Red and Blue make Purple

light-of-eyllwe asked:

Original Story Prompt incorporating the following~ Setting: A carnival Object: A locket Random Word/Phrase/Concept: bloody hands

Well, this certainly felt good to write. Gotta love me some good angst. I’ll upload this to Ao3 later~

Word Count: 1528

Summary: It takes a lot to be normal again.

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood

Huh, that was interesting. He couldn’t really place it, but he had this strange sense of déjà vu. Lance looked at the locket he had in his hand. He flipped it open, a small picture of the two of them inside. He and Keith looked so happy in this picture, and yet, he couldn’t feel the same thing anymore.

It really wasn’t fair.

The carnival alive around him. His daughter was off on the rides, screaming with her friends. It had been one of Keith’s requests that he do this for her, Amelia. She was their pride and joy, adopting her out of the system when she was just barely three years old. Now she was eight and as happy as she could be. Well, she could be happier. He could be too, but yeah, that was going to be hard.

He was sitting on a bench, watching people pass by, not a care in the world. Jealousy seeped through him, and he knew that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, but he couldn’t help it. He would give anything to be that happy and carefree. And he knew that Amelia was trying her best, putting up a brave front. Every other night he could still hear her crying. It broke his heart. Yet he couldn’t do anything.

Lance sighed and clicked the locket shut, slipping it back underneath his collar. This was a day to be happy, he couldn’t be the sad and mopey dad while he was out with his daughter and friends. Amelia knew he was trying. They both were, so much, the effort to make everything seem remotely normal now was the hardest thing they had to do. Not when Lance’s mother passed away, not when Shiro moved away, and certainly not when he and Keith had their first fight. Thank god it wasn’t over Amelia; Lance wouldn’t have been able to live with that guilt. The guilt of knowing that one of them hadn’t agreed to adopt her.

He looked over at the Zipper, some crazy contraption of a ride where he heard Amelia’s screams of joy and terror mixed together as she was flipped and thrown. Suddenly, just looking over at the ride, Lance was glad that he decided that he was going to sit and watch. The screams haunted him, even if they were filled with delight and not terror, but each one he caught sent a chill down his spine.

Even after all this time, he still couldn’t get that night, it haunted him and Amelia.

The intruder raised the gun, shouting for them to get down on the ground. Lance was holding Amelia in his arms, she was only seven and had a nightmare beforehand. She had just wanted to be held.

He was in the kitchen, having given her a glass of warm milk to calm her down. Keith had been standing in the doorway, watching them with fond eyes, his hair a mess and shirt rumpled from sleep. Lance had given him a small smile and used two fingers to shoo him back to bed. But Keith had done the exact opposite and came into the kitchen to give Lance a quick kiss on his cheek and rub Amelia’s back.

Then the door was slammed open and a gun was pointed at them.

If Lance hadn’t known Keith as well as he did, he would have missed the way his eyes flashed when he and Lance knelt to the ground. Amelia was shaking in his arms, whimpering, and he was trying his best to keep her calm and quiet. His own nerves were rattled, but he knew that if he showed his own panic then Amelia would pick up on that. And he couldn’t have that, not now.

Lance held onto his daughter tightly. The gunman waved the firearm between the two of them, aiming between him and Keith. Then he settled on Keith.

“You, go get the keys to your car.”

Keith narrowed his eyes but slowly got up to do as he was told. They had a brilliant red Mustang sitting in their garage, it was Keith’s pride and joy, having rebuilt it from the frame up. There was no way he was going to give it up without a fight.

But Keith was also the person to bring a knife to a gun fight.

Keith made a grab for the keys, tossing them to the gunman and pulled a knife out of his coat on the coat rack. The keys were caught as he flicked the knife open and rushed the other man, a roar escaping him.

The gunman fumbled and shot the gun. Once. Twice. Amelia screamed and covered her ears.

Keith fell, blood bubbling out of his stomach and his chest.

The gunman’s eyes were wide with shock and he dropped the gun. It went off again, the bullet embedding itself somewhere in their living room. He dropped the keys with it, turning tail and running out of their home.

Lance pulled Amelia away and looked her in the eye. “Sweetie, I need you to go call 911 for me and tell them that dad has been shot, ok?” He kept his voice low, but his need for her to follow directions clear. “Can you do that for me?”

Amelia nodded, her dark brown eyes shining with tears. Lance gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and shooed her off to the phone. He could trust her to relay their address to the operator.

As soon as she was off of his lap, he scrambled to Keith. His husband had rolled over to his back, his t-shirt covered in blood. His breathing was wet and heavy, more blood gurgled out of his mouth on each exhale.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Lance breathed.

His body went on autopilot, his years as a trauma nurse coming back. He immediately pressed down on Keith’s chest wound. The stomach wound was bleeding just as much, but he had to choose which one to focus on.

“Keith, dammit, what were you thinking?” he asked.

Keith’s were heavy-lidded, barely open. Blood was trickling out of the corners of his mouth, bright red against his pale skin.

He even had the audacity to smirk. “I… couldn’t let… him ge’ to you…an’ Amei…”

“No, you shut up, shut up right now, no talking.” Lance sounded angry, for the first time in years he sounded absolutely livid. “Do not start that hero crap with me, Kogane-McClain. Not happening. Just shut up and focus on staying alive.”

He was vaguely aware of Amelia talking to the operator in the living room.

“Lance-”

“No, shut up.”

“Lance, please-”

“Just shut up and focus on breathing, dammit!”

“Lance, I’m not going-”

“I don’t care, Keith! Just shut up!”

Lance couldn’t take it, he shut his eyes, closing them so he wouldn’t have to see blood that he was kneeling in, that leaked out between his fingers, that covered his hands. It was so dark, too rich in color for Lance to stand to look at.

Keith coughed, more blood spewing from his mouth, thick globs landing on Lance’s arm. “Lance, I’m not…they’re not going to get here…time.”

“Don’t talk that way! You’ll be fine, you’re going to be okay-”

“I love you.”

Lance held back a desperate sob, choking back the sound as best as he could. He opened his eyes to look down at Keith.

He had a small smile on his face, and his eyes were glassy, but he was still there.

“Take care of… Amelia… for me…” Keith’s voice was so soft.

“Don’t worry, I will, I will for you and her.”

“Good…” He was fading fast, Lance could see it in the way his breathing was slowing down, how the coughs wracked his body, the tremors nearly dislodging Lance.

It wasn’t much longer after when Keith sighed, his eyes closed and the coughing stopped and the blood slowed. He heard the paramedics come in and pull him away.

He remembered hearing them say he was already gone, remembered how Amelia held his hand and cried with him, even though there were bloody from trying – and failing – to save Keith.

It took a long time for him to feel like his hands were finally clean.

“Dad…?”

“Mr. Amelia’s Dad?”

Lance snapped to attention, realizing that he had lost himself to those memories. Amelia and her friend looked concerned but didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, girls. How was the ride?” he asked, plastering a bright smile on his face.

They both grinned back at him, gushing about it. But it wasn’t long that they slowed to a stop.

“Hey, dad? Can we go home?” Amelia asked.

Lance stood, stretched. He held out his hands for both of the girls. “Sure, thing. What do you want for dinner? Pizza?”

They beamed back up at him and began to chatter about whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza. Lance smiled down at them, laughing at their silly and serious argument.

He looked up at the sky, sending a silent prayer to Keith, letting him know that they were doing okay.

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.