Dark Musings
"Back off would you? Just back the hell off!" Darien yelled as he backed up against the far wall of the white padded room. He raised his hands to warn her away. His eyes felt like they were bleeding they were pounding so hard and his body shook, but he couldn't tell if it was physical or emotional at this point.
"Darien, you're being unreasonable, come on, just let me give you the shot." Claire tried again, almost pleading with him this time.
"No!" Darien screamed out, hands clasping into fists of rage as he unconsciously took a few steps towards her, the look of murder reverberating off his face. She quickly backed up, fear glimmering in her eyes though her face didn't show it and she refused to run from the room.
With a cry of frustration Darien stopped his advance, turning away with whatever ounce of control he still had. Turning back to the wall his fists pounded, again and again, yearning for the hardness of something more solid. He squinted his eyes shut, they hurt, worse than he'd ever felt, worse than the pain in his neck had ever been.
Suddenly hugging himself, he felt like the nerves in his body were exploding, he just wanted it to end. He couldn't feel, didn't even realize as his fingers clawed into his arms that they were drawing ragged grooves, beads of blood marking the lines.
A light touch on his shoulder pulled his attention away from the pain, his hand springing back to clasp the Keeper's raise arm in a vice grip. She stood there looking up at him, her mouth partially open as she swallowed her outcry. Then she spoke, keeping her voice even and calm, "Just one shot. I promise, the pain will go away."
He didn't know how long he just gazed at her, standing there still holding her wrist. Like frozen time they waited, each anticipating the other to react. Darien felt numb inside, he couldn't think anymore. He let go of his grip and with a dull voice replied, "Okay."
Claire was careful not to move too quickly. In fact, she moved as slow as humanly possible without standing still as she lowered her throbbing hand back to her side and pulled the cap off the needle, always making sure not to break eye contact with him. She didn't even want to blink for fear of loosing the ground she had just gained.
He stared at her like he was in some hypnotic state, her clinical mind surmised a part of him probably was, and with gentle ease, working by feel alone, she pushed the needle slowly into his arm. As soon as the liquid had entered his system and the needle was extracted, his eyes began to dilate. He sank back against the padded wall as a wave of inertia engrossed him from the chemical's toxins. Moments later, his head lulling to the side, he sank to the ground, the Keeper helping to ease his dissent until he was slumped in unconsciousness.
Sighing heavily, Claire put the needle back in her pocket then checked his vitals. His pulse was steady and strong, but when she pulled back his eyes lids, his pupils were twice the size they should have been, and droplets of blood accumulated at the corners.
The door to the padded room opened and Hobbes solemnly stepped in. Claire had convinced everyone to stay out even if the situation had turned ugly, which it almost had. "How's he doing?" Bobby questioned coming up next to her.
She looked up at him, the guilt in his eyes was evident. His whole manor, hands half hanging from his pockets, his body slightly stooped over, it was so unBobby like that she wondered if she shouldn't be worried about him, too. "Not good," she stated with simple honesty. He merely nodded.
Truth being, Claire thought to herself, the only real good thing they had going was that the snake tattoo was only half filled. She wasn't sure what they'd do if QuickSilver Madness had been added to all this.
*****
“My forensics professor once said, ‘not all your problems can be solved under the scope.’ I think he might be right.”
Bobby walked through the metal door that locked in the agency's secrets. You could barely tell it was the same Keep it had been three days ago. The fish had been shoved into the corner to make room for Claire's lab work. Machinery and monitors of all types and sizes occupied the old lab space. And in the middle of it all, the modified dentist chair with its restraints was currently being used as a bed.
Stepping softly in, he attracted Claire's attention from the notebook she was quickly scribbling in. For a second she looked surprised to see him, but she waved him in encouragingly and greeted, "Bobby, come in. How are you?"
"I'm good," he replied although his tone was bland. Claire frowned slightly with worry. Hobbes didn't notice, his eyes were glued to the unconscious person lying deathly still on the makeshift bed. Wires and small clear tubes ran from Darien's body to the monitors and the current IV drip.
A small sigh escaped Bobby's lips as he stepped up to the side of the bed, his hand covering Darien's. Darien didn't react, not a single twitch to indicate any life, nothing other than the slight rhythm of his blood pulsating through his wrist. Bobby left his hand there a few minutes longer, letting himself be reassured by the steady beat as his eyes studied the lax expression on his partners face. It didn't look as peaceful as he had hoped, more like there was a void, just a lack of life. It pained Bobby to see his partner like this, especially knowing it was his fault.
Breathing out a sigh he turned away. He had avoided this room for the last three days as much as possible, and now that he was here, he knew he didn't want to leave. Claire stood by a microscope, but she'd been watching him instead of looking through the lens. She bit her lip, then softly asked, "You alright?"
"Ya," Bobby responded, he looked about locating a chair. "I think I'm gonna stay a while," he told her.
The Keeper nodded. Inwardly she felt relieved, it was a step in the right direction. "I think he'd like that," she said with a slight smile.
"Ya," Bobby replied, but his voice sounded numb. Still, he settled into the chair and Claire went back to her work in the awkward silence.
Bobby had been lost in his thoughts when the first sign of life entered Darien. His fingers twitched, and a small beep entered the throng of sounds that surrounded him. The change pulled at Bobby's awareness, pushing through the fog that surrounded his thoughts with alarm. Darien's fingers twitched again, then his chest seemed to give a little jump.
Bobby was only just realizing it when suddenly Darien's body began to heave. His arms and legs were going taunt against the restraints and his head would have bent back if the back of the chair wasn't stopping him. At the same time a shrill collection of sounds leapt from the mechanical boxes as several sensors went off in a panicked frenzy. Darien was twitching even more now, it was quickly growing more violent and strained. Despite the restraints already holding Darien's limbs, Bobby automatically grabbed the nearest wrist. The spastic shaking that began to wrack Darien's body sent shivers of ice up Bobby's back. "Claire! Get over here!" He cried out.
Alerted by the monitors she was already moving the short distance from the lab to the side of the bed. Pushing down thoughts of panic, she forced herself to be clinical and calm as she quickly checked each sensor. "What's wrong?" Bobby demanded.
"He's having a seizure," she replied. "We need to get him out of these restraints before he hurts himself," she told him, her fingers already working to pry one loose. Bobby worked at the one at his side as well, feeling the pinch of the straps as Darien unconsciously struggled against them.
Yet when his movements were freed, the jerking of his body only made things worse and Bobby grabbed Darien's shoulders trying to prevent his from further injury. "Easy there partner," he murmured even though Darien wasn't actually conscious.
Then at last it was over, and Darien's body went limp, but no sigh of relief escaped his lips, virtually no movement betrayed him as living. His skin had drained of color turning a pasty white as it glimmered with a coating of sweat. He looked less alive than he had before.
Still working, checking everything, adding another liquid to the IV drip, Claire at last took the pencil out and grabbing her penlight checked his eyes. Claire swore suddenly, anger covering her face.
"Claire, what?" Bobby asked, but he could see it for himself. The whites of Darien's eyes had turned a blood red. Hobbes' eyes automatically went to the wrist where the tattoo lay, it was just as red.
Leaning back against the counter, Claire's fingers ran through her hair and she hugged herself against her frustration. "I can't believe…" She began but cut her words off as she fought with her guilt.
"Hey, Keepie." Hobbes stated suddenly, worry creasing his face. "You've had a lot on your mind," he told her seriously.
"It's just," Claire began again, looking up at Bobby. She paused, her lips thinning considerably. Then with an air of frustration she finished, "I don't know what the counteragent will do to him."
The silence between them drowned out the beeping of the monitors as the two gazed into the other's eyes, their souls reflecting the same pains of guilt. Bobby swallowed, then slowly asked her, "what do you think it will do?"
She glanced down at Darien, watching as the monitors calmed down, slowly returning to the same lull of beeps she'd been living with as she had worked to find a solution to this mess. The exhaustion of the past three days, both mental and physical, was finally taking its toll. She had to force her mind to think, to work past her fears. At last she looked back to the anxious Bobby. "I think, if we don't give it to him, we'll loose him completely."
Bobby nodded, then said simply, "let's do it."
She took reassurance in his confidence, and cutting the flow of juice from the IV, she pulled the counteragent out of the fridge. They prepared for anything as Claire used the already established vein to inject the blue liquid.
After a minute, the beeps all seemed to jump a second, a couple changing tones as the sensors changed, but no alarms went off, and Darien didn't move. Claire quickly checked his eyes again, pleased to see the red fading away. Picking up Darien's wrist, she smiled with relief to see the red snake shifting back to it's normal green.
She looked then to the monitors, the readouts had changed, but there was no sign of danger. "I have to take a blood sample," she said suddenly, her mind awakening as she looked from one piece of information to the next.
"Well?" Bobby asked from the other side of the bed.
The Keeper looked over at him a glimmer of hope rimming her eyes. "He's going to be fine, Bobby, I just know it."
*****
Slowly, like a dim noise across a crowded room, Darien registered the difference. His mind was wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth, and he didn't easily want to leave it. But that tug in the distance pulled at his senses, and once he turned towards it he realized with shock he couldn't turn back.
Unable to stop it, pain creased his awareness, but then it turned dull like an ancient ache, and soon his senses were noticing more, bringing with every new feeling a mix of unexplainable emotion. At last he opened his eyes but the light blasted him with an overwhelming amount of confusion.
