This fic was written for Gundam 00 Week's Day 4 - 04 and is set during the four year interim between seasons. It's an AU that diverges from canon near the end of season one.
Spoilers for Fallen Angels and red particles.
I'd like to thank Laora / durinswizardwheezes for the title and also the idea, because it grew, like so many of them do, out of our endless discussions of all things 00.
The Abyss Stares Back
April 11, 2017
Lasse crosses to the door and knocks rhythmically with the duh duh dududuh duh duh that Lockon has come to expect from him.
He waits outside the cabin, head bowed as he listens for tell-tale signs of movement inside, but everything is quiet and still, and he wonders if Lockon is actually asleep. It wouldn't be all that surprising, given that most of the crew is still slumbering peacefully in their bunks, but Lockon hadn't necessarily readjusted well to the constant flux of time in orbit, and was wide awake in the middle of the night more often than not. Lasse realizes now that had been counting on that fact when he knocked.
But there is no answer from Lockon and Lasse doesn't want to disturb him if he isn't already awake. He thinks that it may be better this way, after all, and he nods to himself as he decides to continue on alone.
Just as he begins walking away, however, the door begins to beep behind him. Lasse turns back as it unlocks and slides open.
Haro must have interfaced with the keypad, because Lockon is still sitting in bed, peering up in his direction as the blanket pools around his knees.
"You awake?" Lasse asks needlessly.
Lockon groans and rubs the heel of one hand over his eyes, rubbing out the grit before trailing over the outlines of the scars that cover nearly half his face. It has been nearly three years since Fallen Angels, but the angry reddened skin is still starkly highlighted by the light streaming in from the hallway, and Lasse wonders if he will ever grow used to the jagged additions on his friend's face.
As soon as Lockon realizes what he's doing, he snatches his fingers away, hoping to draw attention away from the action by rubbing both hands down his face with an explosive sigh.
"Sure," he finally says, voice muffled as it comes through his fingers.
Lasse stares at him for a moment before leaning against the door frame. Clearing his throat, he asks, "Wanna take a walk?"
He winces, sure that the question did not come out nearly as casually as he'd meant it to, but if Lockon heard anything strange in his voice, he doesn't let on. "What time is it?" he asks instead, voice hoarse but not groggy.
Haro, used to fielding this question at all hours of the day, instantly whirrs to life in his corner. His wings begin to flap as he responds, "0420! 0420!"
Lockon's face scrunches up at that. "You're up early," he comments.
Lasse shrugs noncommittally and turns to stare at Haro instead, as he rocks back and forth on the table, eyes flashing at intervals in the darkness of the room.
"Have something I wanted to do before everyone's up," he finally says.
Lockon blinks for a moment, lips twitching. "Secret mission, huh?" he asks dryly.
"Come with me and find out," Lasse offers instead of elaborating further.
Lockon considers this for a moment. "There going to be coffee on this secret mission of yours?" he finally asks.
Lasse snorts, but agrees easily. "Sure."
With that guaranteed, Lockon doesn't need to think about it for long. "Alright," he says, already pushing himself over the edge of his bunk. "Give me a minute."
Lasse crosses his arms to wait in the doorway as Lockon scoots over to the foot of the bed and pushes up, tossing his blankets in a heap behind him before turning toward the table in the corner. He lays a hand on top of Haro, who rolls happily at the touch.
From there, it only takes a moment for him to slip on his glasses and reach over to grab some clothes. After a moment's hesitation, he opts for their official jacket instead of his more loose-fitting hoodie.
They've told him it's part of a set that Feldt designed for the strike crew during the years that he was stuck on earth— sure that everyone else was dead— and as he pulls it off its hook, it hits him once again just how incredible it is that Feldt had enough faith in him and in this twisted world to have made one in his size and color even when there was no reason to believe that he was alive.
Every time he feels the fabric, he can imagine— if only for a moment— that their team is here and whole, that Doctor Moreno survived the hit to med bay, that Chris and Lichty had escaped to the shuttle alongside Feldt, and that Allelujah was never captured by the Federation forces.
