The Color of Death is Blue

The Gun

Lance stayed huddled in the cabinet for a lot longer than he needed to. He stifled his whimpering as he heard Keith fight back the men that tackled him. He heard Keith's gagging as a cloth was stuffed into his mouth. The men's boots sweeping the apartment again. The distant sound of Keith's struggling, until it fell silent. Until there were no more footsteps. No more frightening voices. No more struggling.

He stayed in the cabinet until he heard a knock at the small door. A calm, sullen voice spoke through the wood, "Lance?"

He hesitantly pushed open the cabinet door with his toes, finding a worried team. Grasping the phone tightly to his chest, he glanced between the crouched Shiro and the pacing Coran.

Shiro held out a hand, "Come on out, they're gone."

Lance stared at his hand until he pulled it away. Then, he slowly maneuvered his way onto the linoleum. With his bare legs in a W, he dropped his head.

Shiro stayed down, leaning on his knees as he spoke to Coran in a low voice, "Any sign of him?"

Lance didn't need to hear his response. His once bright blue eyes teared up and he dropped Keith's phone. With anger in his heart, he struck Shiro's chest with his fists, "Where were you?!" His voice broke with frustration, "You were supposed to save him!"

Shiro took the pitiful blows, allowing Lance to let his anger out. "Lance, that's not how the plan goes."

Lance stopped hitting him with fists held up next to his head. A tear fell down his cheek, "What?!"

Shiro met the boy's glare, "Lance, we are here to save you."

Lance's shaky breathing deepened with realization. He looked to Coran, who had his arms crossed and eyes to the floor. Eyes switching between them, he stuttered, "But you- you said-" he let out a small sob, "he's a part of your team!"

Shiro swallowed hard and licked his lips, "Lance, Keith's job was to keep you safe. And in the-"

Lance struck his chest again and again as he continued, not wanting to hear what he knew was coming.

Shiro's voice raised slightly, "And in the event of a raid, the plan is to keep you alive long enough for the others to get you."

"Stop!" Lance called out with sorrow.

His voice hardened, "Keith has done his job. It wasn't ours to save him."

Lance's arms lost their strength and dropped to the dusty floor of the kitchen. A few tears fell on the back of his hands as hiccuped more sobs. When Shiro reached for Keith's phone, Lance flinched and grabbed it. He kept it glued to his chest, "No!"

The frustrated man gave up and stood to get away from Lance. He walked toward the table with a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Lance suddenly remembered the cake and jumped up to run to it. His heart broke at the sight of shiny glass embedded into the frosting. He almost grabbed some until Coran stopped him with a 'no.' He whipped his body around to look around at the mess of the apartment. The wind blew across his skin, making him realize that he was cold. Lance walked right over some glass to go toward Keith's room. His feet stung at the pain and left a few drops of blood on the hardwood. Ignoring Shiro and Coran's pleas, he opened Keith's door and walked in.

Lance always slept on the couch, so he had never seen it. Much like the rest of the apartment, Keith's room was minimal. It held a queen bed with plain white bedding, a dark wooden dresser across from it, and a closet on the far wall. Lance ignored the stinging of his steps and approached the closet. Opening it, he examined the contents and picked out what he wanted.

He retrieved his own jeans, then put on Keith's black long-sleeved Under Armour and bulletproof vest. He pulled the glass out of his feet and bandaged them before lacing up a pair of black boots. Before leaving the room, Lance lied on Keith's bed. The dreary blankets held the scent of Ralph Lauren and cigarettes. It was a distinct smell that Lance had grown to find comfort in. He drew in as much as he could.

Once he returned to the kitchen, he noticed Keith's gun on the table. Lance never looked at it closely, nor did he know that much about them. It was a larger gun, black, probably semi-automatic, and definitely customized. Lance gripped it in his hands and pointed it to the ceiling, causing concerned pleas to arise from Shiro. He turned to them, "Teach me how to use it."

Shiro rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Put that down, we need to get you out of here."

Lance snapped, "Teach me how or I'm throwing myself out of that god damn window!"

His sudden harshness surprised Shiro, who opened his mouth to protest. Coran placed a hand on Shiro's arm and shook his head. He backed down with crossed arms as Coran turned to Lance, "We will. You hang on to that, and let's get to a safe place."