Chapter 11

Sunday, 12.50 AM

Despite the hour, the L.A. streets were packed.

Head lights flashed and horns blared as Keith dodged between the cars, tie and hair whipping wildly in the wind. Up ahead, the back of Rolo's sports car narrowly missed an SUV, tires screeching as he rounded the corner. Trying to give them the slip, no doubt.

Keith wouldn't let that happen.

Thinning his lips to a line, Keith urged the motorcycle faster. The surrounding buildings fading into a blur of stone and neon lights. Eyes tearing up at the speed, but still clear enough to maneuver around the traffic with ease. That was one point for L.A.: no sand blinding you. No desert winds tearing at you. No uneven roads in your way.

Another sharp turn into a side street. Lance's arms squeezed tighter around him as Keith followed, his mind vaguely registering the pain from his bruised ribs. But it didn't matter. Not when the distance was lessening. Five cars. Four.

Through the car's rear-view mirror, Keith met Rolo's eyes. Smiled as he saw him swear.

Surprise, asshole.

They were at a stretch of beach houses now. Skyscrapers giving way to front lawns and palm trees. The road a straight line into the night fog. Keith swerved around another car, slowly but surely eating up the distance.

Past a taxi. A blue combi. Then they were right next to him, flying down the street neck in neck. Rolo's face pale through the side window.

His jaw clenching was the only warning before he jerked the wheel to the side.

The car's body missed them with an inch as Keith violently swerved. Car horns blared around him as other cars were forced to do the same. The bike shook with the effort and for a brief, terrifying moment, he lost control of it.

Then the tires found traction.

Keith swallowed, heart hammering in his ears. That had been too close.

They needed to stop Rolo before he caused an actual crash. But how? Maybe if he got the bike in front of the car…?

Lance shifting brought him out of his thoughts. No. Not only shifting but letting go with one arm. What the hell was he doing? He'd told him to hold on!

A hand landed on his shoulder and tugged it back. Gently at first, then more insistently. Lance wanted him to… pull back? Was he out of his mind?

Keith narrowed his eyes, gearing to accelerate up past Rolo again, when he paused.

'I almost had her, but you didn't trust my call.'

That was where they'd failed before. Both following their own instincts, their own thoughts and feelings… with no trust in the other.

Maybe it was time to try something different. To rely on someone other than himself. After all, what did he have left to lose?

Keith grit his teeth. Hoped to everything he wouldn't regret this decision. And slowed down.

Rolo's car shot ahead, the growing distance between them feeling like an opening ravine. But Keith held firm, ignoring the traffic giving the two of them a wide berth. Ignoring the way he imagined Rolo smirking to himself, thinking they were giving up.

Lance was moving again. The hand left his shoulder, fumbling around for something. Up ahead the road curved, beach houses giving way to low suburban apartments, shops and big empty parking lots.

When the gun appeared in the corner of his vision he understood.

But there was no way. No fucking way Lance could hit–

Lance rested his forearm against Keith's shoulder again. His deep breath felt against Keith's back. And fired.

Rolo's back right tire tore to pieces.

:::

12.54 AM

Lance couldn't help but be a little proud as the car careened heavily to the side, sparks flying as the axis of the destroyed wheel screeched against the tar. The vehicle flew over the protective railing alongside the supermarket parking lot, a blur of silver and smoke as it spun out of control, before a signpost smashing into the driver's side brought it to a halt.

Target practice really did pay off.

The same thought seemed to have been on Keith's mind, as the first thing he said as he pulled up in the parking lot was a breathless, "Nice shot."

Adrenaline made a laugh bubble up in Lance's chest and he took the helmet off, wincing as it bumped against the cut on his temple. The make-up he'd covered the strips with was definitely ruined now, but he didn't care. "Dude, nice driving – that was awesome!"

Keith's half-smile was answer enough.

"Hey! Hey! What the hell man, you could've killed me!"

Careful to avoid the smoked tar and glass from a broken headlight, Lance walked over and glared at Rolo through the passenger side window. "I wouldn't. Also, what the hell right back – we just wanted to talk!"

