"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore- while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door-"
Darien jumped, a not-so-gentle rapping sounding at HIS chamber door. Rubbing his eyes to rid them of the blur from reading in low-light, he sighed and placed his book on the couch, heebie-jeebies running through his arms and making his hands tremble as he opened the door. He was terrified that he might see a raven perched on the floor quoting "Nevermore." But, alas and alack, not quite so.
"'Tis only Hobbes tapping at my chamber door- only this and nothing more," Darien forced a smile down and hid his lips with a fist.
Hobbes creased his elongated forehead (well, the hairline, you know) and shimmied past his friend. "What're you supposed to be? Edgar Allen Poe? Where's your getup?"
Darien did a double take of Hobbes' appearance.
"What're you WEARING??"
Hobbes got that look in his eye. The one that screamed "what? -What’s-wrong-do-I-have-spinach-in-my-teeth-or-something?" You know the one. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide open as Corell brand dinner plate, mouth hanging open. *Ahem* Back to the scene at hand:
"It's a costume! It's Halloween, we were gonna go get the girls and cavort around town!"
Darien rubbed his dry eyes once again. "You're going as a CLOWN??"
Sure enough, Hobbes was wearing a polka-dot suit with ruffled collar and pompom buttons, huge shoes, red nose, white makeup, and a wig that had been cut down and attached to the back of his head with toupee glue. The spittin' image of Bozo.
"So?! Why aren't you dressed? Weren't you- I take it back, your ready. You got the DayGlo orange shirt on. S'go!"
Darien set his jaw in a hard stare. "I LIKE this shirt, Hobbesy..."
Hobbes quirked his mouth and touched his red nose. When he squeezed, a strangled squeak escaped it and made Darien hold down a burst of laughter at the seriousness on Hobbes' face at the moment. Situation calmed, Hobbes continued.
"So, what're you going as? Monroe's gonna be...ah...you know, uh Lara Croft, and Claire's gonna be a punk barmaid-"
Darien held up a hand. "WHAT???"
"You know, the puffy off-shoulder sleeves, lace up vest but in leather, torn skirt and fishnets, combat boots, dark makeup..." he waggled his eyebrows and went straight to Naughtyville. It made him look three times as goofy. Darien shook his head at this and wrenched the closet door open, rifling through it and pulling out an orange prison uniform.
"Electric chair victim."
"Morbid..."
"BUT, as everyone so oftenly points out: I have the perfect hair for it."
*
Darien hopped in the front seat of the van, dark makeup around his eyes, and a whiter looking cast to his hands and face. His hair was standing higher. He really did look like he'd had extensive electro-shock therapy.
"Nice makeup," Alex mused, her oval sunglasses resting on top of her braided head. Any more hair spray and her hair would just come right out.
Darien turned to see the super agent dressed exactly like the British heiress from Tomb Raider.
"Nice...boots."
He heard Claire chuckle and the trusty 'ole engine of Golda roar to life.
"Do you know the way, Bobby?" she asked. For some reason, her voice caught in her throat. No one but Darien noticed.
"To the Agency? Of course! We work there."
"What? We were going club hopping," Alex protested. They had the night off, and she didn't want her's wasted at some Agency party.
Hobbes stole a glance back at her. "My gag flower's back at the Fatman's office," he pouted. "He commandeered it after I squirted Eberts."
"Now who's the child?" Darien snorted.
"Hey! Don't knock the clown act, my friend!"
Somewhere in the bowels of Golda, a British whimper could be heard.
*
Nightclubs on Halloween were packed. But many thanks to government IDs and badges, all four agents got in with backstage passes to boot. An unknown ska-core band was playing- Claire's choice for the first club. What surprised Darien was the name of the band: Quoth the Raven. The drummer even had a ghastly mustache. The lights were near epileptic, pulsing with each beat of the tattoo of drums. Claire seemed to be enjoying it, hopping into one of the mosh pits with Darien and body surfing.
