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As Color Fades Away

Chapter Sixty-Six

Pidge supposed she ought to thank the explosion, really. Sort of. She glanced down at Keith's helmet, new cracks spider-webbing across and with one tap she was pretty certain the whole thing was going to cave in.

Okay, maybe she'd call it an acknowledgement and leave it at that.

On the plus the blast had propelled her and Keith head over heels in the direction of the castle and they might have an actual chance now at reaching it with the last bit of her jetpack.

On the huge negative the force, despite her best efforts to shield Keith's face, had created more cracks in his mask and if that went… well, she'd just be lugging a body at that point.

They were stuck hovering now as she wasn't certain if even the slight propulsion from her boosters would be too much for the compromised helmet.

What did she do?

"God damnit," she muttered, caught literally in limbo.

What would be the effects of space if she were to remove her helmet and cover Keith's face with it? Ebullism, hypoxia and hypocapnia would be the three most deadly. There weren't really many studies done on how prolonged exposure affected the human body, but she bet it wasn't good.

Besides, Keith had multiple parts exposed right now; his entire back and his right leg. She cast a quick glance at the leg, noting that although the flesh was beyond ruined and bloodied she didn't see anything that indicated any of the above symptoms. This could work, and the cryo-pods would likely (hopefully) be able to repair any damage that did occur.

Still…

She could hold her breath for about two minutes, barring the shock to her system from you know, space. So say she put it at one minute. Did she have enough fuel to propel her and Keith across the expanse in under a minute, find a door and enter the castle?

She bit her lip. Probably not. Not with only one working thruster. But… if she were to also burn up her oxygen tank she could create another temporary explosion and that should be enough. It's not like she'd be able to use it again anyway, not after she gave Keith her helmet.

Could she do this?

Realistically it was possible. A very low percentage though. She'd be generous and say she had a ten percent probability that this all went according to plan. Because her thruster could go out, the blast could not be enough or she inhaled space during said oxygen explosion. She could judge her landing zone wrong and she and Keith would be trapped outside the castle and die on the wrong side of the wall.

But if she did nothing, just waited her for a rescue – which would come, eventually, because she refused to entertain the idea that Haggar and that Galran commander won – she would survive, yes, but Keith… Keith would not.

"Oh God," she whimpered, digging her fingers into Keith's arm.

She looked back to his face, obscured nearly entirely by the cracks and the dark blood, but she could still make out closed eyes and the utter lifeless expression that did not belong whatsoever on Keith.

She had done this. He had gotten this injured because he had protected her, saved her, instead of himself.

Now it was her turn to save him.

"Okay, okay. Step one: door. Need a door."

Because direction was important. Without it none of this was possible. The obvious choices were the two billowing holes made into the castle's exterior, but she would easily be sucked back out into space if she couldn't get to a close door location before her oxygen ran out. Plus, those were on the ends of the castle and she needed something more on her plane.

The hangars could work. She eyed where she knew the Green Lion emerged from. It was not ideal in location to the infirmary, but it did have the benefit of being on this side of the ship and she'd know exactly where to go from it. She nodded. Okay. Step one complete.

Step two, angle as best as she could in that direction. That one was done quickly as all she did was pivot slightly about Keith's prone form.

Step three, turn her oxygen unit into a bomb that she did not set off yet. Okay. That one was a little trickier.

Pidge unlatched her bayard and using the grappling hook connected herself to Keith as she was going to need both hands and didn't want him to float away. Once secured she tapped on her left forearm, wincing as even that touch sent shoots of pain through her wrist, but the schematics of her suit popped up and she heaved out a small sigh of relief. At least they were still functional.

Right hand flying through the holographic screen, she directed the oxygen flow to the thrusters fuel, set to activate the next time she activated the jetpack and she gave it eighty-five percent odds she didn't just blow up the jet instead. A calculated risk though.

Fourth step, somehow take off her own mask, detach Keith's and keep him from breathing in space, jam her own atop his head all while holding her breath.

Piece of cake.

She snorted. Yeah. Right.

"Come on Katie, you've got this," she coached herself. "Easy peasy."

