Title: Me, Myself, and Darien Fawkes
Author: liz_Z
E-mail:
liz_Z@secret-agent.com
Category: Action/Adventure
Spoilers: Big ones for
'TOIM' and 'Brother's Keeper'. Spoilers for every episode Arnaud has been
in, to some degree. Probably small ones for other episodes as well, but I
haven't noticed them as much.
Season/Sequel info: Takes place in the second
season, after 'Brother's Keeper' but before 'Flash To Bang'.
Rating:
PG
Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were then believe me, I'd know
it. And don't sue me, I'm flat broke. All I've got right now in the
way of money is a handful of pennies, and not a very big handful at
that.
Author's notes: Man, Arnaud just won't leave me alone! I'm gonna
have to do something about him. He's always trying to worm his way into my
plot bunnies... and he succeeds a lot of the time...
"So where is this guy, anyway?" Darien asked, looking around
the dark alley he was standing in and then glancing nervously over at
Hobbes.
Hobbes sighed. "Be patient Fawkes, he'll be here. You don't
need to ask every five minutes."
Darien rubbed the back of his neck, something that had become a nervous
habit for him over the past year or so. "You said he was supposed to be
here at nine o'clock. What time is it now?"
Hobbes glanced at his watch. "Eight fifty-six. He'll be here,
don't worry." Darien looked around the alleyway again, a deep frown on his
face. Something about this meeting didn't feel right. In his
opinion, the whole meeting a complete stranger in a dark alley thing was very
cliché. Of course, this guy had said he had information on Arnaud's
whereabouts and was willing to give it to them if he was placed in the witness
protection program, and Darien was all for finding out where Arnaud was hiding
these days. But still, something about this just didn't feel right.
A few minutes later, footsteps rang out in the alleyway and a lone figure
stepped into view, his features softly illuminated by the lights from the street
that the alley opened up on. Hobbes checked his watch. "Nine
o'clock. Right on time." He walked down the alley toward the man.
Darien followed, a wary expression on his face. He wasn't about to let his
guard down until this meeting was over.
"Hello gentlemen," the man standing in the lamplight said, "I'm here to
deal."
Hobbes frowned. "What's the password?"
The man sighed, rolled his eyes, and said, "Mary had a little lamb, its
fur was soft and cozy. And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to
mosey."
Hobbes nodded in approval. He extended his right hand, saying, "I'm
Agent Hobbes, this is Agent Fawkes."
The man took Hobbes' hand, shaking it firmly. "And I'm Matthew
Zondervan. But let's skip the pleasantries, shall we? Do we have a
deal?"
Darien crossed his arms, giving Zondervan a stern look. "You tell
us where Arnaud is, and if we believe you then we'll have a deal."
Hobbes shot Darien a quick glare. "Mr. Zondervan, please excuse my
partner, he's a little inexperienced when it comes to this sort of thing."
Zondervan smiled understandingly. "Don't worry, that's not a
problem." Just then, Darien heard a sound in the alley. Zondervan
continued speaking, but Darien paid him no mind. He looked back into the
alley, but saw nothing. He quicksilvered his eyes just in case, but
although he caught a faint glimmer of moonlight shining on a trashcan, he didn't
see any sign of trouble. Still, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that
something was wrong here. He just wasn't sure what it was yet.
Darien was about to dismiss the sound as nothing when he heard it again,
closer. And this time his quicksilvered eyes caught a glimmer of
movement. He allowed his eyes to reappear and turned to Hobbes. "I'm
just gonna check something out real quick, okay Hobbes?" Hobbes nodded
impatiently, while Zondervan just raised an eyebrow. Darien shook his head
and walked off toward where he'd heard the sound coming from.
Quicksilvering his eyes again so he could see better in the dark, he
looked around the alley. He still couldn't see anything unusual...
Then he saw a pink glow out of the corner of his eye. He tried to let out
a warning yell to let Hobbes know about the danger, but he was cut off when
something struck him hard on the back of his head and he fell to the ground,
unconscious.
**********
Hobbes watched as Darien
walked off into the alley and then turned back to Zondervan. "Look.
We can guarantee you protection, but you might have to wait a few days while the
people at the Witness Protection program get everything straight."
Zondervan shook his head. "Look, I need protection, and I need it
now."
"We can assign some men to guard you, but-"
Zondervan shook his head again and interrupted Hobbes. "Come on,
this is Arnaud we're talking about. Do you think a couple of men are going
to be enough?"
Before Hobbes could answer he heard a loud yell coming from the direction
of the alley. It was cut off abruptly, as if the person who'd been trying
to yell had been knocked unconscious. Hobbes' stomach immediately leapt to
his throat. "Fawkes?" He yelled anxiously, turning toward the alleyway and
drawing his gun. As if in response, the sound of a gunshot rang out
through the night. Zondervan slumped to the ground, a bullet-hole right in
the middle of his forehead.
Hobbes took cover behind a nearby car, but no more shots were
fired. After a few minutes he cautiously walked out into the open, and
then went looking for Darien. He walked into the alley, looking around
worriedly. Darien was nowhere to be seen, but his car keys were lying in
the middle of the alley. Hobbes picked them up, looking around him.
"Fawkes?" He was dismayed, but not at all surprised, when he received
absolutely no answer.
**********
The first thing
Darien noticed when he started to wake up was a couple of voices talking quietly
nearby, a man and a woman. Slowly the fog lifted from his brain, and
eventually he was able to distinguish what they were saying.
"Is the shot ready?" the man asked. Darien was positive that the
man was Arnaud; the accent was unmistakable.
"Almost," the woman said in a slightly exasperated tone. Darien
thought she was Doctor Rendell, although he wasn't as sure as he had been about
Arnaud. After a moment the woman said, "Done."
"Alright then," Arnaud said, "Let's inject him." Immediately,
Darien felt panic rise up within him as he realized they were probably talking
about him. He didn't know what they were talking about with all this
injection crap, but he wasn't in the mood to find out. His eyes flew open
and he jerked upwards, trying to get away. However, he immediately began
to feel dizzy as if his head was spinning, and he fell right off of the hospital
bed he'd apparently been laying on moments earlier. He gasped as his head
connected solidly with the floor.
Arnaud whirled around, a frown on his face. "He wasn't supposed to
wake up yet!" he yelled angrily, running over and slamming Darien against the
floor. Darien groaned; he already had the mother of all headaches, and
having his head slammed against the floor wasn't helping any.
"Get offa me," He snarled, trying to break free of Arnaud's grasp.
"Quick!" Arnaud yelled as he struggled to hold Darien down on the
ground, "Inject him!" Moments later Darien felt a needle pierce the skin
on the back of his neck and burrow its way inside his skull. He didn't
dare struggle then; he was afraid he'd break the needle off while it was inside
his head, and he really didn't want to find out what that would feel like.
A few moments later the needle was pulled back out and Darien renewed his
struggle, managing to flip himself over so that he was facing the ceiling
instead of the floor. He could see Doctor Rendell placing a now empty
needle into a nearby sharps container.