With a soft groan he quickly closed them again. Vainly wishing for the warmth to return, instead, numbness dulled his senses till the noise filtered and his mind began to grasp at the things he knew he should know, things slowly coming back into memory.
Someone was talking to him, a low quiet voice calling his name. He clung to the familiarity of the voice and like a person rising out of a murky pool he at last placed a name. "Claire," he whispered.
There was a choked sound of relief and then she said again, "Darien, can you hear me? Open your eyes for me."
His mind placed word after word into place, comprehension moving quicker with each growing second of consciousness. Hesitant, but willing, his eyes slit open, and blinking back the harsh light he forced them wider. A foreign white ceiling greeted him. He tried to look around but his eyesight was limited to the movement of his eyes alone. His other senses were coming back into play now and he realized with shock that his limbs felt heavy, dead. He tried to turn his head, but it refused. He couldn't move anything.
Panic rose in him as his mind grasped at the concept and fear of immobility. "I can't…" he gasped, his voice was practically mute it was so dry. "…move!" He choked out.
Her hands were on his chest as she leaned over him so he could see her. "Darien, you need to stay calm," she told him urgently, but the panic was rising even further.
"I can't move." He rasped out again, trying even harder to get his limbs to respond. Still nothing happened. He looked up, he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears and her face drawn in worry.
"It's alright, it's gonna be alright Darien," she told him soothingly but he could hear the fear in her voice. Then reaching down to his hand she squeezed one of his fingers. "Can you feel this?" She asked.
"Yes." He could feel it, but when he tried to move that same finger, it refused to respond.
Patting his hand she moved out of sight, then suddenly he felt a pinch in his leg. "Hey!' He breathed out in protest, but when she reappeared into his line of sight she was smiling widely.
"You're going to be fine Darien. You will move again, just not right now," she told him. The relief in her voice flowed to him, settling his fears into submission. The fog that was his mind was rising now as he calmed down, surrounding him, but not like it had before.
Claire gave a happy sigh of relief as she watched him drift back to sleep. Her own body reminded her just how tired she was herself, and feeling too exhausted to try and find a spare bed laid her head down against Darien's side. She was fast asleep the second her eyes closed.
Five minutes later, Eberts walked into the room, freezing to the spot, files clutched tightly in front of him. He stood perfectly still, waiting, expecting the Keeper to wake but she didn't. With a small breath he edged closer, then sighed relieved when he realized she was merely sleeping.
He looked then at Darien, the man's face looked more relaxed than it had during the weeks gone past. Looking down at the files he was supposed to get Claire to sign, he decided against waking her and put them on the near by table for her to find later. This had been a long month, for all of them, Eberts thought to himself.
With the incident they had had here the last time they had brought Darien to Fort Leavitt, and the current situation, the Official had declared that one of them was to be with Darien at all times. So keeping with that, and still getting all the work done had been a difficult challenge. They had come back and forth through security so many times now that Eberts knew all the gate guards by name and no doubt Hobbes knew all the nurses.
With a small smile Eberts left the room again, if someone asked, he'd say he got distracted and merely forgot the papers there.
*****
When Darien woke again, he was still in the same room, and it was still Claire at his side, although unknown to him a couple days had passed since he had first opened his eyes.
Claire looked over from her book with a smile when she saw him looking around. Putting the book down she put a straw to his lips. "Here, sip this, it'll help."
The water was warm and the taste was awful in his mouth but the wetness eased his dry throat. Darien swallowed several times before she pulled it away, preventing him from having too much. He blinked away the crust that rimmed his eyes. She helped, then beaming down at him greeted. "Hey. Welcome back."
"Where…" His voice was still too dry to talk and he automatically tried to clear it but that just made things worse.
She let him have another sip to help ease the tenseness, then told him, understanding his question, "We're at Fort Leavitt. They helped me save you."
"Why can't…move," he breathed out, his voice a whisper.
She pursed her lips in thought, then explained to him, choosing as she usually did the truth over any smoothed over fabrication. "You were exposed to a radioactive chemical compound, Darien. Not only did you end up with radiation poisoning but the gland reacted as well. The toxins had mutated and clustered in your blood. It wasn't until you went quicksilver mad that I realized what was happening. The quicksilver had driven the remaining toxins to your brain where it solidified into a tumor. We had to operate to eradicate the tumor." She paused slightly then said, "there was some cerebral damage." Seeing the panic in his eyes she quickly reassured, "but it doesn't seem to be anything lasting. The human mind only uses an average of ten percent of its brain at most. You're not paralyzed," she told him firmly. "You just, you just need to learn how to move again." Then she smiled and gripped his hand. "You’re already doing extremely well, Darien, it won't be long before you're back on your feet, trust me."
He nodded, ever so slightly, but it was a nod. And her grin widened in response. He thought he understood now, but it still felt odd to him. Frustrating.
The next few days inched by for Darien with increasing slowness. The Keeper had been right, he would move again, and after a lot of mental struggle he achieved the barest of accomplishments, but at least it was something.
"Here, let me," Eberts said, automatically reaching to help Darien to lift the juice container to his lips.
Darien scowled. "No, stop it. I can do this much on my own, ya know!" He complained.
Eberts immediate backed off, a guilty look washing over him. "Sorry," he apologized, but jumped forward again when Darien reflectively tried to shift and lost his grip on the box. The studious helper caught it before the purple liquid could do any damage. With Eberts now holding the offensive carton, Darien slumped his head back letting out a growl of frustration.
"Do you want me to-"
"No!" Darien snapped. He hated this, a lot.
Across the room, the door opened to admit the Keeper and the Official. "How we doing?" Claire asked cheerfully.
"Great!" Darien stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Eberts grimaced and put the juice carton down on the side table next to the other odds and ends of half eaten food.
Claire's smile didn't fade. "I can see that."
Darien closed his eyes against her cheeriness, he wanted to wallow in self pity a few moments longer. Then suddenly he asked, "Say, when can I get out of here?"
The Official chuckled and replied, "When you can get to the front door by yourself!"
Darien let out a groan. That would be a while with the rate he was moving at. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't just give up and take the gland," Darien commented drolly.
Nervous looks passed between the other occupants but the Official told him, "Believe it or not, Darien, you may be a pain in my side, but you're worth saving."
Darien was genuinely touched, he never thought he'd hear the Official say anything halfway sentimental, let alone actually care. Then the Keeper grinned and added, "Besides, we couldn't salvage the gland without removing the tumor anyway. There was already the cost of one operation, why go to the trouble of a second?"
Darien glared at her. "Thanks for bursting my bubble, there Keepie!" Yet the warm feeling that had risen with the Official's words didn't fade and Claire's grin was quickly becoming infectious.
"Alright folks." The Official stated, back to business as usual. "Eberts, I need those reports from yesterday done," He stated.
"Yes, sir." The man was up in an instant but still gave Darien a quick grin. "I'll be back tonight for my next shift." Darien just nodded. Since he'd waken he hadn't had a moment to himself, even at night. Which was fine by him, the idea of being alone and immobile for long periods of time was something he was trying very hard not to think about.
"Hey, what about Hobbes?" Darien asked before the Official and Eberts could leave the room. He hadn't seen his partner once since he'd waken. "When's his shift?"
The Official hesitated slightly but then formally told the man, "Bobby's on assignment. He still has work to do. Unlike you who only has to get better!"
"Ya, like that's easy," Darien grumbled as the other two men left the room leaving him and the Keeper alone. Claire was still smiling. "What?" Darien asked her with a frown.
"Well, we've got a lot of work ahead of us." She stated then coming around to the side of his bed and pulling back the blankets told him, "Today you start your therapy."
"Therapy?" Wasn't holding things and just moving his toes hard enough?
"That's right. You're doing fabulous with training your limbs to move again, but your muscles have had time to atrophy, we need to build them up again."
Being fed, dressed, and washed, was something Darien still was having a hard time getting used to, but now, Claire was even helping him move. Exercise, she called it, but to him he felt like a paper doll being folded back and forth. Still, the movement was refreshing, and he actually felt tired when they were done, like he had really done some sort of workout.
"You know, Darien got out last night," She said to him as they talked about the mundane events he'd missed over the last month. "Darien the rat that is."
"Oh? He's not, he didn't, you know…" Darien didn't want to say it, he had become quite attached to that rat.
Claire just laughed at his worry, "No I found him, but it was in the weirdest of places." Her grin looked ready to crack her face.
"Oh?" Darien asked on the edge of anticipation.
She covered her mouth briefly trying to contain her laughter. "Well, I didn't even know he'd gotten out till this morning. I had only just gotten up, and Pavlov was curled up at tight as a button at the end of my bed when I noticed there was something odd sticking out of Pavlov's hair."
Darien was smiling now, too. His mind immediately jumped to the conclusion. "You're kidding!"
She shook her head with mirth. "Nope. There he was, curled up right next to my dog. And Pavlov for the life of him could have cared less. It was sincerely adorable. I wish I had had my camera." She helped him up into a more comfortable sitting position.
"I wish I'd been there," Darien replied.
Claire paused, there was more to his wish than the obvious. With a smile and a pat she told him confidently, "Soon, Darien. You'll get out of here soon."
