The monotone hum of the VTOL's engines is a quiet rumble in the back of his mind. There's no turbulence, the air currents having decided to grant them a brief respite from the turmoil of the world below, and even with the hard seat proving harsh and unyielding against his body, Adam can feel himself succumbing to the long elusive promise of a few hours' peace.

London is far behind them now. They couldn't bring Miller with them, but he's stable, recovering in hospital waiting to fly back to Prague as soon as his doctors are satisfied he's well enough. Now it's just the remainder of the assault team who hadn't been moved out already making the flight home.

The engines continue to drone, and behind his shades, Adam's eyelids begin to droop. His mind doesn't want to rest. Still his brain is trying to think, replay and analyse and process all that's happened, but the fatigue that's settled deep in his metal bones is proving too hard to resist. His body sags, chin dropping to his chest, and he slumps lower and lower in the seat. Skewing sideways, he unknowingly seeks out something his brain seems to have subconsciously registered as warm and soft, and doesn't have the energy to do anything about it.

Across the cabin, MacReady watches Adam's gradual decline and quirks an amused eyebrow. "Aw, well isn't that adorable. The toy soldier's batteries have run out."

Aria, who's found herself with Adam's head and a good proportion of his body weight slumped against her shoulder, frowns at him. "Leave him be, Mac. He's exhausted."

"Aren't we all? Wish I could just blink out like a light."

"Why don't you?"

"Think I'll spare myself the crick in the neck. You're sure he's actually asleep behind those shades and not just looking for an excuse to cuddle?"

Aria blushes, and doesn't say out loud she wouldn't mind even if he was. She tilts her head, noticing the way Adam's awkward angle against her has the edges of an eye shield digging into the bridge of his nose. "You think there's a way to turn them off? That can't be comfortable…"

Her not-currently-pinned hand crosses her body to curiously probe the frames, wondering if there's a manual switch, but she doesn't have to search long. Whether there actually is a manual control or it's just responding to the electronics in her fingertips, she never determines, but with a sharp snick the lenses retreat. Oblivious, Adam sleeps on, thick lashes resting against the pale, greyed skin beneath.

"Really is out for the count, isn't he?" Mac remarks, watching in mild surprise as Aria reaches for the arm Adam has awkwardly twisted behind him and rests it more comfortably in his lap. She slides her own arm behind his shoulders, adjusting his position against her until his head is almost on her chest and she's eased some of the strain on his back. She doesn't push him off.

MacReady had never thought she would. He tries to suppress the urge to smile. "I can't wait until he hears about this."

"Don't you dare," Aria hisses, shooting him a glare.

He holds up a hand to placate her. "I'm kidding, Aria. I won't say a word."