Before he could think any more a sharp pain exploded in the back of his
skull. It wasn't quicksilver madness, but it felt familiar all the
same. Darien gasped, writhing on the floor. Arnaud stood up quickly,
barely evading Darien's flailing limbs. Finally, once the pain passed,
Darien felt exhausted. Within seconds he had passed out, sagging to the
floor.
**********
Arnaud awoke suddenly, sitting up
from the floor with a start. The first thing he realized was he could see
himself again. He almost yelled with joy, but then he realized that he
seemed to be a lot taller than he used to be. He frowned for a moment, but
then he remembered why. He pulled himself to his feet and looked over at
the real Arnaud, who was standing across the room with Doctor Rendell.
"I see the procedure worked," he said with a smile on his face. He
turned to look in a nearby mirror. Just as he had expected, the face of
Darien Fawkes looked back at him.
The real Arnaud smiled as well. "Worked like a charm." He
leaned forward. "Now, let's get down to business, shall
we?"
**********
Darien awoke with a start, sitting up
on the ground in front of... his car? How had he gotten there? He
couldn't remember... He looked around and realized he was lying in the
Agency parking lot. Now that he thought about it, he could remember
driving into the parking lot earlier, in the morning. But he couldn't
remember driving away again, and the sun was just rising, which meant it was
morning again.
Darien shook his head blearily. He couldn't remember anything about
the night before. He and Hobbes had been going on a job of some kind and
they'd taken Hobbes' van when they left, he knew that much. But he
couldn't remember exactly what the job had been, and he couldn't remember much
of anything else after that at all. He couldn't help but wonder if he
hadn't stopped by a bar that night and gotten good and drunk. That would
account for the memory loss and the dull headache that was manifesting itself so
strongly.
Darien felt around in the pockets of his pants and jacket, looking for
his car keys, but they were nowhere to be found. He shook his head and
walked through the doors of the Agency. Maybe Hobbes could explain what
had happened last night- unless he'd gotten drunk and had a hangover too, which
would make the chances of Darien figuring out what had happened pretty much
zilch.
After a long walk down the Agency halls Darien came to a stop outside the
Official's office. He could hear loud yelling coming from inside.
One voice sounded like Hobbes, the other voice was the Official's, and the two
of them were in a very heated discussion. Darien walked into the office,
wincing at all the yelling that was going on, and said in a rather loud voice,
"Will everyone just shut up?"
Immediately the room fell silent. Hobbes whirled around and looked
at Darien, a completely shocked expression on his face. The Official had a
similar expression on his face, and Eberts, who was standing by the paper
shredder, was staring blankly at Darien with his mouth hanging open.
Darien
gave everyone a confused look. "What?"
Hobbes walked over to Darien, eyeing him nervously. Darien stared
back, raising his eyebrows at Hobbes' behavior. Hobbes reached out and
poked Darien in the chest with one finger, and then pulled back in surprise when
he actually made contact. He stared at Darien for a moment longer, and
then suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Darien up in a crushing embrace.
Darien coughed a little, trying to pull himself out of Hobbes'
arms. "Hobbes, I can't breathe."
Hobbes pulled back immediately, looking very embarrassed about what he
had just done. "Sorry Fawkes, I'm just glad to see ya."
Darien shook his head, which was hurting more and more with each second
that passed, and said, "I'm glad to see you too, but what in the world is going
on around here?"
Hobbes' expression turned solemn. "Fawkes... You've been
missing for three days."
Darien's mouth fell open in surprise. He'd been out of it for three
whole days? He shook his head in disbelief. "Aw
crap..."
*********
Claire looked at Darien's tattoo, a
deep frown on her face. "You have one more segment used up here than you
should," she said, looking down at Darien, who was sitting in his chair with his
legs dangling off on both sides.
Darien thought for a moment, trying to pierce the dense fog that was
still lurking in his brain, making it hard to think. After a minute he
looked up. "Well, I think I remember quicksilvering my eyes for some
reason."
Claire shook her head. "That still wouldn't be enough quicksilver
usage to explain this," she said, indicating Darien's tattoo, which had eight
red segments.
Darien sighed. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. I can't
remember anything about the past three days."
Hobbes, who had been standing nearby listening to the exchange, leaned
forward a little. "Not anything?"
Darien shook his head. "Nope, nothing." He rubbed the back of
his neck, wincing at his headache, which he no longer fully attributed to the
possibility of a hangover. He looked up at Claire, held out his wrist, and
said, "Can I have my shot? Please?"
Claire gave Darien a suspicious look. "I don't know..."
Darien looked up at her exasperatedly. "Come on, Keep! I'm
telling you, I have no idea where I've been the last few days. I feel like
I have a world-class hangover, and the fact that I need a shot isn't helping
any. Just give me my shot, please?"
Claire thought for a moment, and then nodded reluctantly. "All
right. But on one condition."
Darien's brow wrinkled with impatience. "What do I have to do?"
"Tell me anything you remember as soon as you remember it."
Darien nodded. "Sure." He held out his arm again. "Now
come on, give me my fix." Claire gave Darien his shot, ignoring the hiss
of pain Darien made as she injected the counteragent into his bloodstream.
Darien immediately felt a difference. For a moment his headache
flared up full strength, which caused him to hiss in pain just as much as the
usual pain that he always felt when he got a shot of counteragent. But
after a moment the pain receded and his head became suddenly much clearer.
It was still a little hard to think, but the headache itself was gone. He
smiled a little, looking over at Hobbes. "You know, Tylenol's got nothing
on this stuff."
Hobbes returned the smile, albeit rather half-heartedly. "I'll
remember that the next time I've got a headache."
Darien pulled himself up out of his chair. "So, what's on the
agenda for the day?"
Hobbes looked over at Darien solemnly. "The fat man gave us the day
off. Wanted to make sure you were doing okay."
Darien waved a hand dismissively as he walked out of the door to the
Keeper's lab. "I'm fine." Still, a part of him wondered just how fine he
was. He had the distinct feeling that something was wrong, that there was
something hewas supposed to be picking up on but wasn't. A shiver ran down
his spine as he stepped out into the hallway and headed toward the exit,
fingering his car keys, which Hobbes had returned to him earlier.
**********
Darien walked into his bedroom and dropped his jacket unceremoniously
down on the bed. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and headed over to
the shower, stripping off his clothes and turning on the showerhead. He
stepped under the water, shivering as the cold spray pounded relentlessly on his
chest. Then he leaned over and let the water drip down his hair, into his
eyes and mouth, and dribble off of his nose and chin in tiny waterfalls.
After a few minutes of this he turned around and let the water drip down
his back, closing his eyes and trying to remember what had happened to him in
the past three days. Most of it was shrouded in a thick fog, although he
got occasional flashes of memory. Nothing profound or particularly
important, mostly just droning voices, but it was better than nothing. Still, it
was nowhere near enough for his liking. He felt almost as if he'd been
abducted by aliens.
Darien shook his head; he'd have to tell Hobbes about that in the
morning. Darien Fawkes, alien abductee... If the aliens thought that
by studying him they'd be able to get a better idea of humanity in general they
were sorely mistaken. Of course, they might slow down their invasion if
they thought that every human being came complete with an invisibility gland in
his head and the potential to go insane and rip their flying saucers- as well as
the aliens themselves- to shreds.
