Lance made Red fly slower than usual, having him take minutes to get to his home in Veradera instead of seconds. Dark rain clouds soon came into view and covered the beach. His home was right on the beach front and his heart soared in excitement at the view of it despite the gathering clouds. He urged Red to dive faster and landed with a full fell swoop.
He noticed the three old style cars in the driveway, the fourth, his older sister's, probably in the garage. He got up from the chair and raced down to the mouth of Red where he had opened it for Lance to exit. Lance ran across the sandy surface, would have stopping any other day to enjoy the usually irritating substance, but kept going since he knew his family was home- the lights were on in the house. It started to drizzle and he thought he might cry at the feel of the rain on his skin again. He was home and his heart soared. He could finally speak Spanish again, be immersed in his culture again after being starved of it on the castle. He could salsa again, play his guitar and sing in Spanish, cook ropa vieja, chorizo, paella, and all his favourite foods, hug his abuela, see all of his brothers and sisters, tell them of his adventures, swim in the ocean, surf, tell them that he was home. He wished his feet could carry him faster to his childhood home and now he was actually crying, his heart soaring with joy, a huge grin on his face.
He was home.
He was home.
He was finally home.
Where he felt safe.
Where he felt confident.
Where he felt himself.
He reached the front door and presumed the door was locked, so he knocked. He was breathing heavily and when no footsteps came rushing he knocked again. He listened. It was odly quiet. Not lively chatter. No blaring music. No yelling across the house. Yet the lights were on and the cars were in the garage...
Something was off and Lance's blood ran cold. His mom surely didn't move away, they'd had that house for generations.
Lance held his breath, and reached for the doorknob subconsciously. When he couldn't find it, he looked down. The door knob was broken and the door was wedged shut with scratches across the once beautiful wooden door. Lance held his breath and his heart was caught in his throat, threatening to choke him. He pushed on the door and when it didn't open, he shoved it open.
The scene before him was too shocking to comprehend.
Lance shuffled in. He saw bodies, but it couldn't be the bodies of his family, could it? He saw blood droplets and puddles around the bodies but that wasn't the blood from his family, was it?
His ears rang with white noise, his tears running dry. He stopped after walking five feet in, the living room to the left filled with his family members he finally realised, their faces all too familiar.
He rushed over to his mom, kneeling down next to her. She was facing him, her arm displayed in front of her with her head laying across from it. Her aged face was grey and pale, the stressful look Lance had always recalled from her was now contorted into a eerily relaxed look. He checked for a pulse, and when he didn't find one, he went hysterical.
"No, no, no, no, no, no. Mamá, Mamá, Mamá contéstame! Mamá háblame, por favor!" He shrieked. (Mama, answer me! Mama talk to me, please!)
He wrapped his arms around her limp body, cradling her and pulling her closer. Still, no response. She was still warm though, which meant her murder was recent. He felt something warm against his left hand and he pulled back, placing her back on the floor.
Blood and flesh covered his hand and jacket sleeve. He almost threw up at the sight of it. He reeled back and weakly crawled over to his brother Marco, the next closest body. He checked for a pulse and again, he found nothing. Marco's body was still warm. Lance refused to believe he was dead. He slapped Marco's face and yelled at him.
"¡Di Algo! Dejar de fingir!" He yelled, tears spilling down his cheeks. He started to panic. (Say something! Stop pretending!)
Weakly he crawled to each body, each family member and face he had loved so dear were all lifeless on the floor, all shot in the head execution style. Lance never stopped looking for their pulses. Lance never stopped crying. The last person he checked hurt him more than ever. His heart was already torn apart, but seeing the person he was seeing now just crushed his heart and burned it and its ashes.
In the corner of the room, looking as if kicked there, and wrapped in a blood stained white blanket that used to be Lance's, was a baby, of about six months, killed and looking the most peaceful out of everyone. Lance lost it, wailing until his voice went hoarse. The child, Lance assumed, was either his nephew or his little brother, his first little brother if that was the case. Lance had always been the youngest, but if this was his new little brother that he never had the chance to meet...
Lance cried, no sobbed, over the dead child's body, feeling as if this was his own son killed right in front of him. The child had his entire life in front of him, yet he hadn't even had the chance to probably take his first steps yet. Lance slumped to the floor, screaming and wailing, feeling a range of emotions. He was sad and angry, regretful and vengeful, but most of all, he was guilty. He was guilty of being too late, of not being there soon enough to protect his family.
His body convulsed on the floor with each sob. He wished he could revive everyone like Allura had with him. He wished he could have been there to give his life for all of their's. He wished... he wished...
The barrel of a gun was suddenly pressed against the back of his head. Lance froze at the cool sensation.
"Glad I stuck around to see the prized paladin of Voltron and capture his lion. It'll be a great bargaining piece to win control over the Galra Empire, so I thank you for that."
Lance knew that voice. He knew it all too well.
He slowly turned around, the barrel now pointing at his forehead. He was met with the all too familiar face of the monster who tried to kill his team too many times.
Sendak.
