Disclaimer: Voltron is owned by WEP. I can't even make much pretension to owning the plot, as there isn't really much of one, and I'm sure it's been done too much already.

Sun Light

Against all reason, the sun is shining.

I can see it glaring off the castle, off the moat, down the hill from here, and I have to wonder.

How can it possibly shine today? Why?

Last night, I thought I had moved on to anger. Today, I realize I am still firmly entrenched in denial. I feel that I'll be denying this for the rest of my short life. The hollowness aching in my chest, where my heart used to be, won't stop. It will kill me soon enough. It has to. After all, how long can anyone live without a heart? How can anyone possibly stand this overwhelming feeling of loss and despair?

Maybe you could, love. I know I'm not that strong.

The quiet rustle of fabric behind me is Allura. Her fingers are cool as she touches my hand. Involuntarily, I twitch, though I knew she was there. I don't want anyone to touch me. I'm not sure I can stand this. The gentle pressure of her fingers is almost too much. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but as I look down into her face, I can see that she's calm, composed. All her grief lurks in her eyes, though. I have to bite my lip to keep from sobbing as mine wells up in response.

How can the sun possibly shine? All the light in my life is gone . . .

"Come. It's time." Her voice is as steady as her gaze. Her princessly training to not show emotions is strained to the breaking point . . . just like me.

My voice breaks as I say, "Allura . . . I . . . I can't . . ." I can see her concern. I look like hell, I know. My eyes ache from crying. The mirror told me this morning (the first time I'd been able to look in it for three days) that they are almost completely red from my non-stop tears. My face is streaked and haggard from lack of sleep, and stubbled with a three-day growth. My hand shook so as I tried to shave that I had to ask Hunk to help me, rather than cut my own throat. Though that eventuality is looking better and better . . .

I'm shaking as she draws me against her black-clad shoulder. We're all in black today. For you, love. I didn't think I had any more tears, thought I'd cried myself out, but I was wrong. There are always more tears. She holds me close, stroking my back and hair, whispering my name over and over.

It takes a few minutes, but I manage to stop. She allows me some space, but still keeps me close, hands on my arms. I press my palms against my eyes, shoulders hunched. "Please, let's go," she says softly. "Everyone is waiting."

For a flash, I hate her. This is all her doing, anyway. Because nobody knew your wishes on the matter- would you rather rest on Earth? On your homeworld?- she decided that you would rest on the world you had . . . died . . . to protect.

But even as I feel the heat of the anger, it fades, smothered by that word. Taking my stunned silence for acquiescence, she leads me toward the rest of the group. Blinded by grief, I can barely make out Hunk's solid form. Pidge is a shadow hidden beside him, engulfed in the big man's arm. Coran looks so old now, older than I remembered, leaning heavily on his cane.

You died to protect a world. But now, it's only the five of us, those closest to you, to bid you farewell.

Coran's voice is heavy with sadness as he begins to speak. "We are here today to say goodbye to our teammate . . . and a hero . . ." I have to close my eyes, trying to block him out. But that's no better, as I am immediately pulled into memories of the battle.

We had all taken a share of the beating from the ro-beast. But it was weakening, and a few more passes would finish it. We hadn't even formed Voltron. Maybe we should have . . .

Doom's ship was firing on us as well. You were caught between the ship and the beast, dodging attacks from both, harrying the beast from the back. It spun about and lashed out at you, as Allura and I fired our missiles into it. It caught you square and hard, sending you spinning out of control for a moment. Seeing you helpless, the ship quickly fired on your broken Lion, before the ferocity of Hunk and Pidge's counter drove it away.

We were far up over the plain during the battle. You had plenty of time . . . I could rip out my tongue for the flippant way I called to you. "Gotcha good that time. You getting sloppy?" The crackle of static was my only answer, and I started to get scared. Calling your name, my voice growing more and more panicked, I streaked after you, my Lion whining at the strain. You didn't respond, didn't pull out. You were the best pilot of all of us. Why didn't you recover? Allura, Pidge and Hunk were right behind me, but as fast as we were, gravity was faster.

