whatsacactus | (no subject)

[Shiro doesn't reply immediately. Instead, he is busy inspecting the walls. Sliding his hand across the faux wood paneling, until he finds what he's looking for - a panel that, when compressed, slides away to reveal a communication interface.]

If the robots outside still work, maybe the ones in here do too.

[He can't exactly see Zarkon sweeping floors or doing dishes. There have to be servitors, long-dormant, that could at least assist them in driving away the oppressive dust.]

We can take one of the guest bedrooms downstairs.

[Speaking of dangerous, that phrasing makes him grimace the second it's out of his mouth. An amendment:]

I'll take the floor.

[He still wants them to stay together. This place has every nerve left in his body singing with tension and--

(fear. some. enough. he hates it.)

-- It doesn't matter. They won't be here long enough for it to matter.]

[Keith doesn't think anything of the wording, not until Shiro adds that second part. His heart catches in his chest when he gets to the last step coming back down.

Right. Another reminder that this is one sided. He needs to get over this and quick. Nevermind that he's thought about Shiro like that for... well, years now, when he looks back.

Keith knows the smart thing is to stay together. He wishes he could justify any reason to stay in another room, stay outside even. He knows Shiro won't go for that. He'll have to make that time himself when he can. He swallows down the lump in his throat and heads where Shiro is, seeing the comm interface. He's doing his level best to keep his expression carefully detached. Guarded. That wall that went up when he left the original conversation hasn't completely come down.]

Other bots?

[And it kills him, even though he knows why Keith is doing it. Seeing him that on-edge around him-- it's as if they lost five years of time together, they're starting all over again from nothing. It's hard, and he's the cause of it. He'd walk right up to Zarkon at the height of the Empire's power and hand himself over if it was a way to keep Keith from pain, so this--

He's helpless. There haven't been many times in his life that word applies.

He nods to the panel.]

Couldn't hurt to give it a try.

[He takes a breath and holds it as he puts his hand to the panel. Whatever wasn't on before whirs to life, lights on, air circulating systems, and servibots. Some are automated, cleaning the dust and grime, others come to them, waiting to be instructed.]

Uh. So... That's what that does.

I... don't think this is any place with defenses set up.

At least nothing we've found yet.

[Which doesn't mean nothing at all. It's possible Zarkon's ego lead him to believe that Black would be enough in the event of some event, but-- surely he was never so naive?

(Then again-- if this was before the War, before everything-- maybe there wasn't anything to fear. No one to fight. Maybe Black was enough. Maybe this planet was remote enough.)

Shiro shakes his head, and then shifts the makeshift rucksack with the offerings from the local creatures on his shoulder.]

Just-- be careful.

[That bit is softer. He's not really meaning to show his frustration and anger and all that deep, deep suspicion around Keith, doesn't for a moment want him thinking that this is something Shiro's just taking out on him when really, it all just boils down to Zarkon.]

Let's see if it has a functioning food processor unit. Or at least a kitchen.

Right.

[He investigated upstairs (more private, more personal, beds and bathrooms), but not entirely downstairs. He sets his pack down with knife in hand and starts meandering to the other side of the building. An open room with bookshelves and seating, a single door to...]

Hey! Found it.

[A fairly decent sized kitchen. Storage and cold storage are empty from what he can see; what servibots were working must have emptied it out before shutting down.]

Nothing stocked.

Running water?

[They can hang on without food, at least for a while. Water they'll need. The gardens are lush enough that those systems must have remained functional even if the ones inside the house aren't, so if needs be they can use those.

Shiro slings his pack onto the floor. Now that they're-- somewhere he's choosing to believe is safe for the time being, all the little hurts are coming back to him. From the fight, from the crash, the climb. His knee throbs, he just knows if he takes a look at it it'll be swollen and tender, too.

But Keith-- he's even worse-off.

Shiro follows him, butts his good (well, 'better' in this case) shoulder up against the doorway.]

I know you're going to protest, but unless they have a healing pod on the premises somewhere, I'm going to have to look your injuries over.

I'll take care of them.

[He says it clearly, with no room for question. It wouldn't be the first time he took care of his own injuries, likely won't be the last.

Instead, he focuses on what looks like a sink, has to be. It sputters when he turns the knob, a few seconds, then pours easily.]

Guess turning all that on turned the water on too.

[u stubborn l'il shit. Shiro just looks at him. Then, soft,]

All right. Sooner rather than later, Keith.

[He Knows You. And can surmise that right now, what he wants is to be left alone. Which, coincidentally is the last thing Shiro wants to do, but.]

