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As Color Fades Away

Chapter Sixty-Seven

"Coran!" gasped Allura, heart thundering so loud she was amazed she even heard herself speak.

"Allura!" The calm, dark voice she had never heard from her advisor before was gone and replaced with a deep seated relief. But a moment later she saw his eyes widen in sheer panic. "Allura!"

The princess sensed more than saw something move next to her and that was the only thing that saved her from Haggar's magic-wreathed hand slamming into where her head had been a tick before.

"H-how?" she stuttered, coming out of her roll and awkwardly kneeling, right leg aching from the glancing blow of just a minute ago and Shiro quickly crossed the room to stand next to her, a comforting presence at her side. Coran had made the shot. Point blank in the back of the witch's head.

Her own words echoed back at her when Coran cautioned that a shot from a mere blaster was not likely to down Haggar. He had been right. Still, the fact she was back up already and moving did not bode well for what should have been a fatal hit.

"I must say, Princess," Haggar hissed, "I did not take you for the sort to shoot from behind."

"Honor left this fight long ago, witch," Allura growled back, accepting Shiro's flesh hand to pull herself painfully back to her feet,

Haggar inclined her head slightly. "True."

And with no further warning Haggar flickered out of existence.

"Dodge!" screamed Shiro, already ducking low and sweeping his glowing arm out in hopes to catch Haggar as she rematerialized.

But Haggar hadn't been aiming for Shiro.

Allura nearly met her end for the second time in a matter of minutes, only instinct and slight familiarity with how Haggar now attacked saving her as the Druid appeared directly behind her. She threw herself to the left, towards Coran, who was there and blocking the Druid's second strike with his own staff a moment later.

Haggar leapt back, rubbing at her wrist where Coran had connected. "You are more than you appear, advisor."

"I am whatever I am needed to be," Coran said evenly, leveling his staff at her.

A smirk pulled up her lips. "Quaint. However…" She snapped her fingers and the army of duplicates returned, all armed with glowing back spheres. "It is still not enough."

Coran twirled his staff. "I will be the judge of that. Come, witch. Let us end this."

"Gladly."

The melee started as it had before except this time Allura was missing her staff, which had rolled away to rest against the far wall. Gritting her teeth Allura went after it, ducking beneath one clone's strike and feeling the whisper of heat from another.

"Allura!" Shiro shouted to her, having seeing the issue already and had punched through both of the apparitions keeping him occupied and within a tick was at her back, intercepting another strike.

"Thank you," she gasped at the near miss.

He didn't quite offer her a smile but nodded and helped her to safely cross the room to her weapon. Coran, to his great surprise, was effectively holding Haggar back.

For every strike Haggar made the Altean blocked, either with his staff or sometimes with his arm. The robe sleeve had been burned away but the flesh beneath it looked untouched, and as Shiro watched he saw it turn a scaly dark green when Haggar struck it and he blinked, confused. He knew he'd taken a few hits to his head but…

"Shapeshifting," Allura told him, staff back in hand. "Coran can do it without thought on his arms. I though…" she winced. She was nowhere near as adept at any part other than being able to change her skin color, but not its composition like Coran could. She dearly wished she had worked more on that ability as having a thicker skin to act as a shield right now would be beyond a saving grace.

"Let's finish this," Shiro said.

Allura nodded. "Yes."

They had cleared out the grouping of clones Haggar had made, this batch weaker than previous. Despite the fact the Druid was still standing strong it looked like the shot had done something at least to her strength, the blackened mark on her hood that showed her silver hair peeking through a reminder.

It was also a reminder that she was not so easily taken down and they would need to proceed with caution. Even three on one now they were still at the disadvantage.

Allura and Shiro rejoined the assault without words, striking out in an intricate dance with Coran; Shiro going in close and the two Alteans parrying back with their longer staffs. But every time Shiro thought they might have finally broken through her defenses Haggar fought back and another wave of magic would strike them.

Shiro was limping now and pressing his flesh hand to his side where a swipe of her hand had embedded glowing lines, just like last time, but not quite as deep. Every step hurt though and he knew it was only a matter of time before his sluggish movements cost him.

Haggar had lost her permanent sneer, a thinner line drawn across her lips, but it was still not desperate, not fearful.

She was still on top and she knew it, even if she wasn't ending it as quickly as Shiro thought she wanted to.

Haggar had just pushed away Allura's staff, causing her to stumble forward and creating an opening that would be near impossible to pass up, when the witch's yellow eyes widened and rather than pushing her advantage she jumped back.

A low chuckle escaped her lips then, devolving into a full cackle that sent every hair on Shiro rising and he found himself frozen, cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

"What do you find so humorous?" Allura demanded.

