Keith looked lost. Shiro felt lost. He wanted to know what was happening inside the man's face and to understand what had scared him so much. He let go of Keith's leg and leaned back on his elbow, his abundance of fins making it difficult to position himself but he stayed close to Keith. Once again the man murmured. He did so with such sadness and remorse that Shiro reached out and touched Keith's chin, lifting it slightly as Keith had done to him. He shook his head, [i]'It's not your fault,'[/i] he wanted to say knowing now what Keith had told him earlier. The gesture was gentle and reassuring, or at least it had been when Keith had done it. He made a note to store the gesture. Perhaps between them they could invent their own way of communicating, one step at a time.

Keith reached out to him again and brushed some of Shiro's wounds. The saltwater had healed most of the light cuts quickly and kept them clean. The deeper wounds, especially the one on his shoulder was not healing nicely, however. It was awkwardly positioned and he used his arm too much to let it sit and heal. Parts of it were jagged and one small section was being pestered by fish when he was in the water, so the skin was rough and bruised. Shiro winced at the touch, then looked to Keith. Was he asking what had happened? No, Shiro narrowed his eyes, watching Keith's gestures. Heal him? Shiro wasn't sure, but slowly he nodded. He needed it to close up and heal soon, or he wouldn't stand a chance against Zarkon's men in the next new moon arena fight.