Darien shook his head, laughing a little at the thought, and stepped out
of the shower, drying himself with a towel. Letting out a loud yawn, he
walked out into his bedroom, dropped his towel to the floor, and pulled on a
pair of boxer shorts. Then he climbed in bed, closed his eyes, and fell
asleep...
He began to dream, images flashing through his mind at lightning quick
speed. Kevin introducing Darien to Arnaud as a 'Swiss Doogie Howser',
Kevin dying, Darien seeing what he thought was Kevin standing in the doorway of
his aunt's room, Arnaud aiming his gun at Darien, smiling maliciously as he told
Darien that Kevin was indeed dead and the whole thing had been a ruse, Arnaud
holding an oxygen mask firmly to Darien's face, although the stuff coming out of
it was definitely not oxygen, Arnaud with his head shaved, ready to have his own
gland implanted while Darien looked on... and all in the strange black, white,
and gray hues of quicksilver vision.
**********
Arnaud
woke up slowly, relishing the fact that he could feel sheets on his body without
a thin sheath of quicksilver worming its way in between. He still hadn't
managed to get over the fact that he was visible, even though he was in the body
of his greatest enemy and technically wasn't even really himself at all.
The real Arnaud was back at his lab, continuing to try to solve the problem of
his invisibility.
After Arnaud had seen Kevin come back in Darien's body he'd gone to
extreme measures to find out how. Eventually he'd discovered the memory
RNA trick and decided to use it himself, but with a little twist. He'd
decided to inject his own RNA into Darien's head. So now, here Arnaud was,
trapped in Darien's body. Although, technically he wasn't really Arnaud at
all. More like a pseudo-Arnaud. That didn't matter, though; he still
felt like himself, he hadn't been corrupted by Darien's inferior way of
thinking. And now he could carry out his master plan.
Heaving a small sigh, Arnaud lifted himself from the bed. He looked
down at the boxer shorts Darien had put on, shaking his head in disgust.
He'd known Darien had bad taste, but black silk boxers with pink elephants on
them? Where had Darien gotten them, a flea market? Oh well, he'd
have to leave them on. Darien would be suspicious if he woke up in the
morning and they were missing.
After searching the entire contents of Darien's wardrobe, Arnaud finally
settled on an all-black outfit that Darien had no doubt used when committing his
burglaries. A few minutes later he managed to find a black ski mask, which
also seemed likely to be a leftover from Darien's criminal days, and pulled it
over his head, mashing Darien's thick hair down onto his head like it should
be. Arnaud shook his head again. He'd never understood why Darien
preferred to have his hair sticking up in the air like an ornery clump of
weeds.
Once he considered himself fully dressed, Arnaud glanced at himself in
the mirror. He looked like a criminal all right, and that was fine with
him. After all, if by some small chance he got caught, it wouldn't really
be him that would have to spend the rest of his life in jail or a padded
room.
He walked out of the bedroom, but first he stopped and fished Darien's
car keys out of his jacket, which was lying on the floor at the foot of the
bed. Once Arnaud found the keys he walked out of the apartment and headed
for Darien's car, whistling idly to himself. He unlocked the car, climbed
in, and drove off, headed for the
Agency.
**********
Later, Arnaud pulled up a block
away from the Agency. It would have been easier for him to pull up in the
parking lot, but he knew that he stood a chance of being 'recognized' if he did
that, and at this point in his plans he had no desire to be recognized in any
way, shape, or form. Later that might not be a problem, but now it was
essential that he not be discovered.
He walked the remaining block to the Agency building and, after making
sure that no one was watching, snuck into the parking lot. He took a deep
breath and, although it was the last thing he wanted to do, allowed the
quicksilver flow over his body. He shuddered at the feeling of the
quicksilver covering him, just like he remembered it doing for so many months
now. It was all he could do to keep from letting the quicksilver fall off
of him and rendering himself visible again.
He and the real Arnaud had spent three days training him to get proper
control over the quicksilver, using up a shot of counteragent in the
process. They had done their best to get the tattoo back to its proper
number of segments to lower suspicion, but Arnaud doubted that they'd gotten the
quicksilver back to the exact levels it should have been. Hopefully, not too big
a deal had been made out of it.
Forcefully bringing his thoughts back into the present, Arnaud entered
the Agency. He was not surprised to discover that security seemed to be
the same as it had been when he had masqueraded as Eberts a few months
ago. Nothing had changed, not even the guards. They were still as
sleepy and dull-witted as before. Arnaud shook his head, trying to keep
from laughing. This would be all too easy.
He walked down the hallways to the Keeper's lab, making sure he
remembered where it was located correctly. Once he was sure, he smiled to
himself. He knew Darien had a keycard, but he didn't need to get into the
lab- yet. He turned around, heading back out of the building.
Tomorrow night he would get what he had come for.
However, when he was about to round a corner, he smashed right into a
guard who had just rounded the corner. Both of them fell to the floor, the
quicksilver falling off of Arnaud as he landed. He scrambled to his feet,
swearing loudly, and continued running around the corner and out of the
building, leaving the guard lying on the ground wondering what in the world had
just happened.
Arnaud rushed to where he'd hidden Darien's car, clambering in and
starting it up as fast as possible. Only then did he realize that his
right arm was very sore. He rubbed it, wincing. Apparently he'd
fallen on it harder than he'd thought; he would probably have a very bad bruise
the next time he woke up. Things had not gone according to plan, Arnaud
thought with a frown. Darien would undoubtedly have a lot of questions to
face in the morning. But at this point, Arnaud didn't see any way around
it. He drove away, heading back toward Darien's
apartment.
**********
The next morning Darien woke up
with a very sore right arm. He wondered for a moment if he'd slept on it
wrong, but when he moved it he changed his mind rather quickly. Pain shot
up and down the limb, making Darien gasp. This was not your average
slept-on-it-wrong pain. Darien threw off the covers and looked down at his
arm; there was a big bruise on it that stretched from his shoulder almost down
to his elbow. He frowned. How in the world had that happened?
He didn't remember doing anything that would have caused it.
Then he looked further down his arm to his wrist- and the tattoo.
His eyes widened and he paled a little, holding his wrist up in front of his
face for closer inspection. His tattoo had four segments red. He
shook his head. "Aw crap, this is NOT
good..."
**********
"Darien Fawkes, what did you do
last night?" Claire demanded, crossing her arms and giving Darien an angry
glare.
Darien held up his hands, trying to think of a way to prove his
innocence. "I took a shower and went to bed. That's all, I
swear!"
Claire grabbed Darien's wrist and held it up angrily. "This says
otherwise."
Darien shook his head fervently. "Claire, I have no idea what's
going on here. I didn't use any quicksilver last night!"
Just then someone pounded loudly on the lab door. Claire walked
over and opened it, and Hobbes practically ran into the room. He looked
over at Darien and stopped, a confused look on his face. "Fawkes, what're
you doing here? I thought you got your shot yesterday?"
