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[synchronized]

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for toebeans ( au )

[synchronized]

[ a small vessel that had exited from an anomalous wormhole had shot out in a straight line like a plasma shot, and crashed into one of the blade outposts, setting off the headquarters' alarms from the concentration of quintessence signatures resulting from the impact.

keith was on patrol with thace when it had happened, on board a stealth fighter monitoring for cloaked altean spycraft. they watched as the smallcraft penetrated the force fields protecting the outpost, and if keith had to guess from the alert sound of surprise coming from thace, something about it was out of the ordinary. fighting the empire in the name of liberation is part of daily life for any blade; what would make a suicide attack on one of their bases particularly different?

he suits up all the same. they make it to the outpost in record time, thace jumping out of the fighter before it's even started the landing, and keith jumps right after him. it's chaos on the ground level -the north wing is on fire, the smallcraft having crashed right into it. shots are being fired, and the west wing - the clinic, keith realizes with cold dread - is being evacuated onto the tarmac. the fighting is moving towards the control center, and it's all keith could do in the meantime to keep up with thace as they detour over the ledges to cut through and intercept the altean attackers.

only there aren't any attackers. in fact, there's only just one - and for an altean he fights like a galra, taking down entire groups of seasoned fighters with literally anything he can get his hands on— his arm! it's galra tech! keith hears the outpost tech engineer shout over the comms, and the cold dread in keith's belly solidifies into a heavy weight. only galra tech can interface with galra designs; it's a rudimentary but effective security to keep their communications out of the empire's hands.

keith throws himself into the fight, despite thace's warning not to. he draws the fire to him, and only him, as he matches the altean spy the best he can, even if he's slowly being edged out into a defensive stance from the blows he's taking. it's enough distraction for thace to get a clean shot in, though - a stun shot, just as a finishing blow was about to descend on keith's cloaked head.

kolivan takes over not even a varga later. the spy is carted away, bounded and gagged and fully restrained; keith thinks it would've been smarter to just end the spy's life then and there, but ulaz insists on the value of information. thace - to keith's irritation - agrees, before shuffling keith to the outpost clinic's salvaged work area to get tended to.

keith doesn't hear much about the spy after that; he's only fighter rank, and even though he has access to thace's sheave he keeps out of it in respect. the spy made two escape attempts, even getting as far as the hangar - keith overhears ulaz and thace argue over the merits of removing the spy's arm entirely when the two senior officers had thought keith had already fallen asleep. he goes out on a few more missions and forgets about the spy until he's called in one day to kolivan's office - his guardians both present with worrying looks on their faces.

the spy, kolivan starts with. keith's imagination starts running away from him - he's done a few immersion missions before, pretending to be an altean half-breed. have they finally gotten information out of the spy? will he be on the mission roster? keith's already starting on a list of things to set up and pack when kolivan stops him right on his tracks with two words: he's human.



that's how keith finds himself crouched in front of the spy with his mask on, in the holding cell, watching the prisoner eat the meal keith had brought him. he's going to get chewed out within an inch of his life when kolivan finds out, keith knows, and vorla won't forgive him for the unnecessary electrocution keith had put him through just to intercept the meal tray, but it's worth it. keith hopes it's worth it, anyway.

he's never met another human before. ]

[toebeans]

[ He doesn't know exactly how long he's been held captive by the Galra, but he supposes it doesn't matter. There's comfort in that, though, he supposes. Haggar keeps him around and alive because she hasn't found a better substitute among the other aliens, and since she hasn't found a better human, that means that everyone else is, as far as he can tell, still safe. So he grits his teeth and bears it. Waits for the battle that eventually will take him down, because no one's luck is this good, even if he wouldn't really call any of this luck. The longest any of the other fighters have lasted is five years, or whatever alien equivalent it is. (He does, of course, know it. He refuses to use it, trying desperately to stick to English, or Japanese if he needs to.)

His defiance amuses her, he thinks. She breaks him into pieces and dumps him back in the empty cell and waits to see just what will make him crack. He's getting close, that much he thinks is certain. He's tired. He doesn't know what she wants from him these days, but he knows that if he finally, finally dies, then this is all over. Matt-- God, Matt's probably not even alive anymore. He wouldn't have been able to fight like this, not for this long.

The Galra they have watching him this time sees...something, because he doesn't take him the normal route this time. Shiro limps his way with him and barely registers the question, head still ringing from Haggar's magic. Aren't you going to fight? the Galra asks, like a leading question, like Shiro's not giving the responses he's supposed to.

