2019 Voltron Whumptober Collection

8 Stab Wound

Word Count: 1,307

Keith never should have left Voltron.

He was beginning to realize that now.

But of course, like everything else in his life, he realized that a little too late.

He stumbled forward again, jolting himself back to the present, just barely missing the floor as hands shot out to steady himself against a nearby wall, breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps as he fought to keep going, tears pricking his eyes that had nothing to do with emotional stress.

He- he couldn't stop now.

He had to keep going.

The sword protruding from his chest said otherwise.

Blood was flowing from his middle at a sluggish pace, even with the piece of metal still shoved firmly through his abdomen. Each push he made forward, a new line of crimson made its way down his front and, to put it plainly, his middle felt like it was being torn apart.

His legs trembled with every step he took, braced against the wall as he fought to navigate some way off the ship, the front of his marmoran uniform soaked in his own blood.

He coughed into his hand, fingers pulling away to reveal specks of blood dotting his fingers peeking through the black spots crowding his vision.

It had been his fault (always his fault) when he'd been caught, trying to distract the bulk of the soldiers so the rest of his team could navigate the ship just a little easier.

He just didn't count on the flesh guard waiting for him as he rounded a corner.

He could feel the exact moment it pierced through his flesh, sliding through him, all the way through his back and Keith had gasped. So. Loud when the blade slid home, it was nearly deafening in his own ears.

He'd managed to dispatch the soldier anyway, taking him by surprise after he already landed the killing blow on the blade.

And-

Damn, it- it hurt.

But he had to keep moving.

But if he stopped now, he'd be dying in the middle of a Galra ship and he sure as hell wasn't about to let that happen. Not now, not ever.

He had to keep going.

He had to live.

With a barely contained moan, he pushed himself off again, feet stumbling, teeth clenching as he took another step, fingers clenching, and Keith was sure if he hadn't been wearing gloves, his knuckles would be white.

He took another trembling step.

And then another.

And another.

Each jarring stride sending spikes of pain running through his abdomen, and it took all of Keith's willpower not to break down right then and there because no matter how hard it hurt, he-

He had to get through this.

He had to fight. Somehow, he- he had to get through this.

If it wasn't for the Blades who never offered to come back to rescue him, or the team he turned his back on, he- he should at least do it for himself.

He should at least try and live for himself, right?

Right?

But, despite the small pep-talk, Keith could already feel the last of his willpower beginning crumble, and he couldn't quite reach out fast enough to stop himself this time as bloodied fingers slid uselessly across the wall, his knees giving out from under him without his control, sliding on something wet on the floor as he plummeted, barely aware he was falling before his body hit the cold metal ground under him.

The bloodied hilt of the sword still inside him hit the floor first with a clang, shoving the blade even deeper into him, his already splotchy vision nearly whited out as pure hot agony rang through him like a bell.

He screamed freely that time, the sound bordering on the verge of a wail, as his earlier thought came to mind in his blinding flash of agony.

He- he shouldn't have left Voltron.

None of this would have happened if he'd still been with his team instead of with a bunch of self-sacrificing Blades who thought it best to leave anyone who fell behind. He should've stayed with Voltron, he- he should've sucked up his feeling of uselessness and fought to be useful, even if he was no longer a paladin. He should've fought harder to stay.

He could've helped Coran run the castle when the fight got tough.

Or- or helped Hunk with one of his latest recipes, not-

Not signing up for a suicide mission, not-

Not laying on the floor of a Galran ship, too completely and utterly drained to finish the fight.

But, if he was being honest with himself, that's what he's best at, isn't it?

Giving up?

Running away?

He gave up when Shiro died, ran from his team to silently mourn the loss of his brother with no one around him to help with the crippling loss that drowned him, refusing to go away. He gave up when the unwanted responsibilities were placed on his shoulders when Black- Shiro's lion- accepted him as her paladin.

He gave up even more when Shiro returned, apparently trapped on a Galra ship while everyone thought he had died at the hands of Zarkon what felt like years ago. The man reconnected his bond with the black lion when Keith couldn't even be a decent leader without screwing everything up.

He just wasn't cut out for this.

So, he ran away from that too, ran to the Blade of Marmora, where he never had to think about what he was doing, he just did what he was told without a second thought. He liked the numbness that it brought, the numbness that faded all of those memories he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget, so scared to stand up and stick around, too focused on not being a burden now that he was no longer needed, now that no one, literally no one cared if he stayed or left, no matter how big of an act they put on that they needed him, that he was wanted.

Did you see their reactions when he put the team in jeopardy?

And with one more failure staring him straight in the face, he didn't bother to come back after that. He just gave some half-hearted excuse about leaving for a mission that could be months in the making and- he left. Despite all of the looks he gave in Shiro's direction, all of the pleading hidden within his eyes, silently begging them to look deeper, to see that he wanted them to say something, to say that they needed him, and mean it, truly and utterly mean that they still wanted him around after all of the screw-ups and missteps.

He wanted to know he was wanted.

But that never came.

And when he walked out-

No one moved to stop him.

But this was all his fault anyway, so Keith probably shouldn't be pointing fingers at his team anyway. He was the one who found the blue lion's energy, he was the whole reason they were in space in the first place.

It was all because of him.

It- it was all his fault.

He probably deserved to die anyway, no amount of begging could change his fate.

The sword shifted again as Keith moved to roll on his side, curling up on himself, careful to not jar the weapon inside him any more than he already had, clenching his bloodstained fists as he middle gave another heartstopping throb anyway.

He was actually going to die here. There wasn't any doubt about it now.

He just wished he could've said goodbye to his team before this happened. Even if they no longer wanted him around, he- he should've at least said goodbye.

Would they say goodbye back if they knew where he'd be now?