Darien nodded. "I did. But something happened last night and
I have three more segments red on my tattoo than I should." He held up his
wrist to prove the point.
Hobbes frowned. "You didn't come over here last night, did
you?"
Darien shook his head. "No."
"Well, someone did. A security guard walked right into him.
Tall guy, black suit and a ski mask. I was coming in here to make sure
nothing got stolen," Hobbes said, looking pointedly at Claire.
Claire shook her head. "Nope, everything's fine over here.
But I think I know who it was."
Darien looked at Claire curiously and was about to ask who she was
talking about, but then he realized what she was insinuating and began shaking
his head fervently. "No, it wasn't me! I already told you, I went
home, took a shower, and went to bed!"
Hobbes gave Darien a worried look. "You know Fawkes, you might've
done it without realizing it."
Darien looked angrily at Hobbes. "Come on Hobbes, don't you start
in on me too!" He looked over at Claire, who was crossing her arms and
tapping her foot, and then at Hobbes, who was still looking a little
worried. "I don't have to listen to this," he said, and walked out of the
lab door.
Hobbes sighed and sat down in the chair that was usually reserved
for Darien, looking up at Claire. "You know, I'm getting kind of worried
about Fawkes. He's been acting kind of weird since he got back."
Claire pulled up a chair and sat next to him, saying, "What do you think
is wrong?"
Hobbes shrugged slightly. "I dunno, maybe he got abducted by
aliens?" He smiled playfully to show he was joking, even though a part of
him refused to fully dismiss the idea that Darien had been abducted. Maybe
not by aliens, but it was quite possible that he had been taken by someone
else. There was certainly no shortage of people who wanted to get their
hands on Darien. The only question was, if they'd caught Darien, why had
they let him go?
Claire smiled. "Personally, I find the idea of him being abducted
by little green men from the planet Mars extremely unlikely." The twinkle
in her eye made it clear that she was playing along.
"You're right. This sounds more like something the Grays would do,"
Hobbes said, his smile spreading into a grin. But it disappeared as worry
and guilt set in once again. How could he be joking at a time like
this? Darien could be in serious trouble, and here he was joking about
aliens. He pulled himself to his feet. "Well, I'm gonna go check on
Fawkes, make sure he's okay."
Claire nodded. "That's probably a good idea. And Bobby?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you could drop by his apartment this evening?"
Hobbes nodded. "No problem. I was thinking about doing that
myself." With that he turned and walked out of the room, looking for
Darien. It took several minutes of searching up and down the halls, but
Hobbes finally found Darien leaning on a wall outside of the archives.
Darien straightened up as soon as he saw Hobbes coming down the hall, but
Hobbes held up his hands in a placating manner. "Hey Fawkes, don't go
getting spooked on me. I just wanna talk."
Darien gave Hobbes a suspicious look. "You're not going to accuse
me of breaking into the building again?"
Hobbes shook his head, feeling extremely disappointed in himself for even
thinking that Darien might have been involved in the break-in the night
before. "No, I... Look, I'm sorry about that. It's just- well,
you have to admit, there have been some pretty weird things going on
lately."
Darien laughed bitterly. "And it's all been happening to me."
Hobbes leaned up against the wall beside Darien, trying to think of a way
to offer Darien some support without scaring him off. "Look, I'm sorry
about the other day with Zondervan."
Darien looked over at Hobbes. "Zondervan? What's a
Zondervan?"
"Oh yeah, you don't remember him, do you?" Hobbes shook his
head. "I wish I could figure out what happened that night. You
just... disappeared."
Darien couldn't help but crack a smile at the double meaning of what
Hobbes had said. "Umm, Hobbes, I disappear a lot."
Hobbes laughed. "You have a point there." But, like before,
he wasn't able to keep his good humor for more than a few seconds before guilt
descended on him again. "I'm sorry, Fawkes."
Darien shook his head, giving Hobbes a bemused look. "For
what?" Hobbes just looked away. He couldn't bring himself to tell
Darien that he felt he'd bailed on his partner, just when Fawkes needed him the
most. He'd never been much for words, and he felt like if he said what he
was thinking Fawkes might agree with him and that would just be too much for him
to handle. Darien leaned closer to Hobbes, frowning. "Okay, what's
wrong?" Hobbes ran a hand over his face, trying to clear his head.
He was supposed to be checking if Darien was okay, not the other way around.
"Nothing's wrong with me," Hobbes said, giving Darien a look that pretty
much said 'everything's fine, now shut up and leave me alone'.
Darien shrugged and backed off. "Okay, fine. Just
checking." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward, and
said, "So, what's the job?"
Hobbes frowned. "Huh?"
"The job. It's Wednesday, isn't it?" Darien paused for a
moment and then realized his mistake. "Oh yeah, I forgot I lost three
days. It's Saturday, isn't it?" Hobbes nodded, smiling a little in
spite of himself. Darien grinned and stuffed his hands into his
pockets. "Maybe losing three days isn't all bad. I didn't have to
work."
"Lucky you. I spent those three days running around all of San
Diego throwing powdered sugar in the air," Hobbes deadpanned. Darien
laughed, and the two of them walked down the halls talking, any earlier traces
of animosity forgotten.
**********
That night Arnaud
went back to the Agency, once again dressed in Darien's black thief
outfit. Tonight was the night, he thought, absently rubbing his sore
arm. Security would probably have stepped up their watch a bit, since
someone had broken in recently, but he still wasn't worried. The Agency
wasn't too much to worry about in the security department, and even with an
invisible man on their staff they hadn't thought to install any kind of thermal
sensors.
Arnaud was fully equipped this time, carrying a duffle bag that had some
things he would need, but also with plenty of room for him to fit other things
inside it. He glanced at the tattoo on his wrist; there were six segments
green. He'd have plenty of time to get in and out, if he was just careful
to use the quicksilver sparingly.
He quicksilvered, finding it somewhat easier on his nerves this time than
the last time. Still, he wasn't very comfortable with it. If it
could have been avoided, he would have done so willingly. But there was no
way around it that he could see, so he straightened his shoulders and tapped
quietly on the Agency's front door. A guard stepped out, confused as to
how he'd heard a knock when there was obviously no one there. When he
walked back in he was stupid enough to leave the door to swing shut behind him,
giving Arnaud the perfect opportunity to slip inside.
Arnaud quickly made his way down to the Keeper's lab and, using Darien's
keycard, entered. Once he was in he reappeared and began to place any
files and folders he found into his duffle bag. He also set up a hacking
program on Claire's computer. After that, he quicksilvered again and
headed down to the archives. Once there, he de-quicksilvered again and
began to place any folders he found that had to do with quicksilver or the gland
into his duffle bag.
Suddenly the door to the archives swung open and Hobbes walked in, a
disappointed look on his face. "Fawkes, what do you think you're
doing?" Arnaud didn't even bother trying to make an excuse. He
charged at Hobbes, pushing the shorter man to the floor. Hobbes was too
surprised to fight back as Arnaud slammed his head against a nearby file
cabinet, rendering him unconscious. Then Arnaud finished grabbing the
files and allowed the quicksilver to flow over him again, walking out of the
room.