At least he's disappointing someone other than himself, right? He bares his teeth and nearly trips, exhausted. Maybe I'm done fighting.

He expects his insolence to be met with a cell. With torture, maybe, though he has another fight to do tomorrow, so maybe not. Instead, the Galra leads him into the infirmary and starts tending to his injures but there's something...wrong about it. Too quick, but still actively trying to patch him up rather than send him on his way. He keeps looking at the timer on his wrist, too, but Shiro's too tired to guess why. Nothing makes sense, not he realizes the second location is the hangar -- from there it's a blur. The Galra dies -- dies protecting him. Shiro's too panicked and tired and worn to understand it but he grabs his dagger, pockets it and stows himself away on the ship. Steals the ship almost as an afterthought -- (he's a pilot, isn't he?) punching in coordinates and thinking anywhere is better than here.

When he wakes up, he's crashed again. Anywhere is not better than there -- there's more Galra and Shiro's tired, God, he's so tired. He keeps the dagger hidden under the pilot's seat and fights with his arm, instead, cutting through them without killing them if he can. The end, when it comes, is a relief. He's in the middle of fighting one of the smallest Galra he's ever seen when he's hit by something and bites nearly through his tongue at the sharp spread of electricity. It sends him to his knees, then leaves him face-planted into the ground, the darkness thankfully swallowing him whole.

Whoever has him now, they're still Galra. They don't talk much, but they want the same thing, always the same thing. Information. Who is he. What's he doing here. How did he get here. Shiro buys time by pretending like the translators don't work, spending his first day near comatose. The second and third, he tries to escape again, but exhaustion, malnourishment do him in each time. He learns, though. There's a way out if he's done it twice and they still haven't removed the arm. They're stupider, here, maybe. He can use that.

His third will be more careful. He'll bide his time. He still hasn't really talked to any of them, giving them big, guileless gray eyes when they ask, if he's not snapping and biting at them for coming too close. One of them - the littlest one, brings him food and he's not so stupid as to not take it. Table manners have long since been lost. Shiro digs his fingers into it and eats as quickly as he can, braced protectively over it, watching the Galra warily. There might not be any other prisoners he has to fight to keep his food his, but that doesn't mean they won't take it away if they want to.

Strangely, though, they don't. He finishes it, licks his fingers clean and just to be petty, tosses the tray at the Galra. Bares his teeth in a threat, straightens himself up to his full height and clenches his fist, waiting. They haven't told him what they want yet. If they want him to fight, at least he's used to that, but this...just...sitting is driving him half as crazy as anything else. ]

What.

[ It's spit out in Galran, the single word full of disdain. ]

[synchronized]

[ the tray skitters along the floor noisily - keith wrinkles his nose under the mask. such manners, he thinks disapprovingly. the spy - the human, by the stars if it still doesn't send keith's mind spinning at the thought - draws himself up to his full height, teeth bared and ready to fight, not even bothering to say his thanks.

not that keith had expected it; the human's their captive, after all. he doesn't look half bad, he even allows. he's always wondered if his own small frame was the average for his biological father's race - what kind of planet did they have, that they grew small and lean and gangly? but this human, he was more like the galra, if a deal more hairless. he had a decent crest and some scruff, not unlike ulaz, as well as a respectable breadth at the shoulders, and while he's definitely shorter than most galra, he's certainly a lot taller than keith is. this human looks every inch a fighter. the thought comforts keith, in a way - even if his own body isn't his ideal, at least his father's race aren't as weak as had once thought they'd be.

(if he's being honest, the human's face is appealing, too - even if he's decidedly ugly by galra standards. keith is embarrassed for himself.) ]

So you do understand us, [ keith replies from his perch on the floor. he'd heard that the spy was either brain-damaged or unlearned in galra; the thrill of new information is dampened by the foreseeable reprimands he'll get when he's asked how he came upon the information in the first place. whatever. he'll deal with it when he gets to that point. ] Your accent is horrible.

[ if anything, keith drops himself into a cross-legged position, using the tail of his cloak to keep the floor dirt off the seat of his uniform. his presence clearly puts the human on edge; it's an advantage that he needles by deliberately setting himself at ease. you're not a threat to me, keith communicates with his posture. you don't alarm me. ]

Did you like your meal? [ keith takes some fruit out from a pouch on his belt; to a human, they look like large fat grapes, juicy and purple. ] Maybe you'd like some fruit to wash it down. The gruel is always too salty when Vorla's on mess duty.