She frowned then. If this failed her last words were not going to be 'easy peasy' like some kid. "Fuck you, Haggar," she said instead, "and fuck the Galra and Zarkon." She nodded. Much better. And maybe it could even act as a curse and haunt them for the rest of their lives if she didn't make it out. Yes. Good back-up plan. Come back as a ghost, which scientifically there was no basis for.

Then again, there was no basis for alien lifeforms and yet here, she was surrounded by entire solar systems of species that Earth couldn't even fathom. Why—

No. Focus.

Time to do this.

She took one last inhale and exhale, steadying her nerves and encouraging her hands to stop their sudden trembling.

Go time.

She sucked in another deep inhale, feeling the air settle in her lungs to full capacity.

And then she moved, countdown already in her head.

She yanked off her helmet in record time, feeling the sting of space on her bare flesh and she winced ever so slightly.

Five seconds.

She placed the helmet on top of Keith's chest although it lifted within the second but for now it seemed content to hover. She wasted no time hitting the latches on Keith's helmet and lifting it off with a sharp tinkle of glass as the visor did give way.

Fifteen.

She jammed her broken left hand on top of Keith's mouth and pinched his nose shut while her right hand gathered the helmet and maneuvered it to the top of his head, ignoring the rivulets of blood and splatters of glass fragments. She was going to have to let go of his face for a brief second and she prayed the moment of space didn't destroy his lungs.

With as much finesse as she applied to her more delicate projects, Pidge shifted her hand and pushed the helmet with a pop over the bloodied hair.

Twenty seconds.

Already she could feel her lungs burning and she hated that she'd been right on the shortened timeline. Godamnit.

She draped herself over Keith's torso, and pressed her forehead into the burnt and bloodied cloth of his stomach, protecting her face as much as she could and praying they maintained a relatively straight trajectory.

And then she activated the jetpack.

It sounded like a V-10 engine had revved to start and she pressed her face harder against Keith as the sting of the force whipped her hair back and she could not imagine what exposed skin would look like at that resistance.

Pidge didn't dare lift her head until the propulsion faded, counting the ticks and fervently praying they were still on course.

Forty-five ticks in the movement stopped and she looked up. She'd have let out a breath of relief if she'd been allowed to, because they were at most twenty yards from the castle and the hanger door was just to the left.

Pidge spared one quick glance at Keith's face, but he remained unchanged, which she supposed was the best she could ask for at this point.

Keeping her arms wrapped about him, Pidge turned on her lone blaster and pushed as quick as she dared towards the castle.

Sixty-five seconds in and they had made it. Her head was starting to swim now though and she could feel blackness creeping in on the corners of her eyes. She forced it back. Not yet.

Trusting her bayard to keep her connected to Keith, Pidge reached forward and hooked her broken wrist through one of the protrusions on the castle while her right flipped open the circuit panel outside the hangar door. Her fingers tapped in the sequence as quickly as they could and she cursed herself for making it a rotating helix code for "safety" purposes but right now was just an extra hindrance.

Her lungs were burning now and she swore it felt like her face was starting to peel. It very well could be. The keypad was wavering in and out and the dark spots were growing more prominent.

She wasn't going to make it.

The thought paused her rapid keying and she felt a bubble of air burst from her lips before she pressed them firmer together, tasting copper.

No.

No.

Katie Holt was not a quitter. She hadn't quit believing when they told her Matt and her dad were gone. She didn't quit her search when she got caught and thrown out of the Garrison. She hadn't quit her new space family when they needed her.

She sure as hell wasn't going to quit now.

Eighty-five seconds.

Pidge forced her eyes to focus on the keypad and slammed her fingertips into it, entering the last half of the sequence.

And the pad glowed teal.

Better than that, the hangar door opened with a hiss, slowly lowering from the top. Pidge reached out and grabbed a hold of Keith's arm and as soon as it had come down enough to where she could squeeze them through the crack she did so, firing the very last bit of her booster fuel to propel them inside.

The sensors on the door recognized a breach and immediately began to close up behind them, cutting off space and the artificial gravity coming back on.

They dropped like stones.

Pidge didn't even register the jarring through her as her knees smashed into the floor of Green's hangar or how bad the fall had to have hurt Keith as he landed directly on his destroyed back, as instead she took large, gasping breaths of air.