But then he blinks and the momentary fantasy is gone; he remembers exactly what they have lost as he is faced with his ever-present new reality.
He takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself to face the day as he slips a hand into the sleeve of his jacket.
After he finishes shrugging it on, Lockon quickly runs his gloved fingers through his hair and turns to Lasse for a silent approval before they head out to the open corridors of the Ptolemy.
Lasse hums. "Jacket's inside out," he says before grinning.
Lockon's fingers lunge to the bottom hem of his jacket, but feels the zipper and the tab of the inside seam just where they should be.
"Shut up," he shoots back after his momentary panic, and Lasse laughs before stepping out into the hallway.
"You ready?" he asks once he's out of arm's reach. Lockon nods and Haro follows them both out of the room, flapping happily beside Lockon as he connects with the inner workings of the keypad to close the door behind them.
"This way, then," Lasse says.
Lockon follows, grateful for the increased gravity Lasse and Ian rigged for the hallways which allows people to walk when they choose to. Their footsteps echo softly through the empty hallways.
"So where are we going?" Lockon asks after they turn the first corner.
Lasse stops short, holding out a hand to stop Lockon. "Hold on," he whispers, and Lockon knows better than to ask what's going on. Instead he pulls Haro to his chest and listens hard, and thinks from the humming of the transporters that someone else is awake— probably heading toward the mess hall— although he can't hope to tell who it is in the absence of footsteps.
From their abrupt halt, he realizes that Lasse's choice of timing for this early morning escapade is not simply because he doesn't want to disturb the rest of the crew, but because he doesn't want anyone else to know what he's doing.
He cannot imagine what covert activity could prompt Lasse to take such drastic precautions, or why, if he wanted to maintain his secrecy this badly, he would invalidate all these security measures by inviting him along.
There isn't time to ask about it, though— the mechanical whirring of the moving handles fade and Lasse deems it safe to proceed, drawing back his arm and saying, "Okay, let's go," before he starts moving again.
As they cautiously round the next turn, Lockon realizes he never got an answer to his question. "So where are we headed?" he asks again.
It's a moment before Lasse responds, and Lockon understands his hesitance as soon as the answer comes—"I'm going to med bay," he says, and Lockon stutters to a halt in the middle of the hallway, mind suddenly filled with half-baked suspicions that Lasse is trying to lure him into an ambush where he will be forced to undergo all of the tests he's refused to take since his return.
He has come to expect the frequent and fairly obvious attempts of Miss Sumeragi, Feldt, and even Tieria to get him into the med bay over the past few months and while he knows they are concerned and only mean well, he has staunchly refused every time, and had thought himself safe from such subterfuges with Lasse and Ian, at least.
Lasse seems to realize this as soon as Lockon stops walking, and turns around quickly. "It's nothing like that," he promises. "I need to go to med bay but you don't have to come," he assures him. "I just…" he begins before faltering, his hand waving uselessly at his side.
"But you don't have to," he says again, hoping that Lockon will believe him, and Lockon finds that he does.
He takes a deep breath and nods sharply. "Okay," he says. "Okay, yeah, I'll come with."
"Thanks," Lasse says, looking at Lockon for a long moment before finally turning around and hesitantly continuing forward.
Lockon falls in a step behind him and they don't speak again as their pace quickens down the last few hallways, Haro flapping behind them as quietly as he can.
Their hallway finally ends, opening up into one of the busier corridors outside the med bay. Lasse cranes his neck to look down each length of the hallway, confirming that it is completely deserted before they move.
"Okay, we're good," he says, kicking off the wall to propel himself across the intersection.
Touching down outside the door, he wastes no time punching the code into the keypad, and keeps checking the hallways as Lockon and Haro go through the door. Lasse follows behind them and only allows himself to relax once the door hisses shut behind them.
The lights bloom into being around them, although it's not as harsh as the bright white of the hallways outside.
