We're at the climax, holy shit. It honestly feels surreal to have gotten here.
I was so invested when I drafted this, so I really hope that translates to reading too. Intense action might be the most challenging but fun (?) thing I've gotten to write because of this fic.
Chapter 14
Sunday, 7.25 PM
Lance had always done his best to keep his work and personal life separate.
That was what everyone always told you to, right? Do your hours, then come home, relax, enjoy yourself. Let whatever troubles you ran into during the day be forgotten until tomorrow. Make sure you felt your work was important, but not your whole drive of existence.
Sure, it wasn't the easiest, considering he literally worked with one of his best friends and loved telling the awesome (and non-confidential) anecdotes to anyone who wanted to listen… but he really did try. Him falling back into destructive work-life patterns wouldn't be fun for anyone involved, including himself.
Guess today added another reason. Because even though he'd had his fair share of emotional cases before, it had never been close friends or family on the line. Whose life depended on him. His choices. And his failures.
If Lotor had targeted Allura – targeted his friend – to put him off his game… It was working.
Lance adjusted the grip on the steering wheel, trying to remind himself how to breathe at a regular speed. One palm, still covered in Acxa's blood, stuck uncomfortably to the leather. Lights and buildings and signs flashed by in a blur (except the 'L.A.X. Airport' written out in stocky white letters every so often). Still, he was thankful to be driving, to have something to focus on besides the what ifs.
"Airport security knows Lotor's private jet," Keith said as he hung up his phone. "They're sending in reinforcements and evacuating civilians from the area."
He already knew how one what if could end. How badly this all could go.
Keith was the living example. And Shiro…
A nod. "Good," Lance forced himself to answer.
Keith didn't say anything else. The muted sound of traffic and their sirens their only company as Keith pulled out his gun. Checked the ammunition. Held a hand out for Lance's. Movements steady as he took it from Lance's fumbled grip, repeated the process.
And wasn't that absurd, how Keith for once seemed the most collected of the two. How for once, Lance felt like the one who wanted to burst in guns blazing and fists swinging like a bad 80s action hero.
He just had to hope they wouldn't Die Hard in the process.
Lance couldn't hold back a half-hysterical snort of laughter, made all the worse by the concerned "What?" Keith sent his way.
"Nothing," he said, reigning himself in with effort. "It's nothing."
He did feel lighter though, more in control as they followed the sound of sirens around the massive airport complex. The commercial terminals and flights were soon left behind for wider tarred spaces between private jets and hangars, the tarmacs stretching out into the evening light beyond.
Lotor's jet was standing ready near the closest tarmac, airstairs still extended and sleek body painted red and blue from the surrounding police cars. Dozens of airport security police huddled behind them, assault rifles trained on the plane.
"YOU ARE SURROUNDED." Despite the distance, the police officer's voice carried loud and clear through the megaphone. "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND–"
The megaphone cut out with an ear-piercing shriek as commotion erupted among the officers. Pointing, mouths moving in shouts, weapons desperately swinging away from the plane's entrance to–
The police car closest to them exploded in a plume of flames.
"Holy shit," Lance breathed as officers scattered for cover, as the smoke cleared enough to reveal Haggar under the jet's tail – she must have hidden among some of the many crates behind the plane – a cruel smile on her lips and in her hands… "Is that a grenade launcher?"
Another blast and another car went flying, metal and glass and fire filling the air. Fueling the panic spreading among the police ranks. Lance stepped on the gas, the distance shrinking fast but there was so much smoke and he couldn't see if anyone was hurt, or worse–
"Lance!"
His attention snapped to Keith's face for a split-second before finding Haggar again.
Haggar. With her grenade launcher pointed right at them.
Acting on instinct, Lance jerked the wheel to the side. The wheels screamed, the engine roared, the seat belt cut into his shoulder as the car drifted in a violent circle…
And the grenade whistled past, obliterating the tar where they'd just been.
Too close.
"Okay, new plan," Lance said as he shifted gears, hand shaking as he switched the sirens off, pulling away from the plane. "We don't rush the crazy rocket lady head on."
"Then what do we do?" Keith's voice was tense, but not sharp.
