Pirate Radio

When Tomorrow Comes - Eurythmics

If the first trip on the motorcycle had been bad then the second one was hell. Everything hurt - peoples body's where not meant to stay in one position for that long - and the heavy backpack was weighing down on George's shoulders which was uncomfortable at fist and then increasingly painful as time went on.

Then there was the fatigue. George liked sleep, he liked lots of sleep. Eight hours at least. He wasn't good at the whole staying awake thing, especially not when he also had to stay focused on something like the road ahead of him. Not to mention the paranoia and fear that someone was following him. No matter how often he stopped and stared down the empty road behind him he couldn't shake the feeling that the cop from the bar was there, right there on his tail.

It was nearly dawn when he stopped for the last time, to look at the vast emptiness that lay behind. He was almost there, he could do it. An hour more and it would all be over. He must have gotten overzealous when starting up the bike again because something went horribly amiss and George went crashing to the ground. A sharp pain shot up his knee as it collided with the street. The pain alone was bad but George could ignore it if he needed too. What he couldn't ignore was the metallic sent that stained the air he breathed. Blood wasn't something George was particular good with. In fact he'd always been that kid that the bio teacher had to ask to wait in the hall when they dissected something in class, because he had acquired a reputation of passing out during such exercises.

With out having to look at his knee George's vision started to go fuzzy but he knew that this was not the time to be feeling faint so he pushed himself up, despite the pain and nausea and somehow managed to get the bike upright. Everything after that was a blur and all George was sure off what that his entire being was focused on not passing out and ignoring the pain as best as he could.

The sun was rising as he finally, finally got back to the bay, tired, nauseous, scared.

On shore, sitting against the dingy, was Clerk waiting to take him back to the boat.

"You're early. Very early. 12 hours early."

"Long story." George groaned.

"You're bleeding."

"Am I?"

Before letting him get in the dingy Clerk made George wade knee deep into the ocean to disinfect the wound, he braced himself for the sting of salt against an open wound but only barley felt it over everything else overwhelming him.

"Come on. Let's get you back."

The second George stepped foot on Guinevere Ezra pulled him into a tight hug.

"You're okay."

"Uh - " Was he? He was alive. And he had the files. "I've got the files." He was so tired he worried he might topple over once Ezra let go of him, but he didn't. He managed to stay upright, swaying a little.

"I'll take those." Clerk took the backpack out of George's hand. "You get some sleep."

Nodding, George made his way below deck, noticing Heth and Dante both beaming at him. Why where they still up? Already up? Did it matter? Not really.

Only once he stood in front of his cabin and struggled with the doorknob did he notice that Ezra had followed him.

"Let me." Ezra opened the door and let George enter before he closed the door behind them.

Things went fuzzy again, things might have even gone dark, but somehow, amongst all of that George ended laying there, trousers painfully removed and tossed aside, with Ezra sitting over him and playing with his hair.