As Lasse moves into the room, he hooks his foot underneath the closest metal chair and drags it into place for Lockon to sit, rapping on the back of it with his knuckles before he crosses to a pod on the other side of the room. "Have a seat if you want," he offers. "It's going to take me a few minutes to get this set up again."
Lockon does so, tentatively easing himself down onto the chair. He settles back into it more comfortably as Lasse maneuvers the array of digital screens around him to a more functional height.
Once he's arranged the screens to his satisfaction, Lasse starts typing in commands, and Lockon wonders absently what each of the soft beeps and clicks mean.
The noises continue, far longer than Lockon had expected, and after several minutes, he frowns in Lasse's general direction. "What, are you making an entirely new protocol over there?" he asks disconcertedly. "I thought you could just pick a test and it pops up all ready to go."
"That…" Lasse begins slowly, as he continues typing, "is the idea," he agrees. "But this is a custom scan."
"And you couldn't save it for next time?" Lockon grouses, before trying to stifle a yawn.
"I could," Lasse allows, not looking up but continuing in the same not-quite-distracted tone, "but then anyone could look through the history to see what I was doing. So I wipe it every time."
Lockon's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Repeated secret scans in the med bay? Just what was Lasse doing in here? And again, why had he now decided to bring someone else along for the ride if it was so secret that he had to delete all traces of the test when he was finished?
"So what are you looking at?" he blurts out, before he can think better of it. "If you don't mind my asking," he tacks on belatedly once the typing stops, because he realizes that Lasse might mind the question— in fact, almost certainly minds the question, given the lengths he had gone to in order to avoid detection before, during, and after his solo trips to med bay.
The sudden silence stretches between them, growing wider and deeper and darker with each passing moment.
Lockon is sure, now, that he has overstepped his bounds, and that Lasse regrets ever stopping by his cabin.
But then, he thinks, frustration blazing inside his chest and crawling up his tightening throat, why did Lasse even bring him here, if he was not allowed to ask the one question that was simply begging to be asked?
He shifts his weight on the chair, ready to push off and make his way back to his cabin alone as soon as Lasse gives the word, because he is certain that he is about to be kicked out of the room.
When Lasse speaks, though, it is to ask quietly, "You saw a lot of doctors Earth-side, didn't you?"
Lockon blinks rapidly for a long moment, thrown by the change in topic. He turns toward Lasse, not sure what to do with the question, but can't make out anything else of where Lasse is going with this.
It seems that he isn't being kicked out the door, however—or at least not yet— and he'll take it for now, even if he is confused.
"Yes," he answers slowly, almost warily.
Lasse seems to take a moment to digest this. "And they told you all about the red particles," he says, more statement than question, "how the damaged particles can't be healed, even with regeneration treatments."
At that, Lockon scowls. Of course he knows.
Does Lasse think he would still be sitting here in this useless, pitiable state if there was any possible treatment option that could restore his eyesight, even just well enough that he could see an enemy mobile suit to shoot it down? Does he think he hadn't tried, hadn't begged the doctors on earth to do something, to find some way to fix this? What sort of question—
Lasse's voice continues evenly, calmly, cutting into Lockon's thoughts as he says, "And I'm sure they also told you about the other major side effect… of the red particles spreading."
Lockon freezes.
The doctors had told him that, too— that the red particles were spreading through his body like a cancer, that there was no cure, and that he'd be dead within a few years because of it—but what had that pronouncement of death mattered to him when he had been a dead man walking since that mall had blown up when he was fourteen years old? And why should he care about dying when the rest of Celestial Being had been obliterated in Fallen Angels?
But then it turned out that they hadn't been destroyed after all, and they had found him. They'd somehow survived that terrible battle and brought him back to the Ptolemy, blind and useless and—
"And that they can't treat that either," Lasse continues, smoothly interrupting his train of thought with a new realization.
—and Lasse knows about the red particles' properties as well, even though Lockon is sure he has never spoken about them to anyone since he left the surface, and has been avoiding the doctors and tests here so that he doesn't have to.
