who: Alice Quinn & Takashi 'Shiro' Shirogane when: July 1st, Evening, Immediately after this where: The Holt Residence What: Alice finds out the whole truth about what's happened and it causes her walls to come down. warnings: Spoilers for Magicans Season 3 & Voltron Season 6. Discussion of deaths, limb loss, and depression. status: Complete.
Shiro died.
That piece of information was on cycle in her mind. Over and over the words tumbled around and still they didn't get any closer to comprehension for Alice. It wasn't something she had ever given a moment of thought. How was it that Shiro, strong and present and full of life, could cease to be anything but that? It did not compute.
And he'd known. He must have known when she saw him last. He'd known and not a word had been passed. His non answers have cycling back to her. She had no right to any answers from him and she'd read them as reluctance to share, which she couldn't fault him. She'd built those walls between them and found herself not liking it when the tables were turned. But she wasn't strong enough with this information to be understanding or calm. The absurdity of a world where he'd perished was fueling fire inside of her, coals being fed to the flame of a girl used to losing those she cared for. The fire was being shown as anger when she finally saw him but it was only a mask for the fear and sudden grief. With the door open, and him now in front of her, she didn't wait to see if they were alone or if it was a bad time.
"You lost a lot? A lot happened physically?" She repeated, voice loud and full of multiple emotions.
…
Shiro hadn't exactly expected to see Alice at the Holt residence again any time soon. So it was a surprise when he opened the door and there she was, brimming with more emotion than he had seen from her in a long time.
Someone had told her more of the story, which didn't really come as a surprise. He also hadn't told the paladins they couldn't repeat what he had shared.
Still, he hadn't expected this level of upset from Alice, who had been building walls between them for weeks now.
“Yes,” Shiro answered, if a bit flatly.
…
She stared at him with the answer doing nothing to simmer down the heat in her gaze. She did not process her grief well. The last time she had needed to, she'd thrown Quentin across the deck of the cruise ship, and she'd been confined in the hold for her actions. Now she was staring at him with her fists balled by her side as her small frame shook.
And a moment later, she relaxed her fists, took a step forward and shoved against his chest.
…
Shiro stumbled backward a little at the shove - more so because he still wasn't entirely accustomed to his new center of balance.
Still, he didn't entirely know what to do to help her in this moment. In the past,he would have hugged her. He still thought about it.
“It's all right,” he told her instead.
…
She watched him stumble and there was a flicker of a thought to reach out and grab him should he actually fall, even though it would have been from her doing. He did not fall though and she stood with outstretched hands for a moment later before they dropped to her side.
Her brows furrowed and her head shook. "How is it alright?" He was standing here now. He was alive and there and present. But it did not make it alright. It still had happened.
…
“Because it just is,” Shiro said, tired. “No one can change what happened and I'm lucky they brought me back at all.”
There had been so many opportunities for things to go wrong. Kuron and Haggar could have succeeded. Keith could have just never heard him and he could have been trapped in the Black Lion for forever. There could have been no body for him to go back to. Allura could have not known how to transfer his spirit out of the Black Lion.
He knew how badly this hurt, but it could have been a lot worse.
…
"Not being able to change it doesn't make it all right," she tossed back, with a crack of a sound coming through with the end of the words. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, appearing for a moment even more angry because of the sound and the way her eyes were beginning to glisten.
She pulled in a shaky breath and dared to open her eyes to look at him. Only, doing so had made it worse, for her face crumbled and in an instant, she was bowing her head to allow her hair to shield her. A hand came up to try and cover the rest of her face.
It was too much. Everything had been too much this past month and she had been keeping it together until now. But this was the shattering of the dam and she sucked in another breath. It wasn't alright. Anything could have gone wrong and made it so he couldn't have been brought back. He was lucky but that didn't stop the what-ifs.
And a what if of Shiro being gone was a what if that was too much for her.
…
Shiro couldn't stay where he was when he saw her on the verge of tears. He wouldn't have been able to do that with anyone, but especially not her.
He crossed the small distance between them and gently rested his hand on the back of her head, close to holding her but giving her enough room to pull away from him if that was actually what she needed.
“Alice,” he said softly. “I don't know what to say to you right now.”
…
Her hand fell from her face, right to her side, and on instinct it reached out as if she could take hold of the hand she expected to be by his side. Mechanical or otherwise. When she didn't feel anything there to take hold, and the reminder kicked in, she let out a small unrecognizable sound.
