Prompts: Sleep Deprivation/"Leave the lights on."
A hand fell on his shoulder.
The same hand that had held him back, pinned him down, taken his blood, just a day before.
Keith looked up to see Shiro standing behind him, his sharp features softened by the dim glow of the medical bay's lights. He held out a bowl of green goo.
Keith took it and begrudgingly shoved a sporkfull into his mouth. It was chilled, the way he liked it, but tonight the jello-like texture felt especially nasty on his tongue. He forced it down anyway. Gross. He took another bite.
Shiro stayed with him as he ate, unapologetic and silent. Not that there was anything to say. What had happened, happened. No going back now. There was nothing left to do but wait.
The sounds of his chewing seemed loud in the quiet atmosphere, it did nothing to ease the roiling in Keith's stomach. He fought to keep it down. He'd been shaky since the transfusion.
Of course, it didn't help that he was staring at Lance's arm. Or rather, where his arm used to be.
He'd held his hand as they cut it off. Shiro had had to gently pry the amputated limb from his grip. Keith didn't know where it was now. Did it get thrown out the airlock? Was a piece of Lance floating around in space? That didn't seem right.
He finished eating. There were still small chucks of green around the rim of the bowl, but he couldn't bring himself to scrape it clean. He held his arm. It was still throbbing from where the needle had been none-to-gently forced into him several times before the vein had been found.
"You should get some rest," Shiro said softly. The others had left once Lance had gotten semi-stable, succumbing to the exhaustion and adrenaline crash. In the morning, they had found Keith exactly where they had left him. They spent the day with him, watching and waiting in tense silence, but dropped off one by one as the night dragged on.
Keith studied Lance's comatose face. There was a wrinkle in his brow. Was he in pain? He imagined Lance waking up and falling to the floor with no one to catch him, unable to get up because of the pain and the fact that he was off balance due to the missing limb. Or worse, Lance's body rejected the transfusion.
Keith shook his head. "I want to stay."
If Keith's blood was the thing that killed him, it only felt right that he should watch it happen; be with him in his final moments, whether Lance was aware of his presence or not. Somebody like Lance, so full of life and light, he shouldn't have to die alone.
Shiro sighed. "Do you understand why I did that to you?"
Pidge had been going pale. Lance's heart rate had still been too fast, pressure dangerously low. Shiro had looked on, jaw locked, mouth set grimly. Out of options and paralyzed. He must have been in the midst of processing his grief when his eyes flickered to Keith. Keith had seen the exact moment something snapped in the senior officer, he had felt it in the way he grabbed him and all but threw him down. Keith rubbed his face. "It's fine, Shiro. I would hav—"
"No," Shiro cut him off sharply. "It's not fine. Notice how I never apologized? I don't want your forgiveness. Lance's life, whatever happens, that is on me. Those were my decisions. You had no part in this. Do you understand?"
"I—"
"Do you understand?"
Keith nodded.
"Whatever happens is not your fault," Shiro reinforced. "I want to hear you say it."
"Whatever happens it's not my fault," Keith repeated dutifully.
"Again."
"Whatever happens, it's not my fault."
"Good," Shiro praised, warmth finally returning to his voice. He turned to leave.
"Leave the light on?" Keith asked.
"Only if you promise to sleep soon. You need your strength back."
"I promise," Keith lied.
Who placed blame on who wouldn't matter in the end. If Lance met his end because of his blood, there was no changing that.
Either way, Keith would stay by his side, until the very end.