But Lasse knows about them and they hadn't come to med bay for Lockon, they had come for him, which means—
The wave of horror washes over Lockon, and he can feel the blood draining from his face at the realization that Lasse must have been hit with red particles as well. Lockon had never known, had simply assumed— naively now, he sees— that because no one had told him about the survivors' injuries when they reunited, that there had been no long-lasting effects.
But Lasse had been injured by one of the mimic machines in Fallen Angels, and Lockon still didn't know what had happened to him, how badly he had been injured, what he might have lost—
It has been years since both of them received their poisonous wounds, but suddenly, it seems like there is no time left, and Lockon does not think that he can find out what happened quickly enough.
"You were hit?" he nearly trips over himself to ask.
Lasse looks up at him. "Yeah," he says, almost casually, as if this did not mean that he was under a death sentence. "Last wave of Fallen Angels," he explains, "when I went out with Setsuna against that mobile armor."
"I—" Lockon manages, "I had no idea." Words are failing him now, because what is there to say to this, so long after the fact? "I'm," he falters, voice hoarse, "what did you—?"
"Ah, right," Lasse says, as it occurred to him that Lockon didn't know what the nature of his injury had been. "Have a pretty epic new scar down my forehead," he says matter-of-factly, "but beside that, no one can even tell. I'm one of the lucky ones."
Lucky, he says, but Lockon knows that the head injuries are supposed to be the most damaging, and so now it appears that the two of them are in the same boat.
Lockon blinks, trying to process this.
"Does anyone know?" he finally asks.
"No," Lasse says, shaking his head. "Miss Sumeragi probably suspects something. She saw me coming in here a couple times, but…" he trails off with a grimace. "There was so much else going on when I found out and… now… well it's not like there's anything that anyone can do," he says. "Figured I'd just tell everyone when… when I— when it comes time," he finishes, and they both fall silent.
Haro's flying in the corner behind Lockon, but floats forward until he's close enough to bump shoulders with the once-meister, who wordlessly reaches out and pulls the robot onto his lap. Haro flaps a few times, the mechanisms whirring oddly loudly in the otherwise silent room, but he doesn't say anything.
It's a long time before Lockon's finally able to voice his question. "How long?" he asks, not even sure he wants to know the answer.
Lasse sighs. "I don't know," he admits. "There isn't enough research for anyone to draw any real conclusions. Or even really make comparisons. A couple people have died," he says, voice lighter than it has any right to be, "but that was at least as much from their physical injuries as it was the particles spreading. Most I can do is track progress, really."
"And…" Lockon doesn't quite know what to ask here, and falls silent.
Lasse knows what he means, though, and reluctantly says, "It's… worse every time. But again, I don't really have much to base my results off of. Don't know how far it needs to spread before…" he breaks off, as if saying the words will make it even more tangible than it already is, hovering over the both of them like a smothering blanket.
For lack of anything else to do, Lasse finishes typing in the last few commands into the computer screen in front of him and then clears his throat. "Well, I'm about to go in. It's just lying there while it scans, but you're supposed to be as still as possible, so…" he trails off as he moves around the room. "Radio silence for a few minutes here," he warns.
Lockon nodded jerkily. "Got it."
"Okay! Okay!" Haro chirps for the first time since they left Lockon's cabin. Once he settles down, Lockon rests his elbow on top of him, chin in hand, and prepares to wait the duration of Lasse's scan.
The med bay is quiet for the next few minutes, aside from Haro's occasional flapping and the low rumbling hum of the pod as it moves through each stage of its full body scan cycle. Eventually, the machine makes one final whirring noise and stills.
Then, Lasse's making a show of stretching and groaning as he noisily swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets to his feet once more.
"Almost fell asleep in there," he says with a tired grin.
Lockon forces himself to huff a laugh at that. "Your fault for getting up so early," he points out.
Lasse grumbles good-naturedly in reply as he walks back toward the display monitors. "Coffee in a minute, I promise," he says as he waits for the scan to download. "Just gotta wait for the results and then I'll wipe it and we can… oh there we go," he says as there's a loud ping and the test results appear on the screen.