He made a quick stop at the Keeper's lab, not even bothering to
de-quicksilver as he grabbed the disk that held the data it had gotten off of
Claire's computer. Then he headed out of the Agency building, walking to
Darien's car, which he had once again parked a block away from the
building. He reappeared in front of the car, a smug smile in his
face. He'd managed to pull off the robbery, even with the mistake he'd
made the night before. He placed the duffle bag in the trunk of the car
and then walked over to a nearby payphone.
Lifting the phone up and holding it to his ear, he dialed a number.
On the second ring, it was picked up. Arnaud- the real Arnaud-
answered. "Yes?"
"I have it," the pseudo-Arnaud said, his smile growing
wider.
"Good," Arnaud said. It was obvious from the tone of his voice that
he was absolutely thrilled with the information.
"I'll meet you at the summer house in an hour and make the
delivery." The pseudo-Arnaud glanced down at his tattoo and frowned.
"Oh, and be sure to bring some counteragent with you. I've got eight
segments red."
"Very well," the real Arnaud said, "The summer house it is then."
Then he hung up the phone, leaving the pseudo-Arnaud to wonder why his
flesh-and-blood counterpart had said nothing about bringing any counteragent.
**********
Hobbes gradually floated back to consciousness. He tried to move,
but instantly became very aware of the headache he seemed to have developed from
being slammed into that file cabinet. He opened his eyes and sat up
slowly, gingerly feeling the back of his head. Sure enough, he was
developing a very nice bump. He pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his
head and wondering what in the world Darien was up to this time.
Hobbes had gone to pay Darien a visit earlier in the evening, and had
arrived just in time to see Darien driving away wearing his old thief outfit and
carrying a duffle bag, something that made Hobbes immediately suspicious.
He'd very carefully tailed Darien all the way to the Agency, and had quickly
realized what was going on. After that, it was just a matter of finding
out where in the building Darien was.
Hobbes had searched the Official's office first, but when Darien wasn't
there he'd headed down to the archives. Sure enough, Darien had been
there, stuffing files into that duffle like his life depended on it. After
that, things were a little fuzzy in Hobbes' memory, but he distinctly remembered
Darien attacking him. Why, Hobbes wasn't sure; Darien's eyes hadn't been
red, so he wasn't quicksilver mad. But he wasn't acting normally,
either.
Hobbes looked around at the chaotic state the archives were in and shook
his head slowly. Neither the Official nor Eberts was going to be very
thrilled about this. He turned and walked out of the archives, looking for
the nearest phone. He hated to finger Darien as the person behind all
this, but it was the only thing he could think to do under the
circumstances. First he was going to call the Official, and then he was
going to call Claire. He had the feeling that he was probably going to get
a lecture from both of them.
**********
Arnaud De Fohn
stood outside of his old summerhouse that the Agency had uncovered some time
ago, waiting impatiently for the person he'd once thought of as Darien Fawkes
and now thought of as Arnaud De Fake to show up with the files he'd stolen from
the Agency. He knew there was a slight chance that the Agency was still
watching this place, but he doubted it very highly. He hadn't come
anywhere near it since the Agency discovered it all those months ago, and with
the Agency's limited resources they'd probably stopped observing it a long time
ago.
Finally, a car that Arnaud recognized as belonging to Darien pulled up
about a hundred feet away from him. De Fake stepped out, carrying a duffle
bag. Everything was going according to plan. Arnaud walked up to De
Fake, a friendly smile on his face. "Ahh, right on time. Thank you
for getting what I needed." He reached for the duffle, but De Fake pulled
it away, keeping it out of Arnaud's reach.
"Do you have the counteragent?" he asked, giving Arnaud a suspicious
look.
"I have the solution to your problem right here," Arnaud answered,
patting a small bag he had in his right hand.
"Show me first," De Fake said, if anything even more suspicious than
before.
Arnaud frowned. "Show me the papers, and I'll give you the solution
to your problem."
De Fake laughed. "There's no way I'm giving you the papers
now. That's not counteragent you have in that bag, is it?"
Arnaud frowned. "Very well then, we'll do this the hard way."
He pulled out what he'd been hiding in the bag- a gun. He aimed it at De
Fake and smiled nastily. "I guess I underestimated you."
De Fake nodded. "I am you, remember. I know how you
think."
Arnaud sighed. "And, since you're me, I doubt very highly that the
quicksilver files are in that duffle."
De Fake smiled and cocked his head to the left, dropping the duffle to
the ground. It spilled open, revealing nothing but a bunch of packing
peanuts. "We know each other so well."
Arnaud decided to dispense with the formalities; De Fake was proving to
be much more irritating than he'd expected. "Where are the files?" he
asked tersely, walking up to De Fake and aiming the gun at his chest.
"I left them at Fawkes' apartment," De Fake said, eyeing the gun
nonchalantly.
"WHAT?" Arnaud yelled, unable to believe his ears. "Are you
insane? They're sure to be discovered there!"
"Well, we could always go and get them," De Fake said, inclining his head
toward Darien's car.
Arnaud just glared at De Fake for a moment, and then motioned toward
Darien's car. "All right. Get in. But if you try anything I
won't hesitate to put a bullet through your skull."
"I know," De Fake said, obediently climbing into the driver's side of the
car. Arnaud walked around and climbed into the passenger's side, making
sure that he kept his gun aimed squarely at De Fake's chest the whole
time. De Fake started up the car and drove away, heading back toward
Darien's apartment.
**********
Arnaud and the
pseudo-Arnaud pulled up in front of Darien's apartment building. The
pseudo-Arnaud got out first, closely followed by the real Arnaud, who still kept
his gun aimed directly at the pseudo-Arnaud, although he had it hidden
underneath his coat just in case they were seen. The pseudo-Arnaud walked
into the building, followed closely by his flesh-and-blood counterpart.
Before long they were standing at the door to Darien's apartment.
Arnaud motioned for the pseudo-Arnaud to open it. The pseudo-Arnaud
fumbled with the keys as long as he could without raising Arnaud's
suspicion. Then he reached down to unlock the door, but it was already
unlocked. He frowned; he was sure he'd locked the door when he left.
But he said nothing. He just opened the door and walked in. He
immediately came face to face with the business end of Hobbes' gun.
"All right Fawkes, I don't know what's going on here, but..." Hobbes
trailed off as he saw who was standing directly behind 'Darien'. He
immediately adjusted his aim, and Arnaud immediately compensated by grabbing
'Darien' roughly and aiming his gun directly at 'Darien's' head.
"Put down the gun or he dies," Arnaud hissed. Hobbes frowned, but
he lowered his gun. "Now drop it and kick it over to me." Hobbes did
as he was told, giving Arnaud an icy-cold glare.
Hobbes growled in a menacing tone, "What're you up to now, Arnaud De
Freak?"
Arnaud frowned. "You know, I'm really beginning to resent that
nickname." He looked at 'Darien'. "Now, where are the papers?"
The pseudo-Arnaud looked down at Arnaud and said tersely, "I don't see
much reason to disclose that information when you have a gun pointed at my
head."