Alex, on the other hand, was miserable. Right at the moment, she and the clown were making swizzle stick cabins and sucking on some sugary orange and black layered drinks.
"I hate this music!" she yelled over the clamorous din. Hobbes stared at her a second and finally figured out what she said. He pulled an entirely too serious face before squeezing the bulb on his flower and squirting Alex in the face. To his surprise, she started to laugh as she wiped the water away with a cocktail napkin.
"I needed that!"
The music stopped in the middle of her exclamation and Claire and Darien returned to the table, looking slightly more bedraggled than before.
"Let's go backstage now," Claire said, tending to an already black and blue pair of arms.
The swizzle stick cabin tumbled, causing the quartet to jump.
*
The band chatted with everyone for a while. Personally shaking hands and discussing Halloween. But what haunted (ha ha! Pun!) Darien was the fact that they tried to drill out of the underfunded agents what they were most terrified of. Hobbes started to get paranoid- the smoke machine was still running, and the area behind the curtain was clouded so much that it stung his eyes. And it didn't smell like normal 'fake smoke.' Kinda had a sickly sweet scent to it, like the drinks he and Monroe shared earlier.
"Whoo! I'm feeling woozy," Claire complained.
Alex tried to steady the 'punk barmaid' but swayed herself. Darien and Hobbes started for them; both thinking of themselves as knights in shining armor. They collapsed less than a dollar's length from their female companions, people dropping around them like birds that had been exposed to so much cow manure- they passed out. Only now did Alex notice the gas masks that Quoth the Raven wore.
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream...” the drummer intoned with a demonic cackle...
*
Darien eased his darkened eyelids open, the room he was in eerily familiar. High white ceiling, grey and silver walls...the original LAB??? He thought, shooting off the bed and running to the mirror on the wall. He was back in that place in time, right before...
Tarantulas. Skittering like hellish beasts out of the trap doors surrounding the room. They were larger than before... Needless to say, Darien panicked.
"HEY!!!"
Thankful he was wearing Tims, he tromped for the door at tops speed, arachnids crunching like colossal potato chips under his booted soles. It disgusted Darien into the point of wanting to vomit all over the stainless steel floor. By the time he pried the door open enough to fit his foot through, the room was completely lined with hairy, eight legged monstrosities since he had run in frantic circle before seeing the door.
Adrenaline coursing through his veins like the very platelets of his circulatory system, Darien quicksilvered and shoved his string-bean form through the crack. He escaped the mouth of Hell into a hallway that stretched for centuries. Still invisible, he sqooshed another stray tarantula under his heel in revolt.
"Bring it on..." he challenged the air and de-silvered, sprinting down the empty hall.
*
Claire gingerly touched her throbbing forehead and sat up, the ripped folds in her punk barmaid costume crackling with static. Or was it...hay?? She looked down around her and discovered the dried grass sticking out of her hair. She was under the big top- from the smell of the elephant dung.
"What??" confused, Claire stood up and brushed herself off. After she finished picking hay from her combat boots and fishnets, she straightened up to meet eye to eye with...
A clown.
Claire screamed until her face turned purple and that vein popped out of her neck. The evil looking caricature smiled with Scorpius-magnitude gingivitis. This can't be real! She thought.
"Are you Claire?"
She screamed again, hands waving madly like a comic character.
"Well hello, Claire."
Its voice came out like raspy breath; ten other pitches mixed in with it and making it sound like some alien with eleven voice boxes.
Gathering up her courage and cinching up her bloomers while adopting the "Claire scowl ®," Claire spat on the "It" wannabe.
"I refuse to be intimidated by the likes of you!" the waver in her voice betrayed her statement. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind.
It chuckled at her, sounding as if blood was burbling from the back of its throat. "Such a pitiful, useless threat."
Claire immediately wished she had her gun, and at the sudden weight in her right hand she looked down and viewed her trusty 45.
"I hope you like the taste of lead, Crusty!"
