Hale stilled beside him.
"I kept thinking he'd let me back in, but he never did. Not until morning.” Elliot’s voice was coming out rougher and harder to control. “Six hours. I kept track."
Without a word, Hale reached out and put his hand on Elliot's back, between his shoulder blades. His palm pressed firm against him, warmth seeping through Elliot's T-shirt. He rubbed slow circles, smoothing tension from Elliot's shoulders. His next breath came easier. So did the one after that.
"Your father's a piece of shit."
Elliot let out a small laugh. "Yeah."
Hale's hand kept moving, the rhythm constant and unhurried. "You were a little kid."
Closing his eyes, Elliot let himself absorb that. His pulse settled into something more regular—ninety, maybe eighty-five. The trembling in his hands started to fade.
They sat like that for a while, Hale's hand warm between his shoulder blades. The only sound was their breathing and the distant buzz of the base generators. "So," Hale said eventually, changing the subject. "North Carolina, huh?"
Elliot opened his eyes and glanced at him. "What?"
"Your assignment. Washington’s pretty far from North Carolina.”
"Twenty-eight hundred miles," Elliot answered without missing a beat.
Hale let out a rough laugh. "You already knew that."
He didn't respond. Of course he'd known.
"Two weeks," Hale said. "Then I go west, you go east. That's it."
“Yes. I know.”
"Let's make them count, okay?”
Elliot turned to look at him. Hale’s expression was serious in the dim light.
"Okay," he said, almost a whisper.
Hale squeezed his shoulder before his hand slid away,but he didn't move back. Didn't put distance between them.
Shifting slightly, Elliot closed the small gap until their shoulders touched, seeking Hale's warmth. Hale pressed closer, his arm against Elliot's. Then Hale reached over and took his hand, threading their fingers together.
They sat like that until the sky lightened beyond the small window at the top of the stairwell. The base woke around them; distant voices, truck engines, the first formation calls echoing across the grounds.
Hale's thumb traced a slow circle over Elliot's scarred knuckles. "We should probably get back before someone finds us like this."
"Probably."
"You know," Hale said when neither of them moved to leave, "for a guy who's supposed to be all about tactical planning, you're really bad at executing an exit strategy."
Elliot snorted. "I'm working on it."
"Yeah? How's that going for you?"
"Poorly."
Hale laughed, squeezed his hand, then got up and pulled Elliot with him. There wasn’t much room in the narrow stairwell, and they were close enough that he felt Hale’s breath on his cheek. His hands came up to Elliot’s face, fingers brushing his jaw, and he kissed him—slow and unhurried.
Elliot held onto his wrists and kissed him back.
"Come on," Hale said against his mouth. "Before Kowalski has us running laps."