"Talk?" Rolo scoffed, flinging his seat belt off. From what Lance could see he was unharmed, only shaken up. And unable to get out through the wrecked driver's side door. "Yeah, right. Whatever they told you, I'm innocent!"

If it weren't totally inappropriate for the situation, Lance might have laughed. Here Rolo was, in his ruined car after being chased around half of L.A., and he was still claiming innocence. And he'd likely keep doing it… unless they bluffed the truth out of him.

Lance sent Keith a look where he stood near the car's rear, hoping he understood the implicit follow my lead. Then he turned back to Rolo. "Drop the act." He put on his best scowl. "We both know exactly what you did."

For a long second, he wasn't sure Rolo would buy it.

"... Shit." Deflating, Rolo rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "Was it Beezer? It was, wasn't it? Bankers would sell out anyone, the greedy bastards."

"You bet it was Beezer," Lance said as his thoughts whirled. Banker. Rolo must have done some shifty stuff with money. And since he was an agent, the likely answer had to be, "We know all about the embezzlement. How you've been skimming off the top of your clients. They trusted you, you know."

The flash of guilt on Rolo's face was all the confirmation he needed. "Hey, come on, I'm not the only one who's done it around here," he gestured to the surrounding city, "and besides, I… I deserved it, you know? I did!" he added at Lance's raised eyebrow. "I invented Bandor – he was nothing, a runaway with nothing but a bus ticket to his name! And I took him and made him one of the biggest stars in the country. You think that's easy?"

"So you felt justified pocketing a little extra. Real classy." Lance paused and frowned. "Wait. Bandor found out, didn't he? Found out and was gonna fire you. That's why you were chatting up a new client."

Rolo threw his hands out. "What else was I supposed to do? The lights don't stay on by themselves!"

"Oh yes. The lights in your million-dollar mansion. I– Keith, what are you doing?"

Keith didn't look up, only kept inspecting the back of the car. "Don't you hear it?" he said.

"All I hear is traffic." At least that was what Lance had planned to say, when he heard it too. A faint but steady beep… beep… beep…

Rolo's "What? What's happening?" went ignored as Lance watched Keith lie down and stick his head under the chassis, a bad feeling swirling in his gut. Because he'd seen enough movies to know that unless Rolo had an egg timer or something in the trunk–

"Don't tell me Haggar put a freaking bomb on the car."

"Bomb?" Rolo's voice came out high-pitched.

Keith swore, scrambling to get back out. "Get away from the car. Now!"

Ay mierda, she actually had. What happened to using guns?

"Lance!"

Lance blinked. Grabbed the car door. Rolo floundered over the middle console, a stream of "Get me out get me out get me out" on his lips, banging on the other side. But something was jammed. The door wouldn't move. And in the background the beeping seemed to grow louder and more frequent and why wouldn't this stupid thing open–

The latch clicked. The force nearly sending Rolo to meet a face full of tar. Lance grabbed his arm, but lost balance himself as Keith shoved them both away. Yelled something. But all Lance could focus on was the beeps, a continuous scream now and–

They hit the ground as the explosion roared through the air.

The heat swelled towards them, flared across Lance's skin in blistering waves, and he closed his eyes against it, instinctually bringing an arm up. The brightness still visible through his eyelids, metal falling over them like sharp rain.

Then it faded. Leaving only the crackle of fire and ringing in his ears behind.

"–nce? Lance, are you okay?"

An arm was across his chest, shaking him. In fact, he realized as he blinked his eyes open, Keith was half-lying on top of him, his pale face in sharp contrast against the burning husk of a car behind them.

"Fine. I'm fine, just," his breath came out somewhere between a cough and a laugh, "getting really tired of things exploding in our faces."

His ribs were relieved as Keith shifted away into a sitting position, gaze drawn to the wreckage. "She must've been waiting outside. Waiting for Rolo to get in the car."

"Well," Lance winced as he shrugged, hand ghosting the side of his neck. One of the stray sparks must have gotten him. "Guess our little car chase was good for something. If that thing had gone off at the entrance…"

"Yeah." Lips pursed, he turned back to Lance. "She hasn't used bombs like this before."

Lance nodded. "She's improvising."

Something shifted beneath him, followed by a moan. "Am I dead? I feel like I'm dead."

