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As Color Fades Away
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Shiro stumbled down the hall, a blood trail in his wake.
His flesh hand was pressed against his stomach as though that could hold it inside, but the splattering of crimson that continued to drip told another story.
He gritted his teeth and kept going, even as the hallway narrowed and widened in front of him.
He had to find Lance and Hunk.
What he was going to be able to do when he did find them was another matter.
All he did know was that he was not going to lose them. He would not lose anyone else. His prosthetic clenched at his side with a creak.
He had lost so many already.
He pushed their faces away. Not now. He couldn't dwell on them right now. He had to first save Lance and Hunk. Only once they were safe could he give into the grief threatening to drown him.
He steadily made his way to the great hall where he'd told them to go even though he had a sinking feeling they had not made it there.
His fears were confirmed as he stepped into the open double doors and all of the Lions appeared, still in their spots from just that morning.
"Black," he whispered, voice still too loud for the space.
But there was no gentle touch on his mind, no sense of awareness. She, along with the rest of the Lions, was still powered down. Shiro swallowed back his curse.
He didn't have time to waste standing here. Haggar was out there gunning for Lance.
He needed to find them before she did. Before… before he lost any more of his family.
Turning around, Shiro made to return to the hall but his body had other plans. His right leg gave a wobble and before he could stop himself he was falling, hard unforgiving ground rushing to meet him.
He barely slammed his hands out in time to catch himself and the resulting impact had him gasping aloud as pain rolled through him. He collapsed further, coming to balance himself on knees and trembling forearms.
A quiet plip plip plip sounded in the silence of the hall and Shiro groaned as his stomach spasmed.
He had to get up.
He had to save Lance and Hunk.
He had to be there for them.
"I'm here for you too, Shiro."
Shiro choked on his next breath as Keith's soft, sincere words from just an hour ago cut in.
Here for you. Here for you. Here for you.
But Shiro hadn't been there for him.
Instead he'd sent Keith and Pidge on a mission to die. He was their leader and he'd made horrible, horrible call.
One that he could never take back.
Why had they ever trusted him?
He'd told Allura he couldn't do this. He'd tried to back down but she had not let him. She had made him believe he was capable.
She had been wrong.
But it wasn't her fault. It was his.
He was the one who was wrong.
He was the one who was broken and messed up and weak.
"You're the strongest person I know," Keith echoed.
Shiro didn't feel strong.
Strong was being able to protect those you loved. Strong was doing whatever you could in whatever capacity to make sure that no one else had to suffer.
Lance had understood that. Lance had taken the final plunge to save them.
That was strength and love.
Shiro…
Shiro was not strong. Shiro was weak. He had killed Keith. Killed Pidge.
He should have been the one to board the ship. As soon as Allura had vetoed his offer to go he should have known deep down something was going to go wrong.
It should have been him.
And now he'd killed Allura. He hadn't been strong enough to fight Haggar, to hold her back. He'd failed in everything that mattered.
What kind of leader was he?
"You're already a great leader."
"I'm n-not," he whispered to Keith's voice inside his head. "I'm not."
A great leader would have protected his team.
He hadn't.
He hadn't at all.
Keith and Pidge were dead. Allura was dying. And Hunk and Lance…
"My Lance needs me," Haggar had crooned, smile twisting her face.
Lance was in trouble.
Haggar was going to hurt him. And once she discovered that she was cut off from his quintessence, that her prize was unobtainable…
She'd kill him.
She'd kill him and anyone else – Hunk – that might be in her way.
They were going to die.
And Shiro was just lying here and being absolutely useless.
He needed to get up. He needed to save them.
But how?
He hadn't been able to beat Haggar, to even really hurt her at all, when it had been three on one. What did he honestly think he was going to do? Stare her to death? Ask her to nicely leave?
Yeah. Right.
She had offered to deal with him before; he and Lance for what remained of the team. He hadn't taken it, knowing her words were poison dipped in honey.
Now he wondered if he should have at least considered. Hunk and Allura and Coran could have lived. He could have found a way to rescue himself and Lance at a later time.
He let out a weak sob.
Who was he trying to fool?
He couldn't have rescued them. He'd have been thrown into the arena when he wasn't being tied down to a table. And Lance… he'd either be dead when Haggar discovered the barrier or she'd have turned him into a project too. Or, he shuddered, a pet.
Because as obsessed as Haggar was with her champion, there was something different about her approach to Lance. He was not just a tool to her… he was a toy.
And here Shiro still was, being useless.
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
Shiro could feel the tight hug Keith had initiated with the words, the tickle of dark hair beneath his chin as he returned it.
He sucked in a harsh breath, tears pricking his eyes at the memory.
He let it out as he really listened to it.
Even now, when he was gone, Keith was helping him.
Lying here, listing all the things he had done wrong was not going to help anyone. He couldn't change what had happened.
