Good Faith

by Alicia McKenzie

Apollo listened to the quiet conversation among his teammates for a few minutes, wishing he could somehow absorb a little of the subdued atmosphere that seemed to hang around the others like a cloud. He'd been jittery, almost euphoric since he'd gotten back to the Carrier, and he couldn't quite seem to shake it.

Still on an adrenalin high, he told himself. I suppose part of me really didn't expect to survive. No question, taking out Albion's attack fleet had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done in his life. But it was done, and he'd even been out there in the sunlight for long enough to charge his enhancements fully. Maybe that was the problem. He hadn't had this much energy to burn, literally or figuratively, for a while now--

"Apollo." Shen's gentle voice interrupted his train of thought, and he blinked down at her as she laid a hand on his shoulder. She smiled up at him calmly, and he found himself returning it as he remembered how reassuring the sound of her voice had been while he'd been out fighting the fleet. How much she'd helped him. "Perhaps you should go after the Midnighter. He seemed troubled by something."

Apollo's head jerked around, and he grimaced at the sight of the empty space behind him. I wish he wouldn't do that, he thought resignedly. He'd gotten used to his partner's vanishing trick over the years, but after everything that had just happened, he hadn't expected it, not this time--

"Thanks, Shen," he said, nodding at her politely before he turned and left Mission Control. For all that he'd yearned for the quiet before, there seemed to be a growing edge to the silence now, and he was just as happy to have an excuse to leave.

The question of where to look now presented itself. He'd done his best to learn his way around the Carrier since Jenny had recruited them and brought them up here, but he hadn't spent half as much time wandering it as the Midnighter had.

Heading in the general direction of their quarters, Apollo prowled the empty corridors and walkways between, scanning for any sign of a familiar dark-clad figure. This is probably pretty futile, he told himself resignedly. Either he's gone back to our quarters or he hasn't. And if he hasn't, there's no way I'm going to find him unless he wants to be found. The sheer size of the Carrier only made the difficult impossible.

He was about ready to give up when he walked past one of the multitude of observation decks that were scattered all over the Carrier and saw the Midnighter standing at the window. Outside, the crimson of the Bleed had given way to some unknown plane where sheets of golden lightning slashed through a soft emerald haze. There were things moving out there, dark shapes in the mist that seemed to be keeping pace with the Carrier.

"Hey," Apollo said a bit hesitantly as he walked over to join the Midnighter. He's standing here with his back to a door? That's--unusual. There were some habits from the street that neither of them had managed to lose yet. Until now, he'd thought this was one of them. "You slipped out."

The Midnighter didn't even glance over his shoulder as Apollo came up behind him. "Yeah."

His voice was gruffer than usual, tired-sounding and a little hoarse. Apollo sighed. "I didn't even see you go," he murmured, laying his hands on the Midnighter's shoulders.

The Midnighter actually flinched. Apollo almost drew back for a moment, but stopped himself, taking a step closer and wrapping his arms around his partner. The Midnighter stood stiffly in the circle of his embrace for a moment, and then relaxed against him slightly, with what might, from anyone else, have been a sigh.

"You're fully charged again, at least," he muttered, the weary edge to his voice even more noticeable. "Suppose that's an unexpected bonus out of this mess."

Apollo chuckled lightly, to cover his surprise at the Midnighter's suddenly darker tone. "Radiating heat again, am I?"

"Won't hear me complaining." But he flinched again, visibly suppressing a wince as Apollo shifted his arms downwards.

Apollo let go of him abruptly, stepping around to face him and searching that imperturble expression worriedly. "Are you all right?" he asked, echoing the question the Midnighter had asked him back in Mission Control.

Come to think of it, he had heard Jack tell Jenny that they'd gotten off to a bit of a rocky start against Regis. But Jack's tone had been so casual, it hadn't registered on him as anything he needed to be concerned about. Not that he hadn't been bothered by the fact that the Midnighter hadn't been there waiting for him when he'd gotten back to the Carrier, but all he'd felt when he'd finally watched his partner come walking into Mission Control had been relief, and a certain mischievous urge to say 'I told you so' that probably would have gotten him slugged, rather than hugged.

