Anon Asked: For Keith prompts for the A/A AU...how about Keith dealing (or not dealing with) finding out Shiro and the rest of the Kerberos crew are presumed dead? Maybe venturing into how he got kicked out of the Garrison (did they not respect their mate bond enough to notify him, and he found out about it from the news? were the comments about it being Shiro's fault too much? or just the grief?) and almost going feral out in the desert while his instinct scream at him there was no way his mate was dead

Keith hadn't attended Shiro's funeral. His parents had wanted a small private family affair to bury their son's empty casket in. Keith wasn't informed and found out the next day on the morning news. He'd broken a knuckle punching the wall.

The initial rage hadn't lasted. Despite what the Garrison counselor had said, Keith realized he was fine with his lack of inclusion. Shiro's parents had never liked him, so why would he want to go mourn the best man he'd ever known with them. Besides Shiro's body wasn't even there. A empty pine box was nothing to get upset over. He was fine. He hadn't been hurt at all.

The Garrison, the good little officials they were, offered him time off. He'd refused them. Insisting on continuing his classes. He'd had nowhere to go. His childhood home had fallen into disrepair since his father died, he didn't have any real friends, and his own room was full of reminders of the man that was never coming back. School was the only thing keeping him sane. Something to keep his mind off how alone he'd become.

Really shouldn't have been a surprise that eventually he lost that too. The first few times he'd snapped and snarled at a classmate that couldn't do the most simple of tasks, his professors had been understanding, but when his temper had continued to remain short, past the point everyone deemed he should have handled his grief, their patience had evaporated. They hadn't even bothered to listen to his side of the story when he'd slugged another cadet for blaming Shiro's piloting for the crash. That was the official cause. You aren't allowed to hurt people for saying the truth, after all. He'd been kicked out, with only the things he could pack on his hoverbike to take with him.

His father's old shack had been the only place left to go. He'd dusted it out and patched up the walls. Intermingled the ghost of his father clinging to every surface with the ghost of Takashi that he'd brought with him. He began to think this was how he was meant to live. Alone with his memories, the only thing in life that would never leave him. Slowly losing his mind to the unending desert wind.

The pull from the canyon had been his salvation. Giving him something to do besides talk to his ghosts. He found something out there to occupy his waking mind. A mystery to bury himself in so deep he could stop thinking of anything else. The cave drawings had been his obsession. Deciphering their meaning his purpose in life. Until one day, a ship had come crashing down to earth, and one of his ghosts came back to life.

Note:

I always dislike writing this time period. Writing never seems to capture the mood.

Also, denial isn't just a river in Egypt.