition members, and coordinating rebuilding efforts, and having all sorts of other duties at the Garrison—all while I'm supposed to portray confidence and inspire hope? It's not exactly easy.

"It's important. It's necessary. But if I'm being honest? All of this? …It's running me into the ground. There's so much I have to do; it's overwhelming. There are so many responsibilities, so many expectations. Sometimes, it feels like I'm suffocating.

"It's not like I want to dump this on someone else's shoulders—I'd never want to burden you, or Allura, or any of the other paladins with all of this—but it's just… it's so much. it's hard doing this all on my own.

"I'm tired, Keith," he admits. "I'm so tired, but I can't let anyone else know. And they won't see it, not if I don't let them.

"You're the only one who can always see right through me. I wish you were awake to call me out."

…

"Your mom's on her way," Shiro says, placing his hand over Keith's. "I was finally able to get in contact with her and Kolivan. It might take a little while for them to get here, but they're coming."

He casts Keith a small smile, one he wishes he could see. "You know, I don't think I ever told you how happy I was for you when you found your mom. She's amazing. She's just like you: dedicated, and loyal, and brave, and strong, and blunt, but kind, and… I miss you, Keith.

"I'm surrounded by other people all day; I hardly have any time to myself. But somehow, I still feel lonely. Without the others, without you. I miss you so much."

He curls his fingers around Keith's hand. "It's been so long since I've heard your voice. Too long, everyone else says; they say at this point, you're never going to wake up.

"But they're wrong. I know they're wrong. I'm not giving up on you. Not ever."

…

"Today would've been our anniversary," Shiro chokes out, clinging tightly to Keith's hand. "I've been trying to hold it together all day, but I-I can't stop thinking about it. About him.

"I know we wouldn't be together, even if he were alive. He didn't support my decision; I didn't respect his wishes. We wouldn't be together anymore, but still, I—

"On the way to Kerberos, I thought about it every single day: what I was going to say to him when I returned to Earth. The words I would use to tell him I was sorry. How I should have been kinder, more understanding, more considerate. I'd tell him how much our time together meant to me. Maybe it wouldn't fix things, but at least there'd be some closure. I'm never going to get that now.

"I hurt him, and I can't ever make things right. I left, and he's the one who died. He's dead, Keith. He's dead. He's gone, and I'm still here. It's not fair. …None of this is fair."

Shiro grips Keith's hand a little tighter. The tears he's been holding back for weeks threaten to fall. Here, in this room, it's safe to let them loose. So he does.

…

"I never told you," Shiro says, quietly, interlacing his fingers with Keith's. "I should have. I didn't. I was afraid that if I said it out loud, then you'd… know.

"But I love you, Keith. I love you more than I can ever tell you. I love you so much. So please. Wake up."

…

Shiro doesn't get the news until later, after he's finished with yet another meeting. There are still duties he should attend to, but they all fall by the wayside when he finds out. He drops everything and rushes to the hospital. Keith is awake.

He races through the maze of hallways until he reaches the door of the room he's become so well acquainted with. He can hear a calm voice from inside, flat but kind.

He peers into the room. Krolia is there, sitting at the edge of Keith's bed. Close. Familiar.

Maybe Shiro shouldn't interrupt. She's his real family, after all. But when he hears Keith speak, he can't help but step inside.

"Shiro?" Keith rasps. The dizzying relief that slams into Shiro at the sound of his voice is so strong it almost hurts. No one else in the universe says his name like that.

"Keith," Shiro breathes. "You're finally awake."

Keith gives him a weak smile. "Yeah."

"I'm going to check in with Kolivan," Krolia says. She gets up from her position on the bed, giving Shiro a subtle nod as she leaves the room.

Shiro takes a few paces, stepping closer to the bed. "Hey," he says, voice low. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

"Don't be," Keith says. His voice drags with exhaustion. "I'm glad you weren't just waiting around here; you've had so much to do. My mom and Kolivan were here when I woke up, and besides. You're here now."

"It's so good to see you awake," Shiro says. He's weightless; he can breathe. "It was so hard, waiting. I knew you'd be okay, but I… I was still worried."

"I know," Keith says. "I heard you."

"You… heard me?"

"Yeah. When you'd come visit. Some of it, anyway," Keith says. "I'm sorry the past few weeks have been so hard on you. I wish I could've said something."

Shiro tries to school his features. "I—I didn't realize you were actually listening."

Keith gives him a tired smile. "I know you didn't."

Shiro should have known, really. He'd been able to hear Keith when it had been the other way around; he should have considered it might not just be the magic Altean pod that enabled that to happen.

"You know you can talk to me when I'm awake, too, right?" Keith says.

Shiro pauses. Logically, he knows that. Intrinsically? "Yeah. I do."

"There's stuff I wanted to say back to you," Keith says. His eyelids are heavy, on the verge of drawing closed. "I'm gonna fall asleep, but I want to talk more later, when I'm awake again. About one thing in particular."

Shiro swallows, hard. "Okay."

"You're worried. Don't be," Keith says, gently. "For now, can you come here?"

With visible effort, Keith lifts his hand and reaches for Shiro. When Shiro gets close enough, Keith slips his hand into his. Keith's eyes close. "This," he says, giving his hand a faint squeeze. "I could feel this, too."

"Oh. That. I, uh—"

"It was nice," Keith says. "Thank you."

Shiro opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "You're… welcome?"

Keith cracks his eyes open again, just a sliver. "I love you, Shiro." His voice is weak, but Shiro knows that tone: it's a challenge. He's daring Shiro to say it back to him, now that he's awake.

Shiro's never been one to back down from a challenge, and it's not like it's a secret any longer. So he says, with every intention of being heard, "I love you too," and the way Keith's little smirk fades into something soft and genuine is completely, utterly worth it.