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

[tactician]

Weiler looked even more incredulous. "Yes, I can see that," he said slowly, lowering his eyes to said knee, wondering if something particularly jarring about the knee injury would pop up if he stared long enough.

Then he raised his eyes, looking like he was trying very desperately not to laugh. "...Are you shy?"

[aphelionix]

Locke's lips pressed into a thin line, and to his credit, he looked very composed otherwise.

"I'm not," he said, and began to untie his boot.

[tactician]

He sat back to allow Locke room to maneuver, but there was a small smirk fixed on Weiler's face now. Tossing the sanitized wipe packet from hand to hand, he asked, "Then you just don't want to be touched?"

[aphelionix]

"I just thought you were kidding too." One boot clunked to the floor, and he untied the other, it following in suit.

[tactician]

Catching the packet in one hand, Weiler closed his fist over it and canted his head, no longer smiling, but not frowning either. "I can return a favor. We are in this together, now."

[aphelionix]

Locke stopped after he unzipped the top part of the outer layer of his uniform. They were indeed the only people they had to rely on at this point.

He nodded as the thought sunk in, easing his arms out of the sleeves. They already established, in a sort of indirect way, that they trusted each other. What other choice did they have now? They couldn't work together without trusting one another.

"Right," he agreed, looking Weiler in the eye. "Absolutely."

[tactician]

For all of Locke's hard-shown honesty, Weiler only quirked a brow. "Did that only occur to you now?"

[aphelionix]

"No," Locke assured, pushing off his trousers. (How's that for shy? Though he had rather modest black boxers on, anyway.) "But things have been rather... chaotic in the past hour. There's a lot to think about."

[tactician]

Weiler all but yanked the injured leg onto the bed, propping it up on a pillow as he tore off the paper packaging of the wipe with his teeth.

"That's right," he agreed, dabbing at the wound. It was doing much better than his, but it wasn't as if he could get a good look at his own back anyway, so he made a distasteful face at the clotted blood nonetheless. "There's the matter of whether or not we even have enough fuel to get to the next destination, if they're willing to sell to an unnamed military-grade ship without the proper documentation, if we'll get recognized because there's an APB out for the ships serial code already, if we can manage to dig around well enough to find other Circle members.

"Then, assuming that we can contact someone, there's probably leap after leap regarding the question of whether or not we can prove to them that the Seventh's been compromised, since we technically have no real evidence other than our word. There's probably a good deal of people to get through before we can even get to anyone who has connections to the First, but even before that, there's the matter of how we're going to sustain ourselves if our accounts and identification have been frozen, as they probably have. Gladsheim's most definitely taken care of our fake accounts, and the Seventh's probably handled our real identification.

"Basically," Weiler concluded, tugging the gauze tight around the knee and clipping the tail end closed before looking up. "We're at a dead end."

[aphelionix]

Locke leaned against the opposite wall as his knee was tended to, listening in silence. It made things feel pretty damn hopeless at this point. He watched as Weiler worked, only wincing once, when his leg was pulled up onto the bed.

"The shadier fuel stations don't check for documentation. I have us headed for one now," he said after Weiler had finished. "As for money, I always keep my account disconnected from my employers, and under a different name. I have a few connections for those things. We're pretty close to Erclesse. I've got a couple there we can turn to." As he said the planet's name, there was a small twitch in his features, but he quickly moved on.

"We're cornered, but I wouldn't say it's a dead end."

[tactician]

Weiler sat back and chuckled.

"Speak for yourself. My life's over," he said jokingly, sliding off the bed to replace what little of the gauze remained. Upon closing the cabinet, he turned around, leaning on the counter rather than returning to his seat.

"So now we wait."

[aphelionix]

A concerned look followed Weiler, but he didn't say anything about it. He was fairly sure he was kidding, anyway, after they just agreed they were in this together.

"It'll be a little under an hour," Locke said, hoisting his legs over the edge of the bed. He threw off his own shirt, standing and grabbing a clean one to put on. It fit a lot more snugly on him than it did Weiler. "The rest cabins themselves have trousers, if you need a new pair."

we can end soon

[tactician]

"I'll manage for now," Weiler answered, having the sinking suspicion that the standard issue pants may balloon over his legs anyway, given the nature of the shirt. "Plus, a nap in that passenger seat sounds much too attractive for me to pass up. Let's go, Captain."

[aphelionix]

He raised a brow, picking up his boots.

"You want me to come along with no trousers?" Locke asked, amused.

[tactician]

"No one's watching!" came the shout from the flight deck.

[aphelionix]

"You are," he said, more to himself. With a sigh, Locke grabbed some spare trousers before joining him in the flight deck. He could've bugged Weiler about how there were plenty of beds he could lay in, but the man looked rather comfortable where he was. It was a little comforting to know he was close by, anyway. Just in case.