They spent the rest of the evening with a movie and a pack of cards. There was really only so much a person could do confined to a hospital bed, and Claire thought holding cards was good practice. He was getting better finger control each day, plus, once he learned the rules it wasn't long before it became hard to beat him.
"Remind me not to play poker with you," Claire murmured as he laid the winning hand down once again.
"This isn't poker, that'd be more fun," he told her plainly.
Claire picked up the book from the desk, it's cover read, 'A hundred and One Things to do With Face Cards.' She flipped through it looking for another game. "How about Go Fish?" She asked.
Darien gave her a look which she ignored, but before he could really say anything she let out a huge yawn. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, then with a small smile told him, "I'm going to go get something to drink, you want anything?" She stretched as she stood. Darien watched with envy. He had become so accustomed to his stiffness, but it was like a constant ache and there she was just moving around like it was no big deal. He never realized how much he'd taken it for granted before. Claire must have sensed his change in thoughts because she softly touched his wrist inquiring, "Darien?"
"How about a Beer?"
Grinning slightly, Claire suggested instead, "How about a pop?"
"Ya alright," he replied a little sullen, then called after her, "You didn't specify!"
Claire slightly chuckled to herself as the door closed behind her but she stopped suddenly with a start when she almost ran straight into Bobby. He'd been leaning up against the wall just outside the door. "Bobby! What are-" She quickly changed her question. "How long have you been there?"
Bobby shrugged. "A while." He looked subdued. She suspected he'd been there for quite a long time indeed.
A small silence descended in the hall, only the small sounds of the people talking and going about their business at the end of the corridor penetrated it. With a hesitant breath, Claire looked at bobby and suggested, "Why don't you go in and talk to him?"
Hobbes shrugged again, then fidgeted, coming out of his reserved behavior to reflect his nervousness. "I don't know. I don't think…" He trailed off.
Putting her hand on his arm to get his attention, Claire gave him a heartfelt smile and told him. "Darien misses you Bobby. You should go in and talk with him." Then with a small comforting pat she moved down the hall towards the vending machine.
Watching her for a second, Hobbes collected his nerves, swallowed a couple pills and sighed resigned. He put his hand on the door handle and with a small breath opened it, stepping in. "Hey buddy." Hobbes greeted with a half smile, but Darien's face completely lit up.
"Hobbes, man, where ya been?" Darien asked, completely enthralled to finally see his partner again. He knew Bobby had been avoiding him, it was obvious from the way everyone dodged answering any of his questions about Bobby's whereabouts, and confirmed by the look on Bobby's face now. Darien didn't care. The Official was all business, Eberts was okay, but Darien could only take so much computer talk, and Claire was fun, but, he seriously needed someone who would joke with him.
Bobby's smile grew slightly, encouraged by Darien's reaction. He came up by the bed replying noncommittally, "You know, the usual, work." Then Bobby added, "The Fat Man's a slave driver!"
Darien smirked. "Tell me about it! The moment I figured out how to hold a pencil he's got me filling in reports!" Bobby chuckled, but he didn't make any retort about following the book or the ethics of good detective work like usually would have so before a silence could span between them Darien asked as lightly as possible. "So, how did the Chargers do against the Raiders?" Darien had never really gotten into football but he knew Hobbes was and he was determined to get his partner talking again.
Hobbes gave Darien a sly look of disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"
Fawkes played innocent. "Hey, I've been out for a month, you think I'm going to get someone like Eberts to tell me?"
"Eberts has probably never even touched a football in his life!" Hobbes tartly replied, but it did the trick and soon Hobbes was telling Fawkes all about the highlights of the game coupled with his own personal opinions.
Fawkes doubted he'd remember much of this conversation later, only a couple of the names Bobby rambled out even registered as familiar in his mind, but Darien didn't care. He was just happy they were talking and it wasn't long before their conversations turned back to something more normal for them. The finer points of half-useless information.
Eberts tucked the video and the huge stack of reports he'd brought for late night reading further under his arm, but almost lost grip of it again when he spotted Claire leaning against the wall just outside Darien's door. "Keeper," he exclaimed rushing up. "Is anything wrong?" He was a little surprised to see her standing there just calming sipping at a can of Coke.
"No, Albert," Claire said with a huge smile. "In fact, I think things are going amazingly well."
Eberts leaned over and took a peak into the room, surprise filtering across his face when he realized it was Bobby in there with Darien. They were both smiling and laughing, and he watched as they attempted a high five. It didn't work so well, but their smiles weren't discouraged because of it. "Oh!" Eberts stated simply.
"You know," Claire said giving his shoulder a pat. "I think you can skip you shift tonight."
Eberts smiled. "Yes, I believe you're right." His mind was immediately attracted to the idea of sleep, but with a glance down at the stack in his hands he knew that wasn't a feasible option. Still, a couple hours.
"Come on," Keeper said and together the two left, leaving the agents in the room with some privacy.
*****
The days passed quicker for Darien after that. Between the Official's reports and Keeper's therapy sessions, Darien's workload only increased, but Bobby was always there to encourage him or liven the day up. In fact, he was almost constantly there, even when the Official had him on assignment, Hobbes always found some reason to drop by.
Four days later Darien finally stood for the first time. Propped up between the Keep and Hobbes, which was more than awkward considering Darien's height, but it worked. Unfortunately when he tried to put too much pressure on his feet too soon, his legs refused to cooperate. Keeper insisted it was normal, that given a week more he'd be walking again. For Darien a week was far too long.
Determined, Darien had managed to stand with only the furniture for help, but any movement and he lost it. With a growl of frustration he pushed the helping hands away and struggled to get at least to his knees on his own.
"Come on partner," Hobbes said simply, and ignoring Darien's protests pulled Fawkes' arm over his shoulder lifting the man up. "You know what I think?"
"Yea? What do you think?" Darien griped darkly.
Bobby wasn't fazed by Darien's bad temper and told him, "I think you need some fresh air, my friend. There's this cute waitress down by the cafeteria…"
"Hobbes, no." Darien immediately disputed. The only way for him to get down there was in a wheelchair, and he'd rather be stuck in this room for another month then go out in a wheelchair.
Yet Claire was in agreement with Bobby and pushed at the idea. "Darien, it'd be good for you. You've been cooped up here for a week now, not to mention the time you weren't conscious."
Darien tried to protest again but Bobby cut him off with a grin. "Come on, Fawkes, it'll be fun!"
"Guys, please!" Darien stated a little angry now. "I don't want to go!"
Darien was practically seething in the chair as Hobbes pushed from behind. "See, this isn't so bad. Fresh air, there's a nice view." Bobby commented, smiling as he flourished his hand to emphasize his point.
"Great view," Darien groused. "Sure, concrete wall, military guards everywhere!" The view wasn't much being a military fort hospital, but although he wasn't ready to admit it, the air on his face did feel good.
Darien shivered. A smile crept up his face, he'd forgotten just how good it felt. He shivered again, then looking around suddenly stated. "Let's go to that tree!"
"What?" Hobbes asked, eyeing the patio that resided at the back of the fort.
"Hobbes come on! You're the one who dragged me out here. Let's go to the tree!"
Bobby looked to the tree Darien was pointing towards, it was down the gravel slope on the grass by the wall, far from any paved path, but a look at his partner's impatient face changed Bobby's mind. He shrugged, grinning crookedly as he replied, "Sure pal." He pushed the wheelchair onto the gravel.
It was rocky going, the wheels caught on every bump and dip and Bobby was amazed when he reached the grass and hadn't managed to throw Darien out of the chair, but Darien didn't seem to care. He was reaching out to touch the tree as they neared it. A peculiar smile stretched across the man's face as his fingers felt up and down the smooth and ruff sections of the bark.
"I can't believe I forgot what this felt like," Darien murmured.
Hobbes frowned. Mimicking Darien he put his hand on the tree trunk as well, but all he felt was wood. He turned, leaning against the tree. They could still see the patio from here. Was that…? "I'd think you'd like Tiffany." He suddenly stated.
"Who?" Darien asked, a little distracted now as he reached down to touch the grass. He almost lost his balance but managed to pluck a couple blades first.
"She's actually with the FBI I think, but she's doing a medical intern here, or something like that. I was only half listen when she explained it," Bobby confessed. "But I think you'd like her." He said again trying to grab Darien interest.
Darien paused from his minute study of the grass to look up at Hobbes. Scrunching his face up, Darien bluntly asked, "Why?"
"Cause she's your type!"
"My type?" Darien asked.
"Ya, you know, your type. Don't you have a type? Everyone has a type!" Bobby stated as he crossed his arms.
Darien shrugged. "Sure I have a type, but what do you know of it? There's still a lot to me you don't know, Hobbes."
"Ya, like you don't date." Hobbes groused.
"I date!" Darien immediately protested.
"Ya? When was your last date, uh?" Bobby waited, but Darien couldn't readily answer so before he could give an excuse Bobby continued. "See, that's your problem, my friend, you're so closed off."
"Hello!" Darien exclaimed. "We don't exactly lead open book lives ya know!"
"I never said you were supposed to tell the truth!" Hobbes replied, then grumbled, "You'd think for an ex-convict that wouldn't be a problem."
A small silence lapsed between the two men but then Bobby added. "She's got great eyes!"