Hobbes' expression turned to one of confusion. "Fawkes, why're you
talking like the telephone over here?"
"Because," the pseudo-Arnaud said resignedly, "I am the 'telephone', as
you put it."
Hobbes looked at 'Darien' as if he'd sprouted another head.
"What're you talking about?"
The real Arnaud rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for
small-talk. Where are the files?"
The pseudo-Arnaud sighed. "If you'd lower the gun, I could show
you."
Arnaud thought for a moment, weighing his options. Then he lowered
the gun. As soon as the gun was no longer aiming at his head, the
pseudo-Arnaud quicksilvered, leaning down, grabbing Hobbes' gun, and aiming it
at the real Arnaud in one swift motion. Arnaud laughed and raised his gun
again. "You forget, I can see you. My eyes are quicksilvered too,
remember?"
"And you forget that I have a time-limit," the pseudo-Arnaud
growled. "How long before I go quicksilver mad? Five minutes at
most." He walked over to Hobbes, who was standing nearby. Then he
reached out a hand and touched Hobbes, allowing the quicksilver to flow over him
as well. He cocked his head to the left, smiling. "Hmm. It
looks like that time has been cut in half." Then he allowed the
quicksilver to flow down his leg, partially coating the floor. "And now we
have even less time." Pretty soon, the quicksilver was flowing along
almost the whole floor.
Then the pseudo-Arnaud allowed the quicksilver to fall away from his
body, revealing his blood-red eyes and cruel smile. "Now, don't you wish
you'd given me the counteragent when I asked for it?"
Arnaud frowned. "Now, now, let's not be hasty about this, we can
still negotiate..."
The pseudo-Arnaud laughed and fired his gun, shooting Arnaud in the
leg. Arnaud yelped and fell to the ground, pulling the trigger on his own
gun, but his aim had been thrown off and the bullet merely embedded itself in
the ceiling. The pseudo-Arnaud walked up to Arnaud and kicked away the
gun, glaring down at him. "The time for negotiation is over. You saw
to that," the pseudo-Arnaud said menacingly.
Before he could say any more, Hobbes tackled him from behind, knocking
him to the ground. The real Arnaud immediately took advantage of the
situation, pulling himself to his feet and limping out the door, leaving Hobbes
and a very quicksilver mad pseudo-Arnaud to fight for control of Hobbes'
gun.
The two men rolled back and forth on the floor, each trying to gain an
advantage over the other. Finally the pseudo-Arnaud managed to come out on
top, with one of his hands aiming the gun at Hobbes' head and the other hand in
a choke-hold around Hobbes' throat. "Fawkes..." Hobbes groaned, trying in
vain to break free.
The pseudo-Arnaud leaned down until he was only inches away from Hobbes'
face. "I am not Darien Fawkes," he hissed, his red eyes sparkling with
anger. "I hate Darien Fawkes! I am nothing like Darien Fawkes!
And you," he said, his eyes gleaming with an eerie coldness that sent shivers
down Hobbes' spine, "will never see Darien Fawkes again."
Hobbes' eyes narrowed in anger. "Somehow I doubt that," he grated
out, grabbing the muzzle of his gun and pushing it away from his head while at
the same time planting a knee squarely in the pseudo-Arnaud's groin. The
pseudo-Arnaud crumpled to the floor, moaning. His hold on the gun loosened
just enough that Hobbes was able to yank it from his grasp, roughly removing the
hand that was latched around his throat as well. He pulled himself to his
feet, aiming his gun at the pseudo-Arnaud's head.
The pseudo-Arnaud laughed at this. "You can't shoot me. I
know you can't. Because somewhere, in here," he said, tapping his head,
"your partner's still floating around. Quite a dream he's having right
now, I'm sure."
Hobbes tightened his grip on his gun, giving the pseudo-Arnaud a menacing
look. "If you don't shut up..."
"You'll what? Kick me? Bite me? Give me a paper
cut?" The pseudo-Arnaud laughed again, shaking his head in
amusement. "I'm not afraid of you."
Hobbes walked over and slammed the pseudo-Arnaud's head against the
floor, flipping him over and slapping a pair of handcuffs around his
wrists. "Okay pal, that's it. You and I are taking a trip down to
the Keeper's lab. We're gonna perform a little exorcism, Simon Cole
style."
**********
Ever since Hobbes had called Claire
she'd been in her lab trying to prepare for any possible scenarios. After
all, who knew what sort of state Darien might be in when he was brought back to
the Agency? Still, Claire was caught by surprise when she heard Darien and
Hobbes yelling in the hall. Or, to be more precise, Hobbes was
yelling. Darien was spouting French obscenities.
Claire ran over and hit the button that opened the lab. Immediately
Darien and Hobbes tumbled through the opening, sprawling out on the lab
floor. Hobbes quickly worked himself into a position where he could keep
Darien on the floor. Darien didn't appear to like this very much; he
glared up at Hobbes and Claire with blood-red eyes and continued to holler
French obscenities at the top of his lungs, doing everything he could think of
to escape.
"Claire, get the blue stuff!" Hobbes yelled loudly, trying
to keep Darien from getting away. Claire immediately sprang into action,
lunging for the needle she had filled with counteragent and placed out on a
medical table for just this scenario.
"Hold him still!" Claire demanded. Hobbes managed to hold Darien
still just long enough for Claire to insert the needle into his neck and inject
the counteragent into his bloodstream. Darien let out a cry of pain and
collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Claire looked over at Hobbes, a very
irritated expression on her face. "Now, who taught him to swear in
French?" She asked angrily, glaring at Hobbes.
"That wasn't Fawkes," Hobbes said, pulling himself to his feet, "That was
Arnaud."
"What?" Claire asked, frowning in confusion.
"I think Arnaud did that thing with the memory stuff. Like Simon
Cole and Kevin, only he stuck in his own stuff."
Claire paled. "Oh crap..."
"What's wrong?" Darien- the real Darien- asked, sitting up from the
floor. He looked around in confusion. "Hey wait a second, how'd I
get here? What's going on?" He looked up at Hobbes and Claire,
confusion and fear clearly evident on his face.
Claire sighed. "Well, if what Bobby just told me is true, you have
Arnaud's memory RNA in your head."
Darien paled even more than Claire had. "Aw CRAP!" he yelped,
jumping to his feet so fast that he fell over and crashed into one of Claire's
lab tables, scattering the equipment that had been on it everywhere.
Hobbes came over and placed a hand on Darien's shoulder. "Look
Fawkes, you need to calm down-"
"Calm down?" Darien yelled, jerking away from Hobbes' arm. "Calm
down? Arnaud stuck a clone of himself IN MY HEAD and you want me to calm
down?" He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths in
an attempt to calm down. Once he considered himself sufficiently calm, he
opened his eyes and fixed Claire with a desperate look. "Get him
out. Please."
Claire gave Darien a solemn look. "I fully intend to." And
with that, she walked over to one of her lab tables and began to gather the
things to make an anti-peptide solution.
