Title: the rubble or our sins
Author: A. X. Zanier
Status: Complete (60k+ words)
Rating: R (Language, violence, sexual situations, the usual)
Fandom: The Invisible Man (SciFi, 2000), The Pretender (NBC 1996)
Disclaimer: a) The characters and basic story ideas of The Invisible Man are the property of others including, but not limited to Matt Greenberg, Studios USA, Stu Segall Productions and NBC Universal. b) The characters and basic story ideas of The Pretender are the property of others including, but not limited to 20th Century Fox Television, MTM Entertainment, Mitchell/Van Sickle Productions, and NBC Studios. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine. I make no money from this intellectual exercise. c) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any opinions or views expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the author and are used for storytelling purposes only.
Sequel/Series: The Invisible Man (AS AU), cameo by The Pretender
Timeline: Part of the sideverse that includes The Ghost in the Crowd, Leverage, etc. Follows Tartan.
Spoilers: Probably. Does it really matter after all these years?
. . .
the rubble or our sins
. . .
Homer, arguably one of the great Greek poets, said, "For rarely are sons similar than their fathers: most are worse and a few are better than their fathers."
Better or worse? I can't say for sure; it's not like we've sat down and compared notes, but similar? Can't argue that.
I'm kinda the poster child for following in my father's footsteps.
.
"Comfy?"
Alyx sighed heavily from within the embrace of the hammock strung between two trees in the far corner of the back yard. "D, don't make me get up and hurt you," she grumbled, glaring up at him. "I drove the last four hours if you recall."
"Amazing what you can do with cruise control," Darien countered with, making her frown ever so slightly. "Keepy said you were to take it easy for at least a week, which you are going to do even if I have to hog tie you." The idea of which conjuring up all sorts of images that would do little to allow her to heal, but would probably be lots of fun, if sweaty.
The Keep had insisted his girl was fine, mostly anyway, but had encouraged the Official to allow them to take the recovery time off together, which meant they could get away for a few days. He hadn't been about to look a gift horse in the mouth, since it had been far, far too long she he and Alyx had had any quality alone time without some disaster at the agency cropping up that needed their immediate attention.
He planned on taking full advantage of the next few days even if they did nothing more than lay in this hammock and just be with each other.
"Like to see you try," she muttered under her breath. "I'm fine… mostly."
And she was. He had to believe that or he'd drive both of them crazy with his worry. "Yeah, 'cause a bullet hole in your thigh is part of a normal day." She grinned, and he shook his head, realizing he'd walked right into that particular wall of reality. "Okay, maybe it is for you, but even I've only managed to get shot a couple times. You seem to be a bullet magnet."
"Hey, a lot more people shoot at me," she argued, the statement defensive and scary in ways he usually tried not to think about.
"No kidding." Lots more people. Not that he and Hobbes didn't get shot at on a regular basis, but they had each others backs. Alyx, more often than not, was sent out on her own and while she did have the advantage of superpowers, there were times, like this one, where even that wasn't enough. She'd taken a sniper round to her left thigh, which had, according to Claire "barely nicked the bone", but had left Alyx gimping about and on the bench for the time being. Darien suspected the damage to actually be worse than the good doctor claimed, but had been afraid to ask. He would just do his best to take care of her as much as she would allow. She, as stubborn as she could be, hell, strong as she was, she rarely relied on anyone else for anything. Partners, equals, is what she wanted, what she needed and he made every effort to do that for her. Yeah, he used to be an idiot, but she'd proven time and time again that being jealous and assuming the worst was just plain stupid.
She would always be there for him. The least he could do was the same.
"What are you brooding over now?"
He supposed he should not be surprised she'd picked up on the tenor of his thoughts, it wasn't like either of them could easily prevent her from knowing what went on his head at all times. Granted she gave him every bit of privacy that she could, but when he worried, or as she had so aptly pointed out, brooded, there was little chance she wouldn't call him on it.
"Dinner," he answered without hesitation, which made her snicker at the obvious lie. And he appreciated her lack of follow up allowing him to keep things he wanted to himself, to himself. If only in the short term. An illusion of privacy admittedly, but needed all the same. "What? Not like there's any food that hasn't mutated into new life forms in the fridge. We haven't been here in months."
She visually poo-pooed his concerns. "There's delivery in this one horse town, we'll order some… in a couple hours."