Your Lion crashed head first, toppled over, smoking from its wounds. Heedless of any danger, I set mine down and flung myself out of the hatch, screaming your name. Everyone else was in slow motion, swimming through honey. Your hatch was jammed, and I struggled desperately with it for a long minute before it gave and I could climb into your crumpled cockpit.

I don't even know how I got you out from beneath the console, out of your seat, but I did somehow. Oh, gods . . . how you were mangled, the blood running freely into your silky hair, from numerous injuries. Allura appeared at the open hatch. I shrieked at her to call Coran, to alert the doctor, to save you somehow. Her white face disappeared instantly.

My cry must have roused you, for your beautiful eyes flickered open, and you smiled faintly. Through my fear-filled sobs, I tried to smile back. "It's all right, love," I whispered, bending over you again, lightly holding your hand. Your lips soundlessly shaped my name, your bloodied fingers quivered against my cheek, and with a quiet bubbling sigh, you were gone . . .

Allura gripping my hand brings me sharply back to the present. I realize I am crying again, the tears silently rolling down my face, eyes still closed. Is she trying to give me comfort, or is she seeking it? For I can hear her quiet sobs now, echoed by Pidge, and Hunk, several octaves lower. Coran's voice is shaking, but he continues.

The sun is impossibly warm on my face.

Allura's grasp on my hand becomes almost painful. I tremble helplessly as I wonder. Did you love her? Did you give her a part of yourself that you never shared with me? Even as I anger myself at your imagined betrayal, I know you had not. You would not. You were always true, always honorable. You made me better than I was, but that's not the reason I love you. I love you because you are Keith.

But now you are gone. Though I am surrounded by our team, I am alone.

I didn't think the emptiness in my chest could get any worse. But it has.

After an eternity, Coran has finished his eulogy. I still have my eyes closed, trying to hold off reality for a moment longer. If I can just believe hard enough, will it all go away? I'll wake up from this horrible nightmare. I'll be in your arms, and you'll hold me as I spill out to you how real the dream seemed. You'll comfort me with your strong warm presence, and stroke my brow as I drift back to sleep . . .

"Lance?" Her voice breaks it to pieces. Resentfully, I open my eyes. We are the only ones standing by your grave now. Your grave . . . oh, gods, the finality of the words . . . it sends me over the edge.

I am shaking, a leaf rattled by the wind. The scent of freshly turned earth fills my nostrils as I sink to my knees. They buried your still form here early this morning. The scent of earth . . . the scent of death. I clench my hands in the soft dirt. I will never smell your scent again, the scent that is uniquely Keith.

I will never touch you again. Never see your face.

My best friend. My lover. My love.

"Lance, please!" I can hear real alarm in her voice. I am crying so hard it scares her. Gasping, heaving sobs wrack me, every muscle agonizingly locked by them. The kind of sobs that would move a heart of stone.

The kind that only a broken heart could make.

Her arms are wrong around me, and even she knows it. Words tumble from her lips, meaningless in my ears. I can't hear her through my grief. Until she speaks your name.

"Keith would not want you to feel this way. He would want you to have hope."

"He was my hope," I whisper harshly. "I should have died. I wish I had . . ."

"Stop it." Her stern tone startles me into looking at her. She shakes me a little. "No one wishes you were dead in Keith's place. Least of all Keith." She smiles tremulously at me. "Did you ever notice how his love for you shone in his eyes? Every time he looked at you, it was there, burning bright as a star. The time you had was a gift. Don't cheapen it by wishing you were dead. No one should have died- but we have to pick up our pieces and move on." Her blue eyes plead with me to understand.

I know she means to help. I nod at her words, unable to speak, unable to smile. She rises gracefully as I pull myself to my feet. I stumble after her in silence.

The sun dims briefly, hidden by a passing cloud.

The ache in my chest is like a thousand shards of glass. I must be dead. A living person could not stand such pain.

They did not bury you alone, love, in the sun that should have been rain.

They buried me, too.

***

October 25, 2001

© randi (K. Shepard), 2001-2002.