**********
"I'm ready," Claire announced, holding up the anti-peptide solution in
one hand and a needle in the other. She then proceeded to fill the needle
with the solution. Darien breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost
over. But his breath caught in his throat as Claire turned toward him,
brandishing the now full needle. It wasn't the needle itself that
disturbed him so much. It was the swarm of spiders that he thought he saw
crawling all over it.
"Umm, Claire?" Darien asked, eyeing the needle fearfully.
"Yes?" Claire replied absently, inspecting the needle to make sure there
weren't any stray air bubbles left inside it. She seemed completely
oblivious to the swarm of spiders crawling up and down the needle, making their
way across her arm as well.
Darien swallowed hard. "Nothing." He squeezed his eyes shut
and began repeating over and over to himself, "It's not real. It's not
real." He knew the spiders he had seen must be a hallucination, the
pseudo-Arnaud's last line of defense before he was destroyed. Still,
Darien felt very uncomfortable about being injected with a needle that was
covered in spiders, whether they were imaginary or not.
"Could you turn around, Darien?" Claire asked gently, her voice pulling
Darien back to reality. He opened his eyes and looked up at Claire, but
let out an involuntary yelp of fear and leapt to his feet as soon as he saw
her. Instead of seeing Claire, Darien saw a giant spider. A part of
him knew that this was just another hallucination, that it wasn't real, but
another part of him was completely terrified by the sight before him. It
was this part of him that reacted, and he began to back away from the
spider-Claire that was standing before him.
"Darien, calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," the spider-Claire said,
still brandishing that needle covered in little spider-lets. She began to
walk slowly toward Darien, but he continued to back away, his eyes wide with
fright.
"Leave me alone, just leave me alone," Darien said shakily. He
suddenly turned and bolted toward the lab door, but when he was only halfway
there another gigantic spider stepped in his way. Darien came to a stop,
looking back and forth between the spider-Claire and what was undoubtedly a
spider-Hobbes in an attempt to figure out which was the more dangerous.
"Fawkes, just take it easy, we're trying to help," the spider-Hobbes
said, reaching out to put one of his spider-legs on Darien's shoulder.
Darien shied away and tried again to run for the door, but the spider-Hobbes
grabbed him and forced him to the floor.
"Turn him over," the spider-Claire said, her needle at the ready.
The spider-Hobbes turned Darien over so that he was facing the floor. It
wasn't an easy task; Darien fought as hard as he could. But eventually he
ended up facing the floor, and then the spider-Claire plunged something into the
back of his neck. Whether it was that needle or her fangs, Darien wasn't
sure.
**********
Darien awoke suddenly, sitting up and
gasping for breath. The memory of the spiders was still fresh in his
mind. He looked around and discovered he was sitting on his chair, and
that Hobbes and Claire were standing in a corner of the lab, conversing in
hushed tones. Darien cleared his throat loudly and said, "So, did it
work?"
Claire jumped a little and turned around, obviously startled. She
walked over to Darien, smiled, and said, "Yes, it did."
Darien gave Claire a nervous look. "You sure?"
Claire's smile widened. "Positive."
Hobbes walked over and stood beside Darien as well. He was holding
an icepack to his eye. Darien winced. "Who did that to you, me or
Arnaud?"
"Maybe a little of both," Hobbes said, giving Darien a pat on the shoulder with his free hand, "You elbowed me good right before Claire got that needle in your neck."
"Sorry," Darien muttered, looking down at the ground.
Hobbes gave Darien a friendly smile. "Come on Fawkes, it's all in
the line of duty."
Darien shook his head. "No, it wasn't." He stood up and
started to walk out of the lab.
Hobbes grabbed Darien gently by the shoulder, giving him a questioning
look. "What's wrong?"
Darien gave Hobbes a half-hearted smile. "Nothing. I just
need to go home and get some rest." Hobbes didn't look at all happy with
this explanation, but he removed his hand from Darien's shoulder. Darien
turned and walked out of the lab, leaving Claire and Hobbes alone again.
Hobbes sat down in Darien's chair, looked up at Claire, and said,
"Claire, I need some advice."
Claire looked at Hobbes. "What sort of advice?"
"Well," Hobbes said, "I'm trying to decide whether or not I should follow
Fawkes home. Make sure he's not gonna get in trouble or anything. I
mean, he's probably really confused and stuff right now and..."
Claire smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, but I think this is
something Darien needs to work through on his own. We helped him as best
we could. The rest is up to him."
Hobbes thought for a moment and then reluctantly said, "Always do what
the doctor orders." He stood up and started to walk out of the lab, but stopped
after a moment and turned around. "One more question. What do I do
about this?" he asked, removing the icepack and revealing the beginnings of a
black eye.
Claire walked over, made a show of examining the injury, and said, "Just
put more ice on it when you get home." Hobbes nodded, gave Claire one of
his most charming smiles, and walked out of the lab. He paused for a
moment in the hall, trying to decide whether to ignore what Claire had said and
follow Darien anyway. Finally he made his decision and started walking
toward the exit.
**********
Darien stood under his
shower and allowed the water to drip down his back. He heaved a loud
sigh. He had been washing himself for the past half hour, but he still
couldn't get over the feeling that he had been contaminated somehow by Arnaud's
temporary occupation of his body. Arnaud... Darien let out a yell of
anger and punched his shower wall, barely even noticing the pain that came from
this action. He was too upset to care.
Abruptly Darien decided he was done with his shower. He turned off
the water and stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist
purely out of habit. He walked back out into his bedroom and sat down on
his bed, running a hand over his face. He should have known. He
should have known that Arnaud had something to do with this from the
start. He considered himself lucky this time; his friends had figured out
what was going on and helped him before anything really bad had happened, at
least to his knowledge. But, he thought sadly, what about next time?
Darien sighed and leaned back so he was lying down on his bed. He
felt completely helpless. He had no control of his life, his mere presence
was a danger to his friends, and now he had discovered that he could be
exploited by his worst enemy in a way that made him even more of a danger.
And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
No. There was one thing he could do. Darien stood up and
walked into the kitchen. He pulled open one of the drawers, revealing a
set of very sharp kitchen knives. He pulled the largest one out of the
drawer and stared at it. It would be so simple, just to place that knife
against his wrist and push. Then he wouldn't be anyone's lab-rat anymore,
he wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone while he was quicksilver mad, and
no one would be able to manipulate him ever again.
But he couldn't do it. Something in him still felt like he had
something to live for, and he couldn't ignore that feeling. Just when he
was about to put the knife down he heard a very loud pounding on his front
door. He jumped in surprise and nicked his wrist slightly, causing a drop
of blood to spill out on his skin. At that moment Hobbes quite literally
kicked the door in, looking around the room in a panic.
Darien put down the knife, an irritated expression on his face.
"Hobbes, what do you think you're doing?"
"What do you think YOU'RE doing?" Hobbes asked angrily, gesturing
at the knife that Darien had been holding just moments before. He walked
over and picked up the knife, glaring at Darien. "I'll take that."
He walked over to the drawer with Darien's other kitchen knives in it and pulled
it out of the cabinet. "These too." He walked over to the nearest
window, opened it, and, after checking to make sure no one was standing below
it, threw the drawer and its contents out of the window.