[ was he talking too fast? perhaps the human hasn't met a native galra speaker. ]

I just want to talk.

[toebeans]

[ This wouldn't be so infuriating if they'd just tell him what they want. Fight him, or kill him, or experiment on him but this waiting will kill him faster than anything else. He hates it, the anxiety of it. He won't let his guard down, though. Haggar had tried it, once, and only once.

There's still a part of him that thinks this isn't real. Haggar's played tricks on him with his mind before. Keith's rescued him, once. Once, it was his mother and father, coming through the door, faces drawn, pale, before they were taken down in front of him. Once, he'd been home. He'd woken up in his own bed, curled into the covers and cuddled with his dog before it was all dragged away. He's not an idiot. If this is fake, it'll fade eventually. If it's not, they are just waiting for Haggar's ship to come pick him up. She wouldn't want her prize dog getting away. The kindness - if that's what this is, is unnecessary. Unwelcome.

Of course, once he's spat the word out, it's clear he has some sort of understanding of Galra. They never updated his translation unit, but he'd learned enough Galra in the years he's been captive to understand enough. He can piece sentences together. He can understand enough to survive.

Shiro adjusts his hair - tied back with a strip of the purple cloth that he'd worn earlier until he'd repurposed it. Now, it laid on the cot he was given, something to strangle a guard with if he needs to.

What he expects is -- well. He doesn't know what he expects but it's not...this. Not the Galra plopping himself down in front of him, glowing eyes hanging like fat moons in the dim lighting. Maybe he's young. Age never mattered with Galra ferocity - Shiro's long sense stopped trusting in the lack of bloodthirstiness with regards to age, but-- well. He's not attacking.

He's offering food. Shiro can put together enough words to understand what he means by it, but it doesn't make sense. Why offer treats? The Galra have long since given up on getting information from him. That, they couldn't break him for. Maybe they think kindness will do it. Maybe, they think if he grows an attachment to his captor and they use him as bait or a hostage, Shiro will fall for it. He hasn't yet, but these are new Galra. ]

I won't talk.

[ He doesn't know the right words to say I won't give up information, but this works well enough. He stalks forward instead, tries to go for the fruit, swiping at it. ]

[synchronized]

[ well, this is frustrating.

he lets the human take the fruit from his outstretched hand, though he keeps one for himself to chew on; the man isn't illiterate, but keith had dealt with unilu with better attitudes than this guy. maybe it's a human thing? keith certainly remembers being a proper brat when he was younger. perhaps some of the more racist epithets his peers had thrown them back in training had some merit.

perfect, he's even more annoyed now. ]

I'm not here to interrogate you about your attack. [ he can at least be honest on that front; keith's intentions are a lot more selfish. he didn't even arm himself, in spite of what common sense dictates. ] How did you reach the Empire? Terrans - humans - don't have the tech to travel very far from their solar system.

[ keith had always wondered, of course. his mother had left him holovids of earth, as well as photographs of his father. the planet is filled with so many contradictions - snow tundras on some areas, lush greenery in others, flat deserts in others still. it was a thriving ecosystem unlike keith had ever visited or read about, and it disappoints him as equally as it baffles him that such a rich environment hasn't allowed for the humans to flourish and reach intergalactic travel.

it's not like he can't go to earth himself. thace had shown him the route, given him the coordinates, but it was always for the nebulous after - when the war was over, when the universe was at peace, when they're not fighting anymore. even if he wanted to go now, it was still at least a few decaphebes away, even with FTL travel. with the work keith does with the blades, he can't justify the trip to his father's home just to see what it's like.

this human will have to do. ]

How did you make it this far without dying?

[toebeans]

[ ...That was easier than he expected. Shiro takes the grapes and then retreats to the corner of the room where he has full view of the door and the newcomer. There's no threat in his body language but that can change more quickly than he wants or expects; it's happened before.

He hopes the grapes are edible to humans, but figures if it's not, then that's...that, isn't it? If he's being held for Haggar, though, they'd likely check. These Galra are smarter than the other ones he's been kept by. They'll likely have checked to make sure they don't poison him.

