Chapter Text
A young black haired man, with curious eyes and an even more curious demeanor hurried along the rain slicked streets.
A cacophony of noise bombarded his ears, the rough patchwork of the city coming alive for the evening; screams and shouts of excitement echoed down the narrow alley. The earlier showers had completely blurred his vision through the riding goggles; neon street signs and bright lights blended together in a loud, obnoxious and indiscernible mass. Despite his best efforts, the man could feel his breathing becoming shallower.
The back alleys were still thankfully devoid of any unwanted strangers. Only the distant rumble of the city could be heard, trickling through the narrow passages, like water down a drain. He skidded to a halt.
“Keith. You’re late.”
“Save it for later Shiro, I don’t want to deal with this right now.”
The aforementioned Shiro stood in the doorway of a dilapidated townhouse, his dark silhouette eclipsing the warm light from within. He sighed and moved aside. Keith slipped past him into the belly of the house, Shiro following him as the door clicked shut behind them.
“You look tired.” The older man’s face was creased in familiar worry.
Keith snorted. “ Yeah, yeah. I know.”
He pulled down his steamy goggles, exposing the cluttered space in front of him. Unsurprisingly, the entire rusty mish-mash of a kitchen gave of a rather sorry air. There seemed to be hardly any space to breathe and yet still enough room for that god awful mustard wallpaper. Keith had done his best to cover it up with as many newspaper clippings, pictures and even gum wrappers as he could; his effort was still futile. The mould still peeked through.
“Want some? Pidge radioed over and told me you had some trouble with the drones again.” Shiro held what looked like two mugs of coffee but for all Keith knew, they could have been two mugs of cat piss. He shrugged
“Yeah,” Keith said ruefully, accepting the mug from Shiro, “they're sticking their goddamn artificial noses into everything again. Can’t even treat patients properly without one of those bastards claiming it’s a breach of protocol.” He strode over to the tiny kitchen table, pushed up against the window. The sunset was always such an odd colour.
“Yeah, she said something about unlicensed drug administration, sounded kind of worried. ”
“No shit, they don’t even let us get licences. What in the fuck are we supposed to do? Operate without anaesthetic. I don’t have the balls for that.”
Shiro grimaced as he sat down opposite Keith on one of the rickety old stools. “Yeah, I get it, but you made a very risky move shutting them down. Taking direct action can lead to arrest, you know. That is the last thing we need right now.”
“I know, but it was the only thing I could think of.” Keith looked out of the window, eyes training along the smoggy skyline.
“Your gonna get yourself killed oneday, honestly. Did you check up on Pidge?”
“I told her she shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t a good idea, bringing someone so young along.”
“Keith. She doesn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. She’s cooped up in here all day long, nothing except that janky old computer to keep her company.”
“Well maybe it’s better that way. She should have gone to see Hunk instead.”
“Keith.”
The younger man looked up, staring at his brother’s tired eyes, creased around the edges from constant worry, hair white from the neverending stress. Keith and stress seemed to be a package deal, you couldn’t have one without dragging the other along. The burden seemed to weigh so heavily on his brother’s shoulders. Keith could feel the guilt deep in the pit of his stomach.
“I know. I really do and- “ Keith paused, cradling the mug in his still gloved hands, ''she's so great with the patients, Shiro. You should have seen her, knows exactly what she’s doing and all that but-”
“I know she’s young Keith, but we need more people who can handle the drones.”
“She’s a child. Just a goddamn child. It’s sick.”
“Well, that’s life right now Keith.”
“Whatever, let me take a look at your arm.”
Shiro got up reluctantly and followed Keith to the neighbouring room, where he sat down on the edge of a grey mattress balanced on top of four cinder blocks. Shiro fondly referred to it as a bed while Keith rightly said it was as comfortable block of cement. Keith was correct, of course.
“Has it been aching recently?” Keith asked as he pulled off his black riding gloves and took out a pair of blue surgical ones from the cabinet above the bed. He critically examined the bandaged stump where Shiro’s arm had once been. Keith made quick work of the bandages, unwrapping them with ease.
“Not really, no.”
“I already administered something for the inflammation, right?”
“Yeah. I took the pills this morning.”
“Good. I’m surprised it’s healing this way, I thought we’d have problems with hardening arteries but you seem to be in the clear.” Keith gently inspected the healing scar tissue, taking care not to prod anything too harshly.
Shiro had always said Keith was kinder with his patients. Ever since he was a boy, Keith’s tongue had been harsh and abrasive, his short temper was quick to anger his normal peers. And yet in the hospital, he was a saint. Shiro had always been the milder one, the sensible one who took Keith with him after the Gate Accident left the remains of the Earth fragmented and shattered. He had given Keith a home and Keith was grateful for that. Despite this, he still seemed a little cold at times.
“Keith, you should eat. I can redo the bandages myself, don’t worry too much about it.” Shiro said gently.
With a resigned sigh, Keith strode back over to the kitchen in two quick steps; as usual the fridge was empty.
“Shiro did you send the EVA to pick up rations this morning?”
“It’s broken again, I asked Pidge and Hunk to take a look at it but they haven’t had time yet.” Shiro called from the other room; Keith massaged his temples in frustration and closed the fridge’s beige door.
