She hadn't gotten the cure.
There was no cure, not even a glimmer of hope of a cure. Arnaud's computer held the only hope and it was gone, blown up by C4 hidden inside.
There was no cure.
Darien sat in his apartment, numb to the knowledge that he was going to die sooner now rather than later. It was the one thing he'd been afraid of since Kevin had put the gland in his head and the madness had set in. He always feared and secretly knew that the madness would kill him someday. That day seemed suddenly closer now.
Darien looked down at his tattoo. Half red and half green. That's the best Claire could do now. He could feel the madness building at the back of his brain and he thought fleetingly he could feel his very life force slipping out of his body. He hauled his tired body off the couch and into the kitchen. There was only one way he could handle slowly dying and that was by dulling the sensation with alcohol. He retrieved the mostly full bottle of Jim Beam from the cabinet, decided to forgo the glasses, and went to collapse back onto the couch and into an alcohol induced stupor.
*******************
He was face to face with himself but he wasn't himself. He was looking at a silver-eyed stage five madness Darien Fawkes. He tried to run from the other image but he couldn't move. The other Darien moved toward him.
"I'm coming for you." Silver-eyed Darien whispered. He held up his wrist; the tattoo was all red. "Not much longer now…" He reached his hand out and started knocking on normal Darien's forehead but the knocking sounded louder than it should.
"Fawkes! Open up!" Bobby Hobbes's voice boomed through the door as he continued to pound on the door. Darien groaned in his half-conscious state and turned on the couch to get away from the loud noise. His abrupt movement caused the now empty and bone-dry Jim Beam bottle to fall onto the floor with yet another unpleasantly loud noise. "I heard that. I know you're in there Fawkes so just drag your lazy ass out of the bed or off the couch and open the damned door!"
"Go 'way…lea' me 'lone!" Darien managed to cry out as he buried his head back in the pillow. The pounding stopped. He thought momentarily that his partner had actually obeyed his wished and had left him alone until he heard keys rattling in the door. Darien groped around until he found a blanket and brought it up over his head as Bobby turned on every light in the studio apartment.
"Up and Adam, Fawkesy. Time to crawl outta that bottle and back to work." Bobby jerked the blanket off his severely hung over and partially unconscious partner. Darien answered with an indistinguishable curse and attempted to bury himself farther into the couch. "Okay, we tried the easy way. Now, for the Bobby Hobbes way."
Darien never knew what hit him until the cold water from the shower began pelting him like ice bullets. He hurled every four-letter word he could at his partner but the water didn't stop and didn't get any warmer. He sat in the shower until he realized he was alone in the bathroom. He was painfully conscious so why not make use of the shower.
Ten minutes later, Darien emerged from the shower clean and slightly more sober. He grabbed a pair of jeans left in the bathroom for him along with a plain white t-shirt. Bobby had begun brewing coffee after tossing a nearly unconscious Darien in the shower and handed Darien a cup of coffee when he emerged from the bathroom.
"How ya feelin' partner?" Bobby sipped at his own coffee.
"Go to hell."
"That's the thanks I get for pulling you outta that self pickling bottle?" Silence. "Look, Fawkes, I know you're going through hell here…"
"You have no idea what I'm going through or do you have a gland in your brain that's slowly poisoning you that I don't know about?" Darien's voice was deadly calm.
"Okay so I don't know what you're going through but I do know the answer ain't in that bottle. Claire's workin' round the clock…"
"On something she has no idea how to fix. Spare me the pep talk Hobbes. Why are you here?" Darien sat the mug down. The coffee didn't taste right but after his drinking tirade last night nothing would taste right for a while.
"To bring you back to the Agency or have you forgotten that you still work for them?" Bobby would be damned if he sat by and let his best friend give up.
"What's the point? I worked for them because I needed the counteragent. Well, last time I checked, the counteragent wasn't working so I don't need them anymore." Darien made a move toward the couch.
"Givin' up all ready then. Figures."
"What?"
"Figures. You givin' up without even puttin' up a fight."
"Hey I'm fightin' for my life here man…"
"Oh yeah? Then why have you been holed up here drinking yourself into an early grave since you found out Claire didn't get the cure? Why haven't you been out there, looking for Arnaud and his cure? Because you're a coward. You're too scared to let Claire try her new counteragent booster on you. Might ruin your plan to die such a tragic death."
Darien was getting pissed. Bobby knew exactly what reaction he was provoking and it was exactly the one he was looking for. Darien turned and looked at his partner and then was out the door. He knew Bobby was telling the truth and it pissed him off. Darien beat the other man to the van by mere seconds.