The Midnighter gave him a faint smile. "Fine. That bastard Regis could hit like a truck, but I don't break easy, remember?" Brown eyes clouded for a moment, growing troubled. "He was inside my head, though. Read my enhancements like I had the specs written across my forehead."

"You do that--"

"Not the same. I pick up on increased electrical activity in an opponent's brain, see the enhancements in the way they move--" He hesitated, shaking his head a little. "Not like that."

"Maybe you should have the Doctor take a look at you." It came out a little sharper than the suggestion he'd intended to make it, but the idea of some psychotic alien traipsing around in the Midnighter's head wasn't sitting well with him.

He didn't expect the reaction he got. The Midnighter's jaw tightened, and those brown eyes turned sharp and wintry. "I'm fine," he said in that familiar 'I'm done talking about this' voice. "I think I'd rather keep the Doctor at a safe distance for a while."

Apollo blinked, baffled at the total non sequitur. "What? Why? I know he's not a real doctor, but he's a shaman, isn't he? Sort of the next best thing, no?"

"He offered, earlier. Wish Hawksmoor had kept his mouth shut." The Midnighter stared past him, out the window. "Have you thought about what he did?" he asked, his tone subtly different in a way Apollo couldn't quite pin down. "I mean, really thought about it?"

Again, Apollo found himself taken aback. Why does he do that? I think he must get some kind of perverse pleasure out of it. He forced himself to think for a moment. "Italy," he said, staring out at the lightning-shot mist. "The other Italy, I mean." That was what this had to be about.

"Easier to think of it that way, isn't it?" The Midnighter took a step forward and laid a gloved hand flat against the window. Not for support, Apollo thought, studying him concernedly. He looked more like he was trying to distract himself, trying to resist the impulse to make a fist and put it through the not-quite-glass. "Just part of the plan. We all did our parts, and the Doctor just happened to be the one who ended up with the job of drowning a country."

"Midnighter," Apollo said hesitantly, not quite knowing what to make of this. Of the two of them, the Midnighter had always been the one more inclined to believing that the ends justified the means. "It--had to be done, didn't it?" That was the impression he'd gotten from Jenny when she'd briefed him upon his return.

But then, he hadn't asked for details, had he? He hadn't focused on any of it. He took a deep breath, telling himself to settle down, to think. "I see you don't think so," he said as evenly as he could. "Why not?"

The Midnighter went on, as if he hadn't heard him. "Just a country. A land mass. Not a place where people lived--you know, people like the ones you and I spent five years on the street trying to help?" He let his arm fall back to his side, squaring his shoulders. "It wasn't my choice, but I can't just let it go." He glanced back at Apollo. His eyes were clouded again, conflict seething in their depths. "Fighting them on our ground was one thing. Coming stomping onto theirs and getting so wrapped up in the big picture that we couldn't see the trees for the forest--"

"Hold on," Apollo said sharply, reaching out and taking him by the shoulders. "Look at me. You and Jack were on the ground in Albion fighting Regis, right? Everything else happened up here, on the Carrier. Jenny made the decision, the Doctor carried it out. So, right or wrong--"

"I don't know whether it was right or wrong. Whether it was necessary." The Midnighter gave a harsh bark of laughter. "I've been standing here trying to analyse the situation properly, but either Regis hit me harder than I thought and my damned tactical computer's actually concussed, or I'm just not focusing properly. I keep getting stuck on probable casualty counts, things like that--" He took a deep breath, eyes dropping to the floor. "I'm glad you're all right," he said, more quietly. "I'm almost as glad that you were back on our Earth and not in the middle of any of this."

Apollo couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know. Those first few minutes, at least, I might have traded you--" His jaw tightened at the thought. His memory for a few minutes after stepping through the door was hazy, at best. He did remember the ocean rushing up to meet him quite clearly, though--

The Midnighter looked up, his eyes hardening. "She should never have sent you," he said harshly.