On top of the ugly thing was an old TV. It was a relic really, a remnant from Earth’s 20th century past and was barely compatible with the Galran tech that was everywhere. Pidge somehow seemed to make everything work. Keith prodded the on button and flopped onto the threadbare sofa opposite the kitchen table.
“I don’t see why we can’t just pick up the rations ourselves. What difference does it make if that stupid machine picks it up or not.”
“Protocol, Keith. It’s just protocol.”
“They just don’t want us to see where they’re getting the supplies from. “ Keith added absentmindedly, rummaging through his pockets for any left over ration bars, while he contemplated the news announcers on the screen. “Half the fucking time, the goddamn politicians are yapping on about this sorry ass planet dying of ‘over population’ and still those Galrans have enough fucking food. And we have crumbs, tell me how that makes sense, huh? Shiro?”
“You know why Keith. We’re as good as unwanted here.” Shiro joined Keith on the sofa; the old thing sagged under their weight.
“I want to go home, Shiro.”
“Me too.”
Three sharp knocks on the front door broke their sombre contemplation; Shiro dragged himself to the door and punched in the code onto a silver side panel next to the door.
“Oh, hello-”
“You know, Keith I can’t believe you just left me there to deal with the drones, asshole. They almost shot me!”
Keith looked up dumbly, mid chew through a spare ration bar. His eyes had been glued to another misleading reportage on the ‘population crisis’ when Pidge Gunderson had barged into his relatively peaceful living room.
“Oh hey Pidge- look I’m so-”
“Sorry? Don’t think too hard about it, Kogane, you’ll short circuit. I get it, you still need me there for my superior intellect. You can beg for forgiveness later.” The young girl grinned smugly, pulling off her heavy boots and shucking off her huge jacket. She borrowed it from Keith but it really was much too big for her.
“When’s Hunk gonna get here?” Pidge perched herself on the rickety kitchen stool, picking out dust from behind her nails.
“Not sure.” Shiro mumbled from his position on the sofa.
“He finishes at nine but that bitch Dayak might keep him later. Boy can she cook but damn is she sadistic.” Keith replied with a shake of his head.
They all shuddered in unison. Hunk’s boss was terrifying but for a human like Hunk and the rest of them, that kind of high pay was hard to come by. Quitting was out of the question. Alas, they had no choice.
The TV droned on and on, the noise washing them in awfully produced propaganda and self help machine adverts. The room was silent once again.
“Pidge, you should sleep.” Keith said; her eyes were drooping with fatigue. Even her glasses had slipped off her nose.
“Nuh uh, I’m waiting for Hunk.” Her words were slurred and saturated with sleep. There was no way she was staying awake for more than two minutes.
“Pidge, you’re still growing! You’ll be a gremlin forever, a tiny midget! You won’t ever be able to ride a speeder!” Keith’s attempt to rile her up had the desired effect.
“Shut the fuck up, hotshot. No one cares. You’re barely the minimum height anyway.”
“Low blow, pigeon, low blow,” mumbled Keith.
“There aren’t any pigeons on this planet, Keith.”
“Ok.” Shiro reluctantly stood up, cutting Keith off. He surveyed both of their sleepy faces. “I think it’s time both of you go to bed. You’ve had a stressful day with the drones and such. There’s no point staying up for Hunk, I’ll wait for him, don’t worry.”
An angry mumble came from Pidge’s direction but Keith had already gotten up, making his way to the ‘cinderblock bedroom’, dragging his feet as he went. In the corner of the tiny room, there was an old rickety cupboard, which housed a threadbare futon that Keith always slept on. He refused to let Pidge sleep anywhere near the floor. It was out of the question. With a yawn, he pulled out the sorry thing, rolling it out on the wooden floor boards, parallel to the sorry excuse for a bed.
“Hey Keith.”
“Hmm?” Keith turned to see Pidge standing behind him, blanket it hand. Her hair was standing on end.
“Sorry about today. You know, getting in the way and all that.”
“Take a leaf out of your own book, pidgeon. Don’t think too hard about it.” Keith answered with a sigh, flopping back onto the futon. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. There was new mould up there - great. “It’s not your fault anyway.”
“Yeah.”
Pidge had plopped herself onto the bed, her blanket pulled tight around her narrow shoulders. Shifting slightly, Keith turned to face the little girl.
“Go to sleep Pidge, you need it.”
Pidge smiled slightly and took off her glasses, placing them on the tiny window sill.
“Goodnight, hotshot.”
“Goodnight, pidgeon.”
If you went back into the living room, you’d find Shiro passed out on the couch, mouth ajar and hands tightly wrapped around the nearest cushion. The sun had already set by now, city lights illuminating his face and tired creases in a neon glow. Hunk would return after a few hours and flop down onto the other threadbare futon, rolled out on the living room floor by Shiro. The air was never cold on Daibazal but all four of them felt the need to wrap themselves up in a blanket, in some sort of familiarity. As if something was missing.
Just outside their crumbling townhouse, unease and restlessness was settling into the bones of the population. Hushed whispers and discreet glances carried the news of escape, of the promised land. However, even those who believed could not even hope to realise this wish for revolution.