One gets popped into his mouth. The bite and then crush of sweet juice is so foreign that he can't hide his reaction. His eyes go wide and he knows shock is written across his face, chewing, and then swallowing. He eats the next one quickly and then stares between the newcomer and the treats. If he eats them all quickly, there's none left and he hasn't had fresh fruit in...a long time. Too long. He doesn't even remember. But if he doesn't eat it all now, he could change his mind. Take them back. The choice is awful and he thinks this is more cruel than other things they've done lately. He eats all but three of them in a rush, barely listening to what the Galra says, piecing together words here and there.

Only when the last few are left does he work slowly. Bites into one. Licks the juice off his fingers. Lets it rest in his mouth and repeats, watching warily. ]

Takashi Shirogane. Kerberos mission. 1179875.

[ There's no small bit of spite in his tone at the last one. He doesn't give his military number or ID any longer. He gives the one they gifted him, just to be a pain. As to how he got here, though: he eats the other half and then licks his thumb, daring to be smug, daring to talk back. He'll see where the boundaries lie; maybe they're not allowed to hurt him. ]

I killed everyone who tried to kill me.

[synchronized]

[ for his part, keith lifts the lip of his mask and bites a small chunk off the fruit. he's not ready to take the mask off just yet, and there's a weird kind of joy in watching the human eat. keith himself had done similar, when thace first gave him fruit he assured keith he could stomach - most of the galra diet didn't suit his omnivorous digestive tracts (keith has two, ulaz always reminds him with wonder in his voice), and so anything he could actually eat he hoarded.

thace had curbed that habit quickly, of course, but sometimes keith feels the urge to keep a chest of things he can take without problem.

—ah, the human is talking again. ]

That's a prisoner number, [ keith recognizes. 117-98-75. it's easy enough to remember. he mulls over the implications of the information as he savors the tangy sweetness of the fruit; it's not visible to the man, but he's frowning deeply. is this a trick, perhaps? it's easy enough to assume a prisoner code - the alteans aren't careless about their prisoners but they're not the most gentle with them either. keith knows of entire jail transports "disappearing" into open space, or malfunctioning in the middle of warp speed, with the captives never to be heard from again. it's cruel without being violent. keith curses the alteans in the quiet of his mind.

this had better not be a trick, he thinks. ]

Tahkash Shirganeh...? [ the fluid syllables sound weird; it's like rolling pebbles along his teeth, but oddly, they feel comfortable on his tongue. ] You escaped from Altean prison? How did you manage that?

[toebeans]

[ He wants to rip that mask off - it's instinct, these days. He wants to tear it off and see what's underneath, just like he wants to with the Druids. He's never been able to; the only time he'd even gotten close, he'd hooked his fingers under the sharp point of it and then his arm had been broken in three spots. He's not even sure how it happened; one moment, it worked. The next, he'd blacked out from pain. They hadn't fixed it for weeks as punishment and made him fight a single battle. It was only when he'd won that they'd let him get healed.

Maybe he hasn't learned, because he still wants to. His fingers itch for it.

All of the Galra here dress the same, but this one -- the way he acts. The fact that he's here, unarmed as far as Shiro can tell, and that he's brought snacks? Royalty, maybe. A favored nephew or son, a high caste in the Galra society. Come to gawk at the pet the Galra have until it's shipped off. It wouldn't be the first time. He's had patrons before-- that he didn't think of it until now makes him furious at himself. He should have known. Stupid. Stupid. ]

Of course. And your pronunciation is shit. [ The pronunciation isn't terrible but he doesn't have time for rich, Galra brats come to stare at the pets their fathers or uncles keep. He doesn't need another patron. But maybe -- maybe, the kid is important enough to be a hostage. It's worth finding out, especially if he keeps coming here. Shiro's been trapped years; he knows how to wait. He doesn't know the word Altean, but it doesn't matter. There are plenty of races he hasn't met, but from the way the Galra talks about them, it's similar to how others talk about the Galra. Huh.] Altean? The Galra are the only monsters I've run into in the galaxy.

[synchronized]

[ keith hisses.

it's nothing like the sharp whistling sound that antok makes, or the low rumble from thace when keith's gotten himself in serious trouble, but he makes a pretty good version of the galran growl. how dare this man compare them with the alteans. how frakking dare him. ]

The Alteans destroyed our home. They murdered our people when we sought refuge among the empire's allies. And you call US the monsters?!

