The End of This Road

by Disgruntled Peony

A possible ending to the series (written before the end of season two); Arnaud causes the counteragent to become useless, and that's only the beginning.

Title: The End Of This Road
Author: liz_Z
E-mail: liz_Z@secret-agent.com
Category: Action/Adventure, Angst
Spoilers: Well, I guess any episode from season one and two is fair game. Just vague references though, for the most part.
Season/Sequel info: Takes place about two years after season two.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; I just play with 'em. Don't worry, I'll return 'em (mostly) in one piece.
Author's notes: Well, as I said before, this takes place about two years after season two. It's basically a possible ending to the series.

This actor guy, Humphrey Bogart, once said, "Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." I used to think I had it pretty bad being stuck with a gland in my head and an Agency I'd probably be working for the rest of my life. That and the fact that a needle in my arm was the only think keeping me from going insane made me think I had it just about as bad as it got. But I was wrong. Things could've gotten much, much worse. And unfortunately, they did.

**********

Darien sighed and put down the binoculars he'd been looking through. He glanced over at Alex, who was sitting in the driver's seat of one of the Agency's many old, beat-up, look-alike vehicles. "Still nothing."

Alex gave him an annoyed look. "Give me those." She snatched the binoculars out of Darien's hands and looked through them at the house that she and Darien had been sitting outside of for the past two hours. After a minute she put them down. "You're right. Nothing."

Darien groaned and shifted in his seat. He wished Hobbes could be here, but ever since a stray bullet had shattered his kneecap during that shoot-out a year back the Official had pretty much kept him behind a desk. Hobbes didn't seem to enjoy the deskwork too much, but he didn't seem to mind spending more time around Claire, Darien thought with a smile. The two of them had been dating for a while now, and Darien often found himself silently cheering them on.

Alex glanced at her watch. "Sanchez should be here any minute now..." Even as she finished speaking, a pit-faced Hispanic man with greasy black hair and the beginnings of a goatee began to cross the street, walking toward the house Darien and Alex had been watching. Alex smiled. "Right on time."

Darien frowned a little. "Can we skip the running commentary, please?"

Alex shrugged. "Fine, if you'll stop daydreaming and get your mind back on the job." She gave his arm a little shove, nudging him toward his car door. "You're on."

Darien glared at her for a moment, and then quicksilvered and opened his car door. "You don't have to be so pushy," he muttered, stepping out and closing the car door behind him. He walked toward the house they'd been watching, hoping that this wasn't just another dead end like the last three places they'd had under surveillance. This case had been taking up way too much of his time lately, and so far it seemed like all the effort he'd put into it had been wasted. He just wanted to catch the bad guys and be done with it.

Sanchez walked through the door to the house and Darien walked after him, catching the door with a hand right before it closed. He opened it just enough for him to slip through and peeked in the door. Sanchez was walking down the hall. Darien walked through the door, closed it quietly, and began to follow him.

Sanchez stopped in front of a door, glanced around the hall nervously, and walked in. Darien slipped in after him, and came face to face with a gun, held by a suddenly much more dangerous looking Sanchez. "Hello Fawkes," he said, with an all too familiar accent and tone.

Darien frowned. "Arnaud."

Arnaud smiled menacingly. "Indeed."

Darien let the quicksilver fall off of him. He gave Arnaud a wry smile, and motioned at the fake face the man was wearing. "Man, you just keep getting uglier all the time, don't you?"

"It helps me blend in. You, however, have no excuse."

"Oh, the hair? I figured I needed a different look. You like it?" Darien asked, running his hands through his bleached-blond hair.

"Your hair is hardly my chief concern at the moment. Now, if you'll kindly remove the microphone that I'm sure is hidden on you somewhere, we can talk more privately." Arnaud held out his free hand expectantly. Darien reluctantly pulled the small microphone from its place on the collar of his jacket and handed it to Arnaud, who dropped it to the floor and crushed it with his right foot.

"I am tired," Arnaud said in an annoyed tone, "Of you always getting in the way." He gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod and Darien suddenly felt something hit him in the back, near his right shoulder blade. He reached back and found a tranquilizer dart there.

"And I'm tired of these things," Darien said, his voice starting to slur a little as the sedative took hold. He pulled the tranquilizer dart out of his back and promptly fell to the ground. He thought he felt a needle pierce the back of his neck, but before he had time to think about it he faded into unconsciousness.

**********

Hobbes sat with his feet on his desk, purposely ignoring the pile of papers and folders that were firmly situated under them. He didn't feel like paperwork right now, and he didn't care what the Official or Eberts thought. As far as he was concerned, it was time for his break.

He was relaxing and having a very nice daydream about him, Claire, and a white rose when a commotion out in the hall brought him back to reality. He stood up, wincing a little at the protest his knee made. As much as he hated being stuck behind a desk all day, he had to admit it was for a reason. He couldn't run any more without intense pain shooting up and down his leg, and it had even been known to give him trouble with walking some days.

Hobbes stepped out into the hall and was immediately confronted by the sight of Alex trying to help a very groggy Darien down the hall. He immediately rushed to help. "What happened?" He asked Alex harshly, wrapping one of Darien's arms over his shoulder.

Alex shook her head. "I don't know. One minute he was fine, and then the next his microphone wasn't transmitting anymore, and I found him lying unconscious on the ground."

Darien looked up at Hobbes and said quietly, "Arnaud."

Hobbes winced. "Not again!" He swore under his breath and looked over at Alex. "We'd better get him to the Keep."

"That's where I was headed," Alex said indignantly. Hobbes nodded and, between the two of them, they managed to get Darien down to the Keeper's lab in short order.

Hobbes knocked loudly on the door to the lab, yelling, "Hey Claire, let us in!" The door to the lab slid open, revealing a very confused-looking Claire. However, her confusion quickly gave way to concern and she helped Alex and Hobbes get Darien over to his chair.

"Are you all right, Darien?" She asked, feeling Darien's forehead and checking his tattoo.

"Don't feel too good," Darien muttered, submitting to her ministrations.

"Hold on, I'll get you your shot," Claire said, hurrying over to her refrigerator and motioning for Hobbes and Alex to follow her. "What happened?" she whispered as she dug through the refrigerator for the counteragent she'd put in there recently.

"Arnaud happened," Hobbes said in an angry tone of voice.

Claire shook her head. "I should have known." She pulled the counteragent out of the refrigerator and hurriedly filled a syringe. She injected the needle into Darien's arm and let out a sigh of relief. "Better?"

As if in answer, Darien let out a cry of pain and clasped the back of his neck. He looked up at her a moment later, his face etched with pain and worry. "No," he said quietly.

Claire grabbed Darien's wrist, frowning at what she saw. "Nothing happened."

Hobbes looked at Claire in horror. "What do you mean, nothing happened?"

"Just what I said. Nothing happened. He still has eight segments of his tattoo red."

Hobbes shook his head. "Arnaud has something to do with this, I just know it. When I get my hands on that filthy Frenchman..."

"Swiss-Frenchman," Darien corrected, sitting up slowly. He looked up solemnly at Claire. "So, how long do you think I have before I turn into the red-eyed monster?"

Claire shook her head. "A day, maybe two. It's hard to tell for sure." She placed a hand on Darien's shoulder. "Don't worry, though. I'll do everything I can to solve this problem."

Darien frowned and pushed off Claire's hand. "You can't solve it. Arnaud said he was tired of me getting in the way. He's not playing around anymore. He just wants me gone."

Hobbes swore, slamming his fist down on a nearby lab table. Everyone jumped. Claire shot Hobbes a quick glare and then turned back to Darien. "Don't you worry, I promise I'll do everything I can."

"Thanks Claire," Darien said halfheartedly, but his mood didn't really lighten. He had a feeling that Claire's best probably wouldn't be enough.

**********

Four days later, Claire was studying some samples in her lab, trying to figure out the cure for whatever it was that Arnaud had injected into the gland. She knew by now that it was a futile effort, but she couldn't allow herself to accept the fact that Darien was beyond help.

Just then the lab door opened. Claire didn't even have to look up to know that it was the Official who had walked in; the uncomfortable silence that immediately filled the room told her that. She continued with her work, purposely ignoring him. She knew exactly what the Official had come to say, but she didn't want to acknowledge it.

The Official cleared his throat loudly, but Claire continued to ignore him. Finally, realizing that Claire certainly could and probably would continue to ignore him for the rest of the day if he didn't do something, he spoke up. "I need to have a word with you."

Claire still didn't bother to look up. "So talk."

The Official frowned. Claire was obviously not going to make this any easier for him. He decided to come straight to the point. "It's time to harvest the gland."