"What are we gonna do till then?" he asked, wondering what she had in mind. Part of him hoping the 'tied down' thoughts of earlier would actually come into play.
"Well, since this hammock is designed for two, I was hoping for some quality cuddling time with my guy. Especially, since tomorrow we actually have to get started on packing everything up."
"I take it this will be my only opportunity for serious procrastination," he said, trying to sound unhappy about it even though it had been his decision to pack up the house. They had their own place now, with lots of empty rooms to fill and a secure room to move those files to and with Alyx being hurt it seemed like the perfect time to deal with it all.
"Well, maybe not your only time, depends on how diligently you work," she countered with, look serious.
"Very diligently, promise, for a few hours every day. Beyond that my efforts may be half-assed at best." He made the valiant effort to look as serious as her. They were together without the onus of the Agency hanging over their heads, and while the reasons for coming here were personal to him and important, he also wanted to take the time to be himself for a change and Darien Fawkes had never been one for doing the responsible thing any longer than absolutely necessary. Still, he appreciated her attempts to keep him on track. "This… this is important to me, baby."
"I know, bub. And you can always change your mind. The rental option is still on the table." She reached out to grasp his hand, twining their fingers together.
He shook his head. They'd had this discussion, several times, gone over it and over it until they had worn the topic out and she still would support any decision he would make, even if he changed his mind a dozen times. And he had; dozens and dozens of times, but this place had never really been his home and because of that there was little reason to hold onto to it. "It's time."
She gazed up at him solemnly, accepting his words as they stood. "Okay. Now, about that procrastination?"
"Yes, ma'am." After some careful shifting he lay down with Alyx on her side, head on his chest, their fingers still entwined. "You are going to have to do all the heavy lifting, you know that right?"
She snorted. "That would be because I can lift more than you. You carry the important stuff."
"And that would that be… what exactly?" Really curious as to where she was going with her mysterious statement.
"Me, of course," she answered. "Am I not the most important item here?"
He kissed her on the forehead. "Always."
. . . . .
They had raided the local hardware store, picked up several insanely bright utility lights, a few fans and a couple of camp chairs so Alyx would not have to sit on the floor for any length of time. He had stocked and dragged the cooler, which doubled as a foot rest, up as well so they wouldn't have to climb down the fairly steep ladder just to ease their thirst.
So the formerly dark and dusty attic was now bright as day, the lone window open, the breeze being pulled in and tossed about the expansive space thanks to the aforementioned fans. Once the window had been opened, Alyx had encouraged all the dust to vacate the premises allowing them to breathe without their sinuses screaming at them and sending her into sneezing fits. While awfully cute, she would not be able to get much work done if she had to escape every thirty minutes or so just to suck in some clean air.
Yeah, a company came in every couple of weeks to take care of the lawn, dust, set the place to rights, and let him know if there were any problems, but they didn't touch the attic or the basement. Both kept locked, the only keys in his possession. There wasn't much left in the basement, anything of even vague importance had already been removed and given to the Agency on the off chance it might have helped with the gland research. A moot point now, thanks to Alyx and her lab, but at the time it had been yet another straw to grasp at.
The secret room in the attic, however, they would deal with personally, the files within never out of their sight until secure in the room specially built for them in their house back in San Diego. Other interesting tidbits had already been secured there, but they needed to add these, mostly so they could have time to go through them in detail. There was a chance, slim admittedly, that information on the black ops group after Alyx could be buried in them.
For now the secret room remained locked, hidden behind the false brick wall built along one entire end of the room, blocking the window - thus the need for fans to create a cross-breeze.
"You sure you want to take this junk back with us?" Darien stood dead center in the attic, the only area where the ceiling was high enough for him to stand up fully, his hair missing the center beam by mere inches.
Alyx raised an eyebrow. "Junk?" She waved at some oversized piece of furniture to his left. "That is an early 19th century highboy, probably worth six figures. Believe it or not I adore antiques, and will be more than happy to have this in our home."
Darien blinked. He had no clue that there had been anything of value anywhere in this house. Except maybe the silver his aunt only brought out for special occasions. He scratched the back of his head. "Uh, is there a lot of that kind of stuff here?"
Alyx laughed softly. "Yes, actually. Which is why I told you we'd need to arrange a truck. Everything up here is going back with us."
Darien sighed softly, not overly surprised. They'd roughed out what to take, including all the new bedroom pieces he had purchased, what to sell, and what to donate to the local Goodwill, but he hadn't realized that she planned on bring the entire attic with them to San Diego. "You are definitely going to have to get these downstairs. I can't figure out how they got them up here."
