It was exciting, like Mission Impossible. Fisher stayed close behind James, possibly a little too close, since James backed into him suddenly and grabbed a hold of his arm. Fisher froze, his chest pressed against the other man's back, heart leaping into his throat. Shit they were gonna get caught, someone was coming and they were going to be found out, and actually that would be kind of fun, getting in a fight with an orderly. Fisher always watched when James got in altercations, because the guy was inventive and dangerously confident in his abilities. No one ever walked away without bleeding.
Releasing his breath, suddenly they were on the move, Fisher getting tugged along for awhile. Even when James released him, the smaller man stayed in perfect step, as though on an invisible leash. When they came to a door, one that should have been bolted shut but thankfully wasn't, he pressed himself against the wall, watching the corridor for anyone approaching. He winced at the loud creak, biting his lip. The wait was agonizing, James' perfectly manicured hands pushing so slowly, trying to minimize noise but Fisher wanted to just run into the night, squeeze through the gap and take off. But he waited, tense, looking back and forth between the door and the hallways.
And then suddenly, a cool wind swept in and ruffled Fisher's hair, stroking his cheek. He smiled, sighed, the freshness of freedom tantilizingly close.