Blood was on her lips and she choked on it as it spilled into her mouth from beyond cracked lips, still sucking greedily in the artificial oxygen that filled the hangar. The black spots were beginning to fade now and something other than breathe was filling her mind.

Keith, it reminded her. Keith.

She crawled awkwardly the pace to him, holding her left hand to her chest as it was throbbing with renewed agony from the fall.

"K-Keith," she whispered.

Just like every other time though there was no answer and she raised a trembling right hand to his neck.

Please.

It took longer than last time, the space between the pulses larger now but there was still something there.

Not for long though. Not if she didn't hurry.

The littlest Paladin cast her eyes about the hanger for inspiration on how to transport Keith to the infirmary, as she was under no impression that she could actually carry him. They lit upon the hoverboard she and Hunk had been working on, but it was designed for standing and would serve her no purpose right now. Damnit.

Okay, what else?

For all of the tech scattered about her essential laboratory there was nothing useful for what she needed now and Pidge felt tears of frustration prick. There had to be something.

Tarp! She spotted the dark brown covering over her pile of spare parts that she had considered "cleaning up" to get Shiro off her back about picking up after herself. If she could roll Keith onto that she could tug him.

But the friction…Oh! The lubricant for the hoverboard pieces. If she coated the back side of the tarp in it she bet it would slide on the smooth castle floors. Okay. Good.

Now she just had to get to them.

Standing was harder than it should have been, the world spinning in a circle as vertigo struck and Pidge stumbled sideways before she gained some semblance of balance, remembering at last second to disengage her bayard so she didn't get tripped up. She doggedly walked to the tarp, pulling it off more slowly than she had time for but she was afraid she'd tip over if she tried anything faster.

Holding it secure under her arm she walked a little more steadily, each footfall reminding her that she had been involved in an explosion and each little ache and bruise restarting. She ignored them.

The oil was right where she'd left it and still plenty left. Taking it back to where Keith was she dumped her items on the floor and then upended the entire bottle on one side of the tarp.

Kneeling on it, she spread the substance with her right hand, left back to being cradled against her stomach to reduce as much movement as she could. Once she had smeared as much as possible she flipped it over and positioned it next to Keith.

Now just to roll him onto it.

And, she realized with a wince, she was going to need both hands.

How the fuck had Lance done all he had with one wrist not just broken but absolute shattered and distorted?

She grit her teeth and maneuvered herself to Keith's opposite side. "Suck it up, Holt," she scolded herself, licking blood-stained lips with a grimace. "Keith needs you. Deal with it."

Pep talk finished she positioned both hands on Keith - one on his shoulder and the other on the swell of his hip – and bracing her feet she pushed. To her great relief he rolled onto the trap, now lying on his stomach. Probably for the better, she figured, and her helmet was there to cushion his face from dragging.

Pulling herself back to standing, Pidge grabbed two of corners of the trap and tied a rough but sturdy knot around her waist.

Now she just had to walk. Simple. One foot in front of the other.

She took a first one, feeling the tarp dig into her stomach and sides, and then another. She knew the sting there was nothing compared to the pain Keith had felt when he took a fucking explosion to his back. Not even close.

Her plan though was working as despite the pressure she was having very little resistance as she moved, Keith gliding behind her like he was on a sled.

Thank goodness for small favors, the infirmary was on the same level as Green's hangar. About a good quarter mile away, but same floor. Probably about six minutes if she could keep up a steady trudge.

Lowering her head and squaring her shoulders Pidge decided she would make it in four.

And with another step of many to come she carried on.

xxx

Lance felt the heat from the cannon blast ripple across his neck, the skin of his captured right arm blister in the intensity, wrenched behind him as it was.

But that was the extent of his pain from Hunk's shot.

Theodek was not half as fortunate.

The Galran let out a shriek of agony that could not quite be described and Lance vaguely felt claws rake across his hand as Theodek's body was sent flying across the kitchen as the blast connected, hot blood splattering in his wake and dousing Lance's back.

He knew it still wasn't over.

Such a shot would have killed someone normal, but, as Lance had unfortunately learned Theodek was not quite normal. The commander was moaning and choking on pain, but the fact he was still alive to make such noises, complete with the sound of claws renting the kitchen floor, meant he wasn't down quite yet.