Apollo grimaced. "Let's not start this again, okay?" he asked a little testily. "You gave me chapter and verse on that in the Junction Room before I left, remember? Besides, do you think I was thrilled when Jenny sent you off to Gamorra by yourself while the rest of us went to L.A.?" A flicker of surprise at that, Apollo noticed humorlessly.

"That was different."

"How?"

"I wasn't dead on my feet when I went in, for one."

Okay, so maybe he had a point. "So?" Apollo asked challengingly, letting go of his partner and folding his arms across his chest. "You were on one side of the world, I was on the other. I couldn't be there to watch your back, and it just about drove me crazy." The Midnighter opened his mouth, maybe to protest, and Apollo continued inexorably. "But you were fine then, and I'm fine now. Don't let the fact that Jenny made the only logical choice in leaving me behind to take care of Albion's fleet affect how you react to the other decisons she made."

"That's not it at all, and you know it."

Apollo felt his mouth twitch again. "Didn't think so, but I thought I'd check."

"Bastard," the Midnighter grumbled half-heartedly.

"Admit it, you wouldn't have me any other way."

"I suppose so." The look the Midnighter gave him was dispirited, even a little despondent. "I don't think I can let this go," he said, as if confessing something. A soft, almost despairing laugh escaped him. "How can I, when I can't even come to a decision about whether we had to do it or not? And don't argue with the 'we', all right?" he said more sharply as Apollo opened his mouth. "The rest of us took on a collective responsibility for what happened as soon as we took the Carrier through to the other Earth" He shook his head slowly. "Listening to Regis rant while we were fighting--if what he was and what he did wasn't pure evil, Apollo, I don't know what is."

"I don't think anyone could disagree with that," Apollo said quietly.

"Just killing him wouldn't have done the job, I know that. If we hadn't destroyed the system behind him, another vicious murdering bastard would have appeared to take his place next week. But my instincts are telling me that what we did was overkill." Bleak brown eyes met his unflinchingly. "How the hell do we decide what acceptable collateral damage is? I didn't even think about innocent bystanders when I took the Carrier down to Gamorra, I just DID it. It's the same issue here. Jenny decided Albion wasn't enough, that the job wasn't done until the Blues' base of operations was gone, too--" The Midnighter took a deep, ragged breath, his voice growing strangely hollow as he continued. "Maybe that's why I can't make up my mind about this. I can't condemn her without condemning myself, too. It was the same decision, you know. The only difference was the scale--"

Apollo stepped forward and took him in his arms, gently but firmly. The Midnighter stiffened, but then, almost tentatively, hugged him back. The embrace had nothing of the frantic relief of the one they'd shared up in Mission Control earlier, but, just like earlier, Apollo found himself reluctant to let go. "I hate seeing you like this," he murmured, feeling the faint trembling in the muscular body pressed against his. "You're being too hard on yourself. Again."

"I'm fine."

"Sure you are." Apollo didn't bother to keep the gentle irony out of his tone. "Come on," he said, keeping an arm around his partner's shoulders as he turned. "You need to rest," he said. The uncharacteristically passive way the Midnighter let himself be drawn towards the direction of the hall and their quarters only heightened his resolve. "Hell, so will I, probably, once I come down from the adrenalin high--"

"You scare me like that again--" the Midnighter threatened vaguely. "Bad things. Painful things. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

The Midnighter said nothing more, all the way to their quarters, and Apollo began to hope that he'd dropped the subject for the time being. Inside, everything was drenched in crimson light once more, and Apollo blinked at the transition.

"Tacking into the Bleed again, I guess," he said.

"One world conquered, on to the next," the Midnighter quipped, with an almost defensive smile.

Apollo scowled at him. "Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or realistic. I think the dividing line between the two is getting a little hazier than it used to be," the Midnighter said, struggling out of his coat. He was moving stiffly, with only a shadow of his usual deadly grace.