Without a second hesitation, Claire squeezed the trigger with one eye squinted shut, the soft-tipped bullet tearing through the monstrosity's chest. It toppled over with a shocked look in its jaundiced eyes, blood pooling away from it like roaches scattering from a kitchen light.
Claire gave a self-satisfied smirk and blew a small puff of smoke off the muzzle. Hefting the weapon and stepping on the clown as she strode confidently out the tent flaps, Claire tromped into the gloomy and yet familiar road.
*
Hobbes let those wonderful chestnut eyes of his flick open; his nose twitching under the false clown one. Confused by the fact that he was now on a couch, the ex-FBI agent sat up and looked around, systematically checking his surroundings and removing the foam nose. He was in his apartment. Confused, Hobbes doffed the puffy clown getup and smoothed the wrinkles in the white t-shirt and jeans he had on underneath. Throwing the shoes and the wig in a corner, he stood from the couch and walked to the kitchen to clean his face. Halfway through, he heard someone clear her throat.
"What the...?"
Footsteps clopped behind him, and Bobby whirled. It was Claire.
"Claire! I'm so glad to see ya! I mean, I was worried what with that gas and all-"
"Shut up, you whiny midget!"
Bobby jerked his head backward and looked at her funny.
"I've been here since 9:30 waiting for you! Where've you been?"
Hobbes furrowed his brow at her. "What're you talking about? We were backstage at 9:30..."
Claire's hand connected with his cheek in a roundhouse slap, the sound of flesh striking flesh resounding in the room. Hobbes could feel the side of his face warm and burn and saw that Claire's hand was brighter than a tomato.
"What was that for?" he touched the hand print gingerly. It was tingling.
"You're such an idiot, you know? Alex told me what you said that day you thought the EMP bomb was going to kill you. And I'll tell you one thing. I DON'T feel the same way. You annoy me, Robert. I can't stand it when you hang around my Lab and mess with my equipment. Leave me ALONE!"
Hobbes swallowed and blinked back tears. "Claire...?"
She turned heel and stomped out his door, leaving him to slump to the couch. "..."
A tear trickled down his cheek. "I was afraid of that," he said after a while, clearing his throat and standing up to leave. He needed to walk that off. Of course, he couldn't find any shoes.
*
Alex jerked up off the ground, dirt clinging to her arms and the backs of her legs. It looked like she was in a pit. Not knowing where or why, she cleared her throat.
"Hello?!?!"
The only answer she got was an echo. And...a hiss. Actually, a couple hundred hisses.
More meekly: "Hello?"
Something slithered under her knee. Alex jerked, squeaking and grabbing the offended appendage. The glistening hide of a snake greeted her widened eyes.
"Oh...God..." her voice quavered like willow branches in the wind. Another nudge slid past her foot, and she finally jumped up off the ground.
She was in a pit. A pit literally crawling with various types of snakes. Lightning shot overhead, and Alex got a clear look at it, the image slowly fading from her eyes. Hundreds of thousands of snakes. Alex was scared of few things, but this was her worst fear. She'd told no one, no even her closet friends. Not even the ones who called her 'Lexi.'
And right now, a Burmese Python was making its way up her leg, a meal in mind. Shivering in fear, Alex tried to get away but only earned a VERY sharp set of teeth embedded in her thigh. The python gnawed a few seconds, and she started to panic, he breath coming in short gasps, and adrenaline running through her system. She needed to calm done or she'd hyperventilate.
Then she remembered the hunting knife she had stowed in her boot. Laughing nervously, she slinked her hand past the still climbing snake, and yanked the knife out. In the moonlight, she could see the silver glint of the blade. Satisfied with which edge was the sharp, serrated one, Alex felt the snake nudge at her belt with its snout, and dug the knife in its flesh, twisting and slashing until the strong muscles on the reptile's underside released and fell from her leg.