Taking aim towards a stack of crates outside the closest hangar, Lance stopped behind them and threw open the car door. "We take the stealthier approach."
The other officers seemed to have had a similar idea, calls of "Fall back! Fall back!" ringing through the air as they fled on foot or in their cars. Haggar's attention was on them however, the grenades still flying in pursuit. Bad for the officers… but maybe an opening for him and Keith.
Wincing as another car blew to smithereens, Lance broke into a run. Staying low, gun at the ready, he kept an eye on Haggar's back, hoping to all hell she wouldn't see them. All they needed was to get close enough and maybe…
Keith pulled him down behind another crate just as Haggar tossed away the spent grenade launcher and, shooting a last look around, ran over and up the jet's airstairs.
The stairs. A few hundred feet away. Closing any second.
But the only way to get on the plane.
Swallowing, Lance got ready to run when Keith swore quietly behind him.
"The pilot's seen us."
Lance glanced up and fair enough – a face was staring back at them from the cockpit above. Pale, lips thinned to a line.
But the pilot didn't speak. Didn't sound the alarm to the two criminals onboard. Almost as if…
Lance looked over at the airstairs again. Right now the only way in. A way, if Haggar was keeping watch, that would get them killed before they even made it inside.
But this was a smaller plane. Which meant they should be able to get in through–
"What the hell are you doing?"
Lance ignored Keith, standing up to his full height. Heart hammering as he met the pilot's gaze once more. Hoping Lotor or Haggar wouldn't look out the windows and see him. Hoping even more the pilot understood what he was trying to say as he nodded towards the plane.
Help us, so we can help you.
A second passed.
The pilot looked away, long blonde hair obscuring their face from view.
The airstairs began to ascend.
No.
Keith was already running when Lance followed, but the airstairs were half-way closed now and they wouldn't make it and Haggar and Lotor would escape the country and dios, he was never going to see Allura again–
The engines hummed. The rotors picked up speed. And, barely audible among the noise… the mechanical whirr of a door.
His plan worked. It actually worked.
As the utter darkness of the cargo bay greeted him, Lance couldn't hold back a laugh.
:::
7.34 PM
The plane began rolling the second the cargo door closed behind them, the engines' rumble reverberating through the enclosed space and overpowering the sound of their heavy breaths. Keith could feel his though, thrumming to the beat of the adrenaline in his veins.
All because of Lance's shot in the dark. Hell, trusting the pilot like that would have never even crossed Keith's mind.
At a sudden burst of speed, Keith thrust a hand out blindly, fingers closing around something smooth and flexible. Tarp, he guessed, covering boxes of cargo. His grip tightened, pressure building in his ears as the plane accelerated, faster and faster… and the strange, unsteady gut feeling of lifting off ground followed.
Lance was nothing but a silhouette next to him, but he could picture the feelings on his face mirroring his own: it truly was up to them now.
Hands pushing him out of the way.
Orange, then white.
Elbows splitting open against the tar, Shiro's name burning in his throat.
Keith closed his eyes. Pulled in a quiet breath. They would be fine. They would free Allura, take down Haggar and Lotor, turn the plane around and put an end to all of this. No more searching. No more running. No more funerals.
He refused to settle for anything less.
His ears were still feeling blocked and he swallowed to relieve the pressure, hands closing around his gun as he inched forward. Wincing as a sudden light flooded the room from behind him.
"Sorry," Lance whispered, barely audible over the engine. He dimmed the flashlight on his phone with his fingers. "Thought seeing might help."
Keith nodded in response.
After his eyes had adjusted, he scanned the room. The same tarp-covered boxes lined both sides of the area, a wide path set out between them. And at the very front, sealed tightly shut… a door.
Lance was right beside him as he crept over to it, their eyes finding each other's in what was becoming a familiar moment. One hand closing around the door handle, the other around his gun.
Lance killed the light. And Keith cracked the door open.
Soft blue interior with chrome detailing along the roof and windows. Plush seats in white leather, arranged in pairs on either side of the cabin. A glass door to one side, showing a breathtaking view of the city below – another up front, solid white, leading to the cockpit.
