The hoverboard approached them with impressive quiet; the only sound Lance could perceive was a faint electronic hum partnered with the soft pattering of small rocks and the brushing of sand as they were sent scattering away from the board. When Shiro was close, he kicked a button with his foot, and the device slowly came to a stop. Shiro hopped off before it fell completely and scooped it up with his metal arm before crossing the distance toward them and removing his helmet.

"Keith, Coran," Shiro greeted before looking over at Lance, and there was a moment of silence while Lance stood under his uncomfortable and analytical gaze before Shiro gave him a nod. "Lance."

Lance tried to ignore the twinge in his gut, the lingering feeling that Shiro's very presence seemed to insist of Lance never being quite good enough, of having flown through half the universe together to receive but a single nod in greeting. This was the man he'd idolized for years. This was the man who had destroyed his sense of self-worth. He was the first, he was the second, he was both.

"Shiro," Keith said with a grin, stepping forward and giving his brother a one-shoulder hug, clapping his hand on Shiro's back. Keith didn't have any of Lance's qualms about Shiro because Shiro had never made Keith feel like a replaceable part that could be shuffled around or perhaps eliminated altogether.

Lance closed his eyes for a moment and took a focused breath. He knew that his wariness of Shiro wasn't quite fair; some of his residual hurt and distrust had originated from Shiro's clone phase, for which Shiro shouldn't have to answer, but Lance had always harbored a sinking suspicion that the clone hadn't said anything Shiro hadn't already thought deep inside.

"This is an interesting device indeed!" Coran said, and Lance opened his eyes to find Coran stepped around Shiro to look at the hoverboard. Keith was staring at Lance as if to ask if he was getting another headache, and Lance gave a minute shake of his head before looking away.

"Military prototype," Shiro said. "So long as your feet are locked in properly, this thing can go 80, 100 miles per hour. Hovers a foot or so off the ground, recycles incoming airflow and redirects it downward to reduce the amount of power required to hover. Pretty cool device."

"Very shiny toy," Lance agreed while he knelt down and unfolded the map, using several small rocks to weigh down the corners of the paper. "Let's go over the game plan."

Keith knelt beside him, and the others did as well after a moment so they were all at the same level.

"We're coming in from the east. Sun's going to be rising in roughly an hour. That's a double-edged sword for us. Downside, it's going to backlight us so we stand out. Upside, the sun will be in their eyes, which will hopefully buy us enough time to close the gap between our current position and the camp."

"From what Coran told me, there's a couple dozen uglies in that camp," Shiro said, "and we're about a mile out. Why aren't we just sending some ordinance their way and blowing the whole thing sky high? Seems a hell of a lot less risky."

"Because," Lance said, keeping his eyes trained down on the map. "I need information out of one of them. If we blow the whole thing, then my info is gone." That wasn't strictly true. Lance didn't think El Navajas had anything to tell him that he didn't already know. But he sure as hell was planning on making this up close and personal, and blowing the whole place up was too easy. It was too light of a sentence for what El Navajas had done. Lance, who had previously only killed to eliminate hostiles, wanted this man to suffer.

"Okay, well then why don't the three of us proceed forward, you cover us with your rifle, we neutralize the enemy and bring you the guy you need?"

Lance shook his head. "I need to be in there for this to work, not sitting back here."

Coran put a hand on Lance's shoulder and Lance looked up, fully prepared for Coran to side with Shiro, but Coran wasn't looking at Lance. "I believe Number Three has a plan in mind, and this is his mission. Why don't we–"

"It's not a bad plan, and using the sun to our advantage is smart, but it's dangerous," Shiro said, and it took most of Lance's draining self-control not to tell Coran And this is why I didn't invite him. "Coran has his helicopter. Why don't we just jump down from there? We'll have more cover and can close the distance faster."

"I want them to see us coming," Lance said, his voice cold, and Shiro looked over in alarm. "I want El Navajas to see us coming from a mile away, and I want him to wonder who we are and how we found him and what he did to warrant a visit."

Shiro frowned, and Lance recognized the moment Space Dad took over. "Lance, I understand what you want, but...this isn't the way to get it."

"Seeing as your family is alive and well, I don't think you quite do. I want this man to suffer for what he did," Lance said, his voice low. "And killing him slowly will absolutely accomplish that."