And without thinking, without acknowledging the walls or what was or was not acceptable anymore, she took a step forward to press her face to his chest. Perhaps it would catch up with her soon that this was unfair of her. She gave up this right. She shouldn't have even shown here.
But she wasn't lying when she told him that her feelings for him had not changed. They were present and a part of her and she had been trying to push them out of her mind and out of her heart. Still, fair or not, she was here now and she could breathe in the familiar scent of him. He had spoken and his words were fair. But she didn't know what to say either.
A shaky breath came once again and she swallowed hard, trying to will herself to pull away and bring the walls back to form.
…
Shiro’s throat went tight when he felt her reach down and make such a vulnerable noise. He knew what she was doing, and he so nearly apologized. It hurt. It made him feel more uncertain than ever.
But there was also nothing he could do but hold her when she came closer. He knew even then that eventually she would pull away and put that wall back up, and this would all hurt even more than before.
He stared out over the top of her head, willing himself not to cry.
…
She couldn't do it. She couldn't summon the strength. An entire month she had been trying to be laser focused and be strong for her entire community without them knowing she was doing so. She had focused on that above else and she had tried to cope alone. But she couldn't do it anymore. At least not yet. She breathed out against his chest and a sob rocked from her.
Her arms were wrapping around his middle then and she began to mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She was sorry for the walls. She was sorry for pulling away. She was sorry for the portal messing up something she hadn't wanted to let go of. She was sorry she was putting him in this position. And she was sorry for all he had gone through.
…
Shiro quietly stroked the back of her head, letting her work through whatever it was that was assailing her. He quietly suspected that it was more than just the news of his death, and tied more closely to whatever it was that she had been refusing to share. And he was still limited in what he could do to help her.
He made a quieting noise against the top of her head, not quite a kiss, but close enough that it might as well have been.
“You’re okay, Alice,” he said softly.
…
A whimper escaped from her moments after he had made the sound.
You're okay, Alice.
She hadn't felt okay for a long time. It was hard to allow those words to carry weight and to be true. But she had once been able to find solace here and to feel as if maybe, perhaps for a little while, things could be okay. Only, he shouldn't be the one telling her this. He was the one who had just gone through so much.
Swallowing, she remained there for a few more moments, focusing on the sound of his heart beating in his chest. It was calming with what information had made her come here in the first place. Slowly, after some time, she pulled back and turned her gaze up at him. She didn't know quite what to say as she was being torn between what she knew she ought to do (apologize and retreat) and what she wanted to do (apologize and stay).
…
Shiro continued to hold her, overly aware of how powerless he felt. He wished he could make things be okay with her, but he knew that wasn’t the case.
When she pulled away, he looked down at her and smoothed some of her hair away from her face.
“You’re okay,” he said again, quietly, more as if he was trying to convince her rather than tell her.
…
This type of display wasn't something she was proud of or accustomed to. While she was prone to downswings with her moods, she wasn't prone to tears, and so she had an apologetic look simply from the display of her grief. Still, with her face pulled back and a moment to catch her breath, the tears were coming to a halt.
She wanted to turn toward his hand but she restrained herself from that desire.
"I'm sorry I came at you," she whispered, voice now hoarse, and the meaning being able to be taken as either coming to the house or the shove. "I can go."
She didn't want to and the hesitation was practically displayed upon her face.
…
“Would you consider staying?” Shiro asked softly. He wanted her to -- he wanted her to keep staying, and he wanted them to keep being them. But he knew that it had to be her decision. She had so much going on so if she came to the conclusion that she needed to let everything go again, there was nothing that he could but respect that. But in this moment he also had to ask -- was she really that sure?
…
There was a sense of relief from the question and there was a feeling almost like coming home. She knew it wasn't the decision she had talked herself into, over the course of weeks, but it was what she wanted. There was the slightest nod from her.
She didn't want to go.
"I want to stay."” …
He still wasn't sure what to say because she said that she wanted to but that didn't mean she would.
“It's your choice,” Shiro said. “But I want you to stay.”
…
She wasn't going to go. It was an invitation and a request and it was entirely what she wanted, regardless of what she thought was better. "I'm staying, Shiro," she said, with clarity, so that it was clear she was making a choice.
