At some point he lost consciousness. Exhaustion could be a mercy sometimes.
A metallic slam from somewhere down the corridor woke him, then another slam and raised voices, an argument.
"You fucking flyboys," it sounded like Five-Oh's voice. "Anyone'd think you had orange on under those jumpsuits!"
It was their first night of leave in months and they'd made the mistake of drinking at one of the TIE pilots' watering holes. And though it was just the two of them, Five-Oh had lost no time in picking a fight.
Thirteen sighed, set down his drink and got up from the bar. He didn't see who threw the first punch, but there were three of them on Five-Oh almost immediately. Thirteen took one down with a swift jab to the lower back, kicking out his knees before a blow to the jaw sent him reeling. He staggered back, shoving a nearby pilot out of his seat and snatching it up.
"Get down!"
Five-Oh hit the floor and Thirteen flung the bar stool into the space his head had been a moment ago. It didn't do any serious damage, but it scattered them, knocking them apart a few steps and that was all Thirteen needed. He dived into their open ranks, planting himself at Five-Oh's back.
"What the fuck was that?" his friend demanded, laughing, but neither of them had any breath for talking after that. It was a brief scrap, but glorious while it lasted, and they gave as good as they got before the odds finally buried them.
Thirteen hit the ground like a sack of stones, laid out by a blow sliding under his guard. A kick to the head kept him down, then one to the stomach, the ribs, the back. He heard Five-Oh cry out, but every time he tried to rise he was kicked back down.
It would have gone badly for them, if someone hadn't broken things up. Thirteen was only aware that the kicking had stopped, and of being forcibly dragged to the door and shoved into the street.
"You fight like you fly, you fucking cowards!" Five-Oh shouted after them, but Thirteen just collapsed to his knees and retched the contents of his stomach into the street.
"Hey," Five-Oh nudged him with his boot. "You alright?"
"Pfft. You should see the other guy," Thirteen muttered, trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet.
Five-Oh laughed, "Easy there, chief." He took his friend's arm and helped him up, slipping an arm round his waist to steady him. "C'mon, I'll buy you a drink."
"Not here," mumbled Thirteen, leaning heavily against the other trooper.
Five-Oh gave a soft snort. "Hell no."
They found a seedy, but blessedly non-partisan club in the next district. Five-Oh began flirting almost immediately with the boy behind the bar and Thirteen was all but forgotten. He didn't mind; they had a one night pass, one night to talk to people without a mask on, to eat food which didn't taste like shit, to drink too much, talk too loud, to flirt - hell even fuck if they got lucky. He wouldn't begrudge his friend a bit of fun.
He ordered something strong, drained it, ordered a second then a third, nursing the familiar, reckless hunger which gnawed inside his chest. The music was good - or at least he liked it, the way it bristled up, rhythmic and aggressive, half deafening, the beat resonating deep in his chest like a second heart. It was cathartic somehow.
He grinned suddenly, recalling the time Zero had hacked the comm system and blasted music in to their helmets during a training run. The sergeant had smoked the hell out of them for that.
"I mean, I throw a pretty mean punch," Five-Oh was regaling the bartender, "But Thirteen here, he throws a mean bar stool."
Thirteen's smile went crooked and he shook his head. "Don't worry," he reassured the boy, "I won't be demonstrating."
It was several drinks later when he noticed the boy slide a small packet of tablets across the bar to Five-Oh. His friend downed half of them, then nudged Thirteen and handed him the rest. Thirteen took them, regarding the small, white capsules curiously. He was on the point of asking what they were when he realized he didn't care. He tossed them back with the rest of his drink. He didn't want to be wise. Not that night.
"I don't suppose you're allowed to dance on duty?" Five-Oh asked the boy as the music tempo downshifted to something slow and soft. "Ah well. I suppose I'll have to make due with Thirteen. C'mon-"
"What?" Thirteen laughed and tried to protest, but Five-Oh dragged him off the stool and out into the middle of the floor. He was starting to feel the effects of the tablets. It felt like a shot of adrenaline, but without the stomach dropping kick. It felt good.
Still laughing, he tried to pull back. "I can't dance."
"Neither can I," grinned Five-Oh, grabbing both his hands. But Five-Oh had an aggressive grace in all his movements, while, even sober, Thirteen moved as though he were still growing into his arms and legs. "C'mon!"
He pulled Thirteen forward, dropping one arm to his waist and twisting them ostentatiously one way, then another with Thirteen staggering after him like an ungainly puppet. Neither of them could stop laughing.
"You're fucking terrible!" Five-Oh cried as Thirteen lost his footing and nearly dragged them both to the floor.
