Prompts: Race Against the Clock/Panic Attack/Friendly Fire/Survivor's Guilt
"We're not gonna make it."
Lance gritted his teeth as he held his breath as he lined up the sights and delivered a clean headshot. He did not come this far to have it end here. He would see this through. "We're gonna make it. We have to."
"Lance."
It was just his name. But something about the way it was said. Just one word, but the sadness, acceptance, and firm finality of it. It was the truth, and it hit him hard enough that he lowered his rifle a hair.
No. He shook his head and repositioned the barrel along his cheekbone. No, they could fight this, they could still make it out. "We just gotta--"
"Lance."
Now inflected with brokenness, a pathetic urgency. Suddenly he had to remember how to breathe. He missed his next two shots.
"They won't, not while we're still inside."
But the funny thing was, somewhere in his mind he knew that wasn't true. They had waited so long for a chance like this, a chance that they were never going to get again. His comrades, they'd have no choice. He knew it but chose to believe they would wait anyway. Because if he didn't--
"Lance."
Oh. He knew a spirit shattering when he heard it. His lungs were convulsing. Was he breathing? His hands were trembling so hard he could barely hold his gun.
A hand reached out and guided the gun down. "It's over."
Lance wrenched his attention away from the advancing enemy to see the most devastating thing he had ever laid eyes on.
Keith looked at him so tenderly, tears running streaks down his face that was mussed with grime and blood. So this is what giving up looked like.
"Breathe, Lance."
Casualties were a part of this great game known as war. They all knew it could come at any moment. But for some reason Lance didn't think the day would come when his card would be up.
Why was Keith holding him so tight? What were those sounds? Like a dying sheep. Wait. That was him. Oh he was sobbing. Screaming.
Keith cradled his head against his chest.
"It mattered. Everything mattered," he whispered, soft and soothing despite coming from his cracked lips. "If nothing else, you matter to me."
There was a weight on Lance's chest, making it so that he had to gasp for breath. His heart to beat so fast he was sure it would burst. The corners of his vision started to fade to black as all the sounds closed in around him.
Only Keith's rough voice, quiet and calming made a lifeline that Lance desperately grasped for, keeping himself afloat.
"Holy shit. We're gonna die, and you'll never know because I never told you."
Lance's tongue felt too big for his mouth, dead weight and useless. Somehow, he managed to ask "Told me what."
"That your smile lights up the universe more than a thousand suns. That everything sucks to the point that somedays I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, but I do, because I get to see you, and when I'm with you everything is a little less awful. That I break every time you look at her."
Lance was able to focus his eyes. Too bright lights. It took all he was to look into those impossibly beautiful, red-rimmed watery eyes.
"Lance I lo--"
* * *
They won.
Ten thousand years of oppression had come to an end with that blast.
Allura and Coran clung to each other as they watched the waves of radiation wipe out the end of the empire.
Hunk stood as still as a statue. Tears streaking down his cheeks.
"They were still down there," Pidge whispered as they collapsed to their knees on the cold floor.
It took everything in Shiro to keep his intestines from emptying out his mouth. The bile was there, bitter and biting.
It was necessary. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. That's what they would say. He would be applauded. A hero. But only the people in this room would see it as it really was: a choice.
A choice that was easier than it should have been. Cruelly quick and almost as thoughtless. He had the rest of his life to mourn. He hoped it wasn't long.
