Chapter Text
Keith wasn't sure what deity he had pissed off that had decided he was going to die in such a frustrating, pointless fashion. Maybe one of his past lives had been an absolute asshole. It was the only explanation for the shitty series of events that had led up to this.
Kolivan had sent him to Jorastil to assist the planet in getting aid and becoming part of the Coalition, but even before the mission began, Keith had thought this was something better suited for Voltron. The Jorastillions would have been a good ally, with some kind of powerful magic at their disposal, but they were also horribly suspicious and hostile toward Galra. Keith got it, he did, the Galra had done terrible things to their planet. But Kolivan's plan to send the half-Galra who didn't look Galra at all as a sort of gesture of goodwill had been seen as a trick.
Keith had barely even landed when he'd been whacked on the back of the head and woke up somewhere with a cold dampness that spoke of an underground dungeon. He wasn’t chained down at all, which was a relief, but he felt groggy and slow. The only other person in the room with him was a woman sitting in a sort of curved throne. She had his knife in her hand, which meant the only weapons he had at his disposal was his weak body, which didn’t bode well.
“Did you think that we wouldn’t sense your Galra ancestry in a matter of moments?” she asked with a sneer.
“It wasn’t meant to be a trick,” Keith replied, his throat raspy and dry. How long had he been out?
“Of course, because your kind are so open with their intentions. That is to be your punishment, by the way.”
“What?” He wasn’t awake enough for this conversation.
“I will make it plain to everyone in the city what kind of person you are,” she hissed. “All of Jorastil will become your executioner.”
Oh, that didn’t sound good.
Before he could ask her to contact Kolivan, or maybe Voltron, who would confirm that he was there to help, there was a bright light emanating from her fingertips until the entire room was filled with blinding light. Keith screamed; it felt like his entire body was being crushed, bones grinding and breaking, his lungs too small to pull in any air, his skull collapsing inward.
When he opened his eyes, entire body shaking with the memory of the pain, everything felt off. Wrong.
His teeth were too sharp. His vision was blurry and muted. When he tried to get to his feet, his legs felt too short. There was a weird extra limb somewhere that he couldn’t place. And when he looked at his captor, she was suddenly much bigger than she had been before.
No. Fuck, no, she wasn’t bigger. He was smaller.
He opened his mouth to demand what she’d done, but all that came out was a weird squeak. He looked down at his hands only to see black furred paws in their place.
“A cat,” the woman said with a smirk. “The most hated of vermin.”
Keith scrambled to his feet, feeling incredibly unsteady on four legs instead of two, and the weird extra limb (tail, he had a tail now, what the fuck) moved seemingly on its own to try to correct his balance.
The door behind the woman was open now, and Keith didn’t think twice, bolting toward it in an uncoordinated rush. She didn’t make any move to stop him, laughing as Keith ran up a ramp of packed earth and toward the light above ground. He just had to get away. Get away and somehow make it back to his ship or somewhere he could contact the Blade and demand an extraction and…
Contact how exactly? His vocal cords were useless, and he’d never even reach the ship’s console like this.
It didn’t matter. He’d get someplace safe and then consider his options.
He was a mess making his way through the city, wobbly with the unfamiliar shape and assaulted by an improved sense of smell and hearing. He spent a good half hour trying to figure out how to extend his claws before coming to the conclusion that he didn't have any. Whatever stupid version of cat lived on this horrible place was apparently mostly powerless.
Great.
And that was before the beatings started.
The one thing Jorastillions hated more than Galra was apparently cats. Everywhere he went, no matter how unobtrusive he tried to make himself, people were kicking him, picking him up and throwing him, offering him food he could tell was laced with poison. His fur was singed from one particularly aggressive man with a goddamn flamethrower.
Once it became clear that the Jorastillions fully intended to kill him, Keith had tried to make it out of town, figuring the forest surrounding the capital city that he'd seen on his approach would be his best bet. But three day cycles later, he hadn't managed to get more than a mile or so away from his starting point. There were people out at absolutely all hours of the day and very few places to shelter, leaving no chance for Keith to slink away unseen. As it was, he had barely dragged himself into the minimal safety of an alley before he collapsed, tucked pathetically behind some trash and hopefully inconspicuous.
Everything hurt. He hadn't had anything more than rain water to eat and drink since he'd left the Blade. He had burns and cuts, broken ribs, a broken leg, a broken tail, and whatever the space cat version of a concussion was. If anyone from the Blade or Voltron were looking for him, they'd pass right by a mangy alleycat. And even if the transformation was temporary, there would be no help from the locals once he changed back. This was not how he thought he was going to die.
Keith didn't sleep, not really, but things got hazy after a while. It was slightly less painful when everything went grey, so Keith just let himself drift. When he heard heavy footsteps in the alley, it was all he could do to brace himself for more pain. He was too weak to run or fight back.