Darien groaned. "What?" Hobbes asked with a purely innocent expression on his face.
*****
For the next two days it rained. The dim light outside put a dank gray to the white hospital walls inside. It could very easily have been a similitude of how Darien felt. He'd been cooped up longer than he cared to wish, and the Keeper had postponed the workout today to spend her time in the lab. She told him it was critical work on the counteragent, but he couldn't help the feelings of resentment from creeping up.
Even Hobbes hadn't been able to visit today. He'd gotten a lead on some smuggling ring assignment he was on. Oddly, Bobby hadn't wanted to tell Darien any of the details, so the younger man let the matter drop.
He sighed, moving the pencil across the crossword, filling in the correct answer with only a minimal amount of energy. He'd done far too many of these today, the letters were starting to blend together with his boredom and still he was getting the correct answers.
Eberts glanced up briefly from his laptop. His fingers were flying across the keys in a blur, with barely a pause as he picked up a different report from the stack to confer to. The small table by the bed was practically overflowing with papers and reports. Darien had seen the piles only grow as the day wore on. He was bored enough he wouldn't mind it if some of the paperwork was stuff he had to fill out, but just about all the work there was Eberts'. The man was swamped so Darien was doing his best to stay out of the way. It was becoming increasingly hard.
With another exaggerated sigh he finally put the pencil down and just stared at the ceiling.
"If you're bored…" Eberts hesitantly began, feeling sympathy for the man.
"No, no it's fine." Darien quickly reassured. Yes, he was bored! By golly he was bored to death! Yet one look at Eberts' concerned face and Darien knew it wouldn't be right to get Eberts into trouble by taking his time away from his work to keep Darien…not bored. Amused was too strong a word, he thought dryly to himself. Still, it was tempting.
Right then, as if sent from on high someone knocked on his door and a second later a woman with soft brown hair pulled back in a short pony tail poked her head in.
Darien brightened immediately but before he could say anything Eberts was on his feet approaching the woman. "Yes, can I help you?" He asked stiffly.
"Eberts!" Darien protested, then introduced, "This is Tiffany. Tiffany, Eberts."
"I'm afraid you can't-" Eberts began but Darien cut him off.
"Tiffany, how are you? Come in come in!"
Tiffany smiled, her crystal blue eyes twinkling with amusement as she walked up next to his bed. "Darien, it's good to see you again. You never told me you needed the highest clearance to see you. You wouldn't believe what it took to get here," she laughed.
"Yes, um, how did you get here?" Eberts asked still standing cautiously by the door.
Darien thought Eberts looked like he was waiting for her to change into Arnaud or something. "Hey, Eberts, can you give us a few moments?" He asked.
Fidgeting uneasily Eberts protested. "Darien, I really shouldn't-"
Once again Darien cut him off. "Come on, man! Nothing's going to happen, alright?" The man didn't seem to be budging. "Hey," Darien protested, "I've been stuck in here for forever I need someone to talk to. No offense." He added quickly.
Eberts nodded, but he still said, "The Official-"
This time it was Tiffany who cut him off, as she said, laughing, "It's alright Darien. I can't stay anyway, I just wanted to bring you a book."
"No, don't go, please, don't go." He gave her the puppy dog look, and her smile brightened.
Handing him the book and patting his hand she told him, "When you're…available, give me a call."
He returned her smile and would have tried convincing her to stay but she turned and with a wave goodbye coupled with a 'get better,' she departed. Darien sighed again, a little more exaggerated than before, and merely to make his point then because he was instantly bored. Actually, his eyes were eagerly reading over the preface for the book in his hand. 'The King of the Ants: Mythological Essays.' Maybe not something he would have picked up at first, but it had to be far more interesting than a seven-letter word for split on ice!
Eberts sighed too, low and under his breath as he began to collect the piles of papers strung about on the tabletop. "The Official will be here any minute now Darien."
"Ya ya," Darien mumbled, his eyes glancing through the pages.
The door to the room opened, but it wasn't the Official who entered. "Hello, Albert, Darien," The Keeper greeted. "How are things going?"
Neither man chose to answer that question, and Eberts having managed to fit everything in either his suitcase or bag, turned to the Keeper saying instead, "I have to get this back to the office before it closes, can you…" He trailed off as Darien glared at him over the edge of his book.
Claire smiled, "Ya, I've got this." He nodded gratefully and departed as fast as possible.
"You know I'm not some child to be babysat!" He stated loudly before the man could completely vacate the room.
Pursing her lips before smiling in amusement, Claire began to open her bag as she commented, "That remains to be seen." She forestalled any of his remarks by pulling out a shot of counteragent.
"You know, I haven't gone see through is so long, I almost forgot about that stuff. Almost." He Frowned, putting the book carefully aside as he awkwardly shifted positions.
The Keeper sat down next to him and taking his arm looked at the almost red tattoo before tying the band that would coax his veins into appearance. She had done this so many times on Darien that more than half the time she could fine his vein without the help. "Have you tried going invisible yet."
Darien looked at her a little perplexed before he realized he hadn't. Not once since he'd woken up. He hissed slightly as she injected the blue liquid. Waiting a few minutes to let the counteragent to take effect and the bead of red to disappear, Darien stared at his hand, focusing hard. Unfortunately nothing happened.
"Doesn't work, does it?" Claire asked but she didn't sound too surprised.
Shaking his head he tried again with no success. "I don't get it." He finally stated. "Why is it that I can remember how to speak, and all my memories, but not how to move or use the gland?"
Keeper's lips thinned as she thought about it for a second. "Actually, you're very lucky you can remember things like speech. Most incidents that result in brain damage, the person usually looses almost all their memories and they have to start from scratch. The removal of the tumor resulted in your body and mind forgetting muscle control, and since using the gland is a lot like learning to use a muscle it must have effected it the same way."
"So the gland is fine, and I will be able to use it again." He affirmed. Half of him wished it wasn't, while the other half of him silently reminded him that the Agency wouldn't have any need of him at that point.
"Yes." Claire stated.
"But then how am I supposed to learn how to use it again?" He asked suddenly.
She kept her voice even. "I can only think of one way."
So could he. Memories of that fateful day he had first discovered his new science born ability swarmed over him. He'd been locked alone in a room with a hundred spiders, his arachnophobia raising his heart beat with his fear and bringing the gland to life. He visibly shuddered, unbidden images and feelings of hairy legs crawled up his body. "No!" He stated emphatically. "There is no way in Hell I'm doing that again!"
"There's no other way, Darien, you'll have to do it," Keeper told him, her voice flat and unwavering.
"No, no, you can't make me do it," Darien told her the agitation quickly growing. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if they did it while he was still stuck in this damn hospital! He reactively backed up an inch as he shook his head. "I'm not doing it!" The wall suddenly seemed too close to him, and inwardly he began cursing his stiff and unresponsive joints. He needed out! Now!
"Darien," Claire called to him, but he wasn't paying her any attention, he was trying to figure a way out of this place. "Darien!" She called once more, sharper this time.
"What?!" He snapped. "You can't make me go through that again!"
"Look down at your hands," she told him calmly.
"What?" He looked down, but his hands weren't there. And then it hit him, he could feel the trace of the quicksilver as it swarmed its way up his chest, the cold feeling like fingers of ice crawling over his skin. His fear of the mere possibility of being trapped in a room of spiders again had triggered the reaction of the gland. Once the realization hit him, the quicksilver immediately shed like a fountain of silver falling from his body. Darien looked up to see Claire smiling. He scowled and with a pointing finger accused, "You did that on purpose!"
"Would you rather the alternative?" She questioned lightly, then told him seriously. "I don't think the trick will work again so I hope you picked up something or we will have to resort to more practical methods."
Darien shuddered again, but he kept it under control. Looking around the now far too small room he realized one thing, he seriously wanted out.
The Official never did show, called, but didn't make an appearance. Bobby had called as well, but he had been short on the phone and it was more to say he wouldn't be in that night or the next day. Darien had tried to get Hobbes to tell him about the case, but once again bobby blew it off as nothing interesting. It had to be something interesting, Darien mused to himself after hanging up, or Bobby wouldn't be so consumed by it. Then an odd thought entered his head. Maybe Bobby just didn't want to hang around him anymore, he wouldn't blame the man is that was the case. Darien shook the thought from his mind. That wasn't his partner.
It had gotten late before Darien fell asleep that night, and when he did he almost wished he hadn't. For the last week and a bit his dreams had been pretty stagnant, nothing that he'd remember in the morning, Darien had reveled in the peace of night, even started to take it for granted, but not anymore.
It was dark, the walls seemed to be twisting in various directions, voices clawed at his head. He tried to move away from them, but no matter what way he turned the voices were getting louder and more garbled. None of it made sense to him, just trying to listen to the noises was causing him pain.
Ahead of him an errie small light seemed to be shining, he could feel a heat radiating from it as he reached out to touch the glowing spec. The instant his fingers covered it he awoke, silence filling in where the noise had been a second ago in a deafening wake. He gasped, struggling to sit up. Then his senses were taking in his surroundings, the familiarity of the hospital room and its white walls. He was surprised to find himself alone. Claire's jacket was still hung over the edge of the chair she had been sitting in when he fell asleep, but she was no where in sight.