There are a few taps as he enlarges the images and flips between the various pages, graphs, and readouts in front of him. Lockon tries not to shift awkwardly in his chair as he can only imagine what Lasse is seeing.
Finally, Lasse takes a deep breath and lets it out again slowly.
"Well?" Lockon prompts when he can't stand waiting any longer for news.
"Well…" Lasse says, "it's worse. About what I expected," he is quick to clarify. "Still not entirely sure what this means for an end point, but... that's all I'm going to find out for now."
He starts tapping through screens to exit the report, but Lockon stops him before he can wipe it completely.
"Wait," he says.
"Yeah?" Lasse stops and turns to him in surprise. "What?"
Lockon opens his mouth and closes it before he tentatively asks, "… you want me to take it too?"
"That's not why I asked you to come—" Lasse interrupts and Lockon knows it's a genuine protest.
"I know," he says. "But it would give you another comparison and… that might be worth something, yeah?"
There's a beat where Lasse stares at him, and then he slowly answers, "Only if you want to."
Lockon bites back the retort that of course he doesn't want to undergo more medical tests because he knows Lasse would immediately rescind the offer and march him straight out of the room. "Yeah," he says instead. "It would… it would be good to know where we stand."
Lasse has nothing to argue against that, so he quietly says, "I'll get it… set up for you, then."
Lockon nods and clenches his jaw as Lasse prepares the machine for a second scan. It doesn't take long before it's ready.
"Okay," Lasse says, stepping around the monitors until he's standing a few feet away from Lockon, who releases Haro before standing up and holding out his arm for guidance through the room crowded with delicate equipment. Lasse takes it and walks him through the hazards of the med bay floor until they get to the pod.
Lockon reaches out to get a feel for the bed before climbing in and lying down.
"You need to move up further just a little… yeah, that's perfect," Lasse says as Lockon scoots himself up a few inches. "You still okay?" he asks, and Lockon nods. "Alright, then, hands at your sides, feet and head facing straight up, and try not to move. It'll take less than ten minutes. You good?"
"Yeah," Lockon says, although now that he's lying down inside the pod, surrounded by the smell and feel of the hard smooth plastic he remembers so well from the hospital, he's not sure that he's being truthful.
He's here, though, and while he knows that he could call it off without Lasse judging him in the slightest, he knows that it was the truth when he said it would beneficial for them to have two sets of results to compare.
"Okay," Lasse's voice comes from somewhere on his right now, "I'm going to start it in five, four, three, two…"
The machine whirs to life around Lockon and he tries not to jerk as the noise starts moving above his head. He realizes he's blinking sightlessly, and decides to close his eyes instead, forcing his body to still as much as possible.
It's nerve wracking, though, as the pod's scanner begins making its way closer and closer to his head. He almost feels like he's lying on a chopping block, ready for the guillotine to come down and cut him in half.
But then Lasse is talking, his voice growing closer until he must be standing right next to the machine. It takes a moment for Lockon to focus on what he's saying, but then he gladly latches onto the familiar sound, and listens to Lasse describe his last trip down to Earth, when he'd begged a supply run to get some fresh air as well as some much needed products from the surface.
He probably wouldn't have gotten the clearance, he explains, if Miss Sumeragi hadn't been down to her last few bottles; despite the fact that they were almost entirely dependant upon the larger network of Krung Thep, the tactical forecaster was still as much a commanding officer as any team in Celestial Being had, so she'd gotten him clearance for his solo supply run despite the obvious risks.
It had been worth it, he explains, just for the amount of candy he'd been able to bring back. He'd cleared out a supermarket of variety pack bags of jellies, licorice, and chocolate candy that he could surreptitiously leave for Feldt and Tieria on the nights they stayed up too late, running themselves ragged.
He'd stuffed his duffel bag nearly to breaking point with booze for Miss Sumeragi, bags of apples, oranges, and hardy vegetables that would survive the trip and last long enough to spread out along with their standard rations, and then filled in the cracks with any specific personal requests he had gotten, like the nine different fruity flavors of chewing gum he'd found for Milaina.