[ he's gotten up on his feet, keith realizes with irritation. goaded yet again - it didn't even take a lot. keith knows his father had died fighting with the blades, had died by altean hands mere quintants after he'd been born. his mother followed a decaphebe later, before he was even weaned off on milk - galra tradition demanded she avenge her mate, and that's what she had done even if her wounds from the fight had taken her to the stars after her victory.

keith has no memories of his father's true voice, or his mother's touch. the blades are his family, by bond if not by blood, but he can't forgive the alteans that have taken so much from their people — still taking from them, even now.

he takes one step forward, just one towards this human, but he stops. be at peace, he thinks on, thace's voice echoing in his head. open your fists, and be at peace. keith pushes the cloak hood off his head, squares his shoulders even as he unwinds his braid from around his neck. with his small, rounded ears being on the sides of his head instead of high up at the frame of his crest, he's clearly not the typical galra.

doesn't matter. he can take this human down. Keith unlatches his mask and lets it slide back into his collar. ]

Take your insult back, and I won't fight you.

[toebeans]

[ Shiro smiles, and it's all mean edges. He can't remember the last time he smiled just to smile - months ago, maybe, when Ixthlyl had snuck him extra bread rations from her shift doing meals. This isn't a good smile, but it doesn't matter. He struck a nerve.

Young, then. Young, maybe rich. Entitled, but still with a temper. Probably gets in trouble in his courses because he's either smarter than everyone else or thinks he is. Either way, he can work with this. He knows how to work with it; he'd helped Keith when they were back at the Garrison, even if it'd been more mutual help than anything else. Keith helped him loosen up, helped him drop his walls and Shiro helped him open up to other people. They balanced each other.

That's - that's not for her, though. He shuts down that train of thought before she can grasp it, if she is in his head. Instead, he listens. Frowns. Altean, Galra, it doesn't really matter. Maybe there's a translation error, but it doesn't seem like it. Whatever the Galra is upset about, he can hold onto that. Use it as a weakness. Shiro files it away and sinks back into his corner, eating the last of the grapes nonchalantly. It's popped into his mouth withe a little hum, clearly meant to work him up. He'd normally bide his time but if the Galra wants to attack, well. He's not spoiling for a rematch but he would.

Of course. That goes to shit the moment he takes off that helmet. Shiro freezes in places and hates it, hates himself for being so transparent. Keith isn't touched by Haggar's illusions often because he can normally protect those memories from that. He keeps certain things to himself, tries to make sure they're not seen as too valuable. Apparently, his little bit of thinking was enough. The mask gets removed and it's Keith under it, which means his prior thought was right. This is a test. He knows how to pass. No reaction, nothing but fury, calm fury. ]

Get out. You can't convince me you're him; not again.

[synchronized]

Who do you think you're talking to?

[ keith doesn't hesitate in closing the distance between them, this time, gloved hand taking hold of the human's crest as he pushes him flat against the wall. he's used to sparring with galra twice this man's size; keith doesn't have to work too hard to slam him back, but his anger makes him careless. the walls are rough, he knows - they'll abrade the soft porous human skin, just as keith knows it would on his own skin. good, he thinks. it'll sting. the man deserves it for the insult. ]

You crashed into outpost. You killed people with your ship - good people, with families and children. Father wanted you dead, and you should've been - you ungrateful human. We have been good to you. We healed you, fed you, kept you clean.

Whatever the Alteans offered you or your people, it's not worth it. They'll destroy your homes. They'll enslave your people, brainwash them if they can't be coerced to serve.

[ keith wishes he had claws. wishes he had sharper canines, stronger muscles, longer bones. he grips the man by the jaw and matches the man's furious stare with one of his own - it's only kolivan's standing orders of keeping this prisoner alive that keeps keith from truly lashing out with deadly force. ]

You clearly don't need non-cogs to be a slave. You sold yourself to them, didn't you? For what?

[ he's leaking salt again. why is he so angry? is it because this man is human, and so clearly under altean control? are the rest of the humans on the empire's side? this has to be why thace wouldn't let him see this prisoner.

even when keith's a full-fledged blade, he's still being protected. he can't stand it. ]

If you are what humans are like, then I don't want to be human like you.

[toebeans]

[ Normally, when he's discovered the ruse, Haggar ends it. Once he's figured it out, there's no point in drawing it out further because he shuts down. She wants him complacent and broken, but not tot he point of incoherence. The problem is, this doesn't...stop. It doesn't end.