Oh, right. Rolo. "You would be if we hadn't just saved your life," Lance said, getting to his feet with effort. The ringing in his ears had thankfully begun to quieten, but approaching sirens had replaced it instead. "Your car though? Very much dead."

"Oh, man." Somehow Rolo's face fell even more as he took in the sight before them. "... Think this is covered by insurance?"

Putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place, Keith rolled his eyes. "Car insurance is the least of your worries right now."

That didn't seem to register however as Rolo was still staring ahead, shell-shocked over his brush with death and the mangled remains of his sports car, when the police vehicles pulled up.

Well. Until he was handcuffed.

"Hey! Hey, this is all a misunderstanding, alright? I only took what was fair! Everyone does it! I'm–"

The rest of his words faded out of earshot as he was led into the back seat of one of the police cars. Lance stepped back to Keith's side, having given the senior officer on the scene the rundown of Rolo's confession.

"Saved a target's life and put a scumbag behind bars." Lips quirking up, Lance stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Not a bad turn-out."

Keith's frown stayed put. "How did Haggar know about the embezzlement?"

"No idea. Maybe Pidge'll have a theory. But in the meantime, I guess I should thank you for saving my life, too."

This time Keith did meet his gaze. Something unreadable flashing across in his face. "Yeah." He swallowed, the expression replaced by a tentative smile. "Didn't have much of a choice with you just standing around."

The surprised laugh slipped out before he could stop it. "Hey, I wasn't just standing around – that door had it out for me, I'm tellin' you."

Keith only raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, I see how it is. Well, you can go right ahead and judge me, Mr. 'Ooh, I hear a beeping noise that might be a bomb, let's crawl under the car and take a closer look.'"

"Whatever." He turned his head away, but not fast enough for Lance to miss his smile bloom into a full one.

As a bomb squad and a small group of firemen passed them to the still smoldering pieces of Rolo's car, another police vehicle pulled up to the scene. The person getting out from the back seat, frown transforming into a scowl as he caught sight of Keith, was impossible to mistake. And the warm feeling in Lance's stomach vanished as quickly as it had come.

Oh dios. Unless one of them did something, this wasn't going to end well.

"Five hours ago, I remember telling you you were off the case," Captain Holt said to Keith. "Or have you already forgotten?"

Keith's jaw clenched, but he looked him dead in the eye as he answered, "No, Captain."

"This is serious, Marshal Kogane. I could have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

"You can't."

Captain Holt turned his glare to Lance. "I assure you I can."

"No, I mean you can't," Lance took a breath, "because I convinced him to come."

In the corner of his vision, he saw a flicker of emotion cross Keith's face before he schooled it again. Shock he was defending him? Fear he would tell the Captain about their conversation earlier tonight – about Shiro? Well, he didn't need to worry about the last one. Lance wasn't that dumb.

But he wasn't going to just stand by either.

"And it's a good thing I did," he continued, keeping his focus on Captain Holt. "If he hadn't been here, that bomb would've gone off outside the gala. Do you know how many people that would've killed? Either way, Rolo would've died in that explosion. I might've died.

"The point is, even though we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, when we do… we make a good team." And as the words left his mouth, Lance realized he meant it. "You've seen the proof of that: We saved Nyma's life. We found Haggar's caravan. And tonight, we minimized what could've been an absolute disaster."

Captain Holt nodded, conceding his point, but still didn't seem particularly convinced. Lance swallowed. If he wanted this to work, he'd have to throw it all on the table.

"Look. Do you want me to catch Haggar?"

Captain Holt's raised eyebrow made it clear what he thought of the question, but Lance pressed on.

"With the help of anything I might need to do it faster?"

A nod. "The faster we get her, the better."

"Then Marshal Kogane stays."

The silence stretched, heavy like a living thing. Around them, the emergency service personnel were wrapping up, police cars – including the one with Rolo – driving away, bomb squad packing away their equipment, firemen taking one last round around the smoking wreckage. Based on the gathering crowd, the media would be here any minute too.

Lance kept his gaze on Captain Holt however, hoping his face didn't give away his thundering heart.

Finally, Captain Holt sighed. "Very well. I have some favors I can call in." He turned to Keith. "But consider this your final chance. I can't save you a second time."

