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Been thinking a lot about an alt ending where Lance gets really roughed up in the final battle and suffers life altering injuries, maybe loses a leg or can’t walk permanently and he just falls apart, hiding away for months until Keith crash lands back on earth at his door #klance
In the days leading up to Voltrons last moments, Lance already feels himself unraveling. He’s been holding it together so long and he’s hanging on by a thread. The team doesn’t feel like the family he used to think it was. After their date, he and Allura tried to be something
For each other but it was easy to see once back in the throes of war that what that something is was not a relationship. She’s been distant since then. Whether that be from regret in ever trying something or that he was always just a distraction, losing its value once something
more important came along, he’ll never know. It’s a lonely last few days in space. Pidge, Hunk and Shiro are working nonstop in planning. He tries to help out but it always feels like he’s interrupting.
Keith is constantly being torn in two directions, the BOM looking at him for guidance. The last time he even said anything to Lance that wasn’t about war tactics was weeks ago. Alone. It’s not the way he thought things would end
The final battle only comes to him in fragments even months later. They were all split apart which they should have been expecting seeing as it has happened over and over. He’s on some planet he hopes he’ll never remember, alone... again.
The memories feel like days in between landing on that god awful planet and where everything goes dark. Glimpses of soldiers coming towards him, others of ones he’s not sure he killed.
to be continued in a bit
One moment he’s laying on the ground, rifle perched on some rocks in the little space he was able to find before his body gave out from exhaustion. There’s blood and sweat dripping down his face, his helmet long gone and his aim is solely focused on not hitting one of his allies
A brief thought passes that he hasn’t seen anyone he recognizes for hours, hasn’t seen a shade of red that doesn’t make his stomach clench in disgust and guilt.
He’s laying in the dirt for hours or maybe only minutes picking off the bad guys and trying not to think about what that makes him. There’s a sound, nothing distinct except for its loudness, the sound of something getting dangerously closer. There’s purple.
That’s not one of his colors. He rolls over on his back, wishing to the sky that he could see that shade of red again. Just one more time to wash away all the other reds. The sky is washed out in purple light and then there’s nothing.
Somehow he wakes up. He wakes up and doesn’t know what to make of that. Different faces fill his foggy vision in the days it takes to come back into wakefulness. At some point he’s coherent enough to realize he’s in the medbay of the Atlas.
There’s a few other beds occupied but he’s fairly certain they’re none of his colors. Yellow, Green, Black, Pink, they’ve all been accounted for in the moments of lucidity.
No Red. He’s too tired to think what that means. A few more days and he realizes something isn’t right. People come and go fiddling with the mess of tubes connected to him but say nothing. The ones he recognizes simply hold his hands and look at him in a way he can’t decipher
There an ache in his chest that feels separate from the rest of the pains that pervade his body. A hollowness that feels like has been there a long time. When yellow, Hunk leaves that night the familiar ache throbs in his throat and he swallows down tears until sleep takes him
It’s a week later he’s lucid enough to be forced to deal with reality. The team files in and give him that look. He knows it’s time to talk about what happened. Why he’s still in this bed when everyone else is seemingly untouched.
They start with the easy stuff. The fighting is over. They won the war. The lions have disappeared and they’re on their way back to Earth.
He interrupts when they’re attention seems to fall back on the hospital bed and the monitor that beeps in the background. Not yet. He can’t hear it yet. It won’t be good news he’s already accepted that.
It doesn’t matter. Not when there is a distinct lack of one paladin. His Red, Keith. All eyes fall back to Shiro when he asks. His face falls dark when he tells Lance that he’s missing. The last anyone saw of him was when he abandoned Black on planet.
One of the blades he was with has yet to be found as well. That was two weeks ago. The lump in his throat threatens to choke him. Sobs come unbidden the second Hunk reaches forward to cradle his head against his chest in shaky hands.
He cries for Keith. That the last time he saw him was through a crappy screen, far too distant. That he’s gone again. Always just out reach and leaving this void that makes the loneliness creep in further. That he’s just starting to figure out why that is and it’s maybe too late.
He cries for whatever it is that makes his team look at him like a teacup about to fall over the edge. For the truth he’s been unwilling to accept. That he hasn’t been able to move his legs since he woke up. That he’s not sure if he even cares.
tbc... enter little time skips and Keith next time. This has gotten out of hand 
#klance
#klance