The thing wearing Keith's face stalks forward and slams him to the wall, drags him against it. The pain feels real - more real than it normally does when she does this. He closes his eyes, barely listening and tries to focus against it. There are things that are always...wrong when she does this to him. There's no smell, no taste, no feeling, not really. It's like everything is muted, like a dream.

He can feel this, though. There's pain. There's the taste of grapes in his mouth, unfamiliar. There's the smell of Keith, this close, warm and familiar but different enough he knows that something is off.

Fear crawls through him, something awful he hasn't felt in ages. Whatever she's done, whatever trick this is, it's too real. Does she want him to fight and kill him? He's never done it before, but he doesn't know what she wants. Worse: Keith's eyes well up, tears shining in them. It's too real - it's too real and he hates it. ]

Stop-- [ It's choked out in English this time, the fear evident in his voice, hands trembling. He can't, he won't. He won't kill him, even this illusion of him. ] You have what you want, you don't need me to do this, I won't, I won't--

[synchronized]

[ he has half a mind to shake the man again, to demand what he wants from him, but the noises he's making sound suspiciously like words in a foreign tongue - one that keith doesn't understand. the man's demeanor had changed as well - keith, even with his poor ears, can hear the distress in the man's voice. it's confusing - what's happened to cause this change in the human? all keith did was push him, surely it wasn't too hard? the strength he used on him would hardly bruise himself.

keith's confusion is told so plainly on his face now, and in his uncertainty his grip on the man loosens, lets go of the man's jaw entirely as he draws back. ]

I don't understand your speech. Are you apologizing?

[ this doesn't seem like a good idea anymore. he's gotten enough information out of the man to be useful; the prisoner number, whatever mission kerberos is, the man's name at the very least could point them in a useful direction. that he understands galra would be a relief as well, on top of a warning to the man's guards not to talk about security measures around him.

but why is the human in distress like this? why are his hands shaking? keith had taken powerful hits from this man, as well - clearly he isn't fazed by keith's fighting skills. he'd had seen him take on galra bigger than himself and win.

a small whine escapes from him. keith's trained nose catches a whiff of bitter sourness in the air, tell-tale scents of fear. unsure of what else to do, keith pets the man on his crest, carding through the fine white hairs. ]

Be at peace... [ he offers awkwardly. ] I just want to know. Are you really human?

[toebeans]

[ Fear is something he's lived with for a long time, ever since being captive. There came a point where it was perpetual, low-grade fear that he couldn't shake so he learned to live with it. Eventually, he shoved it down; if you didn't fear dying, it didn't really matter.

It's jarring to feel fear at the idea of losing Keith, even if he's not real. He wants it to be - wants more than anything else, but there's no possible way. Keith's home at the Garrison. Keith would know him. This is a trick, it has to be some sort of trick, and he won't fall for it.

Maybe, if he kills the illusion this will stop. Maybe Haggar wants him to let this go, but killing the ghost is what stops it. For a moment, he dares consider it. It wouldn't take much; his arm is strong enough and a quick enough strike would end it.

But it's Keith.

Keith's always been his biggest weak spot. The hand holding him releases and he can see the distress written on his face in return, hears the whine and that doesn't make sense. Why is he stopping? None of this follows any of the ways that things have happened before and he can't wrap his mind around it. Worse: Keith strokes a hand through his hair, clearly trying to soothe him now. Shiro flinches back from it, pressing himself flat against the wall, shuddering. ]

Tell Haggar I'm not-- I won't play these games. She can't make me kill you. Tell her I'll sooner kill her than help the Galra hurt anyone else.

[synchronized]

What are you talking about? Who is Haggar?

[ never mind the implied threat of killing him; keith has confidence in his own skills, knows that if it comes to it he's not going down so easily. and even if he's incapacitated or killed, the man can't get too far - the hallway may be mostly empty now that this human's the only captive in holding, but right outside is a whole unit of fighters, armed and ready for deployment.

no, what concerns keith right now is that the human may possibly be insane.

just great, he thinks in frustration. the first human he's ever met, and he's suffering from mind sickness thanks to whatever torture and experiments the alteans had put him through. keith lets out another, more angry whine, as the man moves away from his touch in favor of the wall. ]

There is no Haggar here. This is the Blade of Marmora, we fight for the resistance. We're fighting against the Empire, not for it.