The laughter cut off like a switch had been flipped. "Oh, Princess," Haggar sighed, shaking her head. "Things have just gotten quite a bit more entertaining."

For Haggar had felt the moment Theodek's quintessence had abruptly cut off, his life extinguished. She knew without a doubt her Lance had been responsible and her fingers twitched at her side and a smile stretched across her face. He would be in pain, she knew, his soul hurting at the act. And she would be me more than happy to go to him and ease his suffering.

"My Lance needs me," she murmured aloud.

"He needs you dead," Allura snarled.

Haggar fixed a cold glare upon the Altean princess, all distorted warmth gone from her previous expression. "And we disagree yet again, Princess. For it is you who needs to be eliminated." Fire sprang to her hands, a longer, thinner column than before. "And by my hand it shall be done."

"That is my line," Allura growled.

Haggar flung herself forward and Shiro intercepted her first with a yell for Allura to stay back. There was something different in the air now, something crueler and colder. Haggar was no longer playing, no longer wasting time. She was serious.

And she seriously wanted to kill Allura.

Shiro gritted his teeth against the onslaught of Haggar's force, side screaming and he felt blood gush as he braced his feet. Coran was there then, staff angled like a spear but it sliced through air as Haggar vanished.

As one they all instinctually whirled to face around to face their backs with weapons already moving to block Haggar's predicable but powerful attack.

But no witch appeared in front of any of them.

Instead, Haggar appeared at Allura's unprotected back, in clear view of Shiro and Coran in their pivots.

"All—" both cried in tandem.

But it was too late.

Haggar plunged a glowing, crackling black wreathed hand into Allura and it exited out the front of the girl with a spray of blood and flesh in a macabre arc of confetti.

Allura did not scream. Instead her breath caught in her throat and all she managed was a choked sounding gasp as Haggar pulled her hand back to herself, the staff falling to the floor with a final sounding clatter.

"ALLURA!"

Shiro raged forward towards Haggar with a war cry while Coran skidded to catch his princess, who was collapsing to her knees with jeweled eyes already dulling.

"Behold your precious princess," Haggar sneered, flickering out of Shiro's range and to the hole in the wall several yards away.

"Haggar," Shiro growled, tears choking his voice and prosthetic glowing uselessly.

"Enjoy your last minute with her, Shiro. I'd take this small mercy for I will be back soon enough for you."

And with a last crackle of black lightning Haggar vanished.

Silence echoed in the room then, broken only by a low, agonized moan from Allura and Shiro found himself mechanically dropping to his knees next to where Coran was cradling the dying girl in his arms, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"Sh…Shiro," Allura coughed, blood trickling down her chin and teeth already stained red.

"Don't talk," Shiro ordered, voice thick. He turned desperate eyes to Coran. "The pods? Please? There has to be…"

But Coran shook his head. "Her wounds… Allura…" A tear dripped off his nose and pinged onto Allura's cheek.

For this was no mere stab wound or explosion. There was a gaping hole through Allura, organs destroyed in the blow and blood thickly pooling already around her.

"Not acceptable," Shiro snarled. "No. Save her."

Allura raised a trembling hand and Shiro leaned forward as she brushed it against his cheek and he brought his own flesh one up to hold it there. "L-Lance," she managed. "G-go… to him."

"Allura…"

"Go." She closed her eyes then, leaning back further into Coran's hold. "Pl-please."

Shiro caught Coran's grief-stricken eyes but he nodded. "Go. I'll… I'll watch over her."

Shiro nodded past the lump in his throat. He took Allura's hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss to it, the Altean version of a promise. "I'll be back. With Lance. And Hunk. Please don't… don't…" He pressed another kiss to it. "I can't lose you too."

Allura's response was a weak cough and a new line of red dribbled down her chin.

"I'll save them," Shiro told Coran, rising to his full height. "You save her."

And giving the advisor no room in which to protest Shiro whirled from the room, leaving the last two Alteans huddled on the floor.

"Oh, Allura," Coran whispered, bowing his head further over her as though it could protect her from the world.

He had failed in his promise to protect her. He had failed her. Alfor's daughter. His own in all but blood. He had failed her. And now she was dying in his arms.

"C-Coran," she whispered and he grasped her seeking hand in his own, pressing her knuckles against his cheek. Dull jewel eyes opened and met his own. "I am… I am so sor—" she choked then and all Coran could do was hold her close, his tears coming hard and fast now.

"No, Allura, no." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No. You have nothing to apologize for."

She gave a soft murmur and turned her face so her cheek was pressed against the crook of his arm.