"Lance–"

"You mistake your role here," Lance interrupted. "The invitation extended to you was for a raid on a camp of sicarios, not for the position of team lead." The frustrating bit was that Lance, as a military leader and tactician, heard the wisdom in Shiro's points. He'd always looked to minimize risk in his ops with Alpha Platoon. But this wasn't about risk or efficiency anymore; it was about vengeance, and to Lance, that meant forsaking safer alternatives in the name of retribution. "This isn't Voltron, Shiro. If you have qualms about what's going to go down in an hour, I suggest you hop on your hoverboard and fly away."

Shiro stared at him, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Great. Let's go over the rest of the plan."

--

When the sun had just begun to peek up from the horizon, Lance raised a hand in the air, signaling for everyone to be alert, and when motioned his hand forward, they took off, Shiro on his hoverboard and the remaining three on their bikes. The engines were loud against the otherwise silent atmosphere.

The first twenty seconds passed without excitement, but when they were about a half-mile out, a few shouts went out around camp, and Lance squared his shoulders and pressed down on the gas pedal as far as it would go.

"Move, move, move!" he yelled, and Rizavi ran past him on his right, Griffin trailing her and looking over at Lance.

"What's taking you so long, Commander? Getting old?" Griffin asked, barking out a laugh as he jumped from his bike and ran around the corner of the nearest building. Lance followed him, letting the bike slide to a stop next to the wall He kicked down the door and cleared the room before moving into the adjacent room. He took out two men, one who looked to be half-asleep and had been struggling to throw his legs into pants, the other who'd had his hands on his weapon and had gotten as far as raising it when Lance had gunned him down.

Lance kept the scope up to his eye as he moved through the room, kicking their guns away from them in case they tried to get off a final shot. The next room held two women – the wives of the men in the previous room, presumably – one of whom was crying and the other who was shushing the first women, both their hands in the air. Seeing no weapons on them, Lance motioned for them to get out of the way and kept moving, but his eyes never fully left them until he moved into the next room. He proceeded that way until the building was clear, and he stood adjacent to the front door, leaning over and peering out into the center of the camp. A few stray shots came his way, and he ducked back. He heard more gunfire being exchanged, and he could tell by the sound of their weapons where Coran, Keith, and Shiro were.

He took another peek through the front door and spotted his target. He took a single moment to collect himself before rushing through the entry and making his way across camp, following El Navajas deeper into the nest of sicarios. Small rocks pelted against his legs and ankles as the shots of other sicarios landed in the dirt near his feet, but he ignored them, sprinting ahead.

"Lance!" Keith yelled, growled as he appeared to Lance's left, laying down return fire. "Take cover! Get out of the open!"

Lance kept up pursuit, ignoring Keith advice until he reached the building he'd seen El Navajas enter, and he ducked inside, clearing the room before pushing a ratty curtain aside and continuing further into the building.

"Tío Leo, Tío Leo!" Raphael said, tugging at Lance's shirt. "Can we play hide and seek? Please? Pretty please?"

"Hide and seek?" Lance asked, huffing out a laugh as he tousled Raphael's hair. "You mean the game you always win at?"

"Not always!" Raphael denied before biting at his lip as he tried to recall a single time Lance had won. "Most times...Okay, maybe all the times, but please? Mamá won't play with me."

Lance looked over at Veronica, whose shoulders were hunched up, pen caught between her teeth, hair tied up messily. He doubted she'd moved in the past two hours. "Your mom is working on something important," Lance said. "You know how your mama always tells you how school is important?" He waited for Raphael's nod before continuing. "Well, your mom is going to school, too, for a fancy thing called a PhD, and she's working very hard and needs a little quiet time to get her homework done."

Raphael scrunched up his nose at Lance's mention of the H-word. "I don't like doing homework."

"Well, I bet your mom doesn't like it much either," Lance said. "But she's doing it for you, because she loves you so much. And that's why she can't play hide and seek with you, but..." Lance gave an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose your Uncle Leo could play with you..."

Raphael gave a whoop of excitement and immediately set about scurrying around the house while Lance closed his eyes and started counting out loud, trailing off after eleven and opening his eyes. He always told Raphael he'd count to 30, but once the kid was out of distance, he usually just waited for a bit.

He stepped into the kitchen and put together a sandwich, setting the plate down next to Veronica, who looked up with a tired but grateful grimace. She opened her mouth, but Lance just put a finger over his lips and gave her a wink as he went off in search of his nephew.