And sitting near the cockpit, hands tied to a side table sticking out of the wall, pupils wide but jaw clenched furiously was–
"Allura," Lance breathed.
Keith glanced around, a prickle of worry running through him. No sign of Haggar or Lotor. Chances were both of them were in the cockpit with the pilot; hopefully they hadn't seen the stunt with the cargo door. That wouldn't bode well for them or the pilot.
A flushing toilet made him jump, eyes snapping to the left side. A beat passed.
Haggar came into the cabin.
He didn't stop. Didn't think. Didn't hesitate as he walked up behind her and aimed the gun right between her shoulder blades. "Hands in the air. Right now."
The flinch was barely there – tension in her shoulders, a twitch of her jaw – but he couldn't deny the satisfaction it sent through him, not even diminished by the venom in her voice. "You."
"Do it," Keith ordered quietly. Prodding the weapon against her spine the same way she had to him less than a day ago. And, slowly, she raised her hands.
Lance passed by them, crouching down opposite Allura who was gaping at them both. "I–" she began as Lance tackled the knots, "How on Earth did you get here?"
"My thoughts exactly."
Keith's eyes snapped to the open cockpit door and Lotor, gun in hand, in front of it.
Lotor. Just seeing him sent Keith's insides bristling. To think he had started to feel sympathy for him, thought he'd recognized in him that feeling towards an unwanted name… but Bandor had never been more than a cover, had it? His reactions hadn't been the embracing of a new, true self, but instead a realization that he could use it to play both Keith and Lance.
"With great skill," Lance said with a forced grin. Allura, now free, was behind him and he had drawn his own gun. "Speaking of, gotta give you one. Your good-guy act? Real convincing."
A smile that seemed almost sad crossed Lotor's lips as he raised his weapon. "I've always liked acting."
Lance pulled Allura down behind the seats as the bullet tore from the barrel and without meaning to Keith felt his focus slip towards them, towards fervently hoping they ducked in time and–
And pain blossomed from his ankle as Haggar stepped down hard on it. He stumbled, body instinctively trying to compensate and Haggar's hands closed around his. Around the gun. He fought back, struggled to regain control, but she held on, mouth curled in a furious snarl–
The gun went off.
The recoil sent it spinning out of their grasp, clattering to the floor. Through the blood churning in his ears, Keith heard someone scream.
With horror, Keith's eyes flicked towards Lance, returning the fire towards Lotor. Allura crouching behind him, face ashen. Towards the pilot, just visible through the cockpit door, doubling over in pain.
Shit. The stray shot had hit the pilot. They shot the pilot.
Then Haggar was on him again, and they tumbled into the cargo bay.
:::
7.39 PM
Lance glanced around the side of the seats, his gun loaded and his mind unable to not draw similarities to an apartment in shadow, crouching behind a kitchen island with Nyma. It was funny in a way, how the situations paralleled each other – except things were different too. Allura instead of Nyma. Son instead of mother. Jet instead of apartment.
And so much more at stake.
His gaze fell on the pilot. The red staining the side of their uniform. Not fatal it seemed, but bad. Bad enough to bleed out without help. And if that happened? A thirty thousand feet drop and fiery death for them all.
Lance swallowed. He needed to get over there, but to get there–
A flicker of movement on the opposite side of the cockpit and Lance pulled himself back. The bullets from Lotor's gun sailed past where he'd just been, hitting the back wall with a bang.
"Lance."
Allura's eyes were wide with worry as he turned towards her and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "We'll be fine. Just stay down."
A shout from the cargo bay made it fade.
That was another thing. Keith, on his own against Haggar, fighting for his life on the other side of that wall. And Lance knew he was capable, had seen him hold his own time and time again these past few days… but Haggar was capable too. And deranged. And it only took one mistake for things to go south.
He couldn't help Keith and the pilot. Not at once.
He had to choose.
Closing his eyes, Lance pulled in a steadying breath. Tried to quell the anxiety twisting his insides at the thought. He would deal with it when the time came. For now, he had to deal with the one person standing in the way of any choice at all.
And so he did what he did best.
He talked.
"Have you always been good at lying," he called out to Lotor, "or is it a skill you only use to flirt with cops?"