He first reaction was one of panic, but Darien quickly quelled that urge, more than a little surprised at himself. He shook his head trying to get the recesses of the dream to leave as he cleared his mind. It was morning again, the light seeping in between the drawn curtains betrayed that. It was also a brighter morning than the one before which meant the rain had stopped, but Darien didn't feel the warmth. He unconsciously hugged himself against the sudden bout of shivers that swept his body.
Letting out a small growl of frustration he scolded himself. "Darien, you're being stupid!" Then looking around the empty room he suddenly found new confidence, the paranoia of the dream oddly encouraging him along. With a growing determination, Darien pushed the blankets back and swung his legs over the side.
First things first, he quickly realized looking down at the gurney greens his was dressed in. Thankfully his bag with some cloths was still lying next to the bed, but even the effort of getting dressed was enough to exhaust him. His arms felt like they were made of lead by time he'd gotten the jeans on and a T-shirt over his head. All he wanted to do was lie back down, but gritting his teeth instead, Darien forced himself to focus on the door.
Then slowly, he stood, his bare feet wanting to fold before him as they tried to become accustomed to the weight and movement. His hands gripped firmly at anything around him. The movement was excruciating, and his balance precarious at best, but with the aid of the bed frame, the table, the chair, or just about anything in reach, he at last made it to the door. He wondered if taking the chair with him might not be a bad idea, it'd be like having one of those walkers, but no, he had to do this on his own.
Darien almost reconsidered as he grabbed the door handle, intending to support his weight on the small knob but almost loosing it as it turned in his hands. He let out an exclamation of surprise as the door swung open, taking him with it. At the last second Darien barely caught himself, and gritting his teeth pulled himself back up.
"Darien!" Claire voice suddenly called out to him in alarm from down the hall. She rushed up even as he was managing to get his balance as he leaned against the now steady door for support. "You shouldn't be up yet, what do you think you're doing?" She asked immediately concerned.
"I'm leaving!" Darien stated simply.
Claire half smiled in exasperation, "Darien you can't leave, it's too early. You need to give yourself time-"
He cut her off with a shake of his head. "I'm leaving. All I have to do is make it to the front door."
"Darien," the Keeper stated automatically reaching out to help him but with a look of frustration he stopped her.
"No Claire. I'm doing this!"
The Keeper regarded him for a second, crossing her arms as her lips thinned in disapproval. Her mouth curled into a tight smile and she finally stated, "Alright Darien. Go ahead. I'm not going to stand in your way." She even stepped back a few steps to open a way for him to get to head down the hall.
Darien took several deep breaths and stepped unsteadily forward but immediately grabbed the handle again when he realized his legs weren't ready. The door jumped a but, slamming back against the wall again as Darien all but fell on it. Claire looked ready to jump forward again, but stopped with his warning glare.
Carefully looking down the hall in the direction he knew the elevators were, Darien considered his options, which weren't many. If only the halls had handrails, that would help a lot. Realizing he had no choice but to trust more fully that his legs would hold him, Darien took the step again in the right direction. Then he took another. The pain in his legs from lack of use crescendo, and his muscles were tight and partially unresponsive as if they're been asleep for a long time. In a lot of ways, he figured, they had.
Yet step by step he was making his way down the hall, using the wall to maintain his balance, and focusing on only small movements at a time. On more than one occasion just along the short stretch he could feel his limbs bending the wrong way and had to bite his tongue against his outcry. Claire was only a couple feet from him the whole time, but respectfully she no longer tried to help him and with her arms behind her back she followed as his silent sentinel.
Time stretched out, and the noises ahead of people going about there usual routines, some pausing as they noticed Darien's efforts and commenting to their co-workers before continuing, drifted down to him becoming as white noise. Then at last he reached the corner.
He looked up and down the hall, ignoring the looks from the nearby nurses as he continued his slow and careful pace towards the elevators. Claire simply followed, not saying a word to him or anyone else.
A chair lay ahead of him, and gripping the back of it, he tried to alleviate some of the pressure from his feet. He could barely feel the difference anymore and it was taking most of his concentration to ignore the pain in his limbs as well as maintain his balance. He wanted nothing more than to sit, sitting in the chair sounded so good. No, he told himself sharply, he wanted out.
Ironically, he forced himself to think of the room with the spiders, and how small it had suddenly felt. Letting out a shudder and a heavy breath he regained his determination to leave this place and once again began the trek to the elevator. He wasn't sure how long it had taken him to get there, all he knew was that he'd made it, and stepping inside immediately clung tightly to the handrails. He breathed in a shaky breath as Claire stepped in. Her face was scrunched up in concern, but still she said nothing.
For several minutes Darien just focused on breathing and trying to give any relief to his legs as his arms took on his weight. Then he realized the elevator wasn't moving and glancing up noticed that Claire had her hand across the sensor of the door. As calmly as he could like it was an ordinary request he asked, "Would you hit the button for ground level, please?"
Her lips curled slightly in a smile as her face relaxed somewhat. She did as he asked, and in the next instant Darien regretted it. The slight motion of the elevator threw him and like with the door to his room, he was barely catching himself from falling completely. He had only just pulled himself forcefully up when the elevator reached bottom and he was thrown again. A new pain pierced his ankle and trying to shift all his weight to his arms, he only just managed to keep himself upright.
Gasping quickly for air, he cried out ever so slightly as he strained to get his feet correctly under him. The new pain in his right ankle screamed at him, but it dulled a little the longer he stood. Almost afraid to look, he glanced down at his feet, he could see no blood, but that didn't mean it wasn't broken. He put a bit more weight on it, it protested, but not violently so, at least, not more so than the other.
He sighed, relieved, then suddenly gulped down several startled breaths as the Official suddenly appeared at the elevators edge roaring, "What the hell is going on here?!" Darien didn't answered, couldn't answer.
"I'm afraid, "Keeper began solemnly as she stepped towards him. He automatically backed up and Darien took an unsteady step before the doors could shut on him. The Keeper continued, keeping her face completely composed as she explained. "I'm sorry to say you made a bargain with Darien and he's only trying to keep his end of the deal."
"And what bargain was this?" the Official growled out.
"That I could leave!" Darien gasped out as he quickly grabbed hold of the trash container beside the elevator.
"Yes," the Keeper confirmed keeping her face as straight of possible. "I believe your exact words were 'if he made it to the front door on his own.'"
The Official grumbled to himself for a few minutes, watching as Darien moved from the container to the wall, and onwards. By this point Darien giving up was out of the question. And realizing the stubbornness of his agent turned with a scowl to the keeper. "I don't want him left on his own until you've declared him able to handle himself." He intoned.
"Of coarse," Claire immediately agreed, then smiled her amusement as the Official grumbled some more, and slyly commented, "it's your own fault you know."
The Official turned his glare upon her, but was distracted as Darien at last reached the front door to the hospital. He left out a huge sigh and unceremoniously sank to the ground. Claire made a small despairing sound and rushed over.
At first the Official had wanted to quarantine him at the office instead of at the hospital. Darien had immediately protested and told the Fat Man that he'd rather stay at the hospital then be stuck inside the office. Of coarse the Official readily agreed.
Twenty minutes later they managed to come to an agreement of sorts. During the day Darien was to stay with Claire at all times, whether at the keep or on her errands, or where ever she was, until Hobbes took over. And then Darien wasn't to leave Hobbes' side till the next morning when he was back with Claire.
"You mean I'm not even going to get to spend a night in my own apartment?" Darien protested desperately.
"You can spend all the time you want there later. For now, it's this or nothing!" The Official stated unrelenting.
Darien still groused. "Don't you think this is a bit of overkill? You're all acting like I need to be watched twenty-four seven, I'm getting better you know, I can do things on my own now!"
"It's not that," Claire automatically said wanting to reassure him.
Darien just frowned. "Then what is it? What? You think someone want's to kidnap me or something?" Even as he said it he hadn't meant it seriously, but he couldn't miss the hesitant look passing between the Keeper and Official. "Who?!" He demanded, his mind racing to the most obvious, "Arnaud?!"
"No." Claire immediately told him even as the Official stated, "The situation is being handled. You," and he pointed one of his fingers at Darien to emphasize, "are not to concern yourself with anything but getting better." Then he added almost in an offhand manor, "At least not until the Keeper has put you back on full time duty." Darien got the hint, it wasn't hard to miss the underlining tone that indicated just how much the Official would rather him working than living off disability.
Sighing, Darien slumped back against the chair in his room. He had refused to lie down again after they all but dragged him back up stairs, while at the same time his eyes were having a hard time staying open in his exhaustion. Still, a small smile crept up his face, he'd done it, on his own, and now he was getting out of there. Even with the restrictions placed upon him, the mere idea of leaving the hospital was enough to leave him with an overwhelming sense of relief. Darien didn't realize when he felt asleep, and if he'd been conscious at the time probably he would have looked at himself in wonder at the audacity of that action.
Keep looked up from her examination of Darien's newly injured ankle with a start as a light sound began to emanate from the man in a soft but rhythmic pattern. She raised her eyebrows and her lips twitched ever so slightly in amusement. The Official was frowning deeply and looked ready to shake the man awake just to tell him that no one fell asleep while the Official was talking! Claire was grateful when the Official merely glowered, than realizing she had a moment alone with her boss, carefully and quietly asked him, "So, how is the progress going?"
