ACTION TIME

[aphelionix]

The two days had come and gone since Locke stayed over at Weiler's. He was tipsy when Weiler had called that night and made their two day check-in rule - not that he forgot, but he couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something was off when he went to bed that night.

On the morning of the third day, he remembered.

The rule was to get out. He tried calling Weiler once, in case he had forgotten his own rule, but Locke was sure by now that it wasn't like him. It was all the sign he needed when the call went straight to voice mail. He headed right out the door of his room, only gathering his pistol and communicator. Through the bustling of the soldiers' morning routines, he managed to keep himself fairly blended in. No one seemed to be looking on him any differently. Locke was on the last stretch of the emergency escape route of Gladsheim's base - for Circle members, that was - when someone called his name.

His real name.

Comments

[aphelionix]

"It should numb it a little after a few minutes," he said, satisfied. Locke finally allowed himself to relax, facing forward. His own exhaustion had come back around again, and the pain of his injuries with it. It registered then that a bullet had glanced his knee, and he clamped a hand over it, becoming rather guilty himself of ignoring wounds.

The ship started shaking as it hit the border of the atmosphere and they gained speed. The pilot came on overhead.

"All right, crew. Almost off Gladsheim and I'm not detecting any followers. Hang on tight."

[tactician]

A sanitized cloth hit Locke in the face, the clean half ripped off from Weiler's end.

"Here, Kettle."

[aphelionix]

Locke flinched, having been rather focused on ignoring the pain. He frowned at Weiler, plucking the cloth off his lap where it fell. He stuck it onto his own wound.

"Thanks, Pot."

[tactician]

True to his nature, Weiler only answered with a blown kiss, but even his energy was flagging for that - he fell back and closed his eyes shortly after.

A hand did reach out and latch itself around Locke's elbow, however. It simply stayed there, neither forcibly moving it nor letting go.

[aphelionix]

It wasn't until Locke looked at Weiler's hand, and back up, that he realized there was a hard stare coming from one of the more conscious agents. Locke ignored it, even if he still quickly turned his glance elsewhere.

By the time they were out of the atmosphere, Locke had fallen asleep anyway, his hand overlapping Weiler's.