Lance needed to get up.

It was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

His right arm, broken and twisted and gushing, had landed next to his side, but as soon as he tried to shift it white spots danced in his eyes and he groaned low in his throat. Tugging at his left hand, still impaled into the floor, yielded a similar result.

He was stuck.

Tears of pain and frustration stung his eyes and Lance blinked them back. He didn't have time for them.

Hunk didn't have time.

Just the thought of his best friend, his brother, made his heart stutter. He needed to get to Hunk. To… to…

Lance cast weary eyes to his left hand, stretched out before him and tethered to the knife. The handle of it had no hilt, not like the daggers Theodek had once used. If… If he pulled up with all his strength he could maybe lift his hand right through it. The hole was already there, after all. He just had to make it bigger.

He choked back his own sob as he twitched his left fingers, just that small motion sending rivulets of fire through his limb.

For Hunk.

He could do it - had to do it - for Hunk.

And he had to do it quickly as Theodek's moans were turning to grunts and eventually the Galran was going to be back on his feet and finish what he started.

Lance closed his eyes and took in as calming of an inhale as possible in this situation.

On the exhale he yanked his hand up with a much force as he could muster.

A raw scream was torn from his throat as his flesh shredded against the serrated edge and then the wound was forcefully opened even further as he dragged it up and over the handle.

A splash of his own blood spattered across his face and Lance choked as copper touched his lips and he gagged at the taste while starbursts imploded behind his scrunched eyes and he felt his equilibrium, even lying on the floor, take an alarming tilt.

But he was free.

And he had no time to lie here contemplating such.

Biting back the scream, Lance pressed his left fingertips flush on the ground and pushed off, trying to avoid putting as much pressure on the new hole. All it did was elevate his chest, arm trembling at the new weight.

He needed his right hand too.

Oh Dios.

For Hunk.

Moving his right arm from where it had flopped next to his side was nothing short of agony, but that still had nothing on when he tried to shift some of his weight to it.

With a hoarse scream he collapsed completely back down, the mangled limb not capable of supporting anything.

Okay.

New plan.

Lance threw all his weight to his left side, rolling his torso over his left arm and one exhausting second later he was on his back, staring up at the kitchen ceiling. A glance to his right showed that Theodek was struggling to get his limbs underneath him as well, but he was doing better than Lance, even with the gaping hole and dark blood streaming down his right side where Hunk's attack had connected and looked to have gone straight through him.

How was he still alive?

For contemplation later. Right now step one was get up and step two… step two was to neutralize the threat.

Lance struggled to sitting using only his core muscles, room spinning at the new vantage point. Despite the pain he forced his right arm to move and hold the jagged flesh against his stomach, knowing that if he passed out from blood loss it was all over. Still, it wasn't like this was going to do much but the position had come familiarly to him and Lance figured at this point it couldn't hurt.

He scrambled to pull his legs beneath him, each shift sending a new jolt through him. But standing was good. He needed to be doing that to do anything else. He got the balls of his feet flat on the floor and before he could overthink it Lance surged using only his own inner strength to standing, taking a staggering step as black flashed across his vision.

His eyes landed dully on the knife embedded in the floor but he knew he wasn't retrieving it. Not when he could barely grip anything again and he whimpered at the reminder of his mutilated left hand.

He needed a new weapon. He'd prefer his bayard but it was all the way across the room and he honestly doubted he was going to make it there on his shaky legs. Fortunately there were plenty others to choose from spread out across the towels on the counter only a few steps away.

He just needed to get there.

Before Theodek got back up.

To do so though meant turning his back to the Galran commander as the counter was in the opposite direction. It made every survival instinct scream at him but he didn't have a choice. And so pivoting Lance set his sights on the counter.

Every single step was torture. His body had had enough – the tumble down the stairs, the still constant pounding ache in his head from what the Lions had done, and now two destroyed hands, ripped open arm that he could feel saturating his shirt not to mention the sticky feeling all down his shoulders from Theodek's puncture wounds – but Lance forced it to keep moving.

He had to.

For Hunk.