The Official knew what she was talking about and just as carefully responded. "We've had some success, but not much. Hobbes still has to report back today on where the lead took us."
"I'm going to need samples," the Keeper told him. The Official nodded, his gaze was still focused on the softly snoring Darien.
*****
Darien slept the rest of the day, and after waking for only a short time surprised himself by sleeping the night away as well. Although grateful for the time to set things up, Claire still took the opportunity to thoroughly chasten him when he woke next for pushing his body past it's breaking point.
"I did it, didn't I?" Darien sleepily replied, his words punctuated by a yawn. He sat up, grimacing as his limbs protested the movement. Except for the pain in his right ankle, which had sprained, for the most part, he no longer felt as sore, just extremely stiff. It took him a bit to reorient his muddled mind and after much careful stretching, he set about changing and packing, the feeling of excitement growing as he woke.
Despite Darien's objections, Claire helped him changed, pulling a white T-shirt over his head effectively muffling any immediate protests. Darien tasted cotton before the shirt was settle on him and stated to her, "I'm doing fine! Don't you think this is a little inappropriate?" He testily commented.
"I'm your doctor," Claire said nonchalantly by way of excuse. Darien would have given her some sort of sarcastic remark but at the moment she had curiously picked up the book Tiffany had given him and was about to open the cover when he reached over and snatched it from her hand. He quickly stuffed it in his bag and zipping it closed tried to stand. Apparently the strain he had put on his limbs the day previous was still effecting him, because not even a second later, Darien sat back down.
Claire shook her head, her lips pursed in a thin smile as he glared at her just daring her to chasten him again. "I'm know you're impatient Darien, but why don't you give it a few minutes, Bobby will be here soon, and I'm sure you won't object to his help!" She stated smartly.
"You'd want out of here too, if you were stuck in the same room day in and day out. It's enough to drive a person insane!" Darien commented seriously.
Claire opened her mouth to comment but just then the door opened and Hobbes stepped in. "Bobby Hobbes is here, my friend!" He announced with a flourishing smile.
"Finally!" Darien immediately tried to stand again. Hobbes and the Keeper jumped forward to keep him from falling. In the end, it took both Claire and Bobby, and between them all but carrying Darien to get him down to the car.
They took him directly to the Agency's Office. Bobby helped Darien get down to the Keep but right after said he had to leave.
"You on a case?" Darien quickly asked as he sat awkwardly on the dentist chair, it was more uncomfortable than the hospital bed had been.
"Ya, partner," Hobbes said and shrugging turned to leave without giving any details.
"Wait! Come on, man, what's going on?" Darien asked before Bobby could leave.
Smirking good natured, the older agent told him, "Nope, sorry. No can do. You're assigned to rest and relaxation, remember?" He stated.
"Just because I can't go with you, doesn't mean we can't talk about it. I might have some insight into the situation. How many times have I come up with something that was right on the money! Uh?"
Hobbes shook his head again and told him sidestepping the issue, "I'll check in on ya later, Kid." Then he left.
Darien sighed a little frustrated. The fact that bobby didn't want to talk to him bugged him. They made it seem like they were just protecting him, but protecting him from what? His mind replayed the small conversation he'd had the day before. He could only think of two people who wanted him, and Claire and said it wasn't Arnaud, so that left Chrysalis, but how many times had Allianora said that if Chrysalis wanted him dead, he would be dead. No, that didn't make any sense.
He looked around the Keep still frustrated and more than a little bored. Keeper already had her lab coat on and was bent over a microscope in full scientist mode. Her counter was more covered than usual, and several vials were labeled and hanging on stands. A few were semitransparent of various colors, but others were dark red and opaque, like blood.
"So, Keepie? What'cha you doing?" Darien asked.
Claire absently replied, "An analysis."
"On what?"
"Samples." She switched her slid for another she had already prepared and jotted down some notes in a near by book.
"Of?" Darien drawled out.
"Things."
Darien made a face and growled out, "Okay, can we say conspiracy here?! What's going on Claire?"
The keeper looked up from the microscope and regarded Darien as she thoughtfully bit the corner of her lip. "Alright," she told him walking over to where he sat. "They're samples of some rats that died, I'm trying to figure out why." Darien looked at her stricken. Sighing she added, "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd react, well, like that!" She stated gesturing to him.
"Well, what about Hobbes? What's he working on?" Darien persisted.
Claire shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know. That's between him and the Official. Hobbes probably just doesn't want you to do something stupid, like want to go with him. You're off active duty, remember? And if you keep pushing yourself faster than you should, you're going to do more damage then good!"
"Slow and easy, uh?" Darien grumbled. He couldn't deny that his body still ached and didn't respond very well, but his restlessness was far more prominent in his mind.
As if sensing this, Claire grabbed up a nearby instrument and stated briskly, "Since you're here, we might as well take a look at the gland and see how it's doing."
Darien spent the next hour being probed and tested. Then after that, trying to turn invisible. Claire told him to relax, to focus on the feelings he'd felt when he did it a few days ago.
"What? Like fear?" Darien asked dubious.
"If that's what it takes."
Darien concentrated hard, so hard his head throbbed. But after several failures, he finally felt the trickle of silver crawl across his arm. It crumbled away not even a second after the silvery threads had appeared. Darien scowled at his arm despairingly, but Claire seemed pleased and encouraged him to keep working at it.
Thirty minutes later Darien succeeded in quicksilvering his entire body, although he couldn't hold it, but Claire told him that he'd improve quickly.
"I don't think you've fully forgotten how to control you quicksilver, I think you just need to get used to it again," she told him in earnest.
"Ya ya," Darien mumbled closing his eyes trying to relax. He felt tired, and his head hurt now. He didn't even notice as Claire once again returned to her samples and analysis.
Sighing softly, he looked up, the words he was going to say paused on his lips as he realized Claire was back at her microscope and he quickly looked around for something to occupy his attention. That's when he realized his bag wasn't there, it must have been left in the car. And the book was in the bag. Crap.
The afternoon dragged slowly by. When night finally came around, and Bobby showed up, Claire was about ready to kick Darien out.
He hadn’t stopped asking questions all afternoon. And if he wasn't asking questions he was trying half successfully to move around the Keep poking and prying at her stuff. He had inadvertently contaminated more than half her samples at one point or another, to the degree that she had threatened to confine him to the chair if he didn't stop touching things.
"I'm just trying to follow your example, there, Keepie." Darien told her as he picked up her science notebook.
"Oh? What example is that?" She asked tartly before snatching the notebook out of his hands before he could read any of it.
He leaned against the counter amiably saying, "You know, how to be a good top secret scientist."
She pushed him over a little, worriedly once again moving the nearest vials further out of the way.
"Did I miss something?" Hobbes asked with a grin from the doorway.
"Hobbes! My man!" Darien’s face broke out into a wide smile.
"You ready to go, buddy?" Hobbes asked.
It was Claire who answered. "Yes, please! Take him away from here!”
“Hey!” Darien protested, but just as eager to leave stumbled to the chair.
Smirking widely, Bobby put a large brown paper bag he’d been carrying next to the Keeper on the counter. “Thanks, Bobby,” She said but didn’t touch the bag.
“What’s that?” Darien asked curiously as Bobby stepped over to him to give him a shoulder to lean on.
“It’s gourmet food, something you’d know nothing about, my friend!” Bobby stated.
“Ha, I bet I cook far better than you do,” Darien protested as they began to make their way out of the Keep. “Speaking of food, what are we eating?” Darien asked before his stomach could betray him.
“Hotdogs.”
“Hotdogs?”
Claire watched them leave, then let out a small sigh of relief. Looking around she realized she still had a fair amount of work to do, but their talk of food reminded her just how long it’d been since she’d eaten herself. Moving over to the fridge she reached in and pulled out some leftovers from the day before.
Idly consuming the pickled rice, she quickly laid out the tasks for the night in her mind. Then once she had satisfied her hunger, Claire purposely walked to where the brown paper bag sat, intent upon its contents.
Darien adamantly detested how quickly his body wore out. With an exasperated sigh he stretched out on Bobby’s couch. His bones felt like they were aching they were so tired, but his mind was wide-awake. “Hey, could you pass me my bag?” Darien asked when he saw it lying next to the kitchen counter.
Bobby picked it up and unceremoniously dumped it on Darien lap before he vanished into his room. Darien had just retrieved his book when Bobby reappeared looking more casual than he often did with his suit jacket on. “What’s that?” Bobby questioned and took the book from Darien’s hand before his partner could reply. “Zib..gin…ew? Zib..zeb…new?” He stammered trying to pronounce the writer’s name.
“Zbigniew Herbert,” Darien stated as he snatched the book back. He honestly didn’t know if he was pronouncing it correctly either, but he wasn’t about to let Hobbes know that. Eagerly he opened the book and quickly found where he had left off.
“Are you going to read that all night?” Hobbes asked with a small frown as he watched his partner get comfortable.
“It won’t take me all night.” Darien replied. It wasn’t that thick of a book, and he did do a lot of reading. He looked up at Bobby. “Do you have something else in mind?”
Hobbes shrugged. “No not really.” The man began to pace a little, he found a football and tossed it back and forth in his hands.