Claire looked into her microscope, her lips tightening into a thin line. "I think I'm making some progress here. If you'll just give me a few more hours..."

The Official interrupted her. "Fawkes has been in stage five madness for nearly sixteen hours now. You and I both know he's irretrievable."

Claire looked up suddenly, slamming her fist down on the lab table and nearly knocking over the samples she'd been studying. "Don't you think I bloody well know that? I can't just give up, though!"

"Fawkes is permanently insane. You can't help him anymore."

Claire slammed her hand down on the table again, this time overturning her samples. "Don't say that. Don't say that!"

The Official walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "You did everything you could. And if there were any other way, I'd take it. But it's too late now. You have to let him go. In a way, he's gone already."

Claire wiped a tear from her eye and squared her jaw, glaring at the Official. "I just want you to know, I don't approve of this course of action at all." She turned and walked out of the lab, but halfway down the hall she crumpled to the floor, sobbing. She didn't want to accept it, but she knew that the Official was right. Darien was beyond her help.

After a few minutes she stood up, composing herself as much as possible, and finished the walk down the hall to the observation room. Hobbes was inside, watching through the one-way mirror as a silver-eyed straightjacket clad Darien paced the confines of the padded room. He turned as Claire came in, took in her disheveled appearance and mournful countenance, and let out a deep sigh. "It's time, isn't it?"

Claire nodded, desperately attempting to keep from bursting into tears again. Hobbes walked up and wrapped his arms around her, trying to fight back tears of his own. Claire melted into his grasp, holding him tightly. They stayed like that for several minutes, each attempting to comfort the other. Then they turned and walked out of the observation room. It was time to prepare for what was to come.

**********

Arnaud opened his morning paper, a small smile on his face. He immediately turned to the obituaries. His smile grew as he read. After a moment he turned to Doctor Rendell, who was standing nearby sipping from a cup of coffee. "Good news, my dear. Darien Fawkes is dead." He pulled himself to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a funeral to attend."

With that he put down his paper and walked out of the room, whistling merrily and ignoring the shocked look that was currently visible on Doctor Rendell's face.

**********

Hobbes stood in front of Darien's coffin, looking down at the corpse inside. He heaved a deep sigh and turned away, wiping a lone tear from his eye. He looked around; not many people had shown up for Darien's funeral. The Official and Eberts were there of course, as well as Alex- something that had surprised Hobbes immensely. Claire was absent, as she had a great deal of work to do at the moment, but Hobbes knew that she would have come if she could have.

Unbeknownst to Hobbes, another person was attending the funeral. Arnaud stood nearby, watching silently as the funeral came to an end. As Hobbes walked away he walked up to the coffin. He wanted a good look at the body. Sure enough, it was Darien's face that was turned upward, eyes closed. Arnaud poked the body once and felt for a pulse, just to be sure, but it didn't take much to discover that the body was indeed dead.

He walked out of the funeral parlor slowly, shaking his head. He stopped outside his car and said quietly, "Fawkes, you were a royal pain in the neck, but I'll miss your attempts to meddle in my affairs. So long, little prick." With that he opened the car door, climbed in, and said to Doctor Rendell, "Drive."

**********

Hobbes walked into the lab, pulling off his tie. He looked over at Claire, who was lying on Darien's chair, resting. He shook his head, musing that the Agency really could use a couch. Just then Claire stirred and sat up, giving Hobbes a slightly bleary look. "So, how was the funeral?" She asked quietly.

"It was a funeral," Bobby said, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to her. "It was pretty convincing, in my opinion. Would've fooled just about anybody."

Claire stood up, stretching a little. "Well, let's just hope it fools Chrysalis and Arnaud."

Hobbes smirked a little. "I think it will. Kind of ironic, huh? Arnaud gave us exactly what we needed to pull this off."

Claire nodded. "Yes, that Eberts mask he had proved very helpful, didn't it? I'll bet Arnaud never suspected that it would have enabled us to figure out how to make our own little version."

Hobbes squirmed in his seat for a moment, and then looked up at Claire. "How is Fawkes, anyway?"

Claire sighed. "Still comatose. Still, that's better than I could have hoped for. I was sure that the funeral we were going to hold for Darien would be a real one."

"So he's gonna get better?" Hobbes asked hopefully.

Claire put a hand on Hobbes' shoulder. "There's no way to tell whether he'll ever come out of his coma or not. We'll just have to wait and see."

Hobbes let out a deep sigh. "I hate waiting..."

**********

Hobbes walked through the doors of the Agency, carrying a bag with his lunch in it in one hand and a copy of J.R.R. Tolkien's 'The Hobbit' in the other. It had been nearly a month now since Claire had taken the gland out, and Darien was still in a coma, although Claire did say he was showing signs of possible recovery. All Hobbes knew was that Darien had been out of it for about a month now, and it had been very dull at the Agency without him around to liven things up.

Hobbes walked toward Lab 102, where Claire had been keeping Darien. He stuck his sandwich bag in his mouth and opened the door, walking into Darien's room. He pulled the bag out of his mouth, saying, "Hey Fawkes, I'm ready to read that next chapter of 'The Hobbit' to you now..." His voice trailed off as he realized that Darien was nowhere to be seen. He dropped the lunch bag and book he'd been holding and rushed out of the room in a panic.

Just as he reached the Keeper's lab, Claire walked out, holding several files and a notebook. Hobbes skidded to a stop, barely managing to avoid barreling into her. He gasped, "Fawkes? Is he..." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead'.

Claire shook her head, a pained expression on her face. "No, but-"

Hobbes' eyes lit up. "Is he awake?"

"Well, yes, but-" Before Claire could finish Hobbes let out a loud whoop of joy. He picked Claire up and spun her around, a humongous grin on his face. Claire struggled in his arms, exclaiming vehemently, "Put me down!"

Hobbes lowered Claire to the ground, giving her a sheepish grin. "How is he?" Claire said nothing, but looked down at the ground, a dismayed expression on her face. "He is okay, right?" Hobbes asked, his elation quickly giving way to worry.

Claire continued to look down at the ground, unwilling to face Hobbes' questioning gaze. "Well, physically he's fine. But mentally..."

Hobbes' throat tightened. Deep down inside he'd known this was too good to be true. "Show me."

Claire shook her head. "I don't think..." She looked up at Hobbes, saw the concern etched on his face, and sighed. "Very well. Come with me." She began walking down the hall. Hobbes followed. A feeling of apprehension filled him as he realized that they were heading, not toward one of the labs, but toward the padded room. Claire stopped in front of the door to the padded room. "You might as well see for yourself." Hobbes stared at the door for a moment, not sure he wanted to find out exactly what all of this entailed. But after a moment he opened the door and walked through.

Darien was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room, his back to the door. A chill ran down Hobbes' spine as he saw that his partner was firmly strapped in a straightjacket, something he'd hoped he'd never have to see again. Darien sat up straighter as he realized someone had entered the room. He stood up and turned around slowly. "Hello, Robert," he said, a cruel smile appearing on his face.

Hobbes shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. Darien's eyes were their normal brown, not red or silver, but they were completely lacking in warmth or compassion. Everything about him, his attitude, his posture, that unnerving smile on his face, suggested that he was quicksilver mad.

Hobbes backed toward the door, not wanting to believe what his eyes were telling him. "No. No, no, no..."

"What's the matter, Robert? Aren't you happy to see me?" Darien asked, cocking his head in a manner that was so like Darien, but not at the same time. His smile grew wider. "You weren't expecting this, were you?"

Hobbes' mouth was dry. He couldn't believe this, it couldn't be happening... But it was. He turned around and walked out of the room. Darien's laughter echoed behind him as he closed the door, leaning against it and closing his eyes. When he opened them Claire was standing before him, a look of concern on her face. Hobbes motioned behind him at the door. "Is he, I mean, is he gonna be... Is this permanent?"

Claire shook her head. "I don't know. I'd like to think it was only temporary, but at this point I don't dare to hope for anything. Only time will tell." Hobbes said nothing. He just turned and stormed off, leaving Claire standing alone in the hall.

**********

Late that night Hobbes drove into the parking lot of the Agency. He'd gone home earlier that evening and tried to get some rest, but he couldn't sleep. His thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. Fawkes was alive, but he wasn't sane, and that in itself was torturing knowledge. And, to make matters worse, the Official had Claire working night and day to figure out the problems with the gland so he could implant it into another person. Hobbes was not happy about that at all. He didn't want anyone else to have to go through the living nightmare Darien had been through- and was still going through, as far as he was concerned.