She could tell she was covered with blood, but the thought most prevalent in her mind was to get the frell out. Lightning crackled again, and Alex saw the outline of a tree just two meters from her present spot. Swallowing her fear of Rattlesnakes nipping at her calves and Cobras spitting venom in her eyes, Alex sprinted to the tree and vaulted up it. Two pairs of fangs latched onto the heel of her boot, and on the way out of the pit, the creature was spirited away by a wayward tree branch.
Monroe collapsed on the moist ground and felt raindrops dot her back. She couldn't worry about that now, she had to keep going.
*
Darien had been walking down the hall for quite some time, hands jammed in his pockets and tarantula guts on his shoes. So far, it seemed like he'd gone past the same room fifty times in a row, and he was getting fed up. Darien didn't like dream-lands. Footsteps echoed around him, rubber soles hitting the floor at a running pace.
"Hello?"
A face rounded on of the corners and an arm grabbed his as its owner streaked past.
"Hey!"
"No time to argue, Darien! We have to get away now!"
Darien looked across his own arm to see someone he never expected. "KEVIN??"
Well, this was a dream-world.
"Who do you think I am?? Come on, they're right behind me!"
A guy in a ski mask wielding an uzi appeared ahead of them, and Darien couldn't help himself.
"Aw crap," he glanced at Kevin as he said the same.
Darien didn't want to see this over again. He'd seen it too many times in nightmares. Too late. He felt his shoulder give and his ankles buckle as Kevin forcefully shoved him into an alcove.
"NO! KEVIN!!!"
Ten shots rang out in rapid-fire, and Kevin jerked with the impacts. Darien felt tears welling up like twin Olympic sized pools in his eyes and screamed. Not again, not again, not AGAIN!
The floor resounded in thumps as he found himself racing toward that man in black. This time around, his death wouldn't be so quick. Darien quicksilvered and slammed full-force into the attacker. He pummeled him with his fists until both ski mask boy AND Darien's knuckles were battered and bloodied. He paused to huff and puff to catch his breath and heard something.
"...please...stop...I...I wasn't...aiming...for...him..."
Darien's shield fell and his face hardened. "YOU KILLED HIM!"
Spittle splattered on the ski mask and Darien felt a vein throb in his neck. Idly he wondered if that was the one Claire that always stuck. No frightened whimper came from his attacker, and Darien assumed he had either fainted or gone unconscious. Taking in a shaky breath, he stood and ran back to Kevin's convulsing body.
"D-D-Darien..."
He knelt by his dying brother and cradled him. "Jeez, Kev..."
"Go...on w-w-w-ithout me..."
A tear fell from Darien's eye and plopped to his brother's bloodied lab coat, mixing and swirling with the body fluid that drained from Kevin by the liter. He couldn't say anything. All he could do was hug his brother one last time, feel the last shuddering breath release from Kevin, lift his head and...
Scream. He screamed until he was hoarse, rocking back and forth, tears running steadily down his cheeks, and a torn soul inside. He lived through the dream one time too many. He couldn't go through it again. And it was only making his anger toward Arnaud stronger. Swallowing with difficulty, Darien gently set his brother's corpse on the cold floor and stood, a look of revenge plastered on his face.
"Whoever is doing this to me...he's dead..."
*
Claire yawned. Suffice it to say, she was bored with walking. Bored with the road. Bored with...not having company. She really wanted to tell Darien about her fear of clowns. He'd understand her, being scared of spiders and all. Hobbes was probably fearless. And Alex...she was just "Alex." But Darien could understand her- being so caring...
Claire smiled and let her clasped hands knock against the folds of her intentionally ripped skirt. She felt like an idiot in her costume, but the looks she got in it were worth it. Her eyes fell back to the paved road, and she didn't notice the stranger coming toward her in his car.
"Hey!"
Claire looked up and felt her heart go numb. It was that man...from when she was just a little girl who's mother thought she was old enough to walk to school on her own. He tried to kidnap her.
"I was talking to you!"
Claire picked up her pace, and the car followed.
"Why don't you get in the car. Your friend's been hurt."