[ What did they do to this man? keith reaches out again, carefully and hesitantly, brushing his knuckles against his cheek. ]

If you talk to us, we could help you. I could help you.

[toebeans]

Fake ignorance isn't a good look on anyone.

[ He spits it out because anger is better than fear. Anger's kept him alive, kept him fighting these long months and he won't-- he won't let this, or her break him. It's easier, when Keith, no, no, when it moves back. Shiro doesn't have anywhere to go and he knows that he's baring all of his fears and insecurities in one fell swoop but Haggar knows this about him already. He's always been soft for Keith. Keith's always been his breaking point.

The next part, though - that makes him hesitate. Haggar's never mentioned the Blade. He'd never heard of them, not until the Galra on the ship had rescued him. Patched him up enough to get him moving, and then died saving him. Shiro'd taken the blade because it seemed important but the Galra (God, he never got his name--) had mentioned that. The translators had picked up the Galra and translated it loosely, roughly into the Blade of Marmora. There was no direct translation for Marmora, so he assumed it was something like a deity, or a clan.

Hope isn't something he's felt often, but he'd be a fool to ignore this and not mention it. ]

The ship. There's a blade under the pilot's seat. The Galra who rescued me said he belonged to the Blade.

[ If-- and God, it's a big if, if this is real, he--

You crashed into outpost. You killed people with your ship - good people, with families and children.

He's killed countless people before. Innocents, to save his own life, but never-- not like that. ]

[synchronized]

[ rescued by the blade.

just like that, some of the bigger missing pieces fall into place - how the man found the outpost when it wasn't even registered yet on most of the internal navigation codes, why his arm is galra. it's more detail than they've ever managed to get out of the man since they stuck him in this room. this revelation decides it.

keith straightens and nods at the man. takash... shiro. shiro's easier. ]

Thank you for telling me.

[ he unlatches the pouch on his belt and places it in shiro's hands; it's not quite a peace offering, or a consolation, but it's a decent enough thank you for the information. at least keith's not coming out of this empty-handed - even if the information he's gotten answers absolutely none of the questions he came here. keith pulls on his hood and releases his mask, gives the man one last look before he steps out of the cell. ]

I hope I'll see you again.

[ keith doesn't see him again, however.

he doesn't see or hear from the captive for a while - in fact, he's been grounded. he's on 'recovery suspension', officially, a status reserved for the severely injured and unable to fight, which shames keith in every possible way. it's his punishment for breaking the rules; even his guardian thace had insisted on it, had made the recommendation to kolivan himself. the only reason he's not completely off-duty is the fact that his information on the human had actually checked out.

they contacted an engineer from the resistance to help with the ship - they hadn't been able to open it with the tech they had available in the outpost, and there's reason for concern in using brute force to trigger the ship to open. the worm-like engineer - slav - had worked out a safe means to unlock the ship's security system, and after finding no traps or hidden bombs, as well as disabling the ship's entire communications system, the blades set to work on taking the ship apart.

finding the blade was easy enough - and it is one of their own, but the mysteries had compounded from that point on, because it was ulaz's blade. ulaz, who was still in possession of his own blade, neatly holstered to his hip when he himself found it under the pilot's seat.

an alternate reality, slav had said in an excited flurry, his heavy accent slurring the words even further. the blade and the ship contain traces of quintessence with a different molecular signature from our known universe, with the quantum anomalies of a worm hole. it's a marvelous discovery! he's from another reality!

none of it made much sense to keith, but the bio-organic data they downloaded from the blade's galra ID system leave no doubt. in the absence of evidence pointing otherwise, they have to accept slav's conclusion: the alien in holding is telling the truth.

the blades don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing just yet, but it does get thace talking to keith again.

-

he's still suspended, however. he's restricted from entering the hangars, restricted from the war rooms, and his access to the fighter barracks and training floors have all been curfewed. it's driving keith up a wall from a lack of anything useful to do, to the point that he's started volunteering at the data library just to keep himself busy.

that's how he meets the human again - shiro, keith reminds himself. while shiro is mostly unrestrained, his galra arm is cuffed with a negator and his ankle is ringed by a tracking device, precautions keith can't help but agree with. interestingly, he looks— rested. somewhat. keith finishes off the bashla biscuit he's got sticking out of his mouth and continues to stare. ]

They let you out.