The best part of the entire trip, though, had been finding a small café on the morning before he had come back up the Orbital Elevator. Their window display had first caught his attention, filled with flaky pastries and chocolate cookies as large as his hand. He'd ordered a croissant and coffee, and it turned out that everything tasted even better than it looked.
As soon as he finished eating, he went back to the counter to purchase several canisters of each coffee brew, two tins of hot chocolate, and three large paper bags full of every pastry, muffin, scone, quiche, and puff that looked like it could survive the two day journey back into space. That, plus purchasing a backpack to hold his last-minute café purchases, cleaned him out of most of the rest of his money, but, from the way Lasse is rhapsodizing eloquent about the entire escapade, he hadn't minded one bit.
And suddenly the humming of the machine is at Lockon's feet and, with one soft beep, it announces the end of its scan and then noisily resets at the top of the machine.
Lockon blinks as he realizes that the scan is over and he is once again free to move. He reorients himself with his grip on the top of the pod, and slowly climbs to his feet.
Lasse is waiting for him, and together, they move over to the monitors where his results will appear. Lockon stands back, a little bit, not wanting to crowd Lasse since he wouldn't be able to see the results once they appeared anyway.
"You're really making me crave some of that coffee, now, you know," Lockon says, as they continue to wait. "And you did promise some," he reminds him.
"You're in luck," Lasse replies, the grin evident in his voice. "I've been hoarding that coffee for special occasions and I think today definitely counts as one of those."
Lockon grins broadly, trusting that Lasse will see. The waiting is nerve-wracking, though, as they stand together, side by side in the silence that continues stretching out before them.
It seems that his results are taking longer to download than Lasse's, and Lockon wonders if this is truly the case or if it only feels that way. Either way, the delay threatens to send his mind into overdrive, zooming through possibilities he'd pushed out of his mind for the past three years.
Three years already, living on borrowed time.
He can't stop the thought, slithering from the darkest corners of his mind, that whispers he can't have too much left.
He takes a deep breath, and hears Lasse stir beside him.
"Not long now," he says, and sure enough, there's a soft ping moments later that announce the arrival of his test results.
Lockon's forced to stand idly by, unable to see any of the figures on the screen. He's sorely tempted to ask Lasse to read off the key points, but he's fairly certain, from his inability to interpret any of the numbers or convoluted medical terms Lasse mutters under his breath as he examines the findings, that he will understand next to none of it.
He can tell whenever Lasse flips between screen, because of the digital whooshing noise the control panel makes every time he moves to enlarge a table or flip to the next graph, but he has no way of knowing how much progress he's making through the report as a whole.
Lockon runs a hand over his face, pulling his fingers away quickly when he realizes that they've lingered over his scars once more, but Lasse doesn't seem to have noticed as he still seems completely engrossed in his reading material. Finally, he draws in a long breath and takes a step back until he and Lockon's shoulders are nearly touching.
"Well?" Lockon asks, voice strained.
"Well," Lasse takes another deep breath before answering, "I think it's fair to say that you're winning. Sorry," he offers quietly.
Lockon does not respond.
"Our results match up a lot closer than most of the other cases I've been able to look at, so…" he trails off, but Lockon nods stiffly, knowing what he's saying— they'll probably go around the same time.
He swallows heavily at the thought. It will come as an awful blow to the rest of them, who have already lost so much… to Setsuna, Tieria, Allelujah— if the A-Law's silence about his status truly means that his fellow meister is still alive and trapped in their clutches after all this time— on Feldt, and Ian, and Miss Sumeragi, who will be the only ones left of their too too small crew once the two of them are gone.
Something twists inside his chest at the thought—at the sheer unfairness of it all. Hasn't he already lost enough? Hasn't Lasse? And everyone else on board, without adding this onto their sufferings?
But then there is movement in front of him, followed by a now-familiar series of beeps—Lasse is exiting the program, closing out of each window before they leave.
"This won't take long," he assures him. "Just have to make sure I get rid of all of it."
