Chapter Text
His illness has returned.
Shiro tells no one.
He'd hoped his body - the clone body - would have been rid of it. Hoped that with everything terrible the Galra had done to him, too much of which he still couldn't recall, he would have, could have, been granted this one kindness.
But scans and blood work results confirmed otherwise.
The clone bodies just weren't built to last, is his best guess. Grown at an accelerated rate, packed away in stasis like microwave fresh soldiers to be decanted one at a time as needed. They were likely made to last only several years at most. He conjectures that the scientists left the illness as a sort of time triggered self destruct fail safe in the disposable copies of himself.
But ultimately the why doesn't matter. It isn't as if he can ever ask the Galra who orchestrated the details of his current situation. And even if he could, they would likely lie to him. So instead he does what he knows he has to; he plays his role as a leader.
While the Paladins recover from the injuries sustained in their battle and the fall afterwards, he seeks medical care in secret. Sam quickly finds out, as do Matt, and Coran. He swears them to secrecy.
"Please, I don't want them to worry." Shiro doesn't like lying to his friends, or keeping secrets, but he also knows that if any of them knew he was sick, they would want him to stay on Earth. Out of the fight. At least that is his worry.
"Shiro, are you kidding me?! You need to tell them!" The incredulity in Matt's voice is grating. He gestures at his friend in frustration.
"If I tell them, they'll only want me to stay here to be treated instead of going out there and helping them. The Atlas needs me, and Voltron needs the Atlas. Our last battle proved that all too well." The retort shuts up Matt, but the scowl on his face says he doesn't like it.
"Maybe you do need to stay here, son..." Sam is always well meaning, but even he knows he's wrong, and Shiro can tell.
"Sam, you know I can't." Shiro sighs.
"Well you could at least tell them! They deserve to know!" Matt's arms cross over his chest stubbornly, as scowl fixed to his face.
"That I have a terminal illness and probably won't last the year? And what good will it do? They'll only worry. We all have more than enough to worry about already, you know that." He tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, he really did, but some bled through at the edges, in his tone, and the pinch of his eyes.
"Ah, hello Sam! Hello Matt! And Shiro, good afternoon! What's this about something 'terminal'?" Coran sauntered up more chipper and curious than he had reason to be, obviously having overheard the worst part of the conversation from the interested expression on his face.
"Nothing, Coran, just..." Shiro heaved a sigh.
"Just what, my lad?" A patient but curious ginger brow rose expectantly. The look said he already knew.
"Just... please Coran, don't tell Allura. Or anyone." Another sigh, and Shiro felt as if he had even more just waiting to be set free. It was going to be an exhausting day.
"Alright, but allowing for one condition!" The corners of Coran’s mustache tugged up with a well meaning smile.
That... wasn't the sort of reply Shiro had expected. "Uhm... what condition?"
"You fill me in on all the details and allow me to help treat you."
"Coran, you..." Shiro was genuinely taken aback and touched by the kind offer.
"Want to help? Why of course I do!" Coran grinned widely and clapped him on his metal shoulder while Matt blinked in vague surprise and Sam started to smile himself after looking shocked for only a brief moment.
"You know... I think I may have an idea of how you can receive treatment and Captain the Atlas at the same time." Sam's smile morphed slowly into a grin as he made a habitual motion to adjust glasses that he no longer wore, turning the motion into a nose scratch.
"You do?" Shiro and Matt spoke in unison. It was hard to tell which of them was more surprised.
"Well, during Sendak's occupation of Earth, as you know, we were extremely low on supplies, as well as personnel, for obvious reasons. Many of us had to pull double duty and I think I may know just the man for the job. Have you met Lieutenant Curtis?"
"I don't… think so. I haven't heard the name?" Shiro arched a white brow.
"Malcolm Curtis. He's a doctor, but also an excellent communications officer. I also happen to know for certain - and pardon me for not saying more – that he’s excellent at keeping quiet, and keeping secrets. I was going to recommend him for bridge crew on the Atlas, actually."
Coran leapt in before Shiro could even formulate a response. "Why, that's a brilliant idea, Sam! When can you introduce us?"
"Well, if the two of you have time now..." Sam looked obligingly between his longtime friend and the exuberant Altean man.
Shiro sighed in defeat. "I was on my way to the medical wing anyway..."
"Excellent! We'll meet him now then!"
Shiro really needed to ask the ginger Altean where he got all his energy some time.
"And with the combination of Altean, Human, and knowledge from others in the Coalition, I'm certain we can find you a cure!"
Despite the recent bad news, and the momentous trials that he knew lay ahead, Shiro found a small flicker of hope begin to burn within.