Allura sent him an incredulous look, but Lance kept his focus forward, on the sliver of the wall he knew Lotor was hiding behind.
"I did hate that place," Lotor said after a beat. "That wasn't a lie. And I really didn't plan on looking back."
"On what? The time you spent with mother dearest? Or the fact that she took the fall when you killed your dad?"
A growl, then Lotor shifted into view, weapon raised. But Lance had been expecting it, waiting for it to happen, and pulled the trigger.
The angle was awkward though and the shot went wide, smashing into the cockpit wall. Cursing himself – he had compensated too much, too worried to hit the pilot again or something important on the dashboard – he lined up for another shot, but Lotor had already ducked back into cover.
Lance sunk back down too, sucking in another breath. Well. At least Lotor's reaction had given him something: his and Keith's theory had to be the truth.
As if on cue, a loud crash came from the cargo room. Something heavy thundering to the ground, the crack of wood, the screech of metal against metal and all Lance could think of was Keith and Shiro and how Keith would've died too if back-up hadn't shown up in time–
A gasp came from the cockpit, followed by a tremor through the plane. Heart in his throat, Lance whipped around to see the pilot's grimace of pain… and then they were plummeting.
It was only a second. A second before they jerked back up on course. But it made things horrifyingly clear: the pilot wasn't going to last much longer. He needed to end this. He needed to end this now.
But what about Keith? He couldn't hear anything from the other room now.
And he didn't like it. Didn't like it at all.
Dios, ¿qué va a hacer?
He jumped as a hand landed on his arm. "You alright?" Allura asked, voice quiet.
"I…" Lance glanced towards the cockpit. Towards the cargo bay. Feeling the panic rise in his throat.
Another volley of shots cut through his thoughts, and he pulled Allura down with him lower behind the seats. Above, a chunk of the headrest tore to pieces. Down showering over them like snow.
Lance let go of Allura to wave some of it away when he noticed her frown. "What?"
A second. Then she looked up. "Take care of Lotor," she said, her pale pink skirt billowing as she shifted into a crouch. Eyes betraying her fear, but jaw set in determination. "I'll go help Keith."
"What? Allura–"
"Make sure I don't get hit in the back, will you?"
Without waiting for a response she began moving, staying low. Lance whipped around, curses ringing through his mind as he watched the cockpit for movement, for any sign of–
When he looked back around, Allura had disappeared.
He leaned his forehead against the back of the leather seat, trying to calm his racing heart. They would be fine. They would be fine. They had to be.
'Take care of Lotor.'
Lance wiped his hands on his pants. Checked his gun's magazine. Two bullets left.
He could do this.
Inhale. Exhale. Then, "You know," he forced lightness into his voice, "if you really wanted an out, covering your past murder with more murder probably wasn't the best idea."
"... I did what I had to do." Lotor sounded angry now. Or maybe he was just as tense about the showdown in the cargo bay, only not for the same person. "My father," and the word came out forced, bitter, "would never have let me leave. So I had to make him."
"Uh huh." Lance shifted, getting into a ready stance. "I'm just saying, that's some rotten foundation for your career."
To his surprise, Lotor let out a quiet laugh. "You know what they say, Lance: Every empire is built on blood."
He heard Lotor move then, and so did he. But not to the side.
Lotor's eyes widened as Lance rose, resting his arms against the top of the seat, and he desperately pivoted but Lance had already lined up his shot, hands steady as he–
A loud thump came from the cargo room.
Lance hesitated. Realized his mistake immediately. But it was too late.
He heard the bullet a split-second before he felt it.
:::
7.39 PM
The kick came flying at his head.
Without thinking Keith deflected it with an arm, years of training honing his instincts as he ducked, punched, lunged. Matched Haggar blow for blow. The gun fire from the cabin filtered distantly through his ears, a vague sensation in the corner of his mind compared to the feeling of Haggar's fist connecting with his ribs.
He fell back a step, forcing himself to breathe through the pain. She was good. Not as strong physically, but fast. Surprisingly agile. And, by the look in her eyes in the half-darkness, absolutely livid.