Darien watched him move with some amusement. He knew Hobbes hated standing still, and amazed at the amount of knowledge Hobbes seemed to have, Darien knew reading was against the man's ethics! Still, they had only just gotten there, and even Bobby wasn’t known to get restless this fast endless something was on his mind. Not that Darien hadn’t been restless all day, so he knew how his partner felt. With a sudden thought, Darien asked. “Is there a game on tonight?”
“Yes.” The response was automatic, and as if Darien’s question gave Bobby permission, the smaller man grabbed the remote and made a motion to Darien to make some room on the couch.
Darien half-laughed and half sighed as he shifted so his legs were propped up on the coffee table, and then again when Bobby complained, half over the arm of the couch. They settled into the evening like that, each content in their own world while commenting on the other’s.
Grateful, although he had protested from habit, Darien sank sleepily into the mattress of Hobbes’ bed. Bobby had convinced him he’d rather the couch, although Darien had only let him on the pretense that he’d take the couch the next night.
“Don’t you know it!” Bobby had stated, although Darien had an idea his partner would come up with another excuse the next night anyway. It still annoyed Darien that they were being so protective of him, he was getting better after all, and he wasn’t a kid or anything, he could take care of himself. Well, almost, but soon completely, he reaffirmed in his mind.
It didn’t take him long to fall asleep in the silence and dim lights of night. The shadows seemed to blend into each other till the dreams took over.
He was once again in a room, he could feel the walls around him, surrounding him in their confines, but it was black there. No matter what way he turned there was nothing. A scream broke the silence, and with it came the voices. They were like knives in his ears, Darien cried out and clutched at his head trying to get them to leave.
The piercing sounds reverberated off the unseen walls, increasing in volume and intensity with every echo. They made no sense! Twisting, desperate for a way out Darien spotted the small light and was instantly mesmerized. Yet he didn’t reach out for it this time. He could still feel its heat washing over him, even from several feet away.
The voices seemed to ease, or they grew so intense they became part of the background, Darien wasn’t sure, and frankly, he didn’t care. The world was becoming numb as he stared at the spot of light, then slowly, very slowly, it began to grow in the black nothingness till it became a small window like a window out of this black box he was confined in.
There was something on the other side of the window, no, someone. Darien couldn't move, he couldn’t react, he could only stare, as he gazed into the pain filled eyes of his partner.
“Darien!” Hobbes shook the twitching man.
Darien came awake instantly, but upon seeing Hobbes' expression couldn’t restrain his alarmed exclamation and reactively pushed himself back against the head board before he realized he was awake.
Even then it was near impossible to shake the dream from his mind for the expression Hobbes now showed Darien was the same as it had been in the dream. Pain, guilt, shame. And then it was gone and Hobbes gruffly told him, “You were calling out in your sleep. Having a nightmare?”
“Ya,” Darien replied numbly, then shaking himself added, “Sorry man, didn’t mean to wake you.”
Bobby softly grinned. “No problem Kid. It’s what I’m here for.”
Darien returned the grinned. “You never sleep anyway,” he joked trying just as hard to breach the awkwardness between them.
His smile widening, Bobby headed back for the door and stated sounding like his usual self, “That’s right! Cause I have a life!” With quick goodnights exchanged, the lights were turned off and Darien was left alone in the dark again, but he didn’t go back to sleep. He couldn't quite shake the dream, the horror that he’d beheld on his partner’s face, the pain he felt inside himself.
*****
When Bobby and Darien arrived at the Keep late the next morning they brought with them breakfast for themselves and Claire to eat there.
“You didn’t make this, did you?” Claire asked suspiciously as she eyed the wrapped breakfast crapes.
“No, the deli down the street did,” Hobbes reassured her.
Darien swallowed a large bite off of his as he gazed around the lab, his keen eyes picking up on the subtle changes, and inconsistencies. He turned to the Keeper frowning as she idly picked at her crepe, picking out pieces she apparently didn’t like. “Claire? Did you go home at all last night?”
“Oh? Why do you ask that?” She murmured, consumed with the crepe till she was satisfied with its content.
“Oh, no reason,” Darien began. “It’s just that everything on your counter has changed, those vials you were working from yesterday are now half empty and you’re still wearing the same clothes.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
Keeper looked down at herself startled as if the thought to change hadn’t crossed her mind even as Hobbes grumbled through a mouthful of food, “He’s got a point, Keepie.”
“Well,” She replied tartly, “with all the distractions yesterday I had to get my work done sometime!”
“Ouch…” Claire was quick to discipline, but she wasn’t really annoyed, and soon the three were engage in harmless talk as they finished their quick breakfast. The phone rang in the Keep to which Bobby answered and after a pause and a ‘yes, sir’ quickly hung up. “I’ve got to go see the Fat Man. I’ll see you later, partner. Claire.” he told them heading for the door.
“Bobby,” the Keeper called out before he could disappear. “I’m going to take Darien over to my place if you need us.” Darien instantly perked up. A day stuck in the Keep had been one day too many. “There's more room over there for him to work out,” She commented. “Not to mention I need to change.” She added with a small side glare and twitch of her lips.
Bobby grinned. “Sure, Keepie, I’ll see you guys later.” Then he was out the door.
It was almost noon by the time Darien and Keeper finally pulled up into her driveway. Every time they were about to leave, Claire had remembered something else she needed to ‘quickly’ do.
Darien was pleased, he’d made it from the car to the door without any help. He’d woken with stiff joints, but they actually were beginning to loosen up and move more or less in a more orderly fashion. He his ankle didn't hurt so bad.
He was almost bowled over as Claire's dog, Pavlov, greeted them excitedly as the door opened. “Pavlov!” Claire called before the dog could run out in his excitement. There was no chance of that as the light tan and gray Chinese Crested Powderpuff followed at their ankles, jumping up and barking ecstatically. Or in other words was a yo-yo ball of fluff.
“Wow.” Darien leaned against the wall before he lost his balance and Claire scooped her canine friend up into her arms saving Darien from any more trip hazards. Pavlov’s head still craned around his owner’s shoulder staring at Darien his tongue lolling out in contented pleasure.
Darien grinned and making his way past Claire scratched the dog between the ears. “Why don’t you sit down on the couch Darien,” the Keeper told him. “Do want anything to drink?”
“Nah, thanks,” he replied, but on the way to the couch he noticed his rat cage against the hallway wall, empty. A worn textbook was haphazardly on the floor next to it. “Um, Claire? Where’s my rat?”
Claire peered over the counter divider, and looking at her dog accusingly scolded, “Pavlov!” The dog licked her face with an all too innocent expression. “What have I told you about letting Darien out?” Claire continued to the dog trying not to give in, but after a second let out an exasperated sigh and drawled out resignedly, “okay.” She put the dog down giving him a stern command. “Pavlov, go get Darien.”
The dog immediately took off up the stairs. Darien watched with a mixture of intrigue, concern, and a pained expression on his face. “Um, Claire?”
She raised a hand to stall him, her lips curling in amusement. “No, hold on. You’ll see.”
Sure enough, a minute later, Pavlov returned eagerly coming to sit in front of Claire as if waiting for a treat. Darien looked over at the stairs, surprised to watch as his rat slowly skidded down to the floor as well and running over joined Pavlov at Claire’s feet.
“Good boy, Pavlov. Good boy, Darien.” The keeper congratulated them and pulling out two small dog treats gave one to each of the animals. Where Pavlov swallowed his on the spot, Darien the rat stuffed the oversized morsel into his mouth and beelined it for the stairs. Claire frowned. “I suppose he’s going to go borrow into my closet again,” she mused. “Oh well.” She began making herself a cold drink.
Darien was beside himself. “Claire, what the hell have you been giving my rat?!” Darien demanded, leaning against the counter where he could glare at her better.
Her lips twitched, but she said completely serious, “just a harmless enzyme. I’ve given it to plenty of rats before, it hasn’t harmed him in any way. In fact, it prolongs life and increases their intelligence.”
“Uhuh…and you don’t think you should have asked before you started this?” Darien accused, still worried. There was a reason he broke that rat out of her lab in the first place.
“You were in a coma at the time,” She said simply, then taking a sip ordered, “show me how far you’ve come with your quicksilvering exercises.”
Darien had to force himself to put the issue aside enough to focus in order to quicksilver any part of him. Sadly, like the day before, he managed to cover his body with the silvery substance, but the second he lost his thought it flaked off. Still, it came quicker than before, so that was some improvement.
Claire took at look at the half-filled tattoo and told him to wait till the next day to continue practice. “It wouldn’t do to have you go mad now, especially here. I don’t want to chance it.” She told him sternly, and added to distract him, “Why don’t you start stretching down here,” she put a little emphasis on her last two words and finished, “while I go take a quick shower and change.”
Then she disappeared up the stairs as fast as the rat had before Darien could put out any protests. Sighing resigned, Darien made himself comfortable on the floor in the living room and began stretching. After he managed to knead out some of the stiffer joints, the stretching actually was beginning to feel good. It would still be a while before he could do a normal full workout like he used to, but the fact that he’d managed to stay limber was high encouragement, especially for someone at tall and lanky as himself.
He was disrupted out of his peace by a loud knock at the door. Darien groaned and using the couch for help managed to pull himself to his feet just as Claire came down the stairs. Her hair was still damp but she was washed and dressed. Pavlov was barking frantically at the door. “Pavlov, quiet,” Claire order, but the dog ignored her and when she opened the door Darien saw Claire suddenly back up in alarm.
