Author's note: I stole the title from a song by Diamond Rio, but this is not a songfic.

Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron.

One More Day

He and I are sitting together in the pilot and copilot seats of our ship, and he's laughing, and I'm smiling at him, and it's like it used to be again.

Lazily, I stretch in my seat, because I can, and it doesn't hurt . . .

As if from somewhere far away, very, very faintly, I think I can hear Keith saying something. I don't know what it is that makes me think of him, because it's almost more a buzzing than a voice, but I'm sure it's him.

And it's weird, because he's sitting right next to me.

I turn to him in the pilot's chair, to ask him what he said, but he's not there. He's not on the bridge, as I look around. Frowning, I get up, and head toward the door, wondering where he could have gotten.

I check in our cabin, and he's there, stretched out on the bed, his back to the door. Smiling now, I crawl into bed beside him, wrap an arm around him and snuggle into his back. When he's sleeping, that always wakes him up, and he turns to embrace me.

But this time . . . no response. I sit up, worried. "Keith?" He doesn't move when I speak his name, and when I shake him, he's cold . . .

He's dead. I recoil in shock.

Wasn't I the one dying? Why am I alive and he . . . No, this isn't happening. He can't be dead, God, he can't.

That's when I realize this has to be a dream, because as I reach out to him again, he just kind of . . . shimmers and fades away. So does the bed . . . and the ship. A silvery fog surrounds me, warm and cold at the same time. I swear I can almost feel eyes, that I can see eyes glowing in the fog . . .

I've seen this in the movies. Isn't this the part where the deep booming voice says that this is what will happen if I don't change my ways?

Well, sorry to disappoint you, "God", but there's nothing I can do about this anymore. From the way the pain was the last time I was awake, like a vicious dog straining at the leash, I don't have any time left to change my ways.

And Keith certainly isn't going to die because I'm dead.

But then, suddenly, I'm not so sure, and I want to wake up . . .

Just to make sure . . .

Beeping. Cold, sterile scent. Cold, hard bed. The needle in my arm tells me it's a hospital room without me even opening my eyes. I can't feel any pain, so I must have enough drugs in me to choke a horse. Where is Keith?

Somehow, I manage to prop open my eyes. I'm not sure how long I can fight against the drugs, but I'm going to try. I can still hear Keith's voice. It's low, but heated, like he's arguing with someone and doesn't want to make a lot of noise. I can't quite make out the words.

Whoever he's arguing with sounds exasperated. "I think he's just being realistic, Captain. I told you, we don't know what we're dealing with here . . ."

"Keith?" I'm surprised at the croaking sound of my voice, that it doesn't carry very far.

But it carries far enough. In an instant, he's beside me, smiling down at me, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face. "Hey, handsome," he whispers, touching my cheek.

I smile back at him, as he sits beside me on the bed, to hide the shock the sight of him gives me. He is pale, so pale, with dark circles beneath his overly bright eyes. He's gaunt, his chin stubbled with growth, his hair tangled. My Keith, who always takes such pride in his appearance . . .

Above me, he swims in and out of focus, and I blink. The drugs are already starting to make a comeback, but I fight them off, because I have to tell him . . . something . . .

"Gonna miss you," I say. Damn it, my voice should be stronger than a whisper.

Even hazed out on painkillers, I don't miss the way his face freezes for an instant, before he smiles. "What do you mean, miss me?" he asks softly. "I'm gonna be right here the whole time you're getting better. You won't have time to miss me." He's still stroking my face. "You should be resting, you know."

He's pretending not to know. I know it. I give it up and force a grin. "Can't sleep anymore if you're not with me . . ."

He glances over his shoulder, but the doctor must have left, because he then swings himself onto the bed so he's lying beside me, his booted feet hanging off the edge. Carefully, he pulls me into his arms, and I rest my head against his chest. He's warm, and I sigh happily.

"Where are we?" I ask quietly. He hadn't told me our eventual destination before we arrived at Pollux, and afterward . . . it was all fuzzy.

"Earth. Garrison Hospital."

I digest that for a moment, then ask, "How's Sven?"

He tenses, and his breath catches. For a long time, he's silent, running his fingers up and down my back, and I almost think he's not going to answer. "I . . . didn't actually . . . talk to Sven," he says finally. "How did you . . ."

I roll my eyes. "Pollux. You were upset, practically chain-smoking. Doesn't take a genius. What happened?"

He sighs, and tells me. The rise and fall of his voice almost puts me to sleep, but I manage to hang on, because I still . . .

The only thing I'm able to say, muttered against his chest, is "Arus."

"Arus?"

I nod. "Go see the princess." Just say that Allura knows where I want to be buried, that would be a great way to open the subject . . . But the drugs are finally too strong to resist, and I drift back into the dreams.

It feels like I'm only asleep for a moment before I wake up again. The drugs have worn off, because slowly, slowly, the pain creeps back, curling in me and around me, a twisted parody of my lover's embrace.

And Keith is still here, still holding me. I can feel his hand lightly caressing my back. But . . . he's shaking, what's wrong, I can feel his whole body shaking . . . oh, God, he's crying. I can hear his soft sobs above me, his pleading whisper, "You can't die, Lance. You can't. I love you so much . . ."

The worst part of being sick isn't the pain. It isn't even the certainty that I'm going to die. The worst, the most terrible part is this- Keith falling apart as I deteriorate. That hurts me more than anything my body can do to me. It rips my heart to shreds.

I don't want to die, Keith . . . I'm crying now, too. I can't help it.

I get it, all right? I fucking get it. But it's not going to happen.

I don't want to die. With sudden clarity, I realize that's the truth.

Why have I given up? That's really the coward's way out, Lance. I've been many things in my life, but I've never been a coward. He loves me enough to drag my sorry ass halfway across the universe, to the one place that might be able to help, and I'm giving up? No way. No fucking way.

"Lance?" One of his arms lifts from around me, and finally I open my eyes, to see Keith rubbing his cheeks. "Are you in pain?" He's trying to make his voice sound normal, to pretend that he's all right, but I know better.

"You're a mess, love," I breathe, grinning up at him, despite my tears I can't wipe away. "Go clean up." His eyes are dark pools of hurt, and I know he thinks that I'm sending him away so he won't watch me die. "I'll still be here when you get back. Promise."

He smiles at me, really smiles at me, for the first time since he found out that I was sick. I think he knows, even though it's something I can hardly articulate myself. If I fight this, whatever it is, even if it only gives me just one day with him . . . Well, that's one more day where he doesn't have to doubt that I love him. And if he doesn't doubt that, then maybe he'll be able to hang on if I do die.

Even with the pain throbbing through every nerve, right now, I don't think I will die. At least, not today. And even if I only make it until tomorrow, that's still a lifetime.

The bottom line is that I love Keith more than anything. If that means that I have to be willing to live for him now, rather than willing to die, as I've had to be in the past, then hey- I can do that.

To cut off these sappy thoughts, I close my eyes and lean up toward him, hoping he'll take the hint.

He does. God, what a kiss. Now I've got something to look forward to . . .

***

March 24, 2002

© randi (K. Shepard), 2002.