Lance turned the corner-

Several shots came at Lance, and he ducked back around the corner, crouching down to avoid being hit with rubble as pieces of the wall chipped off and rained down on him.

Fuck, Lance. Not now. Focus.

Lance took two deep breaths, then turned around the corner again, his center of gravity lower this time due to his crouching position, and he laid down fire in the direction the previous bullets had come from. He heard a cry of pain, and he kept close to the wall as he moved deeper into the room to see El Navajas fleeing, one of his hands pressed to a new hole in his leg courtesy of Lance, and another sicario who'd been hit in the gut. Lance ended the second one and caught up with El Navajas, grabbing him by the shoulder and throwing him into the wall.

The two struggled for a moment before Lance head-butted the assassin, and in his moment of stupor, Lance disarmed him before securing his hands behind him with a zip tie.

"You and me, we're going to have a little chat," Lance growled, shoving him further into the room before taking a moment to secure the entry points so no one else would bother them for a few minutes. Then he put his gun down and pulled out the knife that had been waiting patiently in the sheath at his side.

--

Lance regrouped with the others at the edge of camp where they'd ditched their bikes.

"El Navajas?" Keith's asked upon seeing him approach, his eyes flicking around Lance's figure, taking in the blood, the gore without a word. He had been wrapping a bandage around his arm but stopped for Lance's response.

"It's done."

Coran looked equally unperturbed by his macabre appearance. "Are you hurt?" he asked simply, as it was impossible to distinguish from a glance whether the blood was Lance's, El Navajas', or some mix. Lance shook his head, and Coran gave a single nod back.

Shiro, meanwhile, had a different reaction. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snarled, hands on Lance's shoulders as he shoved him back against a wall.

Lance kept silent, his eyes dark but blood still singing to him in his veins.

"You ran out in the middle of camp. No covering fire. No plan. You were reckless, impulsive," Shiro spat out, pushing at Lance's chest. "Keith had to move out of position to cover you. He got shot because of you, because of your idiocy."

Lance's eyes drifted over to Keith, who had finished bandaging his arm and was watching the scene with a frown. "I'll be fine, Shiro. It passed through. And I heal faster than humans anyway–"

"That doesn't make it okay for Lance here to use you as cannon fodder," Shiro snapped, moving to hit Lance again, but Lance caught his arm this time, figuring he'd let the first two pass under the premise of atonement, but he was done paying penance.

"You all signed on knowing the risks," Lance said, his voice low, and Shiro glared back at him.

"This isn't Voltron, Lance. We don't have magical healing pods or an Altean alchemist who can whisk us back from the dead. This is life and death you're playing with, only I don't think you're altogether too concerned about the former."

You have no idea.

"Shiro," Keith said sharply, getting up and pulling Shiro back before looking over at Lance with remorse on his brother's behalf. "He doesn't...he doesn't mean that, Lance. He doesn't know."

"What don't I know?" Shiro asked, looking between his brother and Lance as a small piece of his anger subsided into confusion.

Lance just waved him away. "Lo que no sabes podría llenar un libro," Lance muttered, walking past Shiro and over to Coran, who had observed the scene quietly but without judgement toward either party. Lance pulled the list out of his pocket and crossed off El Navajas before eyeing the next name in line. "How soon can we be ready for takeoff?" he asked Coran, taking a moment as usual to run his eyes over Raphael's drawing and remind himself who he was doing this for, who he was destroying himself for, then folding the list and tucking it back in his pocket.

"Just about as soon as we can get back to our chopper," Coran reported back. "I'd like to refuel before crossing the border, but depending on how far we're going, we may be able to defer that until later. Do you have a destination in mind?"

"Potentially," Lance said, sending a quick message to Pidge. He'd have to confirm with her on Simon Thorn's current location. From what he'd seen, the man moved around a lot, but Capstone Industries was headquartered in California. "For now, let's just get back to the chopper. Hopefully Pidge has a location for me by then."

--

They rode in silence, Shiro tagging along on his hoverboard, and they stopped at the helicopter. Pidge had sent over coordinates upon his request, so Lance shared them with Coran, who immediately went about preparations. Keith ducked inside the chopper to stow their equipment. As expected, Shiro took the opportunity to approach Lance once more. The ride had given him time to cool off seeing as his face was no longer twisted in rage, but it had also given him time to craft a different appeal.