At the same time the sharp sounds of heavy glass shattering attracted everyone’s attention. A man in military fatigues stepped through the remains of the back glass door, his gun point raised at Darien. One similarly garbed had come through the front door his gun trained on Claire, Pavlov still barking at his heels.
Darien felt shivers run up his spine, he knew these people, from the night before…his mind felt like fog as he tried to remember exactly where, at a fort of some sort, an abandoned fort.
“Well,” The man next to Claire drawled out, looking over to Darien with hungry malice. “Isn’t this nice, I never thought we’d ever catch up to you,” he stated in a gruff voice, pending a cough. His face look pale and drawn, his skin sunken in making his natural brawn features look more demonesque.
“I don’t know what you intend to accomplish by this,” Claire began with an amazing amount of venomous to her voice. The man gave her little pause and swiftly raising his gun cracked it hard against her skull. She crumpled to the floor unconscious, a trickle of red running through her hair.
“Claire!” Darien immediately jumped forward but the man behind him grabbed him ruffly by the shoulder and forced him to his knees in a painful grimace. He glanced worriedly at Claire only a foot away but was unable to reach her with the man still holding him. He swallowed as he felt the warning of the cold metal point against his neck. “Look, what do you want?” Darien growled out looking up into the eyes of the man who’d struck Claire. Looking into those ravenous eyes brought with it glimpses of his memory, pieces that didn’t make sense, pieces that he didn’t even know where missing.
The man grinned evilly down at Darien and would have answered, but after Claire had been hit Pavlov had taken a more offensive stance and with angry snarls was trying to nip at the man’s ankles. The man kicked back angrily but the dog only jumped forward again. Increasingly annoyed the man pointed his gun at the little dog.
“No!” Darien cried out and yelled the first command that came to mind. “Pavlov, go get Darien!” The dog stopped what he was doing looking at Darien with a hesitant bark but obediently turned and headed up the stairs.
“Cute,” The man gruffly stated with a sneer, then turning his attention back to Darien told him coldly, “But you can’t save yourself so easily.” He pointed the gun down at Darien who stared steadfastly back feeling the cold of death on his doorstep.
“No, that’s what his partner’s for!” A voice suddenly stated from the front door. The small distraction was enough for the man’s grip on Darien’s shoulder to lessen and Darien seeing the opportunity slipped free immediately falling to the floor next to Claire to get as low as possible. He heard three crisp clear shots ring out about his head. Two landed in the chest of the man who had threatened him, and the third into the man behind him. They never had time to react before Bobby’s bullets tore through them.
Darien grimaced when he felt the wetness of blood splatter his cheek, but sighed with relief when he looked up to see Hobbes walking up to them holstering his gun. The two attackers lay prone on the floor, deep pools of red beginning to encompass their torsos. “Nice timing, partner.” Darien said with a hesitant smile.
Claire groaned, also sitting up as her hand reactively went to the cut on her head. The gunshot had been loud enough to rouse her from her unconsciousness, and now she looked around despairingly at her bloodied hallway. “Did you have to kill them here?” She groggily groused.
“Would you rather me let them kill you?” Bobby asked good-natured, then helped her and Darien to get to their feet.
Pavlov came pelting back down the stairs. Spying them Claire quickly stated as she steadied herself against the counter. “Bobby, will you grab them, please. I don’t want them getting infected.”
“Them?” Bobby inquired, picking up the squirming dog, and then jumped back slightly to see the rat heading down the stairs as well. “Wow! Keepie, you’ve got a rodent infestation!”
“It’s my rat!” Darien glowered. “Hey, who were these guys? And what do you mean infected?” He asked.
Hobbes awkwardly held both squirming animals till he spotted the cage and after checking to make sure it was still clean, quickly deposited the rat inside. “There, stay!” He told the rat closing the lid and then turning a grim face to Darien to answer his question. “These guys were the last of the rogue black ops group we’ve been tracking down for the last month and a half.” Bobby hesitated slightly then said, “They had stolen four canisters of experimental fuel, which we've now recovered.”
“Experimental fuel…the radioactive chemical I was expose to.” More pieces seemed to be falling into place. He still couldn’t remember exactly what happened, but part of him seemed to remember the faces at the fort they had infiltrated. Like glimpses of a movie reel it was beginning to make sense. “And they’re infected too?”
Bobby and Claire had been watching him with worried eyes, they exchanged a look, and Claire carefully replied, “Yes. One of the canisters they had with them had a leak, I’ve been working on a finding a cure to the poison.”
“But, it’s over now, right? The bad guys are dead, we can all go back to our normal lives?” Darien quickly asked.
Hobbes adamantly said, “Yes,” even as Claire stated, “No.”
“No? Yes? Which is it?”
Bobby gave Claire what could only be construed as a warning look which the Keeper agitatedly shook off. “Darien. They weren’t the only ones infected, anyone they came in contact with were also infected.”
“But that would mean, you guys…” His voice trailed off.
“It’s alright,” the Keeper quickly reassured him. “Last night I was able to find the antidote that I need.”
“From the blood samples,” Darien stated in a matter of fact tone of voice. He was having a hard time swallowing all this information. So what were they saying, a plague had nearly or had broken out thanks to all this, and they thought, what, that they could keep him in the dark?
Hobbes frowned deeply, seeing the anxiety on his partners face and sternly told him, “You don’t need to worry about any of this, partner. We’ve got it completely under control. Your only concern should be yourself!”
“And what about you?” Darien automatically spat back.
“You let Bobby Hobbes, worry about Bobby Hobbes, my friend!”
“Bobby’s right,” Claire told him seriously. “You’ve been through enough.” Yet it wasn’t the most he was going to go through that day. They had to call in a hazmet team and sterilize everything and everyone. Claire took fresh samples from both the living and the dead, but pronounced later that day that they would be fine. Her new serum was doing its trick and they were all given a clean bill of health.
The Official didn’t seem pleased that Darien had found out, but he seemed content that the last of the rouge agents had been killed. He and Claire both wanted Darien to stay with Bobby and Claire at all times for a few more days. “At least until you’ve control of yourself again!” He gruffly ordered.
Darien had willing agreed, anything to get out of that place.
He crashed exhausted onto Bobby’s couch. “So, what do you want to do?” Darien asked the man as if nothing of that day had even happened. Personally he really just wanted to forget it did. Images were still plaguing his mind and he couldn’t shake the feeling there was still something he was missing.
Hobbes, as if reading Darien’s mind, had seemed just as preoccupied with his thoughts. He shrugged, “There’s usually a good late night movie on somewhere.”
“Great, you make the popcorn!” Darien quickly agreed reaching for the remote. He turned it on flipping through several channels before he finally just hit mute and gazed over the back of the couch at Bobby. The question fell into place in his mind and he finally voiced, “Hey Hobbes, that one guy, he wanted to kill me, why?”
Bobby closed the microwave door and hit the appropriate buttons giving himself an extra second to think before he turned to Darien and solemnly replied. “His name is Bradley, he was the one in charge of the raid. Over a month ago, when we were in that fort and the canister split open, you weren’t the only exposed, Bradley’s brother was also there. He didn’t survive.”
The silence spaned the few minutes it took the popcorn to pop. “Hey, thanks,” Darien lamely added.
Hobbes was quick to change the subject. “Hey is that Molly Ringwald? I love this movie!” Bobby settled on the couch, popcorn bowl in hand.
Darien looked at the screen to see what he had turned to. A scene was playing itself out in a half-built car between a high school girl and some freshman nerd in braces. Bobby turned the mute off. The geeky kid was talking “-Can I borrow your underpants for ten minutes?”
Darien raised his eyebrows questioningly at his partner, but Hobbes was already fully engrossed in the movie.
That night Bobby once again took the couch despite Darien’s protests. Darien lay awake listening to the night sounds, he could feel the weariness encircling him like a shroud, but he fought it, he didn’t want to sleep. He knew the dream would return, the dream of the black box he knew he was still trapped inside. Yet despite how much he fought it, the black of sleep still succeeded.
Bobby listen silently as Darien’s breathing at last turned rhythmic. Hobbes sighed softly, his own mind haunted. Closing his eyes his mind automatically traveled back to the night it happened, to the night this mess began.
The screams echoed through his mind like knives on a chalkboard. He had heard the sounds, knew Darien had gone ahead invisible, and he knew exactly what must of happened. Tears unbidden welled up in the man’s eyes as his mind replayed the awful scene. He had been trained for the scenario countless times, in every faction he had worked for. Sacrifice the one to save the many. Yet no matter how many times Bobby told himself that, he still couldn’t believe he had done it. He’d sacrifice himself a hundred times over for his country, for his friends, but never again would he do what he did.
He let out a slow breath, he could hear Darien murmuring in his sleep again. Bobby could only imagine what Darien was dreaming about, but he didn’t think he’d be so far off the mark if he had to give a guess.
Bobby had sealed the door on Darien’s fait, on his very life, and only the greatest miracle had prevented Hobbes from loosing the greatest friend he’d ever had. He would give his life a hundred times over to take that day back.
“I remember once hearing Martin Luther King, Jr. saying that ‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness.’ Well, it sure can numb the pain, my friend.”