Chapter Text
24 hours before
“Mr. Lotor, sir.” Thace asked, knocking on the door to Lotor’s office. “You asked to see me?”
“Yes, come in.” Lotor waved impatiently. “I need you to take care of something for me.”
“What do you need, sir?”
“You were one of the very few of my father’s most loyal commanding officers were you not?”
“Yes, sir.” Thace said in agreement.
“And you've taken out several of my father’s many enemies over the years when the need arose.”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“Good.” Lotor gave him a malicious smile, sliding a picture across the table over to Thace. “Because there's someone I need you to take out for me. You see, I've wanted him for quite some time. He, however, has eyes for another. And that simply won't do. If I can't have him, no one can.”
Thace tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he looked over the photograph of one of Allura’s detectives. “So you want me to kill him.”
“Precisely.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
“Fantastic!” Lotor’s grin widened, dismissing Thace with a wave of his hand. “Oh and Thace?” Lotor called out as Thace was leaving. Thace paused, looking over his shoulder at his boss. “You have twenty-four hours or else you’ll be the next body I’ll have someone dispose of. Don't disappoint me.”
“Of course, sir.” Thace nodded his head. “I’ll see to it that this problem of yours is dealt with.”
“That's what I like to hear.”
Present Time
The coroner looked up from his clipboard and over at the chief when he stepped inside the morgue. “Mr. Coran.”
“Hello, Rax.” Coran put his ID badge away and walked over to the body on the exam table hidden underneath the white sheet. “Do we have a positive identity of the victim yet?”
“Unfortunately,” Rax watched the chief’s reaction with sympathy as he lifted the sheet back and revealed the body on the table. “I’m so sorry.”
Time seemed to slow down and for Coran, it felt as if the wind was knocked out of him. It was as if someone reached into his chest and was squeezing his heart. The only thing he could focus on was the lifeless body of his nephew on the exam table. Actually, he was more than just Coran’s nephew. He was the son he never had. He never had any children of his own before but he was the closest thing to a son Coran ever had. He practically helped raise him. Coran was there when he was born, he was there for his first steps, first words, first day of school. Took him and his sister in when their mother, his sister, died and their father was too ill to care for them anymore. He trained him, worked with him, and often spent many late nights talking with him when he doubted his abilities, doubted that he would ever be a good detective.
And now, staring at him on an exam table in the morgue, Coran now knows, in a way, how his mother must’ve felt when she lost his sister. Of course it’s not the same thing, he wasn’t Coran’s son and there’s no feeling in the world like losing a child. But in a way he understands how she’s must’ve been feeling in those moments.
“Do we have a cause of death?” Coran asked, clearing his throat.
“Officially,” Rax answered. “Not yet. However, the bruising around his neck suggests strangulation. And here,” Rax pointed to the purple and blue bruise on his temple. “Suggests that he was struck with a blunt object before he was strangled.”
“I’ll let you get back to your work, Rax.”
“I’m sorry, Coran.” Rax covered him with the sheet again. “My condolences to you and Allura.”
Coran didn't say anything else. He casted one more look at the sheet covered body and walked out of the morgue. Once out of the morgue he braced himself against the door and let out a trembling breath.
“Hello?” Shiro murmured quietly into the phone. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand, 2:30 a.m., and stifled a yawn.
“Shiro,” was Coran’s urgent reply. “You need to get down to the station right away.”
The urge to fall back asleep was quickly replaced with dread. One would think Shiro would be use to late night phone calls like this, especially with being an FBI detective, but he couldn't help the dread that seeped into his bones. For one, Coran was calling him on his personal phone which he never does unless it's important. Secondly, Shiro only got off of work three hours ago, surely there were other detectives down at the station for whatever work related thing they needed done. They didn't need Shiro. Thirdly, after years of working together, Shiro likes to think that he knows his team like the back of his hand. He likes to believe that he can read them well enough to know when something isn't right. And right now, judging by the sound of Coran’s voice and how it wavers when he speaks, something happened.
He’s instantly on his feet with his phone nuzzled between his ear and shoulder as he pulls on a pair of jeans off the bedroom floor. “Coran, what happened?” he questioned.
‘Maybe you’re just overreacting’ his brain tried to reason with him. ‘Maybe you’re just needed at the station for a work related issue and it’s nothing to get worked up over.’ Perhaps the reason Coran is calling his personal phone is because he tried to dial his work phone but couldn’t get through. It’s happened quite a few times with Lance. Lance often misplaces his work phone at the worst times so they have to call his personal phone.
‘Oh god, what if it’s Lance?’ The anxiety ridden part of his brain speaks out. ‘He’s been acting off all day. What if something happened? What if-?’