Lockon nods, forcing himself to remain here in the present, where he and Lasse are alive and they still have time.
He does not delude himself with false hopes that Celestial Being can create a cure where the united medical fields of the world have been unable to do so—they have worked many miracles, but this, he thinks, will not be one of them.
But they are still alive in this moment. He may be useless beyond repair, unable to do more than ask Haro to read him the daily headlines and informational entries out of their Veda-substitute, but he and Lasse are alive and, if that is all that he can claim for now, then he'll hold onto that desperate shred of truth with everything in him.
They are still alive.
The beeping is slowing down, now, and Lockon thinks that Lasse must be nearly done.
A few more noises, and Lasse says, "That's it. We can go now."
Lockon swallows heavily and calls out to the other side of the room. "Hey, Haro."
The robot flaps eagerly toward him. "I'm here! I'm here!"
"Can you wipe all history, logs, and results of the test Lasse just ran?"
Lasse makes a noise in the back of his throat and murmurs, "Good idea."
Haro doesn't need to think about it for long before he replies "Can do! Can do!"
"Then do that in all of our systems," Lockon tells him. "We don't want anyone to even know they happened, okay, Haro?"
"Okay! Okay!"
"And you're not allowed to tell anyone about this, either, even if they ask," he says as Haro beeps softly in the air beside him. "Not even if Miss Sumeragi orders you to tell her," he adds after a moment.
It takes Haro a little longer to agree to this one, but he flaps and acknowledges the gag order, "Got it!"
Lockon sighs, satisfied, and holds out his hands to catch the AI unit which flies toward him a moment later. "Thanks, Haro."
"Well, I think we're done here, then," Lasse says, as he powers down the computer. "You ready to go?"
Lockon nods and follows Lasse's lead back to the med bay door. It hisses open, but Lasse doesn't remove his hand from across Lockon's chest until he's checked down each hallway to make sure the coast is clear. When he's sure that no one will see them leaving, Lasse whispers, "Okay," and steps out into the passage, striking out for the mess hall.
Although it's late enough in the morning for people to be out and about, they don't run into anyone else as they walk through the hallways, and are the only people in the mess hall when they arrive.
"Alright, then," Lasse rubs his hands together. "Time for some coffee," he says before rummaging through the cabinets above his head. He must have truly hidden his canister from the rest of the crew, because there's almost a full minute of clinking and clanking before he succeeds in locating what he's looking for.
"Got it!" he tells Lockon in triumph before he starts pulling out the necessary equipment to brew it properly.
It doesn't take long for the entire room to be filled with the aroma of dark, rich coffee, and Lockon can immediately tell the difference from the blocks of standard issue space coffee with which they normally make do.
Lockon breathes in deeply, appreciating the sensation. "That smell alone is almost worth it."
"Well, if you're satisfied with the smell, I'll just have to have two cups, then," Lasse grins.
Lockon protests in mock horror, "I said almost!"
"Fine, fine," Lasse laughs as he turns back to the machine. "I guess I did promise…"
"You sure did," Lockon reminds him. "And you can't just tell me all about that café and then not share the coffee, I mean, come on, man."
"That's fair," Lasse agrees.
Lockon opens another pair of cabinet doors and stares blankly down at its contents. "Hey, you feel like some gourmet cooking to go with this super exquisite coffee of yours?"
Lasse looks over his shoulder to see Lockon standing in front of the breakfast trays. "Oh, yeah," he says, although he doesn't sound as excited about the food as he did the coffee. "Your choice," he says, leaving it up to Lockon to decide what their breakfast should be.
Lockon hums as he deliberates between the different piles of nearly identical white trays, finally swiping up two from the far right side of the cabinet. "D rations sound good to you?" he asks, turning around to hold up his selection.
"Good choice," Lasse agrees.
That decided, Lockon sets the trays on top of the counter before closing the cabinet, pulling out silverware from a drawer, and bringing it all to the table in the middle of the room.
"What's taking so long?" he kiddingly asks as he takes his seat and shoves the other tray across the table for Lasse.