She didn't stop, and the car started to go faster. She nearly leapt out of her skin when the car stopped and the man hopped out of it, slamming the door.
"I SAID, c'mere!"
He grabbed Claire's arm just as he had when she was a little girl, and she screamed.
"DARIEN! HELP ME!"
The man was unfazed and tried to force her into his car. Claire jerked her arm away and broke into a sprint- painful because her feet already ached, and her shoes weren't being kind. Out of the blue, a flash of light appeared behind her, and Claire heard Darien calling.
"Claire! What's going- oof!"
She looked back to see that her attempted kidnapper had knocked Darien off his feet. She also noticed the blood covering Darien's costume and knuckles.
"You REALLY don't want to fight me!"
The attacker just growled and earned himself an uppercut in his sternum. Wind lost, he fell over and gave Darien the chance to stand.
"Claire?"
She whimpered in affirmation.
"Run."
She nodded and ran away, not daring to look back at what Darien was going to do to that evil man.
*
Hobbes had gotten out of his apartment and was walking around San Diego in bare feet. Well, socks too. For some reason, the blow up Claire had about him didn't seem real. As a matter of fact, it didn't seem like her. What she said was entirely out of character to her and Hobbes assumed that this wasn't real. But he always remembered what the word "assume" pointed out. It makes an ___ outta u and me. He chuckled to himself and kicked a stone, regretting it as he stubbed a toe. For some reason, as he rolled back and forth on the curb, crying like a baby over a bruised appendage, a phone rang nearby. Confused, Hobbes stood and limped over to the ringing pay phone, picking the receiver up.
"Hello?"
There came no answer, but a pit suddenly revealed itself under his feet. There seemed to be no end to it, and to his horror, Hobbes was falling through it. Luckily, his hand still gripped the phone, and the cord was strong enough to keep him from falling to his death. Hobbes HATED- absolutely abhorred falling. Grateful of those days at the gym, Hobbes proceeded to yank himself upward with both hands, every so often, the cord would make a nasty snapping sound, and he'd drop down a centimeter. Finally making it back up, he stood to the side of the phone and sneered at it.
"You started it...” grumble mumble.
As a flash of light shown behind him, Hobbes slammed one curled fist into the numbers 4, 5, 6, and 7. He regret it like he did the rock and sucked on his knuckles as he turned around.
"Jeez, Hobbes. Telemarketer?" Darien asked, humor in his eyes. Bobby looked him over and saw bloodied knuckles, a torn costume, and sanguine spotting the untorn spots.
"Jeez yourself. What'd you see? War?"
Darien snorted humorlessly and nodded to Hobbes' surprise. Claire stepped out from behind Darien, nursing a throbbing foot. When Hobbes saw her, his face softened and drooped into the puppy-dog look he'd picked up from Darien.
"Hey Claire."
She looked up at him and smiled when she didn't see the clown costume. "Hey Bobby! What've they put you through?"
He sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets. "I'd rather not say."
"Darien?"
"Spiders and Kevin. What about you? I mean, besides that kidnapper."
Claire looked uncomfortable but wrestled up enough courage to voice her fear. "A...clown."
Hobbes slapped his own forehead (still painted mind you). "Claire, why didn't you tell me?! I wouldn'ta dressed up like that if you were scared!"
Claire blushed. "Bobby, Halloween is all ABOUT being scared. It would have defeated the purpose."
"Oh."
Hobbes was slightly irked by how Claire was hanging on Darien's arm.
"So, where's Alex?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.
"We were hoping you'd-"
Another flash of light interrupted Darien, and all three turned to see Alex running like her rear was on fire from another person.
"-know."
Feeling the need to help, Hobbes brought his elbow across Alex's pursuers chest. He fell to the concrete with an "oof" and stayed there, Hobbes' Hanes-socked foot resting on his chest. It was an exact duplicate of Darien.
"Fawkes?"
"Hey, I go invisible. But I don't clone myself."
Claire knelt by Hobbes' knee and lifted the lid on Darien #2's left eye. It was completely maroon. "He's gone quicksilvermad..."