Then I guess I'm going to have a shower. All that climbing, I bet I smell worse than that time Lance got sprayed by a space skunk.

[He says that lightly enough, not exactly trying to get a smile or a laugh out of Keith but at least to ease the severity of the mood.]

[Turning the water off, Keith doesn't really look at him. It hurts, in a way he hadn't thought it would, a way he's used to but a different flavor: not wanted. He should be used to this, but this particular instance is... so much more personal than would-be friends or foster homes that sent him back.]

Saw one upstairs. Pretty big.

[He assumes it's because Zarkon was a big guy.] I'll see what else I can find down here that's useful.

Okay. I won't be long.

[Normally, he'd reach out and touch Keith's shoulder. A greeting and a parting both, something grounding, something bracing. But instinct tells him it's not the right move here, so instead he just-- nods, and turns to go.

The shower is massive. He, like Keith, can guess why but chooses to ignore the connotations. There's no soap, but the water - after a few minutes of it being ice cold - turns hot enough to scald, and that's good enough for him. He does it quickly enough, and then gets back out.

Alteans, just like humans, had something of a vain streak. Mirrors. He catches his reflection in one that's across from the shower, full-length, and just sort of. Grimaces. He hadn't given too much thought to the hair, but now it's obvious how much it ages him. He's skinnier than normal, too. Not eating enough. His ribs are a multicoloured patina of greens and blacks, and that knee is plenty swollen.

He touches the pads of his fingers to the stump of the prosthetic. There's no pain. The nerve-endings have been disconnected, the entire thing feels dead against his shoulder. He wants it-- off, out, gone, so intensely in that moment he can almost taste it.

Later. They'll work on it later. For now-- no. He gets dressed again in clothing the servitors had taken to clean and then goes back in search of Keith.]

[When Shiro leaves, Shadow pads up to him, nosing at his hand until Keith takes a tight grip of her longer fur. Just for a moment. Just until he hears Shiro go upstairs.

Shiro's absence is enough time for him to finish looking at everything in this kitchen. There are plenty of dishes and cutlery, but no sign of even sealed food. It must have all gone bad at some point and was thrown out. Not a bad thing. They can make do for the short time they're here.

He goes back to the front entrance just to dig for the emergency kit, figuring by a sink is the best place to clean himself up. It's painstaking to get the armor off, peel out of the body suit. But the cuts and bruises are bad, staring to outnumber his previous scars. He carefully starts cleaning them all, hissing between his teeth at the stinging pain. The cleaner included in the kit is about ten times stronger than human solution. It's here, being able to stop for a few minutes, that he realizes he's had the underlying taste of iron in his mouth - blood he never spit or cleaned out from the fight before. Never had the chance. He rinses his mouth and spits as much out as he can.

He'd done it though, hadn't he? Despite having promised Shiro nothing would happen to him, he'd failed. Shiro had died. And sure, Keith got him back with Allura's and Black's help, but he'd fucked up. And then fucked up again.

You're worthless. Broken.

He knows. he knows that. He just thought maybe things could be different.

It's when his hands are shaking trying to dress the more egregious wounds that it hits. A wave rolling over him that he can't stop, getting caught up in it the way his eyes sting with tears he can't stop. He ties that wrap off and lets it happen. He's alone, he's quiet. It's fine if he just lets it out for a little while.]

[The house is silent when he comes downstairs. There's an absence of movement in the still air, which makes him instantly suspicious, and he grips the bayard awkwardly.

It's Shadow's appearance that gives him pause. The wolf emerges from the kitchen and crowds into him. Nothing about her seems on edge, no ruffled fur, no snarling teeth. She just pushes against his leg (avoiding his bad one, maybe she can tell it's hurt) and for lack of a better word, she herds him towards one of the smaller side-rooms.

She doesn't want him around Keith right now, that much is clear. Something catches in his throat, closes. But he doesn't argue. He just lets himself be shuffled towards one of the chairs. When he sits down at a freshly cleaned chair with a high back and lush purple cushions, he realizes that what he had thought of as being paper books are actually electronic paperwhite. He picks one up, idly turns the rather solid pages, and images flicker across them in an elegant scroll. Words in Altean.

(He can read some of them now. Black knows how, and some of her knowledge became his when she rescued him. Osmosis.)

He touches the symbols, they flare under his hand. One of them is projected into the air, he recognizes it. But not from Black.

(He's seen this one before. This one. On a table. Under a knife. Haggar--

It means purification.)

He closes the book. His breathing is hard, and Shadow whines as she butts up against his leg. He clears his throat. Action. Action is how he's held the tide back ever since he and the Holts were captured. The ocean swells, the storm builds, Shiro can't be idle even a moment. So, loudly:]

Keith, find anything else?