So it felt like a dream when the steps paused right in front of him and someone gasped instead of shouting abuse at him.
"Oh, what happened to you?"
If Keith had had the energy, he would have leapt up at the voice, but all he could manage was to lift his head weakly, looking up and up and up past black and white armor until his gaze settled on Shiro's face.
Shiro crouched down, stretching out a cautious hand to run over Keith's body, and Keith couldn't help flinching in pain. Did Shiro know…?
"Oh, you poor thing," Shiro whispered.
No, Shiro didn't know. He would make it obvious if he knew. This was just Shiro being Shiro, seeing a helpless creature and immediately wanting to remedy the situation. Taking in strays, just like he had at the Garrison.
Keith tried to yell Shiro's name, but of course all that came out was a pathetic meow.
"I know," Shiro soothed. "Come on, I'll take you somewhere safe." Shiro picked him up, gentler than Keith remembered it was possible for people to be, and then settled Keith into the cradle of his arms. "No, it's not Keith. It's just a cat, but it's hurt bad. I'm taking it back to the Castle."
It took Keith an embarrassing amount of time to realize Shiro was speaking to one of the others over the comms and not to him. Apparently Voltron was out looking for him after all. That was nice.
And then it occurred to Keith that Shiro said he was going to take him back to the Castle, and he was hit with a wave of homesickness so strong that it made him dizzy.
Or maybe that was the concussion.
Either way, this was good. They'd stick him in a pod and maybe that would reverse whatever magic had trapped him in this stupid shape. If not, he'd have time to figure out how to explain. Somehow.
He'd work out the details when he felt less shitty. For now, he could barely think through the relief settling into his mind, making his body lax and useless.
“That’s it, you’re okay,” Shiro cooed. Even if Shiro had no idea the truth of the situation, it was like the instinctual relaxation now that Shiro was taking control of everything was hardwired into Keith. He let himself sink down into the comfort of Shiro’s arms, his mind drifting into a pleasant blankness. By the time he came around, Shiro was already walking through the Castle halls at a quick but smooth pace, on his way to the medbay. The lights were bright, stabbing into his skull, but it was worth it to be back somewhere safe.
Coran was waiting for them when Shiro got to the medbay, several instruments and a blanket already laid out.
“Poor little fellow,” he said as Shiro laid Keith down onto the blanket.
“Yeah. Apparently the Jorastillion government wasn’t kidding when they told us not to bring the Lions because most people are superstitious about cats,” Shiro said angrily. “I mean, look at it, who would do something like this? It’s just…”
“He's been through a lot,” Coran agreed. “But we’ll get you good as new in no time.” This he directed at Keith, a gentle hand petting at his ears, and Keith sighed his thanks.
“I need to get back out there and keep looking. Are you okay here?”
“Of course, Shiro. Go find our boy. Our new friend and I will be just fine here on our own.”
As Shiro left, Coran started waving a few diagnostic tools over Keith, talking all the while. He explained everything he was doing as he went, the point of every gadget, just like he did for the Paladins, and the sense of normalcy was a comfort.
“Alright, little guy,” he said eventually, “you’ve got plenty of injuries, some of which could be hard to take care of. We’re not really set up for broken tails around here. So I’m going to put you in this machine here. It’s going to be cold, and you’re going to fall asleep, but when you wake up, you’ll feel loads better. And we can get you something to eat and drink and a nice little den for you to sleep off the cryo-fog. Sound good?”
It sounded perfect. Keith gave a little mew in response and Coran gently placed him on the floor of the pod. Maybe if his luck held out, this whole thing would be over when he woke up. He had no idea if cryopods could remove magical spells, but if anything could, it would be weird Altean equipment.
Keith woke in a panic, none of his limbs responding and his voice trapped in his throat. He was freezing—it felt like the cold from post-cryo, but everything was dark and he wasn’t awkwardly falling forward like normal.
Oh. Right.
Cat.
“C’mere, little guy,” someone said, effortlessly picking him up off the floor of the pod and transferring him to some kind of heated bed on one of the exam tables. That it was Hunk took a moment to register, but once the name came to him he relaxed. He’d been half-afraid that Shiro and everything else had been a nice dream and he’d wake up back in the alley.
Hunk distracted him by putting a couple of bowls down in front of him. “It was sort of short notice so I couldn’t get anything really fancy ready for you, but here’s some water and some cut up fish that Coran says your scans show isn’t going to poison you or anything.” Like Coran, he spoke as if Keith could understand him, and for a little while Keith entertained the idea that the pod had somehow spat out information letting the others know what was going on, but then Hunk patted his head and cooed about how cute he was and told him about Voltron, so there went that idea.
Still, it was food and water, and Keith wasn’t going to complain, even if it was embarrassing to eat without hands in front of Hunk. The fish was excellent, like anything Hunk prepared, satisfying the hunger that had been gnawing away at him for the past few days, and he washed it down with about half the bowl of water.