"Right." Apollo watched as his partner flung the coat in the direction of the nearest chair. The mask followed it a moment later. Apollo followed him over to the bed, sidestepping various uniform pieces that the Midnighter dropped carelessly on the floor. "I always know you're tired when you start waxing philosophical."

"Whatever," the Midnighter muttered, sitting down on the bed, his shoulders slumping. "You could say I don't wax philosophical enough. None of us do. We see a threat and just react--"

Apollo sat down beside him. "Fine," he said, briskly. The Midnighter stared at the floor at his feet, almost fixedly. "You want philosophy? There's always an action, to provoke a reaction. We didn't go looking for trouble with Sliding Albion. This is going to sound juvenile, but they started it. The same with Kaizen Gamorra. All we did--all we CAN do, in these situations, is our best."

"The road to hell--" The Carrier exited the Bleed into a brilliant pearl-colored light that flooded in through the portal, and the Midnighter looked up, raising a hand almost automatically to shield his eyes. The material of the portal darkened immediately, as if the Carrier had noticed the Midnighter's reaction and moved to correct the problem.

Taking advantage of the unguarded moment, Apollo leaned down and kissed him. "Good intentions are underrated, at times," he said as he straightened again, smiling softly at the faintly bewildered look he was getting. "Leave it until the morning," he suggested gently, taking the Midnighter's face between his hands for a moment. "I'm sure Jenny will be perfectly happy to argue methods with you then."

"Don't tempt me," the Midnighter said quietly, managing a smile that was almost convincing.

"Let me know in advance," Apollo said mischievously, shifting position and stretching out on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. "I could make a killing, selling tickets."

The Midnighter looked around and down at him, eyes widening slightly. "Tickets."

"What? You don't think Jack and the rest would pay good money to see you and Jenny going at it?" Apollo grinned widely. "In a strictly philosophical way, I mean. I could even take bets."

"Ow--shit, don't make me laugh," the Midnighter wheezed, collapsing backwards onto the bed and clutching at his side as he grinned helplessly up at Apollo. "What sort of odds?"

"You're the one with the computer in your head, what does it say?"

"It says I'd get my ass kicked! Once a week's plenty, thanks--" The Midnighter trailed off, sobering slightly. At least he'd relaxed a little, Apollo thought ruefully. "I did, you know. Or I would have, in about two more minutes--"

"Regis?" It wasn't really a question, and the Midnighter nodded slightly. Apollo bit his lip. "I heard Jack say the two of you had a little trouble."

"Jack didn't. Ripped Regis a new one, quite literally. But while he was--doing whatever the hell it is he does with cities, I was trying to get a read on Regis. You know, size him up, get something to work with." The Midnighter stared past him, up at the ceiling, his eyes gone distant. "Bastard had me on the ground in about four moves. If he'd stopped to finish me off instead of looking around for Hawksmoor, I might have had a problem."

Apollo shivered involuntarily. There's a mental image I could do without. He thought, then, about the sort of mental images that had probably been plaguing the Midnighter since the Carrier had crossed over to the other Earth. Especially since he did the math and knew there was more than a chance than I wouldn't make it--

He hadn't let himself think about what-ifs, before. Now, the thought of everything that could have happened chilled him right to the bone.

"The next time Jenny tries to split us up and send us on different missions, I'll tell her to shove it," he said suddenly and decisively, without really thinking about what he was saying. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he hesitated, frowning. "Unless she has a really good reason--damn," he concluded quietly.

"All relative," the Midnighter muttered, closing his eyes. "Miss the black and white, sometimes."

Apollo sighed and wrapped his arms around his partner, drawing him close. "It never was just black and white, you know," he said quietly.

"Speak for yourself," the Midnighter said with a faint chuckle.

"I thought we were going to leave debating philosophy until tomorrow?" There was no answer, just the sound of deep, regular breathing, and Apollo smiled. It was an unusual feeling. Even with the Midnighter's general lack of interest in unnecessary conversation, it was still a rare event indeed when Apollo got the last word.

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