[His voice carries through the house.]

[Shiro's voice carries, and Keith sniffles (sniffles! Some parts of him are still growing up it seems) and wipes his face on his undersuit.]

No. Was cleaning up.

[Himself, his injuries. Anything. If he remembers to breathe, he can wash his face, make it not so miserable-looking.

It takes a minute, but he comes back out in just the black undersuit and boots.]

Feel any better?

Yeah. Shower's great. Ten different settings.

[He assesses Keith's overall state - no visible dishevelment, but his eyes are red. He doesn't linger on the details. They've been through a lot. Keith especially - more than anyone his age should ever have to deal with, and it's been a constant deluge since he was a child. Shiro's expression softens.]

I don't know how this place heats its water supply, but I think I left enough if you want to use it.

I'll get one later.

[There are only hits of fresh bandages at the edges, coming up his neck, or at his hand. Instead, Keith comes to stand by the chair and look around the room.]

A lot left here. Could probably find other food out there, if you want.

I guess that'll be the first order of business, then.

[He makes a move - something familiar, to fold his arms. Halfway through the motion he realizes he's without his right, and the gesture transmutes itself not quite seamlessly into him simply putting his left on his hip. His expression gentles when it falls on Keith.]

But we both need time to rest and recover. We can worry about reconnaissance tomorrow, and we have food and water to get us through the day.

[He sees those bandages. Just how badly injured is he? This body did that to him. Some of it. A lot of it. Shiro knows that between the two of them, his clone certainly took less punishment in the fight. Shiro wishes he hadn't held back, but-- that's just Keith. He couldn't have done anything else.

I love you.

Shiro goes to pick up his satchel, full of the creature's offerings and sets it down on the countertop to sift through.]

[Keith starts to protest, to offer to go look around. Something about Shiro's movements have him stop. Shiro needs to rest and recover.

Instead, he nods and goes about finding sealable mugs or cups to carry water in, just in case they have to leave suddenly.

He needs to stay busy. Stay moving, otherwise...

I love you.

He'd never said it out loud before. Never even thought it hard enough to mean it before that.]

Didn't hear anything unusual while you were up there.

I think we might actually be alone.

[He runs his hand through his (white) hair, and then works his jaw off to one side with the tips of his fingers.]

I still don't like it. This place-- it's really got me on edge.

I can tell.

[Anyone who's known Shiro for more than a day can tell he's on edge. He's got at least three containers of water set aside when he finally stops and looks at him. He's still assessing the white hair; new, a little different, but not bad.]

We'll be out of here in a day or so. Long enough to rest.

[Keith doesn't say it, but Shiro still hears it. He's the weak link here. Keith's the one with the lion's share of the injuries, but at least he can keep up.

Sendak's words were a lifetime ago, but they're ringing in his ears like an echo. He turns away, fighting to keep control of his voice.]

Providing Black cooperates. If she doesn't, though-- there's got to be something we can jury-rig here to communicate with the others. There's no way Zarkon would come here and let himself be completely cut off from his Empire.

[A weight clamps down on his chest when Shiro turns away. He said the wrong thing somehow. Somehow that was wrong. He's got to get a better handle on this and stop digging the hole deeper.]

No... Probably not. I'll see what I can find.

No.

[He glances back. Shakes his head. Even offers a smile, much as he can muster.]

No, not right now. I meant it when I said we should just relax for today.

[He wants to argue that. He wants to let Shiro know he knows how on edge Shiro is.

But he also doesn't want to argue. He doesn't want to risk escalating this and making what's between them worse. He looks down at Shadow, tilting her head up at him, hand gripped tight on the edge of the counter, hard enough it's trembling.

He clearly isn't happy with that. Keith has to bite the inside of his cheek to cut yes sir from coming out of his mouth. Instead:]

All right.

[Unthinking, Shiro turns and reaches out to touch his shoulder. It's a gesture meant to comfort - he always has had a knack for knowing when Keith's upset. Too late he realizes that it might not be entirely welcome now, and breaking it off would just make it worse.

So he lets it connect - tries to make sure it isn't at a spot where there are bandages under the bodysuit.]

I'm sorry. I know you don't like inaction any more than I do. But working ourselves to death isn't going to help anyone either. We've dealt with the biggest threat at the moment, the others should be fine-- hopefully they'll carry on to Earth.

[He hesitates. His hand falls away from Keith's shoulder.]

I know I'm probably not the person you want to be stuck with right now, and if you want I'll stay out of your way. But I'd still like for you to take it easy.