"Now," he said, turning back to Darien with a stern expression on his
face, "Let's talk."
Darien gave Hobbes an irritated glare. "Can I get some pants on
first?"
Hobbes gave Darien a suspicious look. "All right, but you stay out
of that bathroom. I don't want you anywhere near a razor blade."
Darien scowled at Hobbes. "Hobbes, I have an electric razor."
Hobbes just fixed Darien with a stern glare. "You've got one
minute. Then I come in after you." Darien rolled his eyes
exasperatedly and walked back into his bedroom, dropping his towel and pulling
on a pair of boxers. Then he walked back out into the kitchen.
Hobbes handed him a nearby chair. "Sit."
Darien wasn't very happy with Hobbes for ordering him around, but he sat
down, scowling stubbornly at the floor. Hobbes pulled up a chair and sat
across from him. The two of them just sat there for a while, neither one
saying a word, until finally Hobbes broke the silence. "Come on Fawkes,
what were you thinking? Why would you even think about suicide?"
"Hobbes, I wasn't going to do it."
"Then why is your wrist bloody?" Hobbes asked, gesturing to the
blood on Darien's wrist.
"When you knocked on the door you startled me and the knife
slipped. I was about to put it down," Darien said exasperatedly.
Hobbes leaned forward and stared intently at Darien for a minute, trying
to decipher if Darien was telling the truth or not. "All right, I believe
you," he said after a while, leaning back in his chair, but he still kept his
gaze focused on Darien. "But don't go brushing this off as nothing, 'cause
it ain't."
"I won't," Darien said quietly. After a moment he stood up, walking
over to his refrigerator. "Come on, you'd better get some ice on that
eye. It's turning some very lovely shades of black and blue." He
pulled an ice tray out of the freezer and started emptying it into a plastic
bag, which, once full, he handed to Hobbes. Hobbes placed it on his eye,
and Darien sat down again, grinning. "And you're paying for that drawer,
you know."
Hobbes walked over and made a great show of looking out the window.
"Nah, I think it survived its fall in mostly one piece."
Darien frowned. "Hey Hobbes, how'd you know to get up here right
then? Right when I had the knife in my hand, I mean."
Hobbes' face took on a slightly sheepish expression. "Well, I was
watching your apartment. Making sure you were okay and all that..."
Darien smiled a little. "Thanks." He pulled himself to his
feet and walked over to Hobbes, giving him a mock-threatening look. "But
if you ever spy on me again, I'll have to hurt you."
"Don't worry, I won't do it unless I think it's absolutely
necessary."
"Just what is 'absolutely necessary'?" Darien asked, glancing over at
Hobbes.
"When you're injured, suicidal, or inviting a girlfriend over," Hobbes
said jokingly, giving Darien a smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Suddenly he paled. "Uh oh."
"What?" Darien asked, giving Hobbes a worried look.
"The files. I forgot about the files," Hobbes muttered, shaking his
head.
If anything, Darien looked more confused than before. "Files?"
"Yeah, the quicksilver files. The Arnaud in your head stole
'em."
Darien paled. "Aw crap, they could be anywhere by now..."
Hobbes shook his head. "Nah, they're somewhere in this
apartment. We'd better find 'em."
Darien smiled. "So we're having an Easter Egg hunt?" Hobbes
gave Darien a deadpan glare. Darien shrugged. "Well, I'm just
saying..."
"Just look for the files,
Fawkes."
**********
Nearly two hours later, Darien sat
down on his bed, shaking his head in disgust. "Come on Hobbes, can't we
start again after we get some sleep? The sun's rising, for crying out
loud!"
"Fawkes, we have to find those files!" Hobbes said, sticking his head out
of Darien's closet. "Did you check your bathroom?"
Darien sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. Three
times." He leaned back onto his bed and flopped his head down on the
pillow. However, when he did this he heard a resounding crunch. He
sat up, looking nervously at his pillow. Then he reached inside the
pillowcase, feeling around. To his surprise he touched something that
seemed to be some sort of plastic casing, about three eights of an inch
thick. He pulled it out, looking at it curiously. It was a CD case;
the front of it had been cracked by the impact of Darien's head. "Hey
Hobbes, I found something," Darien said triumphantly.
Hobbes poked his head out of the closet again. "What've you
got?"
"CD case," Darien said, holding the case up for Hobbes to see.
"Where'd you find that?" Hobbes asked curiously.
"In my pillow."
Hobbes stepped out of the closet, walking over to Darien's bed.
"Okay, move." Darien did as he was told, looking more than a little
confused.
Hobbes moved Darien's pillow, revealing a large, rectangular hole that had been cut out of the mattress. Inside the hole were all the files Arnaud had stolen from the archives. "Jackpot," Hobbes said, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Darien frowned. "Perfect. Now I have to buy a new
mattress."
"Yeah, but now you can get some rest, my friend."
"On what? The bed's ruined."
"Your couch isn't."
"Oh, come on," Darien grumbled, but he grabbed his pillow and a sheet and
walked out of the bedroom, headed for his couch and some much-needed
sleep. Hobbes shook his head and let out a loud yawn. He needed
sleep at least as much as Darien did. He decided to go catch a nap in his
van and pick up the files afterwards. And if the Official complained about
him and Fawkes being late, Hobbes would gladly give the fat man a piece of his
mind, as well as a fist in the face. As far as Hobbes was concerned, he
and Fawkes had gone above and beyond the call of duty; he figured they deserved
to be allowed to sleep in.
*********
~Epilogue~
*********
Arnaud sat in a large, plush chair, a deep scowl on his face. Even
though he'd tended to it properly his leg had been bothering him all night,
making it very difficult for him to sleep. Finally he'd decided it would
be better if he just stayed up. So now he was staring at the walls with
eyes that probably would have been bloodshot if they were visible, fuming
silently.
His plan had failed. He knew that beyond a doubt. The Agency
had undoubtedly discovered that he had placed his mRNA into Darien's head, and
they had almost certainly taken measures to remove it. And now if he tried
a similar plan again they would be ready for him because they'd know what sort
of behavior to look for. Not that he intended to try it again in the first
place; he had very quickly come to the conclusion that one of himself was quite
enough for his tastes.
Just then he felt a pair of arms snake around him. He jumped in
surprise, but quickly realized that it was only Doctor Rendell. He looked
up at her and growled, "I've told you not to do that." Rendell said
something that Arnaud assumed was an apology, but he didn't pay any attention to
it. He was too busy trying to think of new ways to get those quicksilver
files. And he would, too. Someday soon he would get his hands on
those files, and he would solve the problem of his invisibility.
And, once he was visible again, he would have no more reason to leave
Darien Fawkes alive.
The End
Ending notes, a.k.a. my thank-you list: Okay, first off I have
to say thank you to my sister, who, although she can be annoying, can also be
very sweet, and makes an excellent beta reader. I'd also like to send out
a big thank you to Invision, my other beta reader, who is very enthusiastic in
encouraging me to write my fics. :) And lastly I'd like to thank
you, the readers. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed
writing it. -- liz_Z