"Fuck you!"
"Well, I was kind of hoping that kid at the bar would. But if you're offering..."
Thirteen tried to shove him and somehow ended up flat on the floor, and Five-Oh nearly collapsed on top of him, laughing helplessly. "C'mon," he gasped, hauling Thirteen to his feet. "Let's get you out of here before you hurt someone."
True to his word, Five-Oh paid for the drinks, making a grand show of it, and Thirteen heard him ask the boy what time he got off. Whatever the answer was, it must have been favorable because his friend was grinning like an idiot when they left.
Outside, the city seemed markedly different from what it had been a mere hour ago; everything they saw struck them as breathtaking or absurdly funny and for a while they simply wandered around, pointing and gawping and laughing. Thirteen's headache had gone, and his back scarcely hurt at all.
"Oh. Oh. Thirteen!" Five-Oh stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed his friend's arm.
He was pointing at the front of a club just a few dozen yards ahead, a luxury sport airspeeder had pulled up outside and an officer - high ranking navy by the look of him - climbed out.
"I've always wanted to fly one of those! C'mon!"
He lurched forward, but Thirteen pulled him back, laughing in disbelief. "What - steal it?"
"Well, more like... borrow? Come on!"
He dived forward and Thirteen sprinted after him, thrilling to the unfamiliar, wild excitement coursing through him. They reached the speeder just as one of the club staff was emerging to pull it around. Thirteen took a running jump and vaulted into the open passenger side while Five-Oh grabbed the startled valet, yanked him down and climbed into the control seat.
He punched the throttle and launched them forward, nearly scraping the neighboring building as they spun into traffic, and with a triumphant whoop sent them hurtling down the street.
"Shit - oh shit, he saw us!" Thirteen - who had risked a glance back - cried.
"Who?"
"The officer!"
"Oh shit!"
It wasn't long before there were flashing lights behind them and a voice coming over the intercom demanding they pull over.
Thirteen stared at the speaker in horror. "Shit - shit, what do we do? Five-Oh!"
But Five-Oh simply switched the comm off, punched several buttons and moment later music was blaring from the speakers. He turned to Thirteen with a grin, laughing as his friend instinctively grabbed hold of something, - Thirteen knew what that look meant - and plunged them into a nose dive.
"Holy fuck! What was that?" Thirteen cried, scrabbling for purchase on the inside of the speeder as Five-Oh skidded in and out of side streets. "Holy shit!" He was almost laughing now, as each near miss, each time they didn't crash brought a rush of relief and exhilaration.
Five-Oh let out an exultant cry as he dived into a nest of close crowding buildings. "Let's see those bastards follow us here!"
It had begun to rain and, though they hardly felt it, it made visibility even worse, a fact not helped by the lack of lighting in the half-abandoned sector they found themselves in as they sped along, hugging the ground.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Thirteen cried as Five-Oh switched off their lights.
"They won't be able to see us like this!" Five-Oh sounded giddy, triumphant.
"We cant' see!" Thirteen was fumbling over the control panel, trying to find the lights and, failing that, wrenching back the throttle. "Fucking shit, slow down! Shit!"
"Would you stop that," Five-Oh tried to shove him away from the panel. "Don't know what you're so worried about. You can see better without the-"
They never saw what they hit. Thirteen came to sprawled up against the wall of a building. Everything was out of focus, it hurt to blink, it hurt to breathe. He tried to sit up and nearly lost consciousness again. The pain was like an axe burying itself in the side of his skull. He fell back, gasping and tried to roll over. He made it onto his stomach, then to his knees, grinding his fingers into the dirt as the world spun and heaved under him.
"Five-Oh?" Hell, it hurt to talk. "Five-Oh!"
A groan came from the darkness nearby and Thirteen crawled towards it. "Five-Oh?"
He found the other trooper, but it was too dark to make out more than his shape. "Five-Oh. Are you-"
The speeder exploded. Thirteen threw himself across his friend, pressing himself flat as the deafening blast reverberated off the surrounding buildings.
Dazed, Thirteen pushed himself off of Five-Oh and then, slowly and unsteadily got to his feet. Five-Oh was struggling to rise as well and for a moment they both stood there, swaying in the light of the burning speeder. Five-Oh was staring at the flames, but Thirteen was staring at his friend's arm.
"Is - is your arm supposed to do that?" the words were slow and thick in his mouth, slurring together.
Five-Oh stared at him, and then after a long pause blinked down at his left arm. "Oh. Oh, shit," he murmured and then, without warning, he began to laugh, a high, thin, shaky sound. He collapsed against Thirteen, leaning his head on his shoulder, "Let's... let's not do that again."