Langst: One Shots

The 12th Man.

***I swear I'm alive.***
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((This story was a gift for my most loyal follower on Instagram, and after putting it off for way too long because I'm a horrible procrastinator, here it is! This story is based off of the Norwegian story (now movie) The 12th Man. Please look it up! ))
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((Also just saying this is absolute shot an I hate it but I'm just trying to get back into the swing of writing. Maybe such a specific request wasn't the best way to start back writing bUT.))
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Their mission had been simple. Sort of.

Lance and his eleven other mates aboard the vessel were to set off in for German/Galra territory and sabotage their ship. They had a plan and everything.

They were to get in for the sabotage, but along the way upon requesting some assistance by a lad named Rolo and his female partner.

Their crew consisted of Allura, Coran, Hunk, Shiro, Keith, Pidge, and a few members of a group Keith practiced with.

Did he mention before how he had mentioned it was to be simple? Damn, Rolo.

Lance stood now, or more so knelt amongst the wreckages around him, the remains of their ship and everything on it.

Their own vessel, and then the sunken boat the few survivors had escaped on.

They had had to detonate all of their explosives aboard the ship to evade the Germans.

But they had been betrayed by Rolo and his partner, resulting the in death.

Of almost everyone.

Lance hadn't seen the attack coming, the Galra German Air Force had come in without any warning and had devastated their entire mission.

So much for sabotage.

Lance felt upset to his stomach, looking around now and knowing within the ruins lay his friends, his family.

Sunken down in the icy waters, it was ironic how the snow fell around him now.

There were twelve of them on that ship.
How could number blink out so quickly?

Eleven perished or were captured.
And now there remained one.

The Twelfth Man.

Lance found himself shakily to his feet, stumbling forward a few inches.

"Keith? SHIRO!"

Flames danced in his vision and he felt the grip of grief claw at the inside of his chest. His heart contorted as he ran a few feet towards the fire.

"HUNK! PIDGE!" He felt the tears fall, hotter than the fire that burned in the wreckage sound him. "Coran..."

Lance wen back to his knees and let out a great sob, shaking his head and clawing at the ash on the ground around him.

"NO!!! TAKE ME TOO DAMMIT!"

But who would answer that? No one.
He had to search for that answer.

Search for people.
Search for help.

For the people affected by the Galras, those blood thirsty bastards. Who knew which ones were taken in for questioning and capture?

The ones who died.
His friends.

Everyone whom he had any care for was dead now. Or as good as dead.

How was he to go on? Where was he to go with no ship? No guide? No navigator?

Lost out here in semi-foreign lands.
All he knew was he had to get home.
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Lance traveled hundreds upon hundreds upon more miles to get back home.

He faced the harsh winter and even harsher people along the way. He was a prisoner of war now against the Germans.

Alone here in the big world.
The world that was going to hell.

He could go on to tell you about the nights he wanted nothing more than to be back in the ship, burning with his mates. The ones he lost.

Why had he survived?
Why hadn't they?

Questions clouded his mind and he had no answers to any of them.

He could tell you about the cold he went through, how some nights he was so cold he slept with wild animals and risked it just for warmth.

He heard on the news, other members of his crew who were being killed, being tortured for information.

He'd killed others himself.
Gestapo.

That was the initial intent with the destruction of his ship, but clearly that hadn't go so well.

People shot in the streets.
He heard of Zarkons camps.

Lance stayed in the homes of multiple nice people who allowed him shelter for only a night or few.

The man heard the children crying.
Saw the husbands covering the eyes or their wives and daughters. The destruction of war that was clearly there but nobody wanted to see.

Refused to see.
Turned blind too.

Lance could tell you about the hypothermia, the sicknesses, everything he went through to escape the German military and make it back home with the information he had.

He lost his toes due to the diseases, gangrene it had been. A horrible thing.

But what Lance wanted to tell you about most was the bright side.

He'd made it to a hospital, he'd been pulled along by a society known at the Aruglans. He learned to walk again.

Lance went his life without the ones he loved but at the same time he learned to love others, make amends with his past but never forgetting it.

He died and honorary man.

((You hook me up with prompts.))