Two hours later, when Hobbes was still no closer to sleep or peace of mind, he had decided to drive back to the Agency. There was only one way he could think of to ease his mind right now, and that was talking to Darien. In his point of view, at this point a crazy Fawkes was better than no Fawkes at all. So he had climbed into his van and driven to the Agency, and now he was wrestling with himself about whether or not he should go inside.

Finally he made his decision and stepped out of the van, locking it securely behind him. He walked up to the Agency doors and unlocked them, locking them again after he'd gone inside. He walked down the halls and finally stopped in front of the lone man who was guarding the padded room. The man looked thoroughly bored, as if he couldn't wait to be back home and in bed.

Hobbes walked up to the man, flashing his badge. "Let me in."

The guard frowned. "Sir, I've been given specific orders..."

Hobbes walked up to the man, who was at least a good three inches taller than he was, and glared at him. "I'm his partner, now let me in." The guard thought for a moment, and then nodded. He opened the door to the padded room and Hobbes walked in. This time Hobbes knew what to expect, so he wasn't surprised to see Darien, still in a straightjacket, lying curled up in a corner of the room. He looked like he was sleeping and Hobbes was about to leave, but then Darien sat up suddenly, fixing Hobbes with an unnerving stare.

Hobbes sat down near Darien, leaning his head against the wall. "Hey there, partner." He winced a little at the brightness of the white walls. "Don't they ever turn the lights out in here?"

Darien's voice sounded hollow as he said, "I can't turn invisible."

Hobbes nodded. "That's right, the Keeper took the gland out of your head." Darien's eyes widened in shock. Hobbes looked at him in confusion. "What, didn't they tell you?"

Darien smiled a little. "I guess I didn't give them the chance. As soon as I woke up I started fighting." He looked down at the straightjacket that hindered his movements. "They stuck me in here, and I haven't heard much from them since." He frowned a little as he thought of something else. "How come I'm not dead?"

"Well, as near as the Keep can figure, whatever Arnaud stuck in the gland altered some stuff in your head. Made it so the counteragent didn't help, but it did something else too. I'm not sure what, I can never understand any of that techno stuff, but whatever it did made it easier to take the gland out."

Darien shook his head. "Nah, I don't buy that crap. The Keeper was lying. She lied to me all along. She knew how to take the gland out, she always did. She just waited until I was crazy to do it."

Hobbes shook his head. "Come on Fawkes, you know that's not true..."

"Do I?" Darien asked, staring at the floor. "You can't prove she didn't know, you can't prove anything. You're just relying on blind faith."

"No, I'm relying on friendship. The Keeper's my friend. She's your friend too, she cares about you."

Darien leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. A smile crossed his face. "What was it you told me once? Friendship is an illusion."

Hobbes shivered a little as his own words were thrown back at him. He immediately retorted, "Yeah well, if you remember, I was a little nuts at the time."

Darien shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You were right."

Hobbes pulled himself to his feet, giving Darien a pitying look. "If you believe that, then I might as well leave."

Darien straightened, a look of panic on his face, and for a moment he looked like the real Darien, the Darien that Hobbes knew and trusted. "Wait! Please... don't leave me in here alone."

Hobbes' expression softened. He thought for a moment, and sat back down. "All right. I'll stay for a little while longer."

A strange smile that Hobbes didn't quite like crossed Darien's face. "I'm glad."

Hobbes gave Darien a sly look. "Yeah well, friends do for each other," he said, keeping a careful eye on Darien to see his reaction. Darien looked like he was about to say something for a moment, but he kept quiet. The silence continued for a few minutes, neither man knowing what to say, until Hobbes heard something, almost like tearing canvas. He looked up. Darien was standing before him, his straightjacket dangling in tatters from his arms and back. A cruel smile spread across his face and before Hobbes could do anything Darien had grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up into the air.

"Like I said," Darien hissed quietly into Hobbes' ear, "Friendship is an illusion." Hobbes clawed at Darien's hands and arms, trying to breathe, but nothing he did could loosen the iron grip Darien had on his throat. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his strength left him and he passed out. Darien immediately dropped him to the ground.

"Hey!" He yelled, banging against the round glass window in the door to the padded room and making his best imitation of Hobbes' voice. "We've got a problem here!"

The guard threw open the door and ran into the room. Darien immediately slammed his hands down on the back of the guard's neck. He promptly fell to the floor, unconscious. Darien frisked the man, removing his gun and the spare clips he was carrying on his person. Darien shook his head, laughing at how easy it was to trick these people into doing exactly what he wanted them to. Then he walked down the hall and out of the Agency, whistling merrily. He was going to have some fun.

**********

The next morning when Alex walked into the Official's office the first thing she saw was a very sheepish-looking Hobbes sitting in a chair. Another employee was sitting nearby, holding an icepack against the back of his neck. The Official was sitting behind his desk, an even angrier expression on his face than usual. He looked at Alex and stated matter-of-factly, "Fawkes escaped last night."

Alex sighed. "How did it happen?"

The Official glared over at Hobbes. "Agent Hobbes paid Fawkes a little visit in the padded room last night. Apparently Fawkes ripped his way out of his straightjacket and attacked Hobbes and the agent who was supposed to be guarding the door." As he said this he turned his glare upon the man who was holding the icepack. The man cringed a little and looked down at the floor.

Alex rolled her eyes. She still found it hard to believe the incompetence of the people working for the Agency sometimes. "I take it I'm supposed to bring him back in?"

Hobbes stood up before the Official could say anything. "Sir, it's my fault Fawkes is out on the streets, I should be the one to bring him back in."

The Official shook his head firmly. "No. You're off active duty, and I'm keeping you that way." He gave Hobbes a pointed look. "Don't you have some paperwork left to do?" Hobbes walked out of the room, grumbling under his breath. The Official turned back to Alex. "I want you to find Fawkes and bring him in. By any means necessary."

Alex nodded. "Yes sir." She turned and walked out of the room, shoving a clip in her gun as she went.

**********

After Hobbes walked out of the Official's office he headed, not toward his own office, but for the exit. He didn't care what the Official said. It was his fault Fawkes was loose, and he was going to do his best to make things right. He walked out to the Agency parking lot, unlocked his van, and climbed inside, but he didn't start it up. Instead he leaned his head back against his seat, thinking hard. What would a quicksilver mad Darien do? Where would he go?

Hobbes shook his head. It had been too long since he'd had to deal with anything like this. He was getting rusty. He rubbed his knee absently, thinking about Darien and the madness. And then his eyes widened. Claire. Darien had mentioned Claire. Hobbes jammed his keys into the ignition and started up the van, driving off at full speed. He had the sinking feeling he knew exactly where Darien was.

Hobbes arrived in front of Claire's house in record time, after driving through countless red lights, cutting off other drivers, and nearly hitting at least half a dozen pedestrians. He leapt out of the van, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition, and charged up to Claire's front door. To his dismay he discovered that it was slightly ajar, the lock obviously picked.

He walked through the door cautiously, half-expecting Darien to leap out at him at any moment. One glance into the house confirmed his suspicions. The place was a mess. Personal items were scattered all over the floor, Claire's security system was smashed, and the carpet on the stairs had been ripped off about halfway up. Hobbes walked carefully up the stairs and pushed open the door to Claire's bedroom. He stopped as soon as he walked in the door, taking in the sight before him.

Claire was lying on her bed, gagged and bound hand and foot with the remnants of Darien's straightjacket. Darien was sitting on a chair beside her, gun in hand. He looked up as Hobbes walked into the room. "We've been waiting for you," he said quietly.

Hobbes shook his head. "Fawkes, you don't want to do this."

"That's what you think."

"You're not a killer."

Darien laughed bitterly. "Yeah, just keep telling yourself that. You and I both know it's not true. I've killed lots of people." He pressed the gun barrel against Claire's temple. "What's another person to add to the list?"

"You'll never be able to forgive yourself."

Darien shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? I don't need to forgive myself, because I don't care. I don't care about any of this anymore." He cocked his head to the side, glancing over at Claire. The beginnings of a smile crossed his face. "You like her, don't you? You like her a lot." He caressed Claire's temple with the gun barrel. "How much would you do for her, I wonder? Would you jump in front of a bullet for her?"
Hobbes nodded silently. Darien's smile widened. "Would you kill me to save her?"

A frown crossed Hobbes' face. He'd never thought about this before. After a few seconds of careful deliberation he answered, "You're my partner, but you're not you right now. So yeah, I guess I would if I had to."

By now Darien was grinning from ear to ear. "Then prove it." His expression suddenly turned murderous and he slammed the gun barrel hard against Claire's temple, causing her to wince in pain. "I've been here all night, you know. You wouldn't believe the things I did to her. The fun we had." He looked over at Claire and licked his lips. Hobbes could feel rage building up inside of him. He found himself instinctively reaching for where his gun used to be, but his hand met empty air. Darien gave Hobbes a mock-pitying look. "What's the matter, forget your gun?"