“Awww, who’s a good kitty,” Hunk praised, and Keith would have been annoyed at the babyish tone if Hunk hadn’t scratched just under his chin, that perfect spot that Keith hadn’t figured out how to reach on his own. “Now, if you’re anything like we are after cryo, you’re probably going to want to sleep, so I’m just going to leave you alone for now. I’ve got to go and look for my friend, but Coran promises that you shouldn’t be able to get into anything dangerous here without opposable thumbs. So please don’t, you know, open the drawer of scalpels while I’m gone or anything, okay?”
With a last pat to Keith’s head, Hunk was out of the room, ironically looking for Keith after having just left him. But Keith was tired, and the lights clicked off when Hunk left. He had a full belly and a warm bed and he’d figure out how to explain later. They’d all have a good laugh and Allura would do some kind of mystical Altean alchemy and re-transform him and he’d go back to the Blade and inform Kolivan that no one should ever go to Jorastil again.
But a nap first wouldn’t hurt.
He was coaxed awake vargas later by a low voice and a soft touch on the side of his face.
“Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," Shiro whispered. "You're looking a lot better. I'm glad." Shiro continued to pet him until Keith noticed there was a strange rumbling sound. It took Keith longer than it should have to realize it was coming from his own body.
Ah. Purring. Right, that was a cat thing. He had no idea how it had started, and now that he was doing it he had no idea how to stop it, either. But it was honestly soothing, and he could tell Shiro was relaxing as well.
"Thanks, buddy. I needed that. What do you say you come back to my room for the night, huh? I'm not sure I trust you with all the medical equipment here, and I don't really want to be alone right now."
Keith kept purring, which Shiro must have taken for a yes, because he picked up Keith in one hand and the cat bed in his other hand and started down the halls. Everything was dark and quiet—it must have been the middle of the night by castle time.
When they got to Shiro’s room, Keith registered vaguely with senses he didn’t used to have that it smelled like he hadn't been there for at least a few days. He wondered when the last time Shiro had slept was.
Keith was still pondering it when Shiro bent down to set him and his bed on the floor in the corner. If Keith had claws, he would have dug them in and refused to leave Shiro’s arms. But he didn’t have claws, and he was still drowsy, and Shiro easily dislodged him. The heated bed was nice, and Keith considered just rolling with it and staying there. But then Shiro lay down heavily on his own bed and started crying.
He felt…flattered, in a way. He hadn’t expected his disappearance to affect Shiro and the others as much as it clearly had. He looked around the room, but Shiro kept his space pretty minimal. There wasn’t anything he could use to try to explain that Shiro didn’t need to worry about Keith because Keith was right there.
So, next best thing.
It took an embarrassing couple of tries for Keith to get a high enough jump to climb up on the bed, but he made it eventually. Shiro jolted in surprise when Keith crawled against his chest, laughing wetly.
“Hi there,” Shiro said thickly. “Was my crying keeping you from sleep?”
Well, yes, but not the way Shiro meant it. Out of options to express his dismay, Keith went to gently bite Shiro’s hand, realizing half a second too late that he was biting the metal one.
“Oh!” Shiro shouted, yanking his hand back on instinct. “Are you okay?”
Keith blinked a few times and shook his head, but it didn’t feel like he’d done any damage. Both of Shiro’s hands settled around him, rubbing his back and neck.
“Probably a bad idea, buddy. We should get you a chew toy, though. Or something. Do cats like chew toys? I’ve only ever had dogs.” Keith remembered that. He’d met one of the dogs, a big brown mix named Tonkatsu that had slobbered happily all over Keith during the spring break he’d spent with Shiro’s family.
“Okay, little guy. Thanks for getting me out of my head, but you should go back to your bed now.”
Nope. Not happening. Keith tensed up and hissed when Shiro tried to move him, ducking under the covers the moment Shiro released him in shock.
“I mean it,” Shiro said as he searched through the blankets for him. “I have nightmares sometimes. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
Keith replied with a meow he hoped adequately expressed how much he didn’t care about that. Shiro eventually found him, pulling back the blankets with a raised eyebrow. Keith meowed again and stared back.
“Guess we’re at an impasse then,” Shiro said. “Fine, you can stay. But I want you to get out of bed if I seem like I’m having a nightmare, got it?” Keith meowed in agreement, despite having no intention of doing that, and then Shiro shook his head. “What am I even doing, you can’t understand me. Well, hopefully you’re smart enough to get yourself out of danger.”
Keith took that as permission to get comfortable. He snuggled under one of Shiro’s arms, using the other one as a pillow. Against Shiro’s chest like this, he could hear his breathing and heart rate slow down and steady. Tomorrow he’d find a way to explain and fix everything, but for now they could both rest. At least Shiro wasn’t crying anymore.
He was almost asleep when the cruelty of the situation hit him. The first time he’d slept in Shiro’s bed, and he was a goddamn cat.