"Are you in pain?" he asked her quietly and she shook her head in the barest negative.

It wouldn't be long now.

Allura let out another wet cough and Coran brought his hand to brush against her cheek again, shifting loose curls away.

"C-Coran," she whispered, barely a breath now. "I'm… I'm sc-scared."

"I'm right here. I'm right here," he repeated, voice breaking. "I'm not going anywhere."

And that at least was one promise he was going to keep.

xxx

The knife fell away with a dull splash into the pool of blood that had formed beneath Theodek when the death grip on Lance's hand loosened.

He'd just…

He'd just…

Lance gagged but he had nothing left to throw up and could only sit there, chest heaving and throat and eyes burning.

He'd just…

He cast his eyes to the Galran's face, which was slack now although a trail of purple blood was still obeying gravity and trickling over his face. Lifeless yellow orbs peeked out from half-slitted eyelids.

He'd just…

Lance brought his blood splattered, mutilated hand back to his chest and pressed it there, as though that could calm the sobs threatening to choke him.

He'd just…

"D-dios," he whimpered.

He'd just killed Theodek.

But not from a planned shot. Not from a desperate swing.

No. Just like he had in life, Theodek had taken away his choice of how this ended. The taste of acid tickled his throat again and Lance gagged but it did nothing to alleviate the feeling.

He felt beyond sick.

But he didn't have time for this right now. Yes, Theodek was dead. No, it wasn't how Lance wanted it to be his stomach twisted anew as blood squelched between his fingers. But Theodek was dead. That meant...

That meant he could go to Hunk.

Hunk.

Just thinking of his best friend's lifeless form gave Lance the surge he needed to pull himself from his knees to his feet, wavering slightly at the change and as he glanced down fully now at the deceased Galran lying next to the kitchen table.

Hunk.

Get to Hunk.

He stumbled across the kitchen to where Hunk had fallen, the puddle of red even larger now and Hunk's face the slackness of unconsciousness but still the slight furrow of pain. Lance hated how relieved he was to see the latter because it meant Hunk hadn't… hadn't…

But what exactly was he supposed to do? Lance knew he wouldn't be able to carry Hunk on a good day let alone right now with two mutilated hands and his other injuries, not to mention the blackness pressing in again as his body reminded him that it only had so much blood to lose and his right arm was still dripping.

Blood.

Right.

He needed to staunch it for now. He could do that.

Before he made his way fully to Hunk, Lance made a detour to the counter, near collapsing against it as spots danced across his vision.

His left hand fumbled as best it could on the drawer that contained dish towels and he finally managed to hook a finger over the knob and yank it open. Gazing up at him were piles of freshly laundered towels, including the set Hunk had just picked up in yellow and orange stripes that he'd been so excited about.

It would be going in the incinerator after this.

Lance winced but hauled as many as he could out and pinned them against his chest, trying to not get any of his own blood on them before he forced himself back to Hunk's side, dropping to his knees without any sort of grace and the impact shuddered its way through him.

"Hunk?" he whispered, voice barely audible. "H-Hunk?"

No answer. Not like he should have expected one.

Lance set his pile to his side and away from the blood. He paused for the barest of seconds before awkwardly picking one up and lying it as best he could over his right arm, covering up the sheen of bone and watching with morbid interest as the white and gray pattern instantly darkened with red.

He tucked the arm up against his stomach, a low moan escaping at the new pressure, but he forced himself to keep it there. He had no way of knotting one around the gaping hole in his left hand but… he eyed the smaller dish rags he'd grabbed. He could…

His stomach rebelled at the thought and his hand spasmed. But he needed to stop the bleeding, both for what remained of his clarity and to prevent as much contamination as he could to Hunk.

"Dios," he whimpered as he maneuvered one of the smaller cloths into his hand, letting it rest against his palm. And a tick later he pressed his fingers over and shoved the cloth into the hole he had ripped into his flesh.

A short scream tore out of his throat and he hunched over his hand as lights exploded behind scrunched eyes. Oh Dios. It was worse than when he'd pulled the knife through it. He let out another scream as his fingers pushed against the rag even more, packing it as much as possible into his hand.

He retched again even though there was nothing left in him, but his body needed to do something in the face of the pain he was causing it. He risked a peek at his hand and the sight of the once blue dish rag nestled inside made him gag once more. He didn't even want to think how damaged his previously working hand had been.

If he lived through this maybe he'd be winding up with two prosthetics. It made a slightly hysterical laugh bubble to his lips and he had a moment of lucidity that he was most definitely being affected by the blood loss.

Blood loss.

