"Follow my lead! We've got to break through that shie-!" Keith's command was cut short as a laser beam slammed into the left wing of his fighter, sending electric shocks sparking along the vessel. Keith was thrown in his seat as the vessel rocked back from the shockwave. He let out a shocked grunt and braced himself, expecting the ship to go up in flames. He let out sigh of relief as the purple electric tendrils subsided and he regained control of his craft.
I'm okay, I can still fight. I can keep going. Keith told himself. For the sake of the galaxy and for the sake of his team he had to keep fighting. No matter what they thought of him.
Purple beams of light danced around him, burning his retinas. They would have been beautiful, if not for the fact that they would very easily roast him alive. But, at the same time, that almost added to their beauty. Like admiring a tiger's grace, knowing full well its claws could dig into your gut and its teeth could sink into your neck. Or perhaps it was more like relishing in the tranquility of the ocean, watching bubbles swirl around you as you drown. There was something so peaceful in danger. Perhaps death would bring Keith a certain peace he had never experienced in life.
"We're not going to make it!" Lance's voice drifted across his comms. Keith vaguely registered the frightened trill that clung to his teammate's voice. Keith felt a streak of fear strike through his own heart. Would his teammates really die hating him?
"We'll never penetrate those shields!" Matt Holt's urgent voice rung in his ears. Keith felt adrenaline turn his blood to ice. Was this really it? Were they all going to die? Keith didn't mind dying, he'd been wishing for it for longer than he could remember. But he didn't want his friends to join him in the grave. His family.
Then he felt himself go numb with realization. His face went slack and his eyes went wide. There was a way. He could finally do something right. He could save them.
"Maybe not with our weapons," he said almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He thrust the consoles forward and his ship took off, g-forces gently pressing him back into his seat. He doubled back and raced away from Galra ship to give him enough distance to gain some speed before turning back around to face the beast.
"Wait, Keith!" Matt called frantically. "What are you doing?!" Keith couldn't understand. What did he care? Matt barely knew Keith. They had only met a few days ago, and had barely shared a word during that time. What did it matter to him whether he lived or died? Even his own teammates barely seemed to care.
He put thrusters on full power and made a beeline toward the particle barrier. He felt a determined mask settle across his face.
"Keith, NO!"
No, he had to do this. This was his one chance to do something right. He tried to lead Voltron and he failed. He tried to balance his missions as a member of the Blade of Malmora and his duty to Voltron and he failed. He had to do this.
He felt his fighter gain speed, a deadly missile sailing through space.
He never fit in. He tried, but he was still labelled the outcast. The moody, emo teenager.
The barrier was getting closer. He felt sweat drip down his temples.
Shiro left him. He went off to space to serve a greater purpose. Much more important than Keith could ever hope to be. And then he was gone, and Keith spent a year in a shack in the middle of the desert trying to track him. And when he found him, he lost him again. Keith scoured space searching for him, letting his teammates down along the way, failing as a leader in a way Shiro never would. And when Keith finally found him again, he was half dead, surviving a week in a ship with barely any food or water. Once Shiro regained his health, Keith managed to disappoint him as well. Always making the wrong decisions. Always putting his team at risk.
When he tried to convince Shiro to take back the Black Lion, he disappointed him yet again "Keith, we all have a part to play. This is mine now. I've come to terms with that. Now, you need to." Shiro had told him. Perhaps if he had just accepted his role, the team would have hated him less.
The particle barrier was so close Keith could have sworn he could feel the energy radiating off it. Fear shot through him like a bullet. "Stop!" The voice of self-preservation screamed. "You're going to die!" No, he was finally doing the right thing. He had the chance to save them.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of his impending doom.
He had thought the Blade of Malmora had been his calling. That he finally had the chance to do what was right. He realized he was wrong when he saw the growing hatred upon his teammates' faces after each of his missions. They blamed him. He should have been there to support them. He had a duty to Voltron. Keith could feel himself being spread thin.
A small voice in the back of his head told him he only had a few seconds left to live. Too late to say goodbye. Not that anyone would care to hear it.