He could hear the Galran shifting more now and he tried to quicken his pace, vision tunneling in on the counter. He had just reached a hand over, securing the closest knife against his fingers, when claws dug into his already abused shoulder and he was wrenched backwards with a gasp.

Lance swung blindly as he was turned, the blade slicing along Theodek's arm but nothing so deep as to cause real damage due to his barely there grip. Lance was honestly surprised he didn't drop it.

Theodek, despite how much pain he had to be in, did not back down and bodily threw Lance away from him with a guttural roar and across the floor, the boy skidding a scarlet trail as he crashed against the kitchen table.

The Galran lumbered after him, one hand pressed to his freely bleeding side and steps heavy. "You… are dead… child," he gasped, the pained pauses not taking away from the ferocity of his words.

Lance scrambled somehow to a mockery of sitting, his own breaths coming out in a choked rattle and he'd have shaken his head to try and clear away the fogginess settling in except that such an action would likely just topple him over.

Fight. Fight! He made it to his knees, bracing one leg in front of him and leveling the knife at the approaching Galran for all the threat it offered. Based on Theodek's bloody grin it did not do much.

His right arm spasmed and nearly sent him back to the floor as he made the mistake of glancing down at it, spotting the sheen of white bone peeking up through the gore that had fully saturated his shirt.

Oh Dios.

He teetered but Theodek did not falter. A tick later the Galran was reaching for his throat with a blood-stained clawed hand and Lance acted on pure instinct, swinging the knife – long and thin this time – up through the air.

He missed.

He had only a second to process the empty space, the overbalance as his attempt sent him forward and into Theodek's lunging grasp, which latched about his throat and he emitted a wet gargle.

"I am done playing," Theodek snarled, blood and spittle flying from his mouth and adding to the already macabre canvas on Lance's face as he drew him closer.

Lance made another weak swing even as new spots danced in his vision as his lungs seized under the attack. This one was just as effective as the previous.

Meaning not at all.

And even worse. This time, as the blade skittered harmlessly over Theodek's armor, the resulting impact had Lance dropping it despite himself as fire laced along his hand and he couldn't maintain his grip and his choked cry had nothing to do with the stranglehold. Theodek kicked it away with a growl.

He'd just lost his last chance.

He was going to die.

Hunk was going to die.

Everyone was going to die because of him.

"Forget the witch," Theodek shook him, claws digging into the tender flesh of his throat. "Your life belongs to me."

And Lance could do nothing as Theodek slammed him onto his back, feet awkwardly tucked beneath his knees in the hold and the rest of his air near vanishing at the strike.

"This is the end, boy." Theodek's claws tightened even more around his throat and Lance's left hand fluttered weakly at his side, unable to summon the energy to bring it up to pull at Theodek's choking grip as if he'd have been able to do anything anyway.

This was it.

He was going to die now, Theodek's yellow eyes filled with such hate the last thing he was going to see. And even those were starting to blacken around the edges.

It wouldn't be long now.

But even as he thought that, as despair filled him as air left, he couldn't help but continue to struggle.

He didn't want this to be the end.

It couldn't be the end.

His left hand gave one last spasm and he jerked it outwards seeking what he wasn't sure, but it was better than doing nothing.

And to his surprise he encountered a knife pressed up against one of the table legs. His brain stuttered as he knew he saw Theodek kick it away just a moment ago.

Against the haziness pressing in Lance realized that this was not that same knife.

It was the knife he'd thrown that Theodek had deflected with his axe. The large cleaver.

There was no time left to think. Pain didn't even matter as he clenched his hand around the hilt, willing the last of his strength to the limb.

This was it.

And with everything he had Lance swung the blade up and towards the gaping, unprotected wound Hunk had dealt the Galran.

It cut through. And through. And further still, slicing into the flesh like butter except that this was a person and the relief Lance felt as the chokehold disappeared warred with absolute horror at what he had just done as Theodek's scream echoed around the kitchen and hot blood splashed across his hand and arm.

The blade came free with no resistance as it finished its track through the Galran and out through his front, slicing him nearly in two. Theodek collapsed to the left with a barely audible moan and Lance, outside of his gasps as he sucked in air, resisted the urge to be sick.

He'd just killed Theodek.

He'd killed him.