"You can't rush genius, man," Lasse says and Lockon snorts. "It's almost done, though. You take sugar and cream in yours?" he asks as he pours a cup for each of them.
Lockon hums in agreement before tearing off the top of his tray.
"Okay," Lasse says, and Lockon can hear the spoon clinking around the sides of each mug. "Two good coffees, coming right up!" He sets the spoon down on the counter and turns around to the table.
"Here you go," he says, setting the mug down on the table and slowly pushing it across to rest in front of Lockon. "It's hot."
"Well, I should hope so," Lockon smiles before reaching out for his mug and letting the warmth seep through his gloved fingers.
He waits for a minute, blowing on it occasionally, before chancing a sip of the drink, but he finds that it lives up to everything Lasse had said about it. "Oh, that's good," he says.
"It is, isn't it?"
Lockon takes another sip and nods. "You're definitely going to have to remember where that café is."
"Oh, don't worry," Lasse assures him, "there's no way I'm forgetting that place. We'll have to convince Miss Sumeragi to take another supply run before we run out."
"Absolutely," Lockon wholeheartedly agrees as the door to the mess hall slides open behind him.
"Miss Sumeragi," Lasse greets her in surprise. "Didn't expect to see you here this early."
Lockon turns around and smiles in what he thinks is the right place.
"Lasse," Sumeragi says, obviously not having expected to see them here either. "Lockon…" He can almost hear her brows knit together as her mind shifts into gear. "What brings you two here?"
"Lasse said he had some really good coffee," Lockon replies before she has a chance to start grilling them, holding up his mug to her in a half salute.
"Did he now?" she asks, clearly not believing that to be the only reason they are here so early.
"He did," Lockon says, "And he was right. This is really good. And I would like to start a petition to have all standard issue coffee onboard replaced with this."
"I'll bear that in mind," she says blithely. "But you two are up awfully early just to try some coffee," she continues, and he's sure that she's at least guessed where they were.
He has no desire to be interrogated by their tactical forecaster, though, and knows that Lasse's gone to great lengths to avoid this kind of situation for months, now.
And so he decides that he will not rise to her bait, and says instead, "Really? I've always thought the best time to enjoy coffee was early in the morning."
Lasse chokes a bit on his sip of coffee and Lockon tries to hide his smirk.
"Of course, I could be wrong," he says with a tilt of his head, "but that would mean that there are a lot of people in the world who have also been misled about appropriate coffee-consuming times this entire time. Is that true, Miss Sumeragi?" he asks, bringing the mug to his lips. "Has the wider world been misled?"
He takes another sip of coffee and, as the silence stretches on, he wishes he could see Sumeragi's expression.
It's so hard to tell, in these silences, if someone is angry or hurt or amused, and he's spent so much time apart from everyone in the aftermath of Fallen Angels, that he feels like he's having to relearn how to act around their crew. He hopes that he hasn't stepped over some invisible line— his mask has slipped, over the years, and he worries that his jokes don't sit right, after everything they have been through.
He thinks, though, that Lasse will bail him out if his offence is too great, and he hasn't said anything yet.
Sumeragi remains silent, though, until she finally offers, "You're looking well this morning, Lockon." Her voice is thick, but he thinks she is genuine in the comment.
He blinks at that, though she probably can't see it behind his tinted glasses, and finally cracks a wry grin. "It's probably because of the coffee," he says.
She laughs, then— "It probably is," she agrees, and Lockon gets the distinct impression that she has surrendered her pursuit of them, for now. He's sure that this reprieve won't last, and that she'll catch them individually at the first opportunity, but for the moment, she'll let them have this peaceful moment of camaraderie in the mess hall, and for this, he is grateful.
His soul still rages inside him, far more twisted and scarred than it was at fourteen, but something in him rests easier in this moment than it has since he can remember— it isn't peace, this thing he's feeling, but it's somehow easier knowing that he's not alone in this, that he's not the only one shouldering this burden.
He pulls his mug of coffee closer.