Terminal Velocity • Voltron x Terminal List

XII.

"Don't be, you...big baby," Lance said, and because Lance was dressed in all black it was nearly impossible to make out how much blood he'd already lost. But all Keith could smell was blood, and far too much of it, the cloying scent drenching the carpet, the air. "Thanks, brother," Lance said, his lips dipping up into a small smile.

Keith could hear it, the moment his heart stopped beating, leaving Keith behind with only a bloody drawing and a USB he'd hoped he'd never have to use.

--

"You're the first to make it back. Status report?" Coran asked once Keith had driven over to the rendezvous point. The Altean made no mention of the ears that Keith hadn't yet been able to retract.

"Iverson's dead," Keith said flatly.

"And Number Three?"

Keith didn't say anything, just gestured to the tarp in the back of the truck.

Coran was quiet a long moment before his eyes fell to the ground, and then he bowed his head and shut his eyes. Keith didn't know what sort of Altean customs Coran engaged in around the death of a friend – Allura's death had sort of been a blur to Keith – but he gave the older man a moment to say whatever he needed to say.

"And you, Number Four?" Coran asked after a long moment, looking over at Keith and scanning him for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

Keith frowned and was horrified to find his eyes tearing up again. "No," he said. "No," he repeated, a growl this time. "Lance- Iverson aimed at me first because Lance could barely stay on his feet, and Lance..."

Coran nodded, his eyes sad but understanding. "Number Three was always a bit too quick to take a bullet for a friend."

"But why'd he have to do that?" Keith asked, insisted, fingers – no, his claws must have popped out at some point – tearing into the metal of the truck with a horrifying scraping sound. "Iverson was right, I knew he was sick," Keith whispered. "Not until it was too late, but I...I couldn't tell him." He turned his head into his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt absorbing some of the wetness from his eyes. "Why are humans so fragile?"

"I've asked myself the same thing many times," Coran said somberly, and Keith wondered how many people Coran had met only to outlive. "But they also possess a strength in their fragility that I'm afraid creatures like us can never quite achieve."

The two of them stood there in the dark, early hours of the morning, regretting the ways things had transpired but knowing, in the end, that it had been inevitable and perhaps even preferred.

"I thought...he'd want to go out fighting," Keith said eventually. "Instead of..." He put a hand against his forehead, as his head felt unbearably heavy. His claws had receded on their own but his ears hadn't, and despite his uninjured state, he ached all over. "You know. The tumor. That's why...that's why I didn't tell him, at first. I knew he'd put up a fight and I wanted to help him, and I...I'd seen the scans, and I could even...sense it, sort of, this...lingering scent of death, and so...I knew how far along he was, I thought it was impossible for him to get any better. But maybe...maybe he still had time, maybe if I would've told him as soon as he'd gotten back to the States, he could've seen a doctor, and- and Veronica, and Raphael would be–"

"You can't play that game with yourself, Number Four," Coran interrupted. "There is no could. All that lives on is what happened."

"But Veronica and Raphael, and Lance–"

"We'll see them again," Coran said, looking up to the stars with a pensive yet hopeful look in his eyes, and Keith knew it wasn't just Veronica, Raphael, and Lance he was waiting to reunite with. "But," Coran said, bringing his eyes back down to meet Keith's, a note of warning in them. "Not a moment too soon. We can't go rushing the endings of our own stories, my boy. Please promise me, if only to humor an old man."

Keith just nodded, looking over to the truck and the cargo it now carried in the back. "There's something I need to do. I'll see you soon, Coran," he said, hesitating before leaning forward and giving him a hug, and Coran returned the hug easily, patting Keith's back several times.

"Do take care," he said, before his eyes strayed to the tarp. "And please...put him at peace."

"I will," Keith promised, giving Coran a final handshake before circling around the truck and into the driver's seat. He rubbed at his eyes one last time, then he picked up the bucket hat he'd brought back from the ship – this one must've been Lance's – and he tugged it down over his ears before turning the key in the ignition.

First, to bury Lance next to Veronica and Raphael. Then to deliver the USB Lance had given him to Lance's father. He didn't know what was on it exactly, but he had a few guesses. Words Lance hadn't been able to say at the time, regrets he'd carried over the years, kind reminders and affirmations and apologies. Keith wouldn't stick around to listen in; it wouldn't be right to do so. And Lance's final goodbye had told Keith everything he'd needed to know. Now he just needed to wait until he'd meet Lance again in the stars.

Keith drew in a deep breath and looked to his right, half-expecting to see Lance – not supersoldier Lance but seventeen-year-old Lance – riding shotgun and fiddling with the radio. Rays of light catching and bouncing off the curls of his hair, the spectacular blue of his eyes. Legs bent at the knees because he was too gangly to stretch out. Eyebrows scrunched just so, a compromise between the issue of a challenge and the lingering grip of self-doubt. Larger than life, but at the same time, just a kid.

Keith shifted gears and drove off into the sunrise.

--

published 10/19/22 (mm/dd/yy)

1020 words