Keith clenched his jaw. Well. He was angry too.
This time he waited for her to advance. Waited until she was a few feet away. Then he side-stepped, hands closing around a tarp-covered box. And pulled.
With a yell Haggar threw herself back, the box splintering to pieces against the floor, cameras and speaker stands and electrical cords spilling everywhere and Keith leaped over it, reaching for her–
The plane shuddered. For a terrifying moment dropping before steadying again. Enough to make him lose his balance for a second.
And a second was all it took.
The thick metal stand slammed into his knee. Even as it buckled underneath him, he could feel the wrong, wrong, wrong of the angle. But the pain didn't hit, didn't register before the stand came for his throat and his back slammed into a crate.
Haggar was breathing hard, but her hands were steady. "I… should have killed you," she gave the metal a sudden shove, "back in Texas."
Keith wheezed, fingers grasping at the pole digging into his jugular, pinning him to the crate, to push it away, aside, anything… but the lack of oxygen was already making things fuzzy and his knee was burning and it just. Wouldn't. Budge.
"I should have killed you first," Haggar's eyes, manic and furious and bloodshot, filled his vision, "taken care of you right there on that road–"
He lashed out with his good leg, aiming desperately for her stomach. She dodged with ease.
"–and let the last thing your Chief ever knew was that he failed to save you, just like you failed to save him–"
A yell clawed its way out of his chest and he bucked, hands slipping on the smooth metal and he couldn't breathe–
"–and then killed him too. There was time. I could have done it. I could have!" She smiled, a mad, vengeful thing. "But no matter. I'll kill you now, then I'll rip that partner of yours to pieces while that pretty princess watches, to make sure she behaves until we don't need her anymore. And then," she increased the pressure, "we can start over. I can have my family back."
The room caved in now, black swallowing its edges, and it hit him. This was how he was going to die. In the cargo bay of a plane, pinned and hurt and uselessly fighting until he choked or Haggar broke his windpipe. Just another name among her other victims.
Another name like he had sworn he wouldn't let Shiro be.
With effort he looked up, forced himself to focus on Haggar because he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of breaking him… and saw the blur of someone coming at her from behind.
A blur of pink and brown and white.
When Allura shoved Haggar, Keith was ready. With strength he didn't know he had, he grabbed the stand and swung. Haggar, already off-balance, didn't stand a chance as her end wrenched out of her grip and thunked into her temple.
The thump of her body hitting the ground echoed through his ears as Keith doubled over, coughing and gasping. Every breath aching, but still not feeling like enough.
He couldn't let himself let go yet though. Couldn't curl up and just breathe like his body screamed for him to. Because what if it wasn't over, what if she wasn't–
With immense effort he raised his head. Blurry eyes finding Haggar's still form. Her closed eyes. Slack jaw. The wound along her temple, sluggishly trailing red into her hair.
"Oh my… that– that was–" Allura's voice, quiet and horrified, filtered through his cottoned mind. "Is she…?"
Keith reached out, quelling a shiver as his fingers grazed Haggar's neck, fumbled for a pulse point, but he was shaking too much, his own pulse too loud, his breaths too quick and, "I don't know," he said, nothing more than a hoarse whisper, "I don't know."
A thought hit him with sudden clarity.
"You saved my life."
Allura's face was pale, yet an attempt of a smile crossed her lips. "Well, considering you're both here to save mine, it'd be rude not to return the favor."
He swallowed, the overwhelming adrenaline and fear and relief drowning his voice, taking his ability to speak. But something must have crossed his face, as Allura answered with a solemn nod. A new brittle thread – of understanding, of respect – passing between them.
"What do we do?" Allura asked, her eyes falling towards Haggar once more. Her breathing hitched. "We might've– She might be–"
Dead. She might be dead.
Keith blinked, trying to figure out what to do, what to say, what to think, when another gunshot cut through the moment. Followed by a terrifyingly familiar scream.
:::
7.43 PM
Lance had forgotten how much being shot sucked.
In a way he had been lucky – the way he'd leaned on the seat headrest meant the bullet skimmed instead of going in, but that still left him with a deep hot trail along his upper arm, too long to cover with his other hand. Too big to stop the blood pulsing out with every rapid heartbeat.