No. Shiro shook his head and tried to calm his racing heart. Lance has had lots of dangerous cases before that nearly costed his life a handful of times and he’s always pulled through. He’s a survivor. Lance is fine. ‘But–’
‘No. Lance is fine.’ The rational part of his brain tried to reason with him. ‘You need to have more faith in your team. Calm down, Takashi. You’re just overreacting. Coran could be calling to say they found Matt and Mr. Holt. ’
‘ Okay, but- ’
‘No .’
With his mind wandering to the worst case scenarios, he never realized Coran never gave him an answer as to why he was calling in the first place. The silence from Coran’s end only fueled Shiro’s panic. “Coran.”
“It’s news better left said in person.” Click.
Coran’s answer did nothing to settle his thoughts. Shiro felt his heart drop to his stomach as his mind immediately went back to the worst possible case scenarios. And this time he couldn't calm himself down no matter how many excuses the rational side of his brain tried to make up for him. He blames his PTSD for it. After losing two former team members, many close calls with his teammates and staring death in the face more times than he's comfortable admitting, he can't help but think the worst has happened.
Shiro’s on auto pilot as he makes the twenty minute drive down to the station. His knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. After he parks in his usual spot on the side of Allura, he presses his head against the steering wheel and tries to control his breathing before he goes inside and has to face the inevitable. The fear of losing his team is so deeply rooted into his brain and his heart that he can't even acknowledge the possibility that Coran only called him down here for a work related issue anymore. All he can think about now is the possibility that he's too late to save another one of his teammates. He pulls the keys out of the ignition and takes another deep breath to try and relax. It doesn't work. He pockets his keys and notices Hunk’s yellow jeep pulling up in the parking lot and parking next to Keith’s car. He also notices Lance’s 1996 blue Mini Cooper isn’t parked in its usual spot next to Keith.
‘Calm down.’ Shiro took another deep breath before getting out of his car and catching up with Pidge and Hunk. ‘Maybe he isn't here yet. Maybe Pearl is giving him trouble again. Maybe he rode with Keith. Calm down.’
“Shiro,” Pidge gathered his attention. “Do you have any idea of what's going on? Did Coran tell you anything?”
“No,” Shiro shook his head. “Coran just said it was news better left said in person.”
Together, the three of them walked inside the building and went up to Coran’s office, spotting Keith standing with Coran.
“Coran, it’s nearly 3 a.m. What’s wrong?” Hunk asked, looking around for Lance. “Where’s Lance and Allura?”
“I’m afraid that's why I called you all down here.”
“Coran,” Keith gritted his teeth. “What happened? Where’s Lance and Allura?”
“Allura will be here shortly. I’ll tell you everything once Allura knows.”
“Is it Lance?” Hunk asked, gnawing on his lip. “Is he okay?”
Coran hesitated in answering. “I’m afraid I can't answer that until Allura arrives.”
“Coran,” Shiro pleaded. “Please, just tell us, is it Lance?” He didn't need to hear Coran’s answer. He already knew deep in his gut, judging by Coran’s hesitation and his refusal to answer, whatever happened, it involved Lance.
Coran went to answer but was interrupted by Allura storming through the door, jet lagged and still wearing the clothes from the day before. “Coran. What happened? You said it was important. Where’s Lance?”
“Princess,” Coran put a consoling hand on her shoulder. “You should sit down.”
“I’m fine with standing. Now where’s Lance? He should be here. Did his old raggedy car break down on him again? Goddamit I told him to get rid of that old useless thing. It's nothing but trouble-”
“Allura,” Coran spoke solemnly, interrupting her before she could ramble on any further. “I’m afraid it’s about Lance.”
Allura tensed, gripping Coran’s shirt in her hands. “What's wrong with Lance? What happened? Please tell me he's okay. Coran,” Allura begged. “Please tell me he's okay!”
“Lance was found in his apartment a couple of hours ago unresponsive by his neighbor, Nyma.”
“No,” Pidge whispered, their voice quavering. “N-No…”
“They found this in his apartment.” Coran held up a post it note. “From Zarkon’s son, Lotor. We’re all familiar with Lotor and his infatuation with Lance. However, we weren’t aware of how strong his obsession with Lance was. When he turned down Lotor’s advances, Lotor took it as ‘if I can't have him then no one can’ and sent one of his minions to take him out.”
“The detectives on the scene are still working out the details but according to the coroner, they blindsided him and waited until Lance got inside of his apartment to pounce on him. They struck him in the temple with a blunt object then finished him off by strangling him with a phone cord.”
Everyone was stunned into silence as the weight of Coran’s words sunk in. Lance–their teammate, their friend, their
brother
–is dead. Dead as a doorknob. Strangled to death with a phone cord.