A range of emotions swept across Keith's features, but his voice was steady as he nodded and said, "Thank you, Captain."

"It's not me you need to thank." The corner of his lips turned up slightly. "But if you must, thank me by catching Haggar."

And with that, he turned and headed towards the group of police officers still left on the scene.

Keith's shoulders slumped, all false pretenses of composure vanishing, as if Captain Holt had taken it all with him. "I…" The word caught in his throat. Instead he reached out, silently squeezing Lance's wrist.

"Don't mention it." He reached up with his free hand to pat Keith's shoulder. "You did save me from an embarrassing defeat against a car door, after all."

Keith closed his eyes, a huff of a laugh escaping him.

"Come on," Lance said, smiling now. As he let go, so did Keith. "We have a motorbike to return. And two ditched friends to tell we're alive."

:::

2.01 AM

Lance had only just said goodnight to Hunk and fallen back against the covers of his bed when his phone rang – a cheerful, funky melody that felt way too loud for the middle of the night.

Swearing mentally to himself, images of Allura crashed on Hunk's pull-out couch and Keith's tired face as he shut the guest room door playing through his mind – and who was calling him at this hour anyway? – he hit answer without looking and hoped his "Hi, the name's Lance McClain" sounded awake enough.

"Oh, so that's how people greet their sisters nowadays."

"Veronica!" He sat up so quickly his head swooped. "But hold on, why are you up now? It's–"

"Six in the morning?" She laughed quietly. "Yup. But what else am I supposed to do when you leave a voice message like that?"

Mierda. He knew that message would come back to bite him. Closing his eyes, Lance rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So we're skipping the pleasantries, huh? No 'Qué bolá, Lance, I've missed you too'?"

"Hey, you skipped them first." The sound of a veranda door opening and closing and with it a pang of nostalgia. A sound he'd heard everyday growing up. "You're not relapsing, are you?"

Lance snorted. "You make it sound like I'm a drug addict."

"You know what I mean."

Muffling a sigh, Lance undid his tie and tossed it onto the suit jacket he'd already discarded on his cluttered desk. Sometime he really needed to find a better place to put his skincare products. Or at least the will to clean up enough to have some room to work from home.

Sure, he pictured the new little scrapes and burns he'd gained today scoffing at him. As if you'd ever work from home.

And this isn't home, remember?

"It's this case I've been working on. And it's…" His thoughts went to Keith. "It's been up and down. Deeper downs than I was prepared for." He paused. "But I'm trying to stay afloat," he said, this time in Spanish. Somehow the words felt too vulnerable, too personal to say in English. "I promise."

"Good," Veronica said, changing to Spanish too. Maybe she felt the same way. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not right now. Just… Give mom and dad a hug from me? Like a solid fifteen second hug."

A huff of a laugh, followed by the scraping of a deck chair. "I will." She paused. "You know I love you, right?"

Lance swallowed. "I know. Love you too. But hey," and he forced some cheeriness into his voice, switching topics and language, "you wanna know what happened? Hunk's met someone, and we ran into her again tonight. Must've gone well 'cause they're meeting up again next week for a real date."

"He's met someone? Tell me everything. Now."

And Lance did, not even having to pretend feeling happy at the thought of Hunk's shy smile as Lance teased him about Shay all the way back. Or when Veronica told him all about her week and how abuela was doing and how the whole family had headed to the beach yesterday for old times' sake (even though he desperately wished he had been there with them).

He was just telling Veronica the highlights of the night's motorbike chase – leaving out case-relevant names, of course – when someone knocked on his door. Probably Hunk who'd forgotten something. Stifling a yawn, followed by a "Hey Veronica, hold on a second", Lance slowly pulled himself to his feet and over to the door.

The half-drowsiness coating his senses vanished in an instant. Because outside, arms crossed uncertainly, wasn't Hunk at all.

"Um. Hi," Keith said. "Can we talk?"

Hoping I'm not the only bi/multilingual who prefers different languages for different emotions? I don't know, somehow it feels so much easier for me to be angry in English, while expressing excitement feels so natural in my other mother tongue?

Anyway. Couldn't help but add some of that in here :)