She reached up and let her hand, cautiously, move to press against his cheek as she kept her gaze upon him.
…
Shiro nodded, not sure if he was relieved or more scared to get hurt again. A little bit of both, because he knew that just because she was making this decision in this moment of heightened emotion didn’t necessarily mean anything later. But he would take it for now.
He leaned a little into the press of her hand.
“Do you want to hear everything?” he asked.
...
She let her hand linger upon his cheek once he pressed against it. She knew the answer to the question. She did want to hear everything. She was frightened of the answers, knowing they were going to be tied to what had upset her so, but she needed to hear it all and from him.
She nodded her head. "Can we go inside and then tell me?"
…
“Of course,” Shiro said, stepping back to allow her properly inside. It was hard to pull away and stop touching her, as if once they were separated again, she would suddenly remember the decision she had made.
“Do you want anything?” he asked, trying to make this feel marginally more normal.
...
She pulled her hand back when he stepped back. Stepping inside, there was a glance, wondering if Matt or Pidge had been home for any of that. She pushed the thought from her mind and let her gaze move back to him.
"No," she said. She wasn't sure where he would want to talk so she waited, bringing her hand up to pull her glasses off. She folded them in her hand for now. She couldn't see through them if she tried at the moment.
...
He thought his bedroom was a little too fraught with memories and connotations, the living room a little too open, so Shiro led her back into the kitchen. While she had said didn’t want anything, he poured himself a glass of water, figuring that the kitchen would have good distractions on hand should they need it.
He breathed in a little, trying to sort out his thoughts, which always felt jumbled when he told this story.
“When I first arrived in Tumbleweed, I came from very end of a big fight the team had been in,” Shiro said. “The team said I went missing after that fight, but I didn’t. I died at the end of it. My physical body was destroyed, and the Black Lion retained everything else inside of her. I really don’t know how long I was like that. Time sort of lost meaning, and it took effort to keep myself in the for or something near human. I tried reaching out to Keith and the team, but I guess I just wasn’t strong enough.
“Suddenly, though, there was someone new trying to pilot the Black Lion. He was part of a project that our enemy called Kuron. He was close of me. He didn’t know that he was and he didn’t mean the team any harm, but…” he drifted off for a moment. “But he hurt them very badly all the same.”
Shiro’s voice went tight and he had to look away as he continued to speak.
“He loaded code from his arm into the castle that was designed to overcome Pidge’s hacking and destroy the castle,” Shiro said. “And -- and he lured Keith into fight. He said the most awful things,” his hand rose faintly up to where Kuron had marked Keith’s face, likely permanently.
“Keith got him off by using the black bayard as a sword and destroying the arm,” Shiro said. “And when he was back with Black, his connection was strong, and I was able to reach him.” His heart brimmed with warmth at this part, because he knew how hard that had been for Keith, but he’d revealed the greatness that Shiro had always known was inside of him. He had gone through each of those crises like a work of art.
“Keith told the others were I was,” Shiro said. “Allura was able to transfer my spirit out of the Black Lion and into what remained of the clone.”
…
She followed him into the kitchen. It felt just as open as any space in this house that did not contain a door. She had no reason to think an encounter with his roommates would end badly but that didn't mean she wanted to talk to them at the moment. He was her priority and focus. Still, she moved to take a seat at the table, specifically choosing a chair that would allow for her to have the table between her and Shiro. She quickly moved to clean her lenses of her glasses so she could put them on without the tear stains and be able to see him.
She had known some of this. The battle and the Team's beliefs were all pieces of knowledge she had contained for a long time. It had become her belief as well. However, hearing the true outcome of the battle made her throat tighten once again. That was so long ago from the perspective of his team mates, wasn't it? That meant that he had been in the black lion for ages. He was saying as much but her mind had already made that conclusion. In response, she brought her hands together, clutching them tight.
"A clone." It wasn't a question or even an observation. It was stated as an understanding or a piece of information that she was trying to process. She had been so fixated upon the obvious changes that she hadn't taken time to examine if he had undergone any more than just the hair or the arm. Did he have the same scars as before? Did he have new ones?
Mayakovsky had built her a new body. She had tried to build one for Penny. Both her own and Penny's had gone up in flame. And she suspected that like her own, she would not have been able to make Penny's completely identical. It would have been close but not precise. Of course, for Shiro, hers had always been this way.
