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He can think clearer at night. Day hours are a constantly shifting maelstrom of questions and decisions and hazards, blinding headlights and blaring alarms, and at night the world slows to a luxurious almost-peace. It’s not as though there’s much of a difference in light levels this far down into the city, but the ambient noise is at least reduced. There’s just the patter of third shift workers living their life and the intermittent clatter of trains overhead, everything underlaid by the rumble of massive engines that never goes away. The sounds of the city hit the senses like drops of water into oil.
Ben has been using the quiet to get some work done.
Edge is sleeping on a foam mat to the side of this back room storage space, its breathing slow beneath a tattered blanket, and Ben is sitting on the cement floor, crouched over what passes for a desk when your entire life is an improvised flight from one battle to another. It’s an ammunition case, wind up lamp sitting on the metal corner. The loose coalition of malcontents they lead would only be called “organized” by a generous assessment, but there’s still messages to answer, missions to give, and plans for the future to make. Ben has been bent over a tablet for long enough that he’s partially staying awake through adrenaline, but that’s normal. He does that a lot.
“You should be asleep.”
Ben glances at his co-leader. Edge is blinking at him, hand coming up to absently rub where their former owners gave it metal tusks. Edge has let it slip that they ache a lot. Ben raises his eyebrows back, augmented wings ruffling behind his back. They ache too, most of the time. Which he ignores. “I could say the same to you.”
“Come on, man, we said we’d do everythin’ together.” Edge gets up and sits next to Ben, leaning over to rest its head on his shoulder. “First I gotta run around gettin’ you to eat, now my bird man won’t sleep? And it’s dark and everything.”
Ben shifts a wing around the other runaway indenture, smile pulling at his mouth despite himself. “It’s literally always dark down here, buddy.”
“Which means you should be sleepin’. Check and mate.” It yawns. “Well rested leaders make a good revolution, that’s what I always say.”
“It’s not a real revolution—“ Ben taps at Edge’s head, the dappled camouflage patterns that have been gene-coded into his co-leader’s flesh. “Lie down, I need my arms for this.”
Edge shifts to lay its head in Ben’s lap, exhaling as it gets comfortable. Ben blinks at his tablet, the glowing words refusing to form into any kind of sense.
“Your hair’s gettin’ long.”
Ben glances down. Edge has a complex look on its face. Ben’s hand goes to his hair without thinking, talons catching the edges of the white strands. “Yeah, well.” He focuses back on his tablet. He’s still not able to make synthesis of the words. “They used to shave it, so I’m goin’ without a trim as long as I can.”
“Looks nice.” Edge’s voice is still sleep-slow, but its eyes are watchful.
Ben smiles, crooked. “That’s good. I care about the fashion most of all.”
“Lead fashion icon Ben Underwarren, that’s what I always say.” Edge closes its eyes. Its is body slack against the floor and its voice, when it speaks, is elaborately casual. “When this is over, you wanna get an apartment together? Two people on a lease gives you better odds of making rent.”
“Buddy,” Ben says. “I don’t think that most places would take us, given—“ His gesture takes in his falcon’s wings, the talons that made him a hunting weapon, the augmented size and strength that made Edge an arena headliner
“What? Not up in the city, who’d want to live there?” Edge pulls a face, eyes still closed. “Down where nobody cares, you know.” It waves a hand. “Or somewhere off on the edge, where we’re not around people.”
Ben swallows. Some future on the other edge of this does sound nice. It sounds impossible, but it sounds nice. “Even here, I don’t think most place’d take us.” He makes his voice wry. “I don’t have a credit score, hear that’s important.”
“Yeah well, that’s where we impress ‘em with our physical prowess and shinin’ social skills.” A tiny smile curves Edge’s mouth. “You keep laughin’ at my jokes, and it’s made me conceited. We can charm anyone.”
Ben tries to keep his tone light. “Not sure that makin’ plans about there bein’ another side of this is the most realistic thing.” He reaches down and scratches gently at Edge’s scalp. “Y’know.”
Edge turns its head into Ben’s hand. “Wouldn’t have started this whole thing if I didn’t dream big, why stop now? Retirement together, and you can get a cat.”
Ben is startled into laughter. “Buddy, I’m part bird.”
Edge’s smile curves around its sharp tusks. “Best kind of person to keep cats, you’ll be so fascinatin’ to them.”
“If you say so.” Ben is still smiling. Silence falls, and he goes back to his tablet. There’s always more to do, more he should be doing. The people who rally to their cause need protection, and he knows he fails at giving it more often than not. He yawns and shakes his head, squinting indignation at his body.
“Are you not sleepin’ cause the place isn’t secure?”
Ben glances downwards again. Edge’s gaze is intent. “That’s part of it.” Ben nods to the loading door of this storage room. “That only locks so much, and well—“ he lifts the tablet. “Messages.”
“Messages’ll still be there if you get a couple hours of sleep.” Edge turns onto its back, stretching out its arms until its joints pops. “I can keep watch.”
“You need rest.”
Edge pushes itself upright, reaching out to flick Ben in the shoulder. Ben’s wings ruffle in indignant response. “And you don’t, bird man?” It jerks a head at the foam pad to the side. “I’ve got this. You rest.”
Ben has not been able to trust a lot of people in this life, not for anything good, but he trusts the person he’s fought alongside for years. The person who asked him if they wanted to do something together that many months ago. The person who’s pulled him out of the dark. Edge has done nothing but be trustworthy, and all Ben wants is to follow him. And he is tired. He glances at the foam mat. “Just for a couple hours?”
“I’ll wake you if anythin’ happens,” Edge says, which is not the same thing.
Ben frowns at it, and Edge looks elaborately innocent. “Fine.” Ben huffs out a breath. Changing his co-leader’s mind when it’s set on something is impossible, he knows. “I’ll sleep.” He sprawls on his stomach on the mat, blanket and wings over his back providing warmth. The impact of actually lying down hits him with a moment of vertigo, all his muscles aching as they finally relax.
Edge takes his seat at the ammunition case. The tablet, when it picks it up, is dwarfed by its large hands. “Sleep well.” Its voice is quiet.
Ben’s vision is already going blurry. It can just make out a spot of light and the large form of his friend sitting watch. Close to hand, well known, trustworthy.
Edge has got this.
Ben mumbles some kind of assent, eyes falling closed, and is out before he takes another breath.