Title: None Left Standing
Author: liz_Z
E-mail: liz_Z@secret-agent.com
Category: Drama, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Enemy of my Enemy' and The New Stuff'. Brief allusions to the Pilot, Father Figure', Enemy of my Enemy', and The New Stuff' (and please note that I have listed the episodes in the order that they appear, not in the order that the references occur).
Season/Sequel info: Takes place after the end of the second season.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Invisible Man' however, I will soon be sending my character clones over to the Sci-Fi channel offices with shotguns, tazers, and an Uzi to see if they can't remedy that little technicality. (She said as her eyes turned a lovely shade of silver.)
Author's notes: Unlike most of my angst bunnies, this idea did not come to me after midnight. It came to me just as I woke up in the morning. That meant that, while it had all the angst potential of a late-night bunny, it actually had a long and convoluted plot to go along with it. Talk about scary... I'm afraid to wake up now in the mornings.

It was a beautiful day in downtown San Diego. The sun shone brightly over the city, bathing its inhabitants in a warm glow. It wasn't the sort of day where people wanted to go to work and spend time on monotonous, every-day tasks. It was the sort of day where people wanted to request time off. The lazy, sun-soaked atmosphere gave everything a pleasantly lethargic feel that made it the perfect day for sunbathing, curling up with a good book, or even taking a long nap.

However, the calm was suddenly disrupted as Darien's car roared into the Agency parking lot, jumping the curb and nearly crashing into another car's bumper. It careened across the warm asphalt with reckless abandon before it finally lurched to a stop in a far corner of the lot, taking up two parking spaces in the process.

Darien threw open his car door and climbed out, just barely taking the time to survey his shoddy parking job. However, he didn't attempt to correct his error; he merely jammed his car keys into his pocket and walked toward the door of the Harding building. He flung it open and stormed inside, muttering angrily under his breath.

He walked down the halls at a fast clip, his back rigid and his fists clenched, and was so absorbed in his anger that he didn't see the young woman rounding a corner with a large stack of files in her arms until it was too late. The two of them collided, the papers falling haphazardly to the floor.

HEY! Watch where you're going, pal! the woman hollered, standing back to her feet and giving Darien a harsh glare. Darien didn't bother to apologize, since in his current state of mind it probably would have come out more as an infuriated rant about how he wasn't the one at fault, even though he knew he was. He just stood up and continued on down the hall. The woman huffed in anger and bent down to pick up the files, grumbling to herself about the death of chivalry.

Darien frowned as he reached his destination. He threw open the door to the Official's office, causing it to slam noisily against the wall. The Official looked up, startled, but when he saw that the offending person was Darien he looked back down at his paperwork and growled sarcastically, Why don't you try again? You didn't break the glass this time.

Darien walked up to the Official's desk and slammed his fist down on it, scattering papers everywhere. The Official's brow knitted in irritation. Darien leaned down so that he and the obese man were face-to-face and hissed, Look, don't toy with me! I'm not playing your games anymore!

The Official gave Darien a harsh glare. Who's playing games?

There is no way. NO WAY!

The Official crossed his arms and said nonchalantly, I'm merely asking of you what I ask of every other agent. I don't care whether you like it or not, it's Agency policy. And if you ask me, it's something for which you are long overdue.

Darien grabbed the Official by the collar. I don't care what you say! he yelled angrily. I am not cutting my hair!

The Official shrugged off Darien's grip and glared up at him. You wanted to be a government agent? Then you have to start looking like one.

Darien straightened up and absently ran a hand through his hair. Those regulation haircuts' bite, man! They look like crap!

Keep your personal opinions to yourself, Agent Fawkes. You will get a haircut. Tomorrow. If you don't, I'm fully prepared to dock your paycheck.

I told you before, we do things my way or I walk.

I'll dock Hobbes' pay too.

There was a long moment of silence as Darien absorbed this information. Then he glared down at the Official and said threateningly, You're gonna be sorry. I guarantee it. The Official merely smirked, knowing that he had won the argument.