Her lips parted as if to say something on that. "If he didn't mean any harm, and he didn't know, why did he attack Keith?" Something must have changed. It had to have. Then she nodded. She had not known Allura was capable of something such as that. In that moment, Alice was grateful for Allura more than she had ever been before.
"How long have you been out of the lion?" She knew memories could end abruptly. It was possible he had just been transferred from the black lion into the clones body and he was only just now beginning to cope with that transition.
…
“A clone,” Shiro repeated, but he suddenly had the bizarre impulse to laugh. He barely managed to quell it -- it was just that, this was all so ridiculous. This wasn’t supposed to be his life. He had just wanted to fly things -- he had wanted to see the vastness of the universe, but he had never expected to find more than bacteria and single-cell organisms on other planets. What had happened to him was so far beyond his level of comprehension that he was beginning to be unable to cope entirely if he looked at the big picture. He had been cloned.
But whatever hysterics were building up in Shiro were dashed at the mention of Keith.
“Haggar told him to,” Shiro said, voice strained. “She had a sort of rising level of control over him, and she told him to get rid of the team.” He knew that was never going to stop hurting, that Haggar had used the trust they had for each other against them.
“A couple of minutes,” he answered.
…
Alice couldn't recall the name of 'Haggar' but that wasn't important. What was important was that someone had been able to control the clone, Kuron, and had intercepted the team to do harm against them. For a moment, she turned her gaze away from him, over her shoulder and off into the distance of the house, almost as if she was looking for the rest of the Paladins. Keith, Lance, Hunk and Pidge. Whomever this Haggar was had used their family against one another. Her eyes shut and she bowed her head for a moment, feeling a swell of sadness for his loved ones.
Only, then her other question was being answered, and she lifted her head and opened her eyes to gaze upon him.
He hadn't had time to cope. He'd been thrust the memory of all that had happened to him but the portal hadn't been kind enough to give him a memory of learning to live with the new body. She found that it wasn't a surprise to her.
After all?
It had done the same to her.
Scooting the chair back, she was on her feet in an instant and moving for him. She came up, tilted her head back, and rested a hand on his arm.
…
Shiro stilled when she came near him and touched him again. He didn’t exactly know what that meant.
All he knew was how entirely uncertain of himself he suddenly. He was grateful to be alive -- and that was the only thing he’d been feeling when he’d gleaned these new memories. Profound exhaustion and gratitude.
But here it was a little more complex, especially because he hadn’t spent all that time in the Black Lion. He’d also been in Tumbleweed, healing. And a lot of that healing had been with Alice. Especially in regard to reacquainting himself with a body that the Galra had turned against him.
Now, here he was, in a body that was even more unfamiliar and even more weaponized, and he was shy about it again, a little scared.
He didn’t know who he was supposed to be anymore -- Garrison cadet, Kerberos pilot, Black paladin. They were all gone to an extent, and he was just left with the remains of each.
He wanted to tell her that he missed her, because he did. He missed her so much because she had been gone for weeks, and he missed the way it felt to be around her. But he didn’t say it, not just yet, because it didn’t seem fair to guilt her into whatever was happening right now.
…
She wasn't sure what to offer to help him this close to the event. She'd had a few days herself before she was dropped down in the Texan desert in a Pod. Those days before her arrival in this universe were spent in a fevered attempt to retain information from her formless life as a Niffin. She no longer could feel the fire of herself but she acted just as heated in every interaction. She was unpleasant, angry, and resentful. She felt tethered to a form and a life she did not want. That anger had come with her to Texas and Shiro had been one of the very first she spoke with that wasn't from Brakebills. She recalled how the anger wasn't there for him or for Max or any else who had extended a hand towards her in welcome.
But he'd been a stranger then. How could she give him everything he'd given her now? When they were no longer strangers and she'd build a wall between them. She didn't even know what to call them any longer.
Her hand let go of his arm but she did not step out of his space and instead brought her hand up to press against his chest. "Still you," she said simply enough. The Black Lion had rescued his shade, given it a vessel to be contained in, until the others could do the rest. Allura gave him a form. But it was his shade that made him who he was.
…
“Am I?” Shiro asked, unable to hide how tired he was. He didn’t know if that was true. Everything had changed about him -- everything he had thought he had believed. He had loved the vastness of the universe and everything there was to be discovered when he had left Earth. Now, he merely wanted to love the entirety of the universe, but he knew he didn’t. Not anymore. There were parts he was weary about, parts he wished he didn’t know.