But…
He could find a way to save the ones he still could.
He had no idea how to face down Haggar, but he would give it all he had.
Somehow, some way, he was going to stop her.
No.
Not just stop her.
He was going to kill her. He had made that promise and he was going to stand by it.
She was not going to hurt anyone ever again.
His hands clenched into fists, the prosthetic grinding at the force, and pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet.
He swayed as black spots danced in his vision at the elevation change and his body protested the movement and more blood dripped from his stomach, splattering the ground.
He told his body to be quiet and took a staggering step forward and then another, exiting the main hall and leaving the Lions behind.
He was going to find Lance and Hunk.
And he was going to save them.
No matter what.
The macabre trail of blood followed him deeper into the castle.
xxx
Allura still clung to life.
She had fallen unconscious a dobash ago, hand growing limp in Coran's own, and he had thought then it was over. But a wet, garbled breath had shaken her frame a moment later, blood trickling down her chin, and Coran's heart had seized again.
He dug his fingers into the back of her long tresses, holding her close as more and more crimson continued to stain the floor about them.
He had no idea how she still lived. Perhaps some part of her was holding out for some miracle that he knew would not come to pass. Perhaps it was her last sense of duty, to remain in this world for as long as she could, to keep him from being the last of their kind for just another dobash.
He clung tighter to his dying princess, his daughter, tears pattering against her dark cheeks and his near silent sobs shaking them both.
He had lost near everything once. His wife. His son. He had been pulled back from that dark abyss by Alfor and the bright, innocent life of his newborn daughter. He had found new purpose, a new family.
Then Alfor had been wrenched away, his home destroyed, and he had only had Allura again.
But not quite. The five humans who fate had chosen to be the Paladins of Voltron had become family, each in their own way. He had grown to love them all, to open his heart once more and rejoice that the universe had seen fit to give him yet another immeasurable treasure.
And now…
Now he was losing them too.
Pidge. Keith. They were already gone. So young. Barely more than babes in Altean years, fighting in a war that he should never allowed. He should have put his foot down the moment they had arrived for no matter what fate had chosen it had chosen children.
And now those children were dead.
His own daughter soon to follow.
His shoulders hunched even further over Allura as though that could keep her here.
That was to say nothing of the rest. Shiro was wounded, not fatally, not yet, but he could not face the Druid alone, and yet that is what he had gone to do. The only ones unaccounted for were Hunk and Lance, but based on the witch's reaction something had befallen them via the Galran commander.
He clung to hope that somehow they lived, but it was a fickle thing. For he knew Hunk would do all he could to protect Lance, and the reverse was true as well. And Haggar… even if she were to encounter the barrier there was no telling what she would do when she discovered Lance's quintessence was cut off from her.
They could both very well be dead now. Two beyond gentle, innocent souls that should never seen the cruelty of the battlefield. Gone because they had failed to stop Zarkon ten thousand years ago.
Why must the young pay for the elders' mistakes? Why was the toll always so high?
Coran looked down at Allura's tear-stained face, a mixture of his own and hers. Her brow was furrowed, somehow still holding onto life.
He did not understand how. Her body should have given out by now, the amount of blood alone likely fatal, not accounting even for the organs destroyed in the gaping chasm that was once her torso. All he could do was be here in her final moments, whenever those may be, so she did not pass on alone.
Only then could he get up and rejoin the battle, for however much he was capable of.
Coran released a shaky breath and over the sound of his exhale he heard something else, something moving outside the room.
He stiffened, tightening his grip on Allura even while his eyes cast to his staff that had rolled away.
But it was no threat.
The noise was a morose squeak, followed by another and a light pattering of tiny feet.
The mice.
They appeared as a group at the destroyed wall, little Chulatt cradled in Platt's arms and Plachu and Chuchule supporting one another, tiny paws wrapped about each other's backs. Normally a spattering of pastels, their colors now looked even paler, Chulatt bordering on gray instead of light blue.
"Little ones," Coran murmured.
Chuchule chirruped softly, red eyes bright with tears. She and Plachu made it to the Alteans first and the two scrambled up Allura's legs. They both skirted about the gaping bloody hole, Plachu near wavering at the sight and Chuchule tugged him away.
They nestled themselves then over Allura's heart, curling up nose to tail. There was the briefest flare of white light and when it settled both mice were another shade paler. In his arms, Allura twitched.
Coran's breath caught.
They were sharing their lifeforce. Their connection to Allura, bonded for ten thousand years, had expanded in such a way that they were somehow capable of such a feat, sharing their own quintessence with their princess.
Platt had reached them now and squeaked quietly, unable to clamber up himself with Chulatt in his arms. Coran carefully reached over Allura and put his hand down for them to climb onto and then raised them up. Platt made a noise of thanks and settled himself and Chulatt next to their siblings.