Darien turned around and began to storm out of the Official's office. However, when he opened the door, Eberts was standing in the doorway with a large stack of papers in his hands. Darien shoved him out of the way and stomped out of the room, ignoring the expression of complete and utter bewilderment on the shorter man's face.

Eberts shook his head in confusion. What did I do?

**********

Hobbes walked into the lab, hoping for a snack since Claire usually kept a few containers of yogurt in the refrigerator, and glanced around. Darien was sitting in the demented dentist's chair, a deep scowl on his face. Claire was in the lab as well, working on an experiment, and seemed to be keeping as far away from Darien as she possibly could. She looked up as Hobbes walked into the room and heaved a sigh of relief. Bobby! Thank goodness. Try and talk some sense into Darien, will you?

Hobbes sighed and rolled his eyes. What's going on NOW?

Darien stood to his feet, glowering. The Official's gone too far this time!

Hobbes was beginning to get an idea of where this was going. That's what you said when he told you he wanted you to pass your physical and start wearing suits to work, he replied, an amused expression on his face.

Darien frowned. I passed the physical, he said defensively.

But you're not wearing the suit, Hobbes said, smirking as he looked over Darien's current wardrobe choice, which consisted of his blue Jerry jacket, a white t-shirt, and brown slacks.

Darien glanced down instinctively at his clothes, then decided to change tactics. Look, he wants me to cut my hair, okay?

Hobbes scoffed and rolled his eyes. Is that all?

Darien gave Hobbes a hurt look. Come on Hobbes, I could use a little support here! My hair is part of me, it helps define who I am.

So it defines you as a Chia-pet? Or better yet, one of those little troll dolls? Hobbes asked, unable to contain his smirk.

Darien glared at Hobbes. Look, ever since I came back to the Agency the Official's been tryin' to pull all this stuff on me about making me a real agent', or a real man', or some line of crap like that. I'm sick of it! He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hissed, He can't treat me like this, not anymore. He nodded his head decisively to punctuate his sentence. I'm going on strike.

With that said, Darien stormed out of the room. Claire and Hobbes watched the lab door slide shut behind him.

Claire inclined her head toward Hobbes and asked, How long do you think he'll be gone?

Hobbes shrugged. Couple of days, maybe three at the most. He added dryly, I'd be figuring on one, if today wasn't a Friday.

**********

Darien pulled into the parking lot for his apartment building and then climbed out of his car. He was still angry over the way the Official had been treating him of late. He knew that the fat man probably held a grudge against him for coming back to the Agency in the manner he had, but that didn't justify the fact that what the Official was requesting was simply outrageous, at least in Darien's opinion.

He started to cross the lot, but came to an abrupt halt as a large black car pulled up in front of him. The car door opened and a tall man wearing a dark suit and sunglasses stepped out, one hand in his pocket. Two lackeys stepped out behind him. Darien crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to expect.

The man stepped forward, saying in a guttural voice, Darien Fawkes?

Darien narrowed his eyes suspiciously. What's it to you?

The man motioned toward the car. Come with me.

Darien began to back up slowly. This whole thing was a little too much like some cheesy kidnapping movie for his taste. Sorry, but my mommy taught me never to get in cars with strangers, he quipped. The man in the suit took his hand out of his coat pocket, pulling a large needle out with it. Darien paled and began to back up faster. She said I wasn't supposed to take candy from em either...

Darien abruptly turned around and began to run, allowing the quicksilver to flow over his body. However, before he could attain full invisibility he was seized roughly by the two lackeys and jerked around to face the man in the suit.

Darien's eyes widened as the man plunged the needle into his neck in a self-satisfied manner. I can assure you, Mister Fawkes, we won't be strangers for long.

The man's two cronies began to drag Darien roughly toward the car. Darien struggled at first, but his limbs began to rebel as the contents of the needle began to take their effect. The men in suits shoved him haphazardly into the back seat of the car, sandwiching him between them. Darien slumped back against the leather seat, barely conscious. His last thought before he passed out was an all too appropriate aw crap'.