"Shut up Fawkes," Hobbes growled in warning.

Darien just kept smiling. "Why? I'm the one with the gun." He stood up slowly, untying Claire's feet. "And now I think it's time for me to go." He pulled Claire to her feet, once again placing the gun barrel at her temple. "Move away from the door."

Hobbes shook his head. "Fawkes, you're making a big mistake here..."

Darien's face contorted with anger. "Move!" he yelled, pressing the gun barrel harder against Claire's temple. Hobbes stepped aside, glaring angrily at Darien. Darien backed out of the room, holding Claire in front of him as a shield in case Hobbes thought about trying anything. Then he walked carefully down the stairs, making sure not to fall, and headed for the door.

As soon as Darien walked out of the house Hobbes ran down the stairs to the front door. Darien was still holding Claire tightly to him, pulling her straight toward Hobbes' van. Hobbes felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Darien was going to get away.

Just then Alex's car careened down the street, pulling to an abrupt stop mere inches away from hitting Hobbes' van. Darien whirled around, instinctively aiming his gun at Alex. Immediately Claire brought one of her elbows back and slammed it into Darien's chest. Darien doubled over from the pain, accidentally firing his gun. However, the only thing the bullet hit was Alex's windshield.

Hobbes rushed out to the van, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg, and dealt Darien a blow to his back before he had the chance to recover from Claire's well-placed elbow. Darien fell to the ground, moaning. Then Hobbes pulled him to his feet and slammed him against the side of the van, holding his hands firmly behind his back. Hobbes leaned forward and whispered in Darien's ear, "Don't you ever do that to Claire again." Then he moved aside and let Alex, who had climbed out of her car by now, place Darien's wrists securely in handcuffs.

Hobbes walked over to Claire, carefully removing the pieces of Darien's straightjacket from her wrists and mouth. He looked at her worriedly. "Did he..."

Claire shook her head fervently. "No, he didn't. He did a lot of things, but he didn't rape me."

Hobbes gave Claire a solemn look. "You're not lying to make me feel better, are you?"

The look Claire returned him was equally solemn. "Do you think I'd be able to lie about something like that?" Hobbes shook his head, heaving a sigh of relief. Claire looked over at Darien, who Alex was currently trying to place in her car, and said quietly, "I think there may be hope for him yet."

Hobbes gave Claire a shocked look. "What? Come on, this is proof he can't get much worse!"

Claire shook her head fervently. "No, you don't understand. He didn't do anything to me. Well, he did hit me a few times, and he made a big mess, but he didn't rape me. I could tell he was thinking about it a couple of times, but he didn't do it. I think..." Claire paused for a moment, hardly daring to say what she was thinking. "I think he might be getting better."

**********

Arnaud flipped idly through channels, obviously bored out of his mind. He mentally cataloged what was on as he went. Nature show, news flash, X files rerun, Barney the Dinosaur, Darien Fawkes, another nature show... Arnaud sat up straight and changed the channel back to where he thought he'd seen Darien. The news camera had obviously been hastily set up and the view was blurry and partially obstructed by a telephone pole, but sure enough, that was Darien on the television, being cuffed and dragged away. The reporter who was talking was saying something about an attempt to take someone hostage.

Arnaud frowned. "Hello, what have we here?"

**********

Arnaud walked into the Francine Jefferson Memorial Cemetery, glancing around to make sure no one was anywhere nearby. No one was, though; after all, it was in the middle of the night. He turned on his flashlight and used it to signal Doctor Rendell, who walked up to him shortly, followed by two men with shovels.

Rendell shook her head. "I don't like this."

Arnaud gave her an annoyed look. "What?"

"The whole thing. I'm not very partial to grave-robbing."

Arnaud stopped for a moment, fixing her with an exasperated glare. "I told you, it's not grave-robbing. I just need to check something." Rendell shook her head, but she followed Arnaud when he turned around and continued heading for Darien's grave. Soon he reached the spot. He pointed to his men and said, "Dig here." He watched in silence as the men began digging, and he remained silent until their shovels bumped against the coffin lid several long minutes later.

Then, when the coffin had been completely uncovered, he jumped down into the hole, motioning with a gloved hand for Doctor Rendell to do the same. She did, albeit very reluctantly. As soon as she was standing beside him, Arnaud proceeded to lift the coffin lid, ignoring the stench that permeated the air as he did. He shone his flashlight into the coffin.

Everything seemed normal. The body inside looked like Darien, but Arnaud had to make doubly sure. He reached inside and ran a gloved hand across the face. He quickly found a flap of torn skin down near the bottom of the neck, similar to the masks Arnaud wore to give others the illusion that he was visible. He pulled at it, and the skin peeled away, ripping all the way up Darien's face to reveal another face lying beneath it. Arnaud muttered a French obscenity, slamming the coffin lid shut.

Rendell looked down at the firmly shut coffin and said quietly, "So he's not dead."

Arnaud shook his head grimly. "No. The man in that coffin is probably just a John Doe from the local morgue. Darien Fawkes is very much alive, and glandless at that." Arnaud's mouth turned upward in a cruel smile. "And I know just where to find him."

**********

Hobbes walked cautiously into the Keeper's lab. Darien was being kept strapped to his chair until the Official could get his hands on another straightjacket. Hobbes had the uneasy feeling that Darien might undo the straps around his wrists and ankles at any moment, even though he knew that Claire had had them reinforced with metal bands to prevent just such an occurrence.

Darien glared angrily up at Hobbes. "What are you doing here? Come to gloat?"

Hobbes shook his head, giving Darien a glare of his own. "I came to see how my partner was doing. You got a problem with that?"

"Absolutely," Darien muttered, turning his head away and closing his eyes.

Hobbes sighed and ran a hand across his face. After a minute he glanced over at Darien and asked the question that had running through his brain ever since Darien had been brought back to the Agency. "Why'd you lie to me? About Claire, I mean. You made it sound like you raped her. Why?"

Darien opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Hobbes thought he wasn't going to answer the question, and was seriously considering leaving the room, when Darien said quietly, "Because I'm in Hell." He looked over at Hobbes, a pained expression on his face. "I'm in Hell, and the worst part is that most of the time I enjoy it. But sometimes..." He sighed, turning away again. "Sometimes I remember what I used to be like. And then it hurts. And I just want it to stop. I want all of it to stop."

Hobbes swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting back tears. He did the only thing he could do; he reached out, took Darien's hand, and squeezed it gently, in a silent attempt to let Darien know that Bobby Hobbes was always there for him.

A few minutes later Darien turned his head back toward Hobbes, and he was once again the cold, heartless thing that the gland had forced him to become. But Hobbes didn't mind. He continued to talk to Darien for a long time after that, and he didn't mind the scalding comments or the muttered curses. Because he knew that, somewhere in there, the real Darien Fawkes was still alive, and that knowledge helped him to bear with the monster.

**********

That evening, after a long, tiring day of gland research and putting up with Darien's taunts, Claire pulled her SUV up to her house and wearily walked up to the front door. She started to unlock the door, but just before she inserted the key into the lock she remembered that it was no longer necessary; Darien had seen to that. So she merely reached down and turned the handle. The door opened easily, and she walked inside, looking around the room.

It wasn't messy anymore; at least that was something. Hobbes had graciously offered to help her clean up the mess yesterday after Alex took Darien back to the Agency. Then he'd ended up doing most of the work when Claire had suddenly discovered that the incident with Darien had disturbed her a great deal more than she had realized. Hobbes must have been expecting it; he was right there to comfort her, just like he had been so often in the past year.

A smile crossed Claire's face as she thought about Hobbes. He really was very sweet and, though he could be a little over-protective at times, Claire didn't mind. His good qualities more than made up for his faults. Just then a sound in the kitchen pulled her out of her thoughts. She frowned. Was Pavlov hiding again? He'd hidden when Darien had come over the other night, and it had taken both her and Hobbes' combined efforts and a half hour of searching before they had finally found him.

Claire called out quietly, "Pavlov, sweetie, you can come out. It's just me." She walked into the kitchen, looking around for her dog. One of the doors to the area under the kitchen sink was open. Claire smiled a little. "Oh, Pavlov..." She leaned over and looked down into it. Suddenly something struck her hard on the back of the head, and she fell unconscious to the floor.

**********

Darien lay in his chair, trying to get in a comfortable sleeping position. Not that there was much of a chance of that since he was still firmly strapped to his chair, but he was determined to at least try.