Alex was hiding behind the real Darien's back, grabbing onto the orange jumpsuit like it helped her to know this was the real one. "Good. Gravy. Darien, I'm so glad you don't go nuts that often."
"Yeah, so am I," he shook his head. "Alex, you're scared of my when I've gone redeye?"
She hastily let go of the jumpsuit and stood closer to Hobbes. "I'm not answering that," she said with her arms crossed over her black shirt and legs braced in a defensive stance. Then Claire shrieked.
"Alex! What happened to you leg?"
The CTS specialist looked down at her thigh and reviewed the teeth marks etched into her skin. "Oog...forgot about that."
"Looks like a snake bite," Hobbes observed.
"Oh...bum. Do you know what kind?"
"It was big, mottled, and it tried to suffocate my leg."
"Python, sounds like," Hobbes pursed his lips.
"Oh. You'll be fine. Nothing to worry about," Claire waved a hand in the air to dismiss thoughts of Alex writhing on the floor in pain as venom slowly ate away at her nervous system. Drat. Claire mentally snapped her fingers.
"So, anyone got any ideas how to get out of this place?" Alex asked, rolling her neck.
Way to go, Monroe. We gotta keep on task to get through this. Hobbes thought.
Maybe if we use her to scare open a portal like the one Darien and I went through, we can leave this place and I can go home to cuddle with Pavlov. Claire said to herself, a hand rubbing her chin.
Do I have shrimp in my teeth? Darien picked at between his two front teeth with a fingernail and spat on the ground, eliciting weird looks from Monroe and Claire.
"Anyway...I was thinking we could search for another portal or something. Darien, do you think if you quicksilver your eyes you might be able to see one?" Claire asked and pretended to ignore what he had done earlier.
He pursed his lips and nodded. "Think so."
All three stood around and waited as he quicksilvered his eyes, leaving black holes where once chestnut orbs floated. "There's light around the corner of this apartment..."
He started walking in that direction, feeling Claire's hand tugging on the edge of his jumpsuit. A smirk drew itself out on his face and he cleared his throat. "Y'know, it'd be pretty funny if all we had to do was pinch ourselves."
That got a gasp of realization from Claire, and two groans of exasperation form Hobbes and Alex. Claire let go of his costume and pinched herself with her free hand, whereupon vanishing.
"...Woah..." Monroe blinked at the spot Claire had been a nanosecond ago. Darien hummed to himself and pinched his own arm, leaving the dream-world as well. Shrugging at each other, Hobbes and Alex did the same.
*
Claire bolted up off the floor and realized the fluid in her inner ear was unbalanced, as she became dizzy. She glanced over at the others and saw something odd. Alex had teeth marks in her thigh, and Darien's hands were torn up. "Oh...bum...” Inwardly, despite the dizziness, she smiled. Now she had her own catch phrase! Like Darien always said "Aw crap," and Hobbes with his "my friend...” Sitting up further, Claire now saw the pistol shoved almost up her nose.
"How'd you get out?" It was a member of Quoth the Raven, his hair holding an impression of gas mask straps.
"I pinched myself, what else?"
He cursed but didn't drop the gun. "What about-"
"The others?" Darien finished for him, a gun from one of the other band members in his right hand and stuck in the back of the man's neck. A loud click resounded, and gas mask hair's face went alabaster. "Right here."
"I know exactly what you did," Claire said as soon as the gun removed itself from her nostril. "You used a home made gas that stimulated the production of melatonin in the pineal gland, and mixed with it were a few various experimental drugs that are used to create quite realistic hallucinations in the person it has been administered to, subsequently-"
"He gets it, Claire!" Alex frowned, holding up another band member.
Claire cleared her throat and vaguely heard Hobbes mumble something about Phase one.
"So what're you going to do about it?" he growled.
Claire took the 44 magnum from Darien and held it by the muzzle. "This."