Vengeance welled up in him. He wanted to rush Sendak, rip him apart limb by limb.
He killed my family. He killed everyone. He has to pay. He has to pay.
Lance was about to move and sensing this, Sendak pushed the gun against Lance's forehead, smiling evilly. Lance pushed back against the barrel. Sendak laughed at this.
"You crave death that badly, paladin?" He asked with a sneer. Lance huffed in reply.
"You monster" he choked out hoarsely. Sendak chuckled at him, and after a few seconds, pulled away his gun, placing it at his side.
"I won't kill you" Sendak said. "This is what I wanted in the first place. For you to be so broken you can't even fight me when you see me. I've weakened you. No, I've broken you, and that pain of knowing what I've done is more painful than you actually dying." He paused, chuckling, then gave Lance a smile. "I will do that to all your friends, then I'll capture Voltron when you are all weak. I'll see you soon, paladin."
Sendak was heading towards the front door and Lance was yelling at himself to get moving and kill him. Never before had he ever wanted to hurt someone so badly in his life. His feet moved without him knowing and he tackled Sendak from behind. Sendak crushed him up against the wall in response, the wind being knocked out of Lance. Sendak grabbed him and threw him against the opposite wall. Lance choked in response, coughing violently. He weakly got up and ran at Sendak again but Sendak caught him and twisted his arm, slashing his upper arm. Lance didn't even flinch. He clawed at him, threatening to break his arm as he tried and Sendak just shoved him to the ground again. Sendak stood over him, Lance scrambling away. He got up again and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Sendak laughed at his knife and headed for the front door. Lance ran at him, adrenaline causing him to take action, and he drove the knife into Sendak's shoulder. He didn't even flinch or show any sign of pain but instead wheeled around and slapped Lance hard across the face, causing him to slam against the counter and slump to the floor. Lance looked up at him in dismay and just as Sendak was about to punch him, Red roared, shaking the ground and causing Sendak to lose his footing. He fell and Lance, with what little energy he had, got up to punch Sendak. Sendak, however quickly responded and scrambled out the front door, jet packing into the air with his armour. Lance slumped against the wood door frame, holding his bleeding arm, and watched Sendak fly away in his awaiting ship. Lance was not happy he left however. Once again, he had failed. He had failed to exact vengeance for his family. When it had mattered most, he had failed and it had costed him his family's lives.
Lance looked at his bloodied arm and torn jacket. He didn't have an urge to hurl though. He instead, got up and stumbled to the bathroom, grabbing the first aide. He took off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and bandaged his arm, tying the knot with his teeth. He walked out of the bathroom without even looking at himself in the mirror. He was too ashamed.
He was really weak, but work had to be done. If he couldn't exact vengeance, then the least he could do was bury his family.
And so, that's what he did. Through the pouring rain, he dug twelve graves and crudely chipped away twelve gravestones complete with names, family occupations and birthdates. Red watched quietly. Lance forgot he was there. He forgot who he was. All he knew was that he was a failure.
Once the muddied graves and stones were done, he slowly carried out each body after that, burying them. There was no use in calling the cops. He knew who the culprit was. Once they were all buried, he wasn't ready to pay his respects yet. He was too ashamed to stand before them at their final resting places.
He didn't know how much time had passed. Whether it was a day, multiple days, or weeks. He didn't know. He didn't care anymore.
He went to the ocean and stripped, cleaning himself of the blood, sweat, and grime he had accumulated. He would have been overjoyed to feel the salty water rhythmically lapping against his skin as it was now, but this was different. He was alone now. He had no one to share this moment with. This bittersweet moment. His wound on his left arm stung from the salt but he felt he deserved the pain. He had wanted to return home, this is what he had wanted, but he never expect his whole family to be dead, to be gone. He wanted to stay in the ocean, to be swept away by it's waters into the deep abyss, to be dragged under water and crushed by the pressure, to feel his lungs fill with salt water, but work still had to be done. He couldn't leave just yet. He walked back to the quiet house and turned off all the lights, changing into clothes from his room which his family had left untouched.
He walked back out to the graves, his face barren of tears for a long time. It was dry and his salty hair was drying in the hot wind as he walked up to the hill where he decided to bury his family. He got in front of his mother's grave and knelt, losing it for the first time since Sendak attacked him. He cried into the ground, his forehead touching the soft, earthy dirt.
"Lo siento Mamá. Lo siento mucho mucho mucho" he sobbed loudly. (I'm sorry Mama. I'm so so so sorry)
"Estaba muy tarde" he cried. "Estaba muy tarde. Te fallé. Les fallé a todos ustedes. Perdóname, por favor. Mamá, Perdóname. Perdóname." (I was too late. I was too late. I failed you. I failed all of you. Please, forgive me. Mama, forgive me. Forgive me.)
Lance stayed there for a long time, crying at his family's graves. He hadn't slept in days, nor had eaten or drank. He was deprived of everything. It was a miracle his body still produced tears as he vented his regrets to the graves of his fallen family. The only sensation Lance could feel was the rain pelting his body, and the regret swallowing up everything inside of him.