Just when he was about to finally fall asleep, a sound in the corridor caused his eyes to snap back open. It wasn't one of the Agency's goons; he'd been listening carefully for when they came patrolling through the hallway, and they weren't due for another two minutes or so. Something was going on. He briefly considered the thought that Hobbes might have dropped by in the middle of the night again, but after only a few moments he discarded that thought. Hobbes wasn't stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.

The door to the lab swished open. Darien was immediately on full alert. A gurney was pushed into the room, but Darien couldn't see anyone pushing it. He immediately knew who had just entered the lab. "Hey Arnaud, you come to play?" There was no answer, but after a few moments a needle lifted off the counter, seemingly floating in midair. Darien's eyes narrowed. "Oh no, you're not getting me that way again. Let me out of here and we can do this right."

Arnaud's disembodied voice floated through the room. "Sorry, but I'm not in the mood to beat you senseless right now." Then he picked up a bottle from the counter and filled the needle in his hand with what Darien knew from recent experience was a sedative. Darien frowned. A plan was starting to form in his head, but he couldn't carry it out if he was unconscious. Arnaud began to lower the needle toward Darien's arm.

Darien suddenly lunged up as far as he could in his restraints and bit at what looked like thin air, but felt like cold flesh. He managed to break the skin. Arnaud yelped in pain and jumped back, nearly dropping his needle. "Little prick!" He yelled angrily, stabbing the needle hard into Darien's arm and forcefully injecting the contents. Darien growled angrily as the sedative entered his system. He struggled as long as he could, spitting and cursing, but very shortly the sedative took effect and he passed out.

When Arnaud was sure Darien was unconscious and not just faking he leaned over and undid the straps that bound Darien's wrists and ankles to the chair. He hefted Darien out of the chair and lifted him onto the gurney, with much effort and several muttered curses. Then he pulled a small bag out from where he'd placed it underneath the gurney and pulled on his fake skin and the clothes he'd packed into it earlier. When he was finished he looked like nothing more than an innocent doctor or lab tech. He then proceeded to push the gurney toward the lab entrance, not noticing the blood spatters that were appearing on the floor behind him as the quicksilver flaked off of them.

**********

Darien slowly floated into consciousness and attempted to sit up, but instantly regretted the movement, as it caused him to become very dizzy. He lay back down on the ground and opened his eyes. He found himself inside of a small white room, complete with padding on the walls. He looked down at his chest; his arms were firmly strapped into a straightjacket. The beginnings of a smile appeared on his face. Apparently, Arnaud had decided to make him feel right at home.

The door to the padded room opened and Arnaud walked in. Darien sat up and sneered at him. "Just can't stay away from me, can you?"

Arnaud rolled his eyes. "Don't start with me. I'm here purely on business."

Darien frowned. "What sort of business?" Just then two men walked into the room, pushing Claire ahead of them. "Oh. That sort of business."

Arnaud looked over at Claire and said, "There. As you can see, he's unharmed, but in my custody. If you don't cooperate with me, I'll have no qualms about killing him; in fact, I'd rather enjoy it."

Darien gave Arnaud an obnoxious smile. "And vice versa." In response, Arnaud slapped Darien's face. Darien frowned, touching his now split lip with the tip of his tongue. "Well, that wasn't very nice."

Claire glared at Arnaud. "You know very well I won't help you with anything."

Arnaud looked as though he was about to lose his temper for a moment, but he managed to control himself. He gave Claire a stern look. "Don't worry, I'll give you plenty of time to change your mind." With that he motioned to the two men, who grabbed Claire and pulled her out of the padded room. Arnaud turned back to Darien. "There, now that that's over with, we can talk."

Darien sneered. "I'm not talking to you."

Arnaud shrugged. "Very well. But it's not like you have anything better to do."

Darien pulled himself to his feet. "That's where you're wrong." He charged across the room at Arnaud, but before he made it all the way across the room the door flung open and several men with cattle prods stepped inside. Darien skidded to a halt, but he continued to glare at Arnaud menacingly. "You know, if it wasn't for them you'd be dead right now," he said, nodding at the men with the cattle prods.

Arnaud gave Darien a nasty smile. "You underestimate me." He turned and walked out of the room. The men with cattle prods followed, eyeing Darien suspiciously. After they left the room and the door swung shut, Darien sat back down in the center of the room and began to do something he'd become very good at over the past few days; biding his time and plotting revenge.

**********

The whole Agency was in an uproar when Hobbes came in to work the next day. He could tell right away that something was wrong, but everyone was too busy to tell him what it was. So he headed straight for the Official's office and threw open the door. "Sir, I'd like to know what's going on around here," he said, ignoring the looks that the Official and Eberts gave him.

"Fawkes escaped again," the Official said, looking as though he was angry enough to choke the life out of anyone who got too close to him.

"And the Keeper is missing," Eberts said, purposely keeping a much further distance away from the Official than usual in an attempt to protect himself from great bodily harm.

"I'd like to know how Fawkes got out this time," the Official bellowed, slamming a hand down on his desk.

"I'll get right on it sir," Hobbes said, turning to walk out of the room.

The Official held up a hand. "Hold it." Hobbes stopped in mid-stride. The Official glared at his back. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Down to the lab to investigate, of course. After all, I'm not suited for field work," Hobbes said hostilely.

The Official thought for a moment and then reluctantly nodded. "Very well, go ahead." Hobbes walked out of the room and headed toward the Keeper's lab, grumbling under his breath. He was getting very fed up with the way the Official had been acting lately. After all, just because he couldn't run or fight as well as he used to because of his bum leg didn't mean he couldn't do some good, old-fashioned detective work. Maybe Darien had been rubbing off on him more than he'd thought over the years they had worked together, or maybe he'd just had enough, but whatever the case he was getting very fed up with his job.

**********

Claire sat and stared at the walls of the room she had been left to sleep in. She fully intended to keep her word and not assist Arnaud in any way, shape, or form, but she also wanted to keep anything from happening to Darien. She was toeing a very dangerous line, and she knew it. But she was certain of one thing; there was no way she was going to let anything bad happen to Darien. And, if she was careful, she might actually find a way to help him.

Just then the door to the room opened and Arnaud walked in. He turned to Claire and asked, "Have you changed your mind?"

"No," Claire said cautiously, "But you haven't told me what I'm supposed to be helping you with yet."

"Well, that's simple. I want you to take the gland out of my head."

Claire smirked. "And you trust me to do that?"

Arnaud shook his head. "No, but you can assist Doctor Rendell and show her whatever you did that made Fawkes' removal a success."

Claire couldn't help but be amused at the turn this conversation was taking. "Actually, it's what you did that made the difference."

Arnaud's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The chemicals that you injected into the gland helped make it easier to take out. The gland had a reaction to it-"

Arnaud interrupted. "Obviously, that's what I designed it to do. How did it help?"

Claire crossed her arms, a stubborn look on her face. "I'm not sure I want to tell you that."

Arnaud frowned. "Tell me now." Claire shook her head. Arnaud slammed his hand down on a nearby table. "Tell me now, or I'll kill Fawkes!"

Claire leaned forward, a stern expression on her face. "You're bluffing. You won't kill him, he's your only bargaining chip."

Arnaud gave Claire an annoyed look. "You're right, I won't kill Fawkes." He leaned forward and said in a menacing tone, "But you'd be surprised at the sorts of things a person can live through." With that he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Claire alone again. She sat down on the bed and sighed, wondering whether calling Arnaud's bluff might have made things even worse than they already were.

**********

Hobbes walked into the Official's office and slapped a folder down on the desk. "Fawkes didn't kidnap Claire," he said. "I've got proof."

The Official glared at him, annoyed by his sudden, unannounced entrance. "What sort of proof?"

Hobbes leaned forward. "There was blood in the lab."

The Official shrugged. "So there was blood. So what? Maybe Fawkes hurt himself when he broke free."

Hobbes shook his head. "No. The blood was saturated with quicksilver." He sat down in his chair, a smug grin on his face. "Now, who do we know that has a gland in his head?"

The Official frowned angrily. "Arnaud."

Hobbes' grin widened. "Exactly."

The Official turned to Eberts, who was standing at his shoulder. "Go find Agent Monroe, now." Hobbes frowned. He'd been hoping that, since he had made the discovery, he'd be allowed to continue the investigation. It didn't look like it now, though. The Official turned back to him and frowned deeply. "How did you find out the blood was saturated with quicksilver?"

"A friend," Hobbes said, avoiding a direct answer. "Don't worry, he can be trusted. Besides, he didn't know what it was, he just identified it from some of Claire's notes." Hobbes held up a hand before the Official could protest. "Don't worry, I made sure that they didn't say what the quicksilver was, or what it could do. I gave him just enough info to figure out if it was the same stuff or not."

