Disclaimer: I own nothing…it all belongs to people who are NOT me. I'm just borrowing and making no money off of this endeavor.
Author's Note: Okay…this was written in a burst of energy after watching "Siege" when it first aired. Hobbes is my favorite character and I was in a dilemma of "Should I hate him? Should I not hate him? Argh! Give me a new episode so I can make up my mind already!" I couldn't get the new episode so I wrote the drabble kind of redeem him…because I think he is redeemable and there's a lot more to his character then being a semi-traitor with a gun and a hot accent.
Also I want to get back to my fanfiction writing and "V" has been eating my brain like it's nobody's business!
What Must Be Earned
Hobbes watched the funeral from a distance, sitting inside of his car with the hand holding the binoculars propped up on his wheel. Erica would never know he was there.
He had never been a man to engage in self-loathing, finding it pointless and stupid. Right now though…he hated himself. Sure he didn't pull the trigger that killed Joe but he'd blown the building, he'd set this off. He'd as good as taken the gun and placed it against Joe's temple, in the same move blowing a gaping hole in Erica's life.
If he'd known this would be the result would he have told the V were exactly he could shove his mission? Hobbes paused, lowering the binoculars for a minute. He…didn't know if he'd make another choice. He wanted to save Sarah…he'd been so stuck on hearing her voice again for the first time in years that he'd forgotten everything else. Only –now- did his head clear enough to think, to question. It might have been Sarah…it might have been some random woman who –sounded- like Sarah. He might have done all of this just because he'd risen to the bait dangled in front of him like a fish.
He raised the binoculars again, his thoughts continuing their disturbing course as he zoned in on Erica, sitting alone in a metal chair, black skirt pulled tight around her knees. The chairs around her were empty…everyone was instinctively giving her a berth. Occasionally one of her colleagues would come by and offer her some sympathies that they probably were just reciting because it was the right thing to say but after a few words they left her alone again. He also noted that her son wasn't there.
When she'd come into the hide-out that night Hobbes was already regretting what he'd done and then she'd talked to him, let him out of the cage she'd put him in, she still trusted him…and suddenly, he would have done anything to be worthy of the trust of a woman like her. But he wasn't….he was a damn traitor just like Ryan. The V had thrown his loved one in his path and he'd fallen for it…suddenly he couldn't hate Ryan anymore. He sympathized with the V…understood why he'd done what he'd done.
The only difference was Ryan they all hated now…they couldn't forgive. Hobbes…they all still welcomed and relied on him. He had seen the look Erica had given him…had heard the words she'd said…she was relying on him as her right hand. If Marcus was Anna's right hand…he'd just become Erica's "Marcus" so to speak.
And he was a filthy traitor who'd set off the bomb and started the chain of events that had landed Erica in that metal chair, wearing a badly fitted black suit and burying her husband.
He lowered the binoculars for the last time, his hands shaking until he gripped the wheel of his car and started the engine. He'd screwed up…and for the first time in a long time he cared. He had told Erica he'd be with her no matter what came and he'd meant it with every fiber in him. He realized now that if he played the V's games they'd just kill Sarah….if that even was the real woman on the phone. The only way to get her back was to go take her.
Stopping at a stoplight he finally admitted another uncomfortable truth to himself. He respected Erica…respected her more then he wanted to own too and she respected him. He wanted to be worthy of that respect, worthy of the trust she'd put in him.
"Dammit." His hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles turned white. "Dammit, I'll fix this Erica." He whispered, not noticing the light changing colors. "I'll fix this if I have to go up to that bloody ship and tear it out of the sky with my bare hands."
It was time he started earning some of the trust being placed in him.