The reminder sobered him and as hard as it was he pushed what he could of the pain away so he could awkwardly pick up a pile of towels and shuffled on his knees to Hunk's side, wincing as more blood soaked into his already beyond stained pants.

Hunk was lying on his stomach and Lance knew he didn't have the strength necessary to turn him over, so he did what he could as he was. It wasn't hard to find the wound that had literally brought Hunk to his knees; it was the gaping hole of missing armor and shredded bodysuit that took up all of Hunk's right side and dug through his back and Lance knew too through his stomach on the other side.

That was to say nothing of the scorch marks and other fragmented pieces of armor and small visible burns from the blast that Hunk had taken on his back to protect Lance.

A sob worked its way out of him, but this time out of sheer fear and desperation as he pushed the towels down on Hunk's back and side and they welled immediately with crimson. Hunk didn't so much as twitch.

"Hunk, please," Lance pleaded, using his elbow to press more fully down on the towels. "Por favor. Despierta. Please. Te necesito. Por favor despierta. H-Hunk…"

He couldn't lose Hunk. Not now. Not ever. This was his fault. It was his fault Keith and Pidge were dead. He would not allow Hunk to become a part of that tally. No. No. No.

The towels weren't doing enough though. He needed real help. Lance needed to get Hunk actual assistance but as he'd already determined there was no way he was moving Hunk on his own power.

But…

He reached forward and hit the clasps that kept the helmet adhered to Hunk's head. It didn't look too damaged by the blast and if he could somehow reach Shiro or Allura…

Assuming that is, they were still alive. He swallowed thickly and shook his head. No. He couldn't think like that. With a soft pop the helmet suction undid and Lance eased it as carefully as he could over Hunk's face, still furrowed and with it now removed he could make out Hunk's shallow, wet breaths.

Blood was staining the corner of Hunk's mouth and Lance's stomach clenched with renewed panic as though he could sort of figure that there had to be some sort of internal injury since Hunk had been sliced through his stomach he'd somehow held out to a naive hope that it wasn't that bad.

He had been foolish to hope.

"Tú vas a estar bien," Lance murmured, trembling fingertips brushing Hunk's cheek. "No te dejaré. Sola un minuto. Voy a buscar ayuda."

Lance maneuvered the helmet awkwardly over his own head, hands shrieking as he forced both to assist and he smeared bloody fingerprints all over the previously pristine white. A painful moment later it was done though and he tapped his left hand against it to activate the comms.

"Sh-Shiro?" he whispered. "Allura?"

No answer.

"Shiro? Anyone? Pl-please. Come i-in. Hunk is… Hunk is…"

Still nothing.

Lance didn't want to think of why they weren't answering. Because they couldn't be… they couldn't be…

"Shiro, please," he begged, bowing his head over Hunk. "Al-llura. Por favor."

There was no answer over the comms. Lance gave it a few more tries but there was only deafening silence from the headset and his harsh, half-sobs echoing and amplified inside. He yanked it off and the helmet rolled across the floor with a clatter.

Over the sound of the helmet coming to its final resting place there was another sound, footsteps, coming from the hallway. Lance wrenched his head in that direction, heart leaping into his throat. Someone was here. It was going to be okay. Hunk was going to be okay.

But no Shiro stepped into the room. No Allura. No Coran.

Instead it was a dark robed figure, purple skin pale in the dim lighting of the kitchen but yellow eyes glowing with a sick gleam.

"No," Lance whimpered. "N-no." It couldn't be. She couldn't be here. If she was here then the others… then the others…

"Oh, my Lance," Haggar breathed, a dark smile turning up her lips. "It is so good to see you again."

Author's Notes:

Quick little Spanish recap; Lance essentially is first begging Hunk to wake up and that he needs him. He then tells Hunk it's all going to be okay, he's going to get help and he won't leave him.

Funnily enough, I had the whole Lance scene written first and then realized, oops, need to go insert Haggar back up there. Didn't mean to make such a tear jerker in the middle of the chapter (it was at least one for me, Dios, why do I always cry at scenes with Coran?) but there we go. Enjoy. Or cry. Or do both. I am.

As a PSA just in case you were unaware; you can leave a review more than once. Your author highly encourages if possible every chapter. ;P Reviews make an author happy and want to keep writing and lack of feedback makes an author sad. I was super excited about last chapter given Theodek's end, but not sure if it was the holiday weekend or what, but it was a very quiet response on this end and it was more than a little disappointing considering what I had taken as prior enthusiasm for his demise. Please don't contribute to making the author sad. This goes for all stories you read. Please leave a comment at the end to show your appreciation for the fic and the author's time. Please and thank you.