The Color of Death is Blue

The Plan

Coran stood in front of Lance, the tall grass licking his knees. He held Keith's gun as he went through the lesson. Lance kept his eyes glued on the gun as Coran explained.

"Now, Lance," Coran started, bobbing the gun as he talked, "It is impossible for me to teach you how to fight like we can, so I'm going to teach you defensive shooting. This gun is a customized AR-15.

"Now this-" he flipped a small switch with his thumb, "Is the safety. Right now, it's on.

He stopped to take notice of Lance's stare, "Lance, are you listening?"

Lance nodded, eyes on the black, "Yes."

Coran took a frustrated breath and rested the gun against his chest with both hands. "Lance."

Lance finally looked him in the eyes with curiosity.

"There's a couple rules I'm going to go over, so listen carefully."

He nodded.

"One: Don't point this at anyone you don't want to shoot. Keep it safely away from them, even if it's not loaded and the safety is on. Two: keep your finger away from the trigger until you are ready to shoot. Three: know what you are shooting and what is around it.

Coran took a pause and maintained direct eye contact, "Now this is super important."

Lance hesitantly nodded, anxious to start learning.

"This gun can kill someone. You can kill someone. You must remember that," his head moved to emphasize his words, "And If this gun can kill someone, so can their's. The Galra are highly trained. You will not survive a direct fight with even one of them, so stay close to us. No running off on your own or disobeying orders. Listen and comply, got it?"

"Got it." Lance chewed on his cheek.

Coran looked to Shiro. He was leaning against a tree across the field, crossing his arms. He gave Coran a nod.

He turned back to Lance, "Alright," he handed him the gun, "here you go."

Lance's fingers touched the rough, cold metal. The gun was heavier than he thought it was going to be.

Coran adjusted his hands, correcting his grip on it, "Always hold it like this."

Coran taught Lance how to clear the gun, load the magazine, and the correct way to look down the sights. Two days were spent practicing the basic mechanics of the gun, three days were spent on proper stance and how to safely maneuver through a building, and two more days were spent on target practice. Once Lance knew the basics of using Keith's gun, Shiro moved on to hand-to-hand combat and defense. Lance wasn't perfect in any of these areas. Not even close. But, he knew enough to defend himself.

Lance had his arms folded over his chest and legs outstretched with ankles crossed, leaning back in a porch chair. "When are we going to get Keith?"

Coran stopped his grilling to stare at the boy. His eyes dropped, "Lance,"

"I know," Lance's voice was stern and upset, "I remember what you said. I know the rules. But..."

Coran flipped over a steak, triggering a sizzle and meat aroma to enter the cool air.

"But I cant just leave him!" Lance uncrossed his arms and leaned against the glass table. "We don't know what he's going through right now- what they are doing to him."

"Lance," Coran warned.

"He's probably being beaten as we sit here eating fine steak!" His arms lifted, "They've probably tortured him for the past week. I have to save him!"

"Lance!" Shiro's voice cut through the evening breeze like an arrow, causing Lance to jump and pull his arms toward his chest. "Keith knows how to handle this situation," he slowly emphasized every word, "It is not our job to save him."

Lance leaned toward him and slapped the table, "It may not matter to you, but I can't just let him be killed off."

Shiro shoved his chair back with his knees, "He's a professional!"

Lance repeated Shiro's action in anger, slamming his hands down onto the glass, "He's important to me!"

"To me as well!"

"Oh screw you!"

Coran clicked his tongs loudly, "Knock it off!"

Lance and Shiro kept their eyes locked in a stand-off. Lance's chest was heavy and his eyes stung. He had already lost his family, no, killed his own family. He wasn't letting someone so special to him be killed protecting him. He wouldn't back down until he could feel Keith call him 'Princess' again.

The two stared at each other for a long time, pushing out heavy breaths. Finally, Shiro's arm muscles bulged with tension and he dropped into his chair, "Fine!"

Lance relaxed and sighed in relief. Shiro scared him more than anyone, and standing up to him like that was nerve-wracking. But winning the argument felt amazing.

Shiro pointed an angry finger at him, jabbing it with every emphasized word, "But you will listen to my rules! I'm not going to lose any more men for you!"

Lance stabbed his steak with his fork, flashing a smirk, "Whatever you say, asshole."