He even failed at his duty as a Blade. He had lost a fellow member. He would have saved him. He should have saved him. He should have done something. But instead he allowed himself to be dragged away.
He was a failure.
Perhaps after he died they would speak of his bravery. Or say that he had finally done something right with his life. Or maybe that was asking too much.
I'm sorry.
Less than a second now.
Forgive me.
He wondered if it would hurt.
I love you, Shiro.
It did.
Goodbye.
.o0o.
.o0o.
"Naxzela is returning to normal!" Coran cried. "You did it!" The Paladins' cries of victory drifted through Shiro's cockpit. The Black Paladin let out a sigh of relief.
Keith did it. But then again, Shiro never doubted him.
"Good work, Keith!" He congratulated his teammate. Silence greeted him. "Keith, are you there?" Nothing. Shiro felt a cold chill run down his spine. "Keith, do you read me? Come in!"
"Shiro." It was Matt. His voice sounded strained.
"Matt? Do you have visual on Keith?"
"Galra fleets are retreating!" Another voice declared in jubilation. Cries and cheers filled the radio waves.
"Matt?" Shiro repeated, refusing to let his voice be lost amidst the chaos of victory.
"Shiro," Matt's voice broke slightly. "He brought down the particle barrier."
"Yes, we know. Is he okay?"
"No weapon of ours could have done that." Matt let out a shaky breath "So, he used his ship."
Shiro felt himself freeze. He couldn't move. He couldn't think.
His ship?
He used his ship.
No.
He couldn't be dead.
Shiro knew he should say something. He was the leader of Voltron. He had to lead. He had to keep up morale. But a cool numbness had spread across his mind, bringing any and all mental functions to a grinding halt. He could hear his teammates calling out to him but their words didn't reached him.
Keith was gone.
He was dead.
He had sacrificed himself to save them.
"Shiro," Allura's voice managed to pierce the fog that had settled in his mind. "We need to head back to the castle." Her voice sounded so far away.
He felt himself guide Voltron back to their base, not really remembering how he did it or what route he took. He felt Voltron disassemble and each lion return to its designated hangar. He felt himself do the same.
He walked into the lounge and saw the rest of the paladins were waiting for him. Hunk and Coran clung to each other, tears streaming freely down their faces, shaking with sobs. Pidge and Lance had a glazed look in their eyes, both staring off into the middle distance. Shiro imagined he probably looked about the same as they did. Princess Allura held herself tall and strong, but even she could not hide the tears in her eyes and the slight shake of her frame.
As he entered, the five looked up at him, pain and pity filling their eyes. They gave him hugs he barely felt and offered him condolences he barely heard.
Did they all know? Did they know how much Keith meant to him? He barely understood his own feelings. How could they possibly have known?
Shiro nodded his head, thanking them for their kindness. He felt Lance take him by his elbow and lead him back to his room. They stopped in front of his door and Lance pulled him into an embrace. Shiro could feel him shaking.
"I'm so sorry, Shiro," Lance whispered. "Lo siento. I'm so sorry."
"He's gone." Shiro heard himself say. His voice sounded broken even to his own ears.
"I know." Lance said, unable to keep the sob from passing across his lips.
"He thought we hated him," Shiro said. "I know he did. I saw the look in his eyes. I saw it on his face. He thought we hated him." Lance sobbed, his grip around Shiro tightening. "I was going to talk to him about it. And I thought after we all apologized and hugged he would realize." Shiro's voice caught in his throat. "But I was too late!"
Part of Shiro was appalled at his behavior. He was a leader, he was meant to be strong and steadfast, not clinging to his teammate, sobbing. He forced himself to pull away and stand up straight, fighting to keep his expression in check.
"Thank you, Lance," he said. Lance smiled back at him sadly.
"Get some rest, Shiro. Take care of yourself." And with that, Lance took his leave.
Shiro pressed his hand into the pad on the wall and watched door slide open. He talked inside, hearing the door shut behind him, and began to take off his armor. His fingers shook with exhaustion and grief. He felt like he needed to cry again but his body had no tears left to offer. So instead he collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to cover himself with a blanket.
Perhaps fate would be kind to him and let him dream of Keith.