The Official gave Hobbes a suspicious look, but he decided to let it go. "Fine. Good work." At that moment Eberts walked back into the room, Alex following close behind him. Hobbes stood up and started to leave, but the Official held up a hand. "Where do you think you're going?"

Hobbes gave the Official an annoyed look. "Back to my office."

The Official shook his head. "Oh, no. You stay right here. You and Agent Monroe are going to do a little investigative work. Together." Hobbes groaned. The one thing he didn't miss about being on active duty was working with Alex.

Apparently Alex felt the same way as Hobbes; she groaned as well, and rolled her eyes. "What's going on here?" She asked in an annoyed tone. "I thought I was supposed to be looking for Fawkes."

The Official leaned back in his chair. "There's been a change of plans..."

**********

Arnaud glared through the one-way mirror into the padded room where Darien was sitting, an unnatural calm on his face. It was rather unnerving. Arnaud turned away from the one-way mirror and looked over at Doctor Rendell. "This is taking too long," he growled.

Doctor Rendell placed a hand on Arnaud's shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. "Have patience, she'll come around eventually."

Arnaud shook his head and pushed off Rendell's hand. "I can't wait that long. I need to be visible again. I need to see myself in the mirror! If that means taking the gland back out, then I want it out now!" He paused, trying to regain his composure. "I'm tired of waiting. It's time to show Claire that I mean business." With that he walked out of the room and stormed down the hall to the room where Claire was being kept.

He shoved aside the man he'd had guarding the door and threw it open. Claire looked up in surprise as he stormed into the room, grabbed her roughly by the wrist, and then dragged her down the hall, pushing her into the observation room. He pulled Doctor Rendell out of the room and locked Claire in. Then he stormed off down the hall, leaving Doctor Rendell standing alone, a confused expression on her face.

Arnaud walked into the padded room and, without a word, walked up and kicked Darien hard in the back. Darien sprawled to the floor, more than a little surprised by the sudden attack. He rolled over just in time for Arnaud to kick him in the stomach. He groaned, curling up in a ball. Arnaud grabbed the front of his straightjacket, lifted him off of the floor, and punched him hard in the face. Darien fell to the ground again, his head hitting the floor since he was unable to catch himself.

Arnaud looked over at the one-way mirror for a moment. "What made the gland removal a success?" He asked, kicking Darien in the back. "What did the chemicals that I injected into the gland do that made it possible for the gland to be removed without killing Fawkes?" He kicked Darien again and turned back to the mirror, where Claire was undoubtedly watching. "You'd better tell me soon, or things will get much worse for Fawkes."

Just then Darien, who had managed to recover somewhat from Arnaud's attack, pulled himself to his feet and tackled Arnaud, slamming him against the mirror. Before either man could do any more Doctor Rendell and several of Arnaud's men ran through the door of the padded room. The men pulled Darien away from Arnaud and began hitting him. Darien gasped and cried out in pain as they hit him in places Arnaud had already made tender.

Arnaud walked over and glared down at Darien. Then he turned to Doctor Rendell. "Fix him up." He turned and walked out of the room without another word, leaving his men and Doctor Rendell to deal with Darien, who was lying unmoving on the floor.

**********

Claire watched sadly through the one-way mirror as Doctor Rendell and Arnaud's henchmen picked Darien up and moved him out of the room. She shook her head, anger filling her as the memory of Arnaud savagely beating Darien replayed over and over in her mind. Darien had been almost completely defenseless, and Arnaud had been ruthless in his attack.

Claire shook her head. She was even more determined now than before that she would not help Arnaud. Yet, if she didn't help him he would surely attack Darien again, and the next time it would undoubtedly be worse. She sat down on the floor, trying to think of a way to solve the dilemma she was in, but it was no use. The only thing she could think of to keep Darien from being hurt was to go along with Arnaud, and she was not going to do that. She let out a deep sigh, pulling her knees up to her chest, and wished with all her might that none of this had ever happened.

**********

Hobbes walked into the visiting room of the Bakersfield maximum-security prison and headed over to the counter with the phones that were used to communicate with the prisoners. Alex followed behind him, glaring at any guard who suffered the misfortune of glancing her way. She was in a foul mood, and she wasn't helping Hobbes' mood any either. Hobbes sat down in front of the counter and lifted the phone to his ear, looking through the glass at the person on the other side. "Hello Stark," he said, a smug grin on his face.

Stark glared at him through the glass. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.

Hobbes shrugged. "Oh, nothing much. I just thought you might give us some information on where Arnaud's gotten to these days."

"And why would I know that?"

Hobbes laughed. "Come on, I know you. You've been plotting revenge against him ever since he got you kicked out of Chrysalis and into this place." He gestured around him at the prison walls. "You probably know exactly where he is."

Stark's eyes narrowed. "And if I do?"

Hobbes leaned toward the glass, speaking into the receiver a little more quietly. "We're looking to take him out. Give us the location of wherever he works from these days, and we'll make sure he goes to prison for life. Without hope of parole."

Stark leaned closer, an intense look in his eyes. "I'll tell you the location, on one condition."

Hobbes frowned. "What's that?" If Stark was going to ask to be given a chance at parole or an early release from prison, Hobbes would have to decline.

A cruel smile crossed Stark's face. "I want him to end up in my cell block."

Hobbes glanced back at Alex, giving her a questioning look; she nodded silently. He turned back to Stark. "I think we can arrange that."

Stark assumed a much more business-like air. "Very well then, I'll tell you what you need to know..."

**********

Late that evening Arnaud paced back and forth across his room, a deep frown on his face. "This still isn't working! There has to be a way to force Claire's hand." He sat down on his bed and ran a hand across his face. He grimaced and pulled disgustedly at the fake skin covering his invisible features, ripping it off and throwing it to the floor.

Doctor Rendell gave Arnaud a slightly sympathetic look. "Maybe you're just not taking the right approach to all this."

Arnaud smiled shrewdly as a thought occurred to him. "Oh no, it's the right approach. I'm just carrying it out on the wrong man."

**********

Hobbes slipped quietly from tree to tree, heading stealthily for the building that Stark had told him was Arnaud's current base of operations. Holding his gun at the ready, he snuck up to the house, until finally he was standing beside it. He looked down at his gun and muttered, "Okay Claire, do your stuff." He'd always thought that naming one's gun was a silly notion; at least, until he'd met Claire. Obviously his opinion had changed over time, although he'd never told anyone, not even Darien, that he'd named his gun, much less what he'd named it. He knew that if he had he'd never have heard the end of it.

He quietly made his way to a nearby window. It was barred and locked, so he wouldn't be going in that way. He turned and began to walk along the building, turning on his headset and whispering quietly, "I'm outside the building, facing the river. What's your location?"

Alex's voice responded in hushed tones, "I'm inside the perimeter, making my way toward the side entrance."

Hobbes nodded to himself. "Okay. See you inside." With that, he continued searching for a way into the building.

**********

Darien sat up as far as he could in his restraints, opening his eyes and letting out a soft moan. He was still sore from the beating Arnaud had given him, but at least he wasn't in that straightjacket anymore. Instead he was strapped down on a hospital bed. He looked around the room, wishing he could just quicksilver his wrists and snap the restraints apart. But unfortunately that was no longer an option, and there was nothing within his currently very limited reach that would help him break free. He lay back down, heaving a deep sigh.

He closed his eyes and began to think. Not about anything in particular. He thought about Arnaud, Hobbes, Claire, Chrysalis, the Agency; anything that came to mind. One thing led to another, and soon he was thinking about quicksilver madness. How it felt to be free of his conscience and his fears; but also how it felt to be stripped of his consideration of others and his love for his friends. A tear rolled slowly down his cheek as he remembered how he'd been treating his friends lately, even as they tried to help him.

But then Arnaud walked into the room and it was as if a door had slammed shut in his mind. He was once again the cruel, heartless thing he had grown so accustomed to being lately, the monster with the evil smile and the inhumanly cold eyes. He glared up at Arnaud, his eyes blazing with anger. "What are you going to do now? Beat me senseless again? I'm strapped down real tight, I can't fight back." He lifted his head up, giving Arnaud an intense look. "Bring it on."

Arnaud shook his head. "Sorry, I don't have the time. I have business to attend to; I'm merely paying you a quick visit."

"I'm still not talking to you. About anything."

Arnaud smiled. "I never said I came here to listen to you talk. Actually, I came to say goodbye." With that he drew his gun, aiming it at Darien's chest.