He had discovered the same about himself. He hadn’t thought himself capable of killing -- but here they were, and Shiro had learned that there were a great many things he would do to survive.
If everything about him had changed, emotionally, mentally, and physically, what was left that mattered?
...
"It won't feel like it for awhile," she admitted. She couldn't say how long it would take but she now understood that it wouldn't be forever. It had taken her awhile to feel as though she was herself once again, both here and back home, but it had happened. It would happen for him and she was confident in this.
"Others see it better," she added, as an afterthought. She was referring, in his case, to those who would be around him the most. The paladins, the princess and Matt. Her fingers flexed against his shirt as she considered this. She could see it but she wasn't supposed to be around.
And yet here she was.
"Still you," she repeated again, spoken as if it was a promise.
…
It was strange, the similarities they had sometimes when, with their backgrounds and their worlds, there really shouldn’t have been that many.
Everything inside of him strained at her words, and he gave into his selfishness.
“I miss you,” he said, the words so soft they were barely there. He lifted his hand and pressed it to the side of her face, overtly aware that such a blunt statement might lead to her running away again.
...
The similarities were painfully aware to Alice at present. They were traumas that she wouldn't have ever entertained as possible for him to have to endure. Her largest concern, until this weekend, had been that the threats of her world would come through and would cause him pain because of who he was to her. It had never been a thought that something so horribly familiar would happen to him back home in his universe.
She shut her eyes and exhaled softly with his words. She knew this without it having to be spoken. She'd known it before she had pulled away from him the week prior.
She leaned into the touch. "You shouldn't," she whispered. It would be better for them both if he didn't. It would make it easier to keep away. Knowing he did, and knowing she felt the same, only made it feel damn near impossible to stay away.
…
“But I do,” he said quietly, a sad smile on his face as he smoothed a thumb across her cheek. It probably would have been better for both of them if he had been able to give her up more easily or if he had gotten angry when she had decided to break up with them. But that wasn’t the case. He was just more worried now, because he wasn’t in a position to help her and he knew that she needed help.
…
"I know," she whispered as her hand came up to rest over top of his, wanting to feel it against her own, and to hold it in place against her cheek. She missed him. Holding his hand still, she turned just enough to press her lips delicately to his open palm, before opening her eyes to look up at him.
…
Shiro just watched her, letting his heart ache, because he didn’t know what she meant by all this. He didn’t know if she would stay or go -- if she would ask him to let her go again. Maybe she didn’t even know in this moment, which he suspected was the closest thing to the truth.
…
She let the silence creep in and allowed it to stay for awhile, as she held his gaze. Then she sucked in her lips and used her hand to guide his off of her cheek, lowering it down between them, though hers did not let go of his. She looked him straight in the eye now.
"I forgave Quentin back home." It was an admission. A piece of information that she'd been withholding for ages now. It, along with all the other memories, were what had started the void. "And there is something that could come here. If it does, it is coming for me and the others, and it likes to play games. It would taunt us. It would hurt the people we care about."
…
There it was. The information that Shiro had half begged her for when she had broken up with him -- what she had refused to share with him. He paused at the admission about Quentin, because that was something he’d always tried to give her a bit of distance on, because he knew that she had a lot of complicated feelings when it came to him.
He paused, trying to figure out how to respectfully ask his next question.
“How does that change how you feel about him here?” Shiro asked. It would still hurt to know that she was going to be with someone else, but at least it would make more sense to know that she had memories of feelings from him and she couldn’t deny them here.
“That doesn’t scare me,” he said, although he suspected Alice wished it would. “And if you still care about me even if we’re not together, does that make me less of a target?”
…
"I love Quentin," she said, with the thought that perhaps it was cruel to continue holding Shiro's hand as she said this, but she didn't let it go and she didn't look away from him. Only, she didn't leave it at that. It wasn't that simple. "I didn't ask for that memory here," she added. It made things unnecessarily complicated for her here. She had a vision of how she wanted her life in Tumbleweed to be the night before she'd received her memories the month prior.
Free to spend her hours with her nose pressed into the texts from Brakebills, feverishly trying to increase her knowledge base, before spending hours in the company of Shiro. That wasn't how things were now.