[toebeans]

[ Shiro doesn't answer, tongue frozen in his mouth. Keith hands him the pouch with the leftover grapes in it and leaves-- he leaves and he doesn't know what to do in return. This could still be a trick. Haggar's done awful things before and he hadn't realized it; he'd be a fool to relax now, but nothing...happens.

He's locked in the room for another few days and talked to by various members of this group. One of them looks jarringly like the Galra that rescued him; Shiro recoils from him when he walks past the room, once, stomach dropping to his feet.

Every day that passes brings the joint wonderful-awful knowledge that this might be real. Despite everything, this may be real. There's no Haggar or Druids here. No torture, no fighting. It's the longest he's gone without either to the point that he doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not fighting for his life. He works out, instead. An assortment of push ups, pullups, everything he can think of to exhaust his body so his mind will rest. Now that they know he can understand them at least passably, they try to talk to him again, but he doesn't do more than vaguely entertain it, offering one-word answers.

Keith doesn't come back. The thing wearing his face is still gone. Maybe, it was a hallucination.

It doesn't matter; he doesn't dare ask, and in time, he's told that he's allowed to the common areas of their base. He's given a room with an actual bed. A room that locks. He's given a shower and spends a solid hour in it, curled in a ball under the hot water, shivering. He's given access to food: he squirrels that away in his room, in pouches on his belt. He's given a change of clothes - Galra issue, but this doesn't make his skin crawl. It's draped loose and comfortable. There's no armor to give it form, but the silks against his skin feel positively luxurious after the scratch of his jumpsuit.

He learns the exits and entrances where he can; the Galra around him know he's casing the place but no one stops him. It's entirely by accident that he runs into Keith the next time he's on a walk, counting Galra in here to try and see how many he'd have to fight to get out, trying to track patterns.

Keith stops and stares and before he can stop himself, Shiro touches a hand to his face awkwardly. He'd shaved off the scruff that'd grown in. He hasn't cut his hair, but it's freshly washed, piled in a knot on top of his head, the streak of white obvious but not as jarring any longer when he looks at himself. The updated translator does some good; Shiro can speak English and it's transferred into Galran, but he sticks to Galran for the time being. Better to perfect it now if it's the most common language out there. ]

My story checked out. I have a shadow, but now I get a room and somewhat free reign.

[synchronized]

Your accent is still horrible.

[ now that shiro is clean and mostly groomed, keith can see the distinctive human traits he presents more clearly. the angular jaw he has is so different from keith's own, as are the slant of his eyes compared to keith's. his skin is darker by a shade or two, but it's also a different undertone - a fascinating aspect, when keith considers that the galra have varying hues and striping or spotting as well. outside of the prison clothes, shiro actually looks... good.

strong. sturdy. like a warrior worthy of notice among the galra. even shiro's height is acceptable enough, even if he's somewhat on the short side of the galran average. keith bats away at the momentary spike of envy; this is neither the time nor the place for juvenile thoughts and insecurities.

keith unwinds his braid from around his neck, lets it fall down his back in a slow swing. soon he'll have to cut it to a more acceptable length; kolivan lets him keep it out of respect for thace's paternal instincts, but favoritism is a plague when it's among the ranks, and keith doesn't want to add another mark against him. keith sighs. both thace and ulaz had left to investigate the ship's parts where any accidents won't risk the blades' headquarters.

he resents that he couldn't go, but at the same time... ]

Do you want to sit? [ he deftly pulls up a chair for himself, only to use it as a stepping stool so he could sit on the table. ] I still have a lot more questions if you're willing to talk with me.

[toebeans]

[ It's like seeing a ghost walking around, looking at Keith. You should be home, he thinks, but maybe he is. This isn't the same Keith, despite looking, sounding and seeming like him. His Keith is home, alive and well. This is...he doesn't know. But it's not fake, this...world or universe or whatever is happening doesn't seem to be a hallucination. It's gone on too long to be that and it hurts too much at points to be anything but real.

Somehow, that's also not a comfort.

The Galra shadow he's picked up seems to drift off, content enough that he's got another Blade watching him so it leaves just him and Keith there and idly, Shiro wonders if he has sway here or if it's just that they assume Shiro hasn't tried to do anything so he's less of a threat and more of a nuisance needing watched.

It still makes his skin crawl, being around all the Galra, but they haven't hurt him.

Gingerly, he takes a chair and looks at him - takes in the sight of him in the Blade clothing and thinks how. ]

I don't have anything else to do, so.