**********

Hobbes peeked through a doorway into the hall. When he saw no one he stepped out into it, dragging an unconscious guard after him. He whispered into his headset, "I'm inside the building, on the first floor."

Alex responded, "I'm about to head in myself."

Hobbes thought for a moment. "Okay. You take the first floor; I'll take the second. We can figure things out from there."

Hobbes could hear the annoyance in Alex's voice as she said, "Don't you ever have a plan?"

Hobbes rolled his eyes. "Of course I have a plan. Get in, find Fawkes and Claire, and get out. You got a problem with that?"

"Yeah. I think it's a stupid plan."

"Well then maybe you should come up with the plans next time, miss queen bee five star agent." Before Alex could answer, the man in Hobbes' arms began to regain consciousness. Hobbes frowned. "Hold on a minute, I have a little distraction to take care of." Hobbes hit the man on the back of the head with the butt of his gun. The man stopped moving. Hobbes finished dragging him across the hall and stuffed him into a nearby closet, tying him up with some rope that was hanging inside.

Hobbes pulled his gun up at attention and began walking up a nearby flight of stairs. "Like I was saying," he muttered into the headpiece, "If you think my plans are so crappy, why don't you come up with some of your own?"

"I do. You just ignore them," Alex said in an irritated tone. Hobbes rolled his eyes. He opened the door at the top of the stairwell and looked out, gun at the ready. There was no one in sight. He stepped out into the hall, looking around warily. Just then, two guards rounded a corner and began walking down the hall toward Hobbes. Both Hobbes and the guards froze as they saw each other. Then Hobbes began shooting, and the guards ducked back around the corner, drawing their own guns and calling for help.

Hobbes yelled frantically into his headset over the gunfire, "I've been made! Get out of here Monroe, now!"

**********

Darien stared at the gun in Arnaud's hand, but he couldn't say he was surprised. He'd been expecting Arnaud to try to kill him for some time now. However, before Arnaud pulled the trigger, the sound of gunfire erupted in the hallway just outside the door. Arnaud frowned and lowered his gun.
"Hey Arnaud, I think someone's come to visit." Darien said, a big grin on his face.

"Shut up." Arnaud opened the door a crack and looked out into the hallway. He could just make out the form of Bobby Hobbes crouching beside the door to the stairwell, firing his gun down the hall. A smile crossed Arnaud's face. "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Arnaud quietly slipped his clothes off, so that he was completely invisible. Then he stepped out into the hallway, calling to his men to stop shooting. Hobbes looked around frantically, trying to figure out where the voice had come from, but before he had the chance Arnaud slammed his head against the wall hard enough to cause him to black out for a moment. When he came to his gun was gone, the headset had been ripped from his head, and he was being dragged down the hall by two of Arnaud's men.

Arnaud had them bring Hobbes into the room where Darien lay strapped on the bed. Hobbes looked over at his partner, saying frantically, "Fawkes? You okay there, partner?"

Darien looked over at Hobbes, a surprised look on his face. "Hobbes? What're you doing here?"

"I came to save your butt, now are you okay?"

Arnaud interrupted before Darien could reply. "That's enough with the family reunions." He pulled on his jacket and looked over at Hobbes, a wicked smile on his face. "You know, I was going to send some of my men out to get you, but it looks like you've saved me the trouble." He looked over at one of his men and said, "Get Claire." The man turned around and left the room.

Arnaud looked over at the remaining man. "Well don't just stand there, tie him up or something," he said, gesturing at Hobbes. Soon Hobbes had his hands firmly cuffed behind his back. He wasn't too happy about this, seeing as they were his own handcuffs to begin with. Arnaud looked down at him, shaking his head. "You know, it's a pity it has to end this way. I would have thought you would have at least put up a decent fight. Now I'm going to have to kill you." He held up a hand. "But not just yet, of course. Claire has to be here to watch."

**********

Claire sat forlornly in her room. She was very curious about how Darien was doing. She hadn't seen him since he had been taken from the padded room earlier, and when she'd been taken back to her room no one had told her anything about his condition. She was starting to get very worried.
Just then the door to her room swung open. Claire looked up just in time to see Alex walk into the room, gun at the ready. "What are you doing here?" Claire asked, a shocked expression on her face.

Alex lowered her gun, giving Claire an exasperated look. "I'm here to bust you out, what does it look like? Come on, I've got to get you out of here."

"Where's Bobby?" Claire asked curiously.

"He's in trouble." Alex paused for a moment and then said, "Hold on, I can hear someone coming down the hall." Alex ducked beside the doorframe, pressing her back against the wall. Claire sat back down on her bed, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The guard Arnaud had sent to fetch Claire walked into the room. When he was about halfway through the door Alex brought the butt of her gun down on his head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Claire immediately rushed over and helped Alex drag the man the rest of the way into the room. Between the two of them, they managed to search him in all of thirty seconds. Claire picked up his gun and spare clips. Alex motioned for Claire to follow her. "Come on, we've got to get you and Fawkes out of here. Hobbes too," she amended when she saw the annoyed look Claire gave her.

"Alrighty then," Claire said, giving Alex a quick nod. Alex walked out of the room. Claire followed closely behind her.

Alex glanced back at Claire as they walked down the hall. "Okay, Hobbes was on the second floor when he was seen. I think it's safe to assume that's where we should probably start looking."

"But what about Darien?"

Alex stopped, giving Claire an exasperated look. "Do you have any idea where he is?" Claire shook her head. "Then I'd suggest we start looking where we know someone will be." With that, Alex turned around and began heading for the stairwell. Claire followed, glaring at Alex's back and thinking of several choice names she would have called Alex if this situation weren't so dire.

**********

Arnaud looked over at Hobbes, who was situated in a chair, then at the thug standing menacingly behind him, and then over at Darien. Then he glanced down at his watch. "What is taking him so long?" he muttered, referring to the man he'd sent to fetch Claire.

"Aww, is Arnie getting impatient?" Darien asked mockingly. Arnaud glared icily at him.

Hobbes gave Arnaud a pointed look. "What, he getting on your nerves? Don't forget, it's your fault he ended up this way."

Arnaud turned his glare on Hobbes, as well as his gun. "Shut up."

"Why should he?" Darien asked quietly. "You afraid of the thing you created? Come on, admit it. You made me what I am today." Darien smiled irritatingly, sitting up as far as he could in his restraints. "You're a regular Doctor Frankenstein."

By now Arnaud was very angry. He walked over and smacked Darien on the side of the head. In response, Darien attempted to bite his hand. Arnaud jerked back, swearing loudly. "You know, I think it's past time we parted ways," he said, once again aiming his gun at Darien's chest. Hobbes lunged up out of his seat, but the thug behind him pushed him back into his chair. Arnaud looked over at him. "Do you have something to say?"

Hobbes glared at Arnaud. "Yeah." He leaned forward, an intense look on his face. "If you shoot Fawkes, I will personally put a bullet in your head."

Arnaud laughed. "How are you going to do that? You're hardly in a position to be threatening me."

Hobbes scowled a little. "So? What's your point?" he asked, stubbornly refusing to recant his threat, empty though it was.

Arnaud shook his head. "You don't seem to understand the situation here. I'm going to kill Fawkes, and then I'm going to kill you. It's very simple."

"Come on Da Phone, simple was never your style."

An annoyed expression flitted across Arnaud's face. "Won't you ever get my name right?"

Hobbes smiled. "Who said I wanted to?"

**********

Alex and Claire stepped out of the stairwell onto the second floor. Claire noticed a dent in the wall near the doorway. Before Claire could think more on this Alex held up a hand. "I hear someone."

Sure enough, there were muffled voices coming from a door not very far down the hall. Claire listened closely for a moment and said, "That's them, I'm sure of it."

Alex glanced over at Claire. "You sure?"

Claire nodded. "I'd know Darien and Bobby's voices anywhere."

"Then let's break up this little party." Alex slammed the door open, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Freeze! Hands above your heads, now!"

Arnaud turned around, facing her. "I'll take option number two." Then he aimed his gun at her and pulled the trigger in one lightning quick move. Alex ducked just in time, and the bullet whizzed right above her head, impacting into the wall of the hallway behind her. She returned fire, shooting Arnaud in the leg. Arnaud yelped in pain. He dropped his gun, fell over backwards, and landed right on top of Darien.

Claire stepped into the room, her gun drawn as well. "Are you two okay?" she asked, looking worriedly at Darien and Hobbes.

Hobbes nodded. "We're fine. Just, would you get me out of these?" he asked, wiggling his fingers and trying to look behind him at the handcuffs on his wrists.

"Sure," Claire said, "Where are the keys?"