Using her whole arm, Claire brought the butt of the gun down on his skull, a loud thump surrounding the backstage and his body melting into the floor. With a self-satisfied smirk, Claire handed the 44 mag back and brushed her hands on her purposefully ruined skirt.
"Happy Halloween!" she said to his unconscious body with a wave and a boot heel brought down on his guitar hand. Then they ran around pinching other people.
*
(Pointless weirdness:)
Hobbes pursed his lips at the door to The Official's office, it was the fifth time he'd tried to open it, and still it wouldn't budge. He was tempted to run to the Lab and get Darien to force it open with a pen, but after another try, it jerked open.
"Sir, what's the big-"
He stopped walking forward and balanced slowly on his tiptoes as he surveyed the room. Fake spider webs were everywhere, overturned bowls with about three kernels of candy corn underneath them, a little motion sensor that was making spooky sounds, and a bunch of haunted house stuff lying around. Not to mention the eyeball punch.
And in the corner of the room sat Eberts, eyes shut, mouth open and snoring, and a little kid dressed up like Darth Vader sitting in his lap. The scariest part of that picture was the fact that Eberts was dressed like Captain Kirk. And as his eyes wandered to the left, the Fatman sat in a chair, three little kids dressed like a Smurf, an M&M, and a fairy princess were sleeping. A couple of the kids had chocolate smeared across their faces. Hobbes couldn't hold it in any longer and ran upstairs to Monroe's office.
He yanked the door open before she could protest, grabbed her hand and sprinted back down to the scene in room 201. Yup, it was still there. Alex couldn't hold her laughter and allowed the room to resound with hick chuckles and the occasional snort. For some reason, Hobbes found this sexy.
Her laughter brought Eberts and The Official out of their brief coma and the children in their laps stirred. Sugar-high mode was just about to kick in. Their eyes opened lazily, still slightly glazed with Halloween fun, and little yawns drew their mouths open wide. Alex noted between her gasps for air that they were beginning to get the "look" in their eyes. The ones that said: "In less that three nanoseconds we're going to bust into hyperactive childness and the like."
Needless to say, both agents escaped with their sanity somewhat intact and locked the door behind them, trapping two very groggy desk jockeys.
*
"I wonder who those kids were," Hobbes mumbled, patting Alex on the back so she would start breathing again.
"Same *cough* here."
They both leaned against the wall outside the lab doors and listened to Claire and Darien goof off to the radio.
"Seriously. They are a cute couple."
Hobbes felt his face sour. Everyone- even Claire- knew that he was in love with her. And he felt so exposed because of it. "Eh..."
Alex's half natural, half-drawn in eyebrows raised. "Was that just me or did I hear you go 'eh?'"
"I went 'eh.' I just feel...I dunno," he threw his hands up and felt an unexpected peck on his cheek. He nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Don't let it get to you, Bobby."
He just stared at her retreating form. "She was playing me. I know it."
*
Darien closed the door to his apartment and threw his keys next to Darien the Rat's cage. Claire had bandaged his knuckles up, but that still didn't help the itching that was going on. It was driving him bananas. Speaking of bananas, Darien was hungry. He shucked his jacket and shoes in a pile next to the door and waltzed over to the Zippy Cola fridge, pulling out a banana. He peeled it with a stupid look on his face, neck bebopping to the song going 'round his brain. He scanned his living "room" absently looking for anything he forgot when his eyes fell on the rather thick book resting precariously on it's spine, a page flapping in the breeze from a fan he had running. Throwing the banana peel in the trash, Darien grabbed the book and held the page open, his finger resting on a title.
Dream-Land
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From a ultimate dim Thule-
From a wild weird clime that lieth sublime,
Out of SPACE- out of TIME.
Darien skipped ahead and his eyes caught another line.
-Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy,-
There the traveler meets, aghast,
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by-
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.
He set the book down and read the spine: Poe: Poetry and Tales. He smiled and remembered what he'd been reading earlier and sat on his couch, reopening the book.
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore- while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door..."
The End!
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