"Listen," Shiro said, and Lance stared at him. His relationship with Shiro had gone through so many stages – the veneration of a fan to his hero, the loyalty of a soldier in an intergalactic war to his fearless leader, the admiration of a young boy to an older brother figure at one point...and now, what more were they than former coworkers? Once Voltron had fulfilled its purpose and everyone had split up, Shiro had done the same, going on to take his position as a military officer training new recruits. Lance assumed he'd kept in close contact with Keith due to their family ties, but Shiro hadn't checked in on Lance once with the exception of a Voltron reunion dinner invitation. Since then, it had been hard to look at him as he once had, to feel that desperate yearning for his approval.

"When we were in Voltron, we were a team. An elite unit," Shiro said, and Lance's brow twitched in irritation at Shiro using his teacher voice on him like he were a toddler. But he supposed that – even after Lance's continued military accomplishments – that was the only way Shiro would ever see him, as a little kid, as a liability, as a hindrance. "We had each other's backs because we had to. We were all we had out there."

Lance knew where Shiro was going, but he refused to cut out his words for him, instead crossing his arms and waiting for Shiro to continue.

"But things are different now," Shiro said, and there was something in his eyes that Lance recognized, something that had identified Lance as a threat, something that had put Shiro on edge. "There is no Voltron anymore. We're not all working together. You have a job, Keith has a job, I have a job – we all have roles to fulfill, and I understand that you've had some complications lately–"

Complications. What a mild way to phrase the murder of his entire platoon, sister, and nephew. Inconveniences, that was all.

"But it's complicated, Tío Leo," Raphael complained with a pout, his pencil poking holes into his math homework. "Can't you just do it for me?"

"You know I can't do that, buddy," Lance said with a laugh. "Besides, math is cool."

"No it's not!"

"Sure it is!" Lance said with a grin. "When we were flying in outer space, we had to do math all the time to figure out how far away we were from other planets and stars, to figure out how fast we needed to push the engines to make a rendezvous on time, to figure out where a cargo ship would be based on when its departure time, trajectory, and average speed. That's all math, bud!" He decided to leave out the part about the castle doing most of the calculations for them.

"Well if you like math so much, why can't you just do mine for me then?"

"But you can't go and drag Keith into this," Shiro said, and Lance clenched his jaw, refocusing. He'd expected as much from Shiro, but hearing it was still something else. Maybe he'd seen Lance as a brother at one point, but Lance could never be what Keith was to him. "Especially not when you're putting out hits on federal agents and wiping out entire camps and trying to start a one-man insurrection against our entire government."

"I'm not forcing Keith into anything," Lance said slowly, his words flat. "I'm going to continue on my path whether he's tagging along or not. I'm not going out of my way to put him in danger, but if he sticks with me, I can't promise he'll be safe. But he's an adult, Shiro. That's his choice to make, and you know damn well how impossible it is to make a decision for him."

"And you know that you're just about the only person who could convince him of anything," Shiro rebutted, and Lance bristled, somehow angry that Shiro always managed to take something that would sound like a compliment to someone else and twist it against him. His weaknesses were weaknesses, and his strengths were weaknesses too, at least in Shiro's eyes it seemed.

"Keith does what he wants," Lance said, ignoring Shiro's previous statement. "I never asked–"

"It doesn't matter, Lance," Shiro interrupted. "It doesn't matter if you asked or didn't ask because Keith's determined to help you, because he sees you as a friend."

Lance clenched his jaw and felt himself grow rigid due to the coldness in Shiro's tone. "It sounds to me like you don't think I see Keith as a friend."

"Friends don't put their friends in danger to satisfy their own vendettas," Shiro growled. "Some fucking friend you are."

All of a sudden, Lance felt tired, done. And he could feel the far-off thumping of his migraine threatening to return. He had a list of names to return to. He couldn't waste time arguing with someone who hadn't given two shits about him in years. And it didn't matter to him what Shiro thought of his friendship with Keith. If Keith had been in Lance's shoes – God forbid – Lance wouldn't have hesitated to back him up and do whatever he could to make things right. "He's your brother," Lance said after a moment, fighting the urge to put his hand on Shiro's shoulder. "Go convince him if you care so much. But leave me the fuck out of it."

"You're going to get him killed. I hope you can live with that."

Lance had frozen upon hearing Shiro's words, but he started walking toward the chopper after a moment. "Good thing I won't have to."

--

published 10/02/22 (mm/dd/yy)

3747 words