Yet even despite his revulsion his hand had not loosened its painful grip on the knife and he could feel blood squelching inbetween his fingers. How… how did Keith and Shiro do this? Be it sword or hand how did they get this close, this personal, and hurt someone this way?

Lance's stomach gave another heave and this time he couldn't stop the acid from wrenching up his throat and he barely managed to turn his head to the side to expel it.

Over the sound of his retching he heard something else though.

A low, breathy whine of absolutely anguish.

Theodek was still alive.

Lance wasn't sure how, but a moment later he was on his knees and next to the downed Galran, the floor all around him slick with dark purple blood and more puddling further and further with every labored breath.

Yellow eyes were half-lidded but they managed to focus on Lance with a laser-like intensity and Lance forced himself to hold the gaze.

"Kill me," Theodek rasped out, a trickle of blood falling from his mouth to drop backwards over his cheek.

Lance numbly shook his head, arm trembling at his side and the knife wavered in his grip.

He couldn't. Not in cold blood to an unarmed, injured opponent. He didn't want to kill again. Not like this.

Theodek let out a sound between a laugh and a gurgle. "Don't have m-mercy now, ch-child."

"N-no," Lance managed.

"Mercy would be k-killing me," Theodek wheezed. "Do it."

"I can't," Lance whispered and he hated that that was his answer. He should be able to kill Theodek, mercy or no. This Galran had nearly killed Hunk (still could have if he didn't get him help soon), had hurt and tortured him and had been about to kill him as well. There should be no hesitation whatsoever in that regard to deliver a final blow.

It would be a mercy killing too. Theodek wasn't going to live much longer and he was in insurmountable pain. Lance didn't like to see anyone suffer, even those he considered an enemy. He should end it. It would be the merciful thing.

But he couldn't. His hand had raised somewhat but it hovered and shook, unable to commit to moving further. It felt wrong. It was all wrong. If he'd had his gun maybe he wouldn't have hesitated so. But he didn't. He only had a knife, personal and close. Tears were stinging his eyes for reasons he couldn't fully explain and the scene blurred in front of him.

It would be justice to kill him. Mercy to do so. It was cruel to let him live like this. And yet… yet he couldn't do it. He didn't want to make that final blow. He'd done enough. It was enough. He would just back away, let nature take its course. That was his decision, his choice. It didn't feel entirely right but it didn't feel wrong either. Yes. This was what he would do.

Theodek shot out a hand faster than Lance could blink and closed it with a surprising strength about Lance's own fist, claws digging in. But the intention did not seem, for once, to cause him pain, but to drag him forward and force the knife against Theodek's throat.

Lance's breath caught. "No," he whispered again, trying to pull back but Theodek only tightened his hold.

"I could n-not kill you," Theodek choked out. "But I will s-still have… my r-revenge."

"Stop!" Lance cried as he felt the blade sink into Theodek's neck and the Galran gasped as blood trickled down.

The commander's voice was quiet now but steady as his gaze bore into Lance's. "I will kill your s-sense of… of compassion, child. Your m-mercy."

"Stop," Lance pleaded as his hand was dragged further down despite his struggles and blood burbled out of Theodek's mouth as the blade sank deeper and the yellow eyes closed. "Please, stop."

"For you, brother," Theodek murmured.

And in a splatter of lifeblood Theodek forced Lance to slice open his throat.

xxx

Author's Notes:

"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper." So ends the life of Commander Theodek, described well by T.S. Eliot and my absolute favorite poem. So, Theodek ultimately dies by his own hand with major assistance from Lance and also a big assist from Hunk. I hope I did his death justice for you all; Theodek became a very complicated character (in a good way!) and his death I felt should reflect as such. He was a bad guy, no doubt, but he was also in a lot of emotional pain and trying to ease that ache the only way he knew how; through more violence.

But on a happy note, Pidge and Keith are sort of safe-ish, Theodek is dead so Lance is out of immediate danger (minus blood loss) and hopefully he can get Hunk help. We should probably check in with the others though, yeah? I believe I left us off with Haggar getting shot in the back of the head by Coran. Hmm…

All my love and thanks to the readers who take the time to leave a comment after spending the time to read the chapter. I write for you beautiful people and really appreciate your support. Thank you. Please do leave a comment below and show the author some love.