"You cannot save her," he whispered, even as he reached out a finger and stroked it along Platt's back. No matter how much quintessence they gave it could not repair the damage. All it would do was prolong her life for a little longer.
Plachu raised his head and made a near hissing noise, as if denying the claim, before nestling his head back against Allura.
Coran felt tears anew prick his eyes.
It was all for naught. There was nothing that could save Allura now. If they'd had an Altean healer of days gone by they might have been able to–
Coran froze.
They did have a healer.
Him.
He possessed orange quintessence, the element of light and healing. But he had not had the ability to unlock it and thus it had lain dormant within him, just as the human Paladins did until they bonded with their Lions.
He had never pursued the healing arts – and had sworn off ever trying after Neleenia passed in his arms and he'd been forced to wonder the what ifs for while he could not have cured Neleenia of her disease he could have prolonged her life in that moment, could have saved their son, and if he thought on it his grief threatened to overwhelm him– and had concentrated instead of his many other talents.
And now…
Now he was presented with a near identical scenario: a woman he loved dying once more in his arms.
But this time...
His hand shifted to his robe pocket where he'd haphazardly thrust the rune circle Allura had sketched out just a varga ago with the intent to tap into his quintessence.
This time he had a key of sorts. A direction. It had been drawn to connect to a quintessence, to channel his own along the circle.
He could use it to connect to Allura.
He could save her.
With gentle haste Coran lowered Allura fully to the floor and thrust his hand into his pocket, pulling out the rumpled but still intact circle.
He could save her.
"Thank you, little ones," he murmured, voice thick with tears. They had bought Allura time, enough that he could attempt this.
He had no idea what would happen. He had no idea how to control it, to know when to cut it off so he did not drain and kill himself.
It did not matter. He would pour every last drop of his own into Allura if that is what it took. He would save her.
He would not fail.
Platt gave a squeak of affirmation and rose from his spot on Allura's chest. His fur was paler too then when he had first curled up, but his eyes were open and dark with strength. He nudged his siblings and with little chirrups they pulled themselves free and slid down Allura's hair to drop fully to the ground.
Once they were clear, Coran placed the rune circle above Allura's heart.
"Please, Alaraan," he prayed, hovering his hands above the circle. "Let this work. Let her live."
And Coran placed his hands atop the circle.
There was a tingle then, a sense of something filling him that he did not understand but it felt right. It was warm and bright and he closed his eyes, picturing a steady orange glow. He could feel it growing, his hands heating pleasantly and reminding him of stepping into a warm beam of sunshine on a chilly day.
He could see the orange now, just like the sun's rays, stretching out and faintly touching upon a fading soft pink. There was pain when they connected, a chasm that nearly knocked the breath out of him.
Gritting his teeth, Coran pushed all he had into that fissure.
He filled it with orange light, stoppering up every crack, turning the dull pink into a brilliant shade that met his with a soothing caress.
It was still not enough.
He poured more in, feeling his own fading like the sun beyond the horizon.
He did not stop.
He could not stop.
It should have been terrifying, to not be able to cut off the flow of quintessence. But it was not. Not when it meant that Allura would live. He could feel that, feel her life force renewed.
He had many regrets in his life, but her death would not be one of them.
He could pass on with that.
There was one last weak ray of orange, sputtering against the canvas of pink. Coran felt his lips curl up into a smile.
This was right.
This was—
A sharp prick catapulted him out of the flow of light and the world around him returned to the dark grays of the storage room.
Coran saw through bleary eyes the outlines of the mice, gathered atop his hands.
They had… bit him?
It was his last thought before he collapsed.
xxx
Author's Notes:
And lookie at that, the princess lives! Anyone see this little part coming (Coran is the element of healing!) or remember that rune circle (and spot him put it in his pocket)? Good thing Haggar showed up when she did, huh? Otherwise they'd have used it earlier to test on Lance's barrier and wouldn't have it to save Allura. And good mice. Good furry beans. Look at everyone get a role :D
I'd like to clarify from the notes last chapter that a "good response" does not mean quantity. The amount of spam comments I've had to delete this weekend has been more than a bit ridiculous and posting over and over as anon accounts to update and keyboard smashing is not considered supportive or kind or "good." It's rather frustrating, actually. The idea of a "good response" was based on the shortened timeframe to leave an actual comment in; not the amount of them. I'd much rather only get a couple sincere comments on a fic than twenty of the aforementioned.
This bonus update is not for those spam-type comments at all, but for the lovely individuals who left actual comments about the fic/chapter and the writing. Thank you for those. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well.
As always, please do leave a comment below. I love hearing about what you liked best in the chapter and very curious to see the reactions to the awesome, gorgeous man that is Coran. I'll see everyone again on June 22 following season six. And again, please no spoilers in the comments. Thank you and look forward to hearing from you!