"Right pants pocket." Claire walked over and dug through Hobbes' pocket, quickly finding the keys and beginning to remove his handcuffs. As soon as they were off Hobbes stood up, flexing his wrists. He took the handcuffs out of Claire's hands and slapped them onto the wrists of the man who'd forced him back into his seat earlier. "How do you like a taste of your own medicine, huh?" Hobbes asked, shoving the thug down forcefully into the same chair he'd been forced to sit in earlier.

Just then Darien yelped as Arnaud elbowed him in the ribs. "Would you get him off me, please?" He asked, trying to shove Arnaud away, but with little success. Alex immediately rushed over to his side and pushed Arnaud off of Darien and onto the floor. Then she undid the strap to Darien's left hand. Within moments, Darien had freed himself the rest of the way. "Thank you." Then he stood up and promptly gave Arnaud a swift kick to the ribs.

Arnaud groaned. He rolled over as if in pain and quietly picked up the gun he'd dropped earlier. He lifted it, intending to shoot Darien. At the last moment, Hobbes saw what Arnaud was doing and called out a warning. Darien heard him and ducked. Claire was standing directly behind Darien, and it was too late for Arnaud to correct his aim before he pulled the trigger.

Without thinking Hobbes leapt at Claire, pushing her out of the way. The bullet hit him instead, tearing through his shoulder. His momentum continued to carry him forward and he ended up landing halfway on top of Claire. He cried out in pain as his shoulder hit the ground.
Darien pulled himself to his feet, an expression of sheer hatred on his face. He yanked the gun out of Arnaud's hand, aiming it straight for Arnaud's chest. "Nobody shoots my friends," he hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Hobbes sat up abruptly at Darien's comment, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "Hey Fawkes, what did you just say?"

Darien glanced over at Hobbes. "I said nobody shoots my friends," he said tersely and turned back to Arnaud.

"I thought you said friendship was an illusion," Hobbes said, a smile appearing on his face.

Darien stopped short at this, a confused look on his face. Now that he thought about it, he remembered saying that very well. And he'd meant it at the time. But it didn't feel right anymore. He lowered the gun slowly, emotions warring on his face. Then he turned to Hobbes. "Yeah well, I guess I was wrong," he said quietly. A smile slowly spread across his face. Not one of the cruel, heartless smiles that had been appearing there so much lately, but a real smile, one of happiness and exhilaration.

Hobbes pulled himself to his feet, clapping Darien on the back with his good arm. "Welcome back, partner."

Before Arnaud could do anything to cause any more trouble, Alex pulled him roughly to his feet. "You're coming with me," she said, pushing him toward the door.

Arnaud yelped and fell back to the ground. "I think my leg would disagree," he muttered, hissing at the pain that was shooting up and down his leg from where Alex had shot him earlier.

Darien turned back to Arnaud. "I have a better idea," he said, pulling Arnaud to his feet again. Darien shoved Arnaud onto the hospital bed and proceeded to strap him down, ignoring the cry of pain that escaped Arnaud's lips as Darien tightened the straps around his leg. "There," he said, looking over at everyone to see if his solution met their approval.

Claire walked over to Hobbes, asking, "How's the shoulder?"

Hobbes muttered, "Ahh, it's just a flesh wound, it's not that bad." However, when Claire began to poke and prod at it in an attempt to get a better look, Hobbes' playfulness got the better of him and he gave Claire a seductive smile, muttering in a deep, husky tone, "Ouch."

Darien cleared his throat loudly, giving Claire and Hobbes a meaningful look. "Come on you two, save it for the honeymoon."

Claire looked over at Hobbes. "So now we're getting married?"

Hobbes gave Claire a playful smile. "Doesn't sound like such a bad idea to me."

**********

Two days later, Hobbes walked into the Keeper's lab, humming absently to himself. Claire was once again napping on the chair that used to be reserved for Darien. Hobbes smiled and walked up quietly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Claire opened her eyes and smiled at him. "So," Hobbes asked, pulling up a chair so he could sit next to her, "How's everything going?"

Claire sat up. "Well, as far as I can tell, Darien's almost completely recovered, although he'll have to watch his temper for a few days. I sent him home to get some rest, though. He's still a little sore from the beating Arnaud gave him."

Hobbes frowned. "Speaking of Arnaud..."

"The gland removal was successful. He's in a coma, and I'm expecting him to come out of it early next month."

"Looks like he'll be waking up just in time to face a life in prison," Hobbes said, the smile reappearing on his face.

Claire smiled back. "And he'll have quite a surprise in store for him when he does, if what you've told me is correct."

**********

That evening, Hobbes walked up to his apartment door and started to unlock it, but discovered it was already unlocked. Immediately his paranoia kicked in and he drew his gun, slamming the door open. Darien was standing inside, leaning against Hobbes' counter; he jumped, letting out a yell of surprise. If he'd still had the gland in his head he undoubtedly would have quicksilvered.

Hobbes lowered his gun, giving Darien an annoyed look. "What're you doing here?"

Darien absently rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I wanted to talk with you and when I got here you weren't home, so I let myself in."

Hobbes frowned a little. "I don't remember giving you a key to my apartment."

Darien held up his lock pick. "Didn't need one."

Hobbes shook his head. "That's probably why I never gave you one." He sat down on his couch. Darien sat down on the other end. "So," Hobbes asked curiously, "What's up?"

"Well..." Darien thought for a moment, trying to think of how to articulate the thoughts and feelings that were running through his head. "I'm leaving the Agency, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Hobbes said quietly.

"And, umm... I was wondering what you're going to do."

Hobbes was a little confused at this. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you can't stay at the Agency forever." Darien paused for a moment, but Hobbes said nothing so he continued. "Come on Hobbes, we both know you don't want to spend the rest of your life behind a desk."

Hobbes nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, but it's not like anyone else would let me out into the field either- if they'd even take me on at all. I mean, the FBI and at least half a dozen other government agencies think I'm completely insane..." Hobbes trailed off. Darien had a cunning look in his eye that could only mean one thing. He was up to something. "All right, spill it. What're you up to now?"

Darien sat back on the couch, a wide grin on his face. "Well, I had this thought..."

**********

Hobbes walked into the Official's office. He walked right up to the Official's desk, slamming his hand down on it. "I quit."

The Official looked up in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me, I quit. Fawkes and I are going to start up this business of testing security systems. You know, it's basically breaking into the place with permission. Fawkes has been thinking about it for a while now, and it sounds like fun to me." With that, Hobbes turned around and headed for the door.

"Hold it!" The Official bellowed, pushing himself to his feet. "You're just going to quit your job and go off with Fawkes on a silly whim?"
"Yup," Hobbes said, a big grin on his face. "And it sure feels great." He started to head out the door again, but stopped in the doorway. "Oh, and one more thing. You never, NEVER put Bobby Hobbes behind a desk, my friend." With that, he walked out of the room, leaving the Official completely speechless.

**********
~~Epilogue~~
**********

A month later, Arnaud was sitting in his cell, glaring at the prison walls. He could see normally now that the gland was out, but the walls were every bit as gray as the quicksilver vision had been. He wasn't looking forward to meeting his fellow prisoners. Not that he was afraid of them; in fact, quite the opposite. He just didn't want to have to bother with inspiring the necessary terror in them so that they would leave him alone.

Just then, a guard tapped on the bars of his cell. "Shower time."

Arnaud looked up at him, an annoyed expression on his face. "And what if I don't want to go?" The guard just glared at him. After a moment Arnaud shrugged. "Very well." He stood up and followed the guard to the shower. After the guard had seen to it that he arrived, he left Arnaud to take off his clothes in peace.

Arnaud walked into the shower, not at all self-conscious about the fact that he was naked. After all, he'd walked down the streets naked and invisible so many times it felt like second nature to him now.

Just then Arnaud heard a voice that made him stop in his tracks. "Hello, Arnaud."

A shiver ran up his spine. He turned around, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Hello, Stark."

Stark was standing in the room, with two very big, dangerous-looking men standing behind him. "I'm glad to see you finally arrived. We're going to have lots of fun, you and I..." Arnaud managed to keep his calm appearance, but inside he was very nervous. He found himself wishing, to his great surprise, that he were still invisible.

The End

Ending notes (a.k.a. my thank-you list): I'd like to dedicate this story to my slave-driving sister, mecha_borg, and my beta reader and other slave-driver, Invision. Between the two of them they managed to get me to finish this story in about a week (although it felt more like a month, because I lost all track of time there for a while). I'm very grateful. :) And last, but not least, I'd like to thank you, the reader, for taking the time to read over my little fic about how the series could end someday. I hope you found it worth your time.