She wetted her lips. "It wasn't something I was pursuing at home. I only told him because I didn't want it to go unsaid before I..." And then she cut herself off, because she realized she was so close to admitting the mistake she had made. Was it wrong to admit it to him? "...was gone." It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the full truth of it. "And here? I wanted you, Shiro. It just...it's there now, in my heart. I wasn't planning on doing anything with it but I didn't think it was fair to you."
She hadn't had the chance to speak with Quentin. There was a part of her that wanted him to know she forgave him, and that she did care for him, because they'd been on such turbulent waters back home even though they'd managed to get along better here. But she didn't want anything from him. More than anything, she was frustrated that this wrinkle had been thrown at her to make what she did want complicated.
"It scares me," she admitted. She almost gave a shrug of her shoulders. "I thought, maybe, it wouldn't be as obvious."
…
Shiro listened as she spoke, trying to suss out exactly how he felt that she had feelings for someone else -- someone that was here. It did hurt -- he couldn’t deny that. But he also understood because, as he had noted, her relationship with Quentin had never been simple in the entire time he had known her. He’d had something of an understanding of what he was getting into there.
And in the end, he also knew people weren’t perfect and emotions weren’t black and white. He understood feeling one way -- he was more interested in how she acted on those now. Because she had said she wanted, not want.
“If you want to be with him here, I understand that,” Shiro said, words measured. “Or if you just want time to figure out how you feel. I just … I wish you had told me, Alice. I know it’s not easy.”
...
She shook her head in response to that. Her relationship with Quentin in Tumbleweed had finally reached a point where she felt like she had her friend back. She was fairly certain that had some to do with his memories he'd received. She had been observant enough to know that when he'd received his memories, he'd been pulled out of the depression he'd been in for months. The depression, she knew, that had been tied to the distance she'd put in place from not wanting to restart things.
And she also knew she wasn't the person Quentin loved. This wasn't information she had back home at Brakebills, but it was information she had here. And she wasn't sure she wanted to be, not with her memories of her life here.
"I've been trying to figure out how I feel about him with my memories of here," she explained, "But that wasn't the primary reason I left." It was a factor. It was one of many. But the largest was her fear of what could happen to Shiro should the Creature ever arrive. It was only now that she looked down at the ground.
"There was so much," she whispered, as way of explanation, and of saying that what she had said wasn't anywhere near all of it. "It is overwhelming." It didn't make it right that she'd not told him but it was an attempt at explanation.
…
He understood that better now, being on the other side of having a massive amount of traumatic information dumped into his brain.
“Why did you feel like you couldn’t share it with anyone?” he asked, stroking his fingers gently through her hair. It had -- and still did -- make him sad that she felt she had to carry everything by herself. He wished that she could have talked with him, of course, but it worried him that she hadn’t seemed to want to share with anyone.
…
There was a stillness that washed over her with that question. She knew the answer but knowing and saying it outloud were two very different things. But his presence and touch were calming. She swallowed, "I'm ashamed of what I did."
…
It was his turn not to have the right words to comfort her. He didn’t know the entirety of what she had done, but he knew that it broke his heart to hear her say those words -- that somehow, because of whatever she had done, she felt she didn’t deserve the love or support of anyone around her.
He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
...
She sucked in a breath and pressed her lips into a line with the feel of his lips to her temple. She didn't feel like she deserved understanding or compassion in that moment but she wasn't going to push it away.
"I don't want to miss you anymore," she said, faintly, throat tight. It was completely irrelevant to her shame but it was a truth in a night of many.
…
“Then be here with me,” Shiro said, his lips still pressed up against her temple. He knew it wasn’t a simple thing to ask, because he knew she was afraid of being open right now -- and that was what he asking of her. That’s what they needed to no longer miss each other. They needed to not only be physically close but emotionally and mentally, and it was the last two that had dropped away before the first.
…
Feeling him speak the words against her, her hand slid up once again to rest on his chest, though it ended with her fingers twisting into the fabric. "Are you sure?" She wouldn't have blamed him if he wasn't. She'd given him every reason not to be. Only, he was saying those words and she wanted him to be sure. She wanted to get back to building memories of this world. Her concerns from the other, which were still so valid, had hit a wall. He'd said it perfectly.
How was her staying away making him any less of a target when he was still in her heart?
She turned her head back up to look at him.