An involuntary sound escaped his lips as he tried to anyway, fingers paling in his attempt to staunch the flow. Mierda, this was bad. This was really bad.
A hand grabbed his collar, shoving him up against the cabin wall.
"I didn't want it to end like this," Lotor said, face grim as he pressed the gun against Lance's ribs with his free hand. Only then did Lance realize he'd dropped his own weapon.
"Sure you didn't." He sent him a sarcastic smile, though the pain turned it more into a grimace. "Calling your mom and siccing her after Sendak and everyone else was completely out of your hands."
"I did what I had to." He said it more forcefully this time. As if he wasn't just trying to convince Lance, but himself too. "To keep everything I'd built from crumbling."
Something between a laugh and a groan left Lance, feeling the warm red liquid coat his fingers for the second time that day. "Keep telling yourself that, buddy, if it makes you feel better."
A pause. Then Lotor smiled. The shift sent shivers down Lance's spine. "Aren't you interesting," he said, cocking his head to one side. "You talk big, act big… but you're nothing underneath, aren't you?"
The words took him off-guard, piercing into his skin like bullets themselves.
"You were fooled by a few flirty words. You managed to get yourself shot and bleeding out. And your friends are dead by now too."
"I…" His voice died out in his throat, too weak, too distracted, too scattered to stop the cracks spreading in the dam, the deluge behind it echoing Lotor's words. The deluge he had tried to fight, to handle, to reconcile with all his life.
Lotor was watching him, mock sympathy twisting his features. "What are you doing here, Lance? What are you trying to prove? Because we both know the truth." His hand tightened around Lance's shirt collar as he leaned forward. Voice no more than a whisper. "You're just as much a fraud as I am."
Fraud.
It snaked through his veins, clawed at the scars, seeped through the cracks and patchwork. Reached for that kid who felt like just a boy from Cuba. With nothing else to give.
No. Not even that anymore. He was losing that boy too, day by day. It didn't matter how hard he clung to him, how hard he pretended to still have that sense of belonging…
In the end that too would slip through his fingers like sand and he would be left with nothing.
Be nothing.
Hurried footsteps. Then Allura and Keith appeared in the cargo room doorway.
Allura, who he came here for. Keith, who he came here with. Both wide-eyed, both winded. But here. Still here.
He released his bleeding arm from his vise-like grip. A breath releasing at the same time.
Alive. Alive.
Lotor was talking, jamming the gun firmer against his side and Keith and Allura froze. But Lance wasn't listening. His thoughts going to Veronica. Hunk. Pidge. His parents. His family, his friends.
He was still that boy from Cuba. And that had never been nothing. He had never been nothing.
He was tired of letting others – letting himself – tell him otherwise.
And so when Lotor's attention flickered to Keith, to his reckless step forward, Lance set his jaw. Closed the hand of his uninjured arm to a fist.
And punched Lotor in the face.
A sting across his knuckles, followed by a disgusting crush-and-squelch… and Lotor howled, staggering back with a hand covering his face.
"You…" He stared at the blood coloring his fingers in disbelief. "You broke my fucking nose."
Looking just as stunned, but also impressed, Keith came up beside Lotor and latched one end of the handcuff around his wrist. Before Lotor could react, he brought it down around the other with a quiet click.
"Well." Adrenaline and emotion still coursing through him, Lance shook out his hand. His mouth running of its own accord. "You can thank Keith for that. He's a bad influence. The worst, act– Hey," he said as Keith dumped Lotor (who was clearly still processing everything) into one of the seats, "are you limping?"
"Lance," Allura cut in, worry coloring her voice. "Your arm."
But Lance didn't pay her any attention, the dread growing inside him. "Keith, what happened to Haggar?"
A sudden cackle of laughter made them all turn. Made them all hone in on the figure staggering into the cabin. Haggar stared back. Eyes glazed. Fringe plastered to her face, sticky with red. One hand closed around a smooth gray orb, the other around the pin attached to its surface.
"Don't worry, darling." Her gaze flickered to Lotor as she cradled the grenade closer. "I'll set us free."