…
“I’m sure,” Shiro answered, looking back down at her unflinchingly. He hadn’t wanted to lose her in the first place. He’d dealt, more or less, because he’d had to, because that’s what she wanted.
But if he had the chance of being in this world and figuring out who Shiro was after everything he had been through, he’d rather do it with Alice Quinn at his side than without her. And it wasn’t in spite of knowing that she had been through difficult things and made decisions that she doubted, but because she had also been through those things and knew what it was like to straddle all of these worlds and be scared of it.
…
The answer was enough. He was sure and she was giving into what she wanted instead of what she thought she needed. Her hand tightened in the fabric of his shirt, holding there for a passing second, before she stood up on the tips of her toes in the way she always had to in order to reach him. Anxiety was pulsing through her, with fear of rejection, but nevertheless she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
…
Shiro leaned down into her when she rose up to meet him. (And this, really, was the time when he’d missed having two hands the most, because now he had to make the decision on whether or not to leave his hand at her face or to move it to her waist and bring her closer. He left it where it was.)
He kissed her in return, and it felt more like them when they had first become them -- the ease that had come with being near each other that had both been a way to run from their problems but also to heal from them.
…
There was a tension she hadn't been aware she was holding in her shoulders that seemed to release when he leaned down. A small noise escaped from the back of her throat, one of contentment, as she leaned up into the kiss. Fingers released from the fabric of his shirt and she brought both her arms up to wrap around his neck while pulling herself closer.
It hit her as she focused on the moment just how much she'd missed him and not only since she'd ended things. It was for weeks now. It occurred to her that there was still many things that she would need to tell him, because the wall hadn't done her or him any good, but that could wait just a little while long. Instead, she wanted to be here with him and reassure him that he was still himself.
…
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he dropped his arm down to wrap it around her waist, pulling her a little closer. He was so acutely aware of all of the differences of his own body while still believing so relieved that she was here with him again.
He was feeling greedy with her now. He wanted everything -- he wanted to hear about what had been happening in its entirety, he wanted to just kiss her for forever, he wanted to have a regular, goofy evening.
…
She pressed herself to him and allowed one of her hands to slip up into the strands of his hair. Every movement and reaction was one of which had been common place for her, with him, in moments like these. She'd denied herself and him anything close to intimacy from the moment she'd woke with her head full of information she did not know how to process. Now she was yearning for him and the comfort of his presence. And though the visual aspects of it all were clear and understood by her, the physical differences were starting to clue into her sense. By now, usually, he'd have had both arms wrapped against her frame where in now it was just the one. The realization brought a whimper from her even as she continued to kiss him.
The greed was something she understood and felt herself. She didn't want to pull away. She wanted to give into all of her desires. She wanted to feel safe and supported and she wanted to finally let him be that for her again. And she found herself wanting to do the same for him, as she'd nearly always done, and wanted to make known she wanted to do again. And she wanted hold him against her as she asked for more details of everything he'd come to know of his world.
She finally broke the kiss, if only for an instant, as she breathed in and clipped the breath off with, "Shiro."
…
Shiro breathed again only when she broke off the kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, eyes still closed.
“Yes?” he asked only after a pause.
...
Her words came quietly, without her pulling away from him, "I'll tell you everything." It was spoken as a promise but also stated in a way that sounded as though she didn't mean right now. But she wanted it to be known that it was something she was willing to do.
…
“When you're ready,” Shiro agreed, smoothing a hand through her hair.
He paused again.
“Would it be too much to ask you to stay tonight? And we can pretend to have a normal night?” The idea of having dinner and maybe cuddling during a movie seemed too good to be true.
…
She nodded. She would make certain to do it soon. Otherwise, she was afraid she would lose the nerve to do it at all. She loosened her hand from being tangled up in his hair for now, letting it rest against the back of his neck. "I'd like to have a normal night. Pretend or otherwise."
"Can I stay the whole night?" This wouldn't have even been a question a month prior. It would have just been the norm. But it felt like it needed to be granted and there was not much else she could think of that she wanted than to curl against him.
…
“Please,” Shiro said. For the first time in a week, he felt something loosen in his chest. He knew that their being together wasn’t going to fix everything. He even knew that they were going to have to put in a lot more work after everything that had just happened. But after a week that had began with her breaking up with him and culminated in him discovering he had died and lost his arm in a fight to Keith, this was the first time anything felt a bit better.