"They used a block and tackle. The mount is still there." Alyx pointed and he turned to see that she was correct. On the center beam above the attic access was the base for a basic pulley system that he had never noticed the whole time he had lived here.
"Huh. Shows how observant I was as a kid." Not that he'd spent a tremendous amount of time in this attic during his misspent youth.
She cocked her head to the side as if debating whether or not she should speak.
"What?" he prompted, wondering where her curiosity had pulled her this time.
"Where did you grow up? Before Cold Springs?"
That question startled him in ways he didn't completely understand. She rarely asked about his life before the Agency unless it involved something work-related. "Why?"
" 'Cause I'm curious. We talk about my childhood, a lot, but almost never yours and never before Cold Springs. San Diego feels like home to you, not here," she answered, voice quiet.
"Like you haven't researched my entire life's story," he sneered. But even he knew it was nothing more than a delaying tactic; an effort to avoid talking about a past that still hurt too much to think about, much less discuss aloud in the bright light of day.
She shook her head, obviously not surprised at his efforts at obfuscation. "You know I haven't. And you don't have to say anything now. I just… I can feel how hard this is for you no matter how certain you are that it is time to move on from here. And it seems to have more to do with your parents than Celia and Peter."
Damn. He should have known she'd pick up on that even if she were gone more often than not, she'd become so sensitive that even when halfway 'round the world she could see his dreams and he'd been dreaming about his mom and dad quite a bit lately. He moved over next to her chair, being careful to not whack his head into the angled ceiling and plopped down on the floor before her. "You've never asked before."
"You never felt willing to talk about it till now." She reached out and ruffled his hair. "I mean, you've mentioned your mom in passing now and then, but that's about it."
"There isn't much to say, really. Yeah, we lived in San Diego. I even remember where, a crappy duplex in a crappy part of town that hasn't gotten any better over the years." That was an understatement. He'd driven past the place about a month ago when Alyx had been away on a job. He hadn't planned it, just cruising about after work while debating eating out or ordering in and found himself driving past the only home he really remembered. The one where he'd still had a family and they had been, at least as far as he'd been concerned, happy.
Before the people most important to him had begun to leave him.
"But part of you still sees it as home," she stated, not a single bit of doubt in her.
He ducked his head. "Yeah, I guess I do. In a way this house never did." He sighed heavily and reached out to take her hand into his. "It was the place where I had a family. Broken and damaged, but mine, with all of us together. I just… we were happy. I was happy. And then… and then Dad was gone." And the whole of his young world had fallen to pieces before his confused and hurt eyes.
"Do you know why?"
He lifted his head to meet her concerned gaze. "Then? No. Figured out later that Mom had thrown him out for getting arrested again." He chuckled drily. "He sucked as a thief."
"Yes, I suppose he did," she agreed, look enigmatic. "Yet, you still miss him."
He shook his head. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not meant that way." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "You know there is a trunk full of family stuff over there. Found it the first time we were up here. Just never had time to get back to it."
He perked up at that. "Where?"
"Thattaway." She waved off at the area behind her where several other oversized pieces of furniture were. All of which were probably going back to San Diego with them. She pushed herself upright. "C'mon."
He stayed put, allowing her to use his shoulder to brace herself as she gingerly put weight on her bad leg. He waited until she'd walked two cautious steps away before getting up and following her. Several pieces of furniture shifted without being touched, revealing not one, but three trunks against the wall. All clearly old and appearing to be old school steamer trunks complete with oversized locks. He squatted down and opened the far right one just because it was there. Inside he found what appeared to be an ancient wool blanket, which he delicately shifted to discover that underneath lay china. A complete set right down to the gravy boat from the looks of it. He carefully lifted up a plate to examine it. Hand painted for certain, the sworls and curls along the edge quite possibly silver, copper and gold, which would make them expensive at the very least. Flipping it over he discovered them to be dated 1897 and a company name he didn't recognize.
He whistled softly. "Damn. If I had known about these I wouldn't have needed to break into the Cooper's."
Alyx leaned over his shoulder. "Damn indeed. Be gentle, those are worth a small fortune, especially if it's a complete set. You, my dear, have an actual family heirloom here."
"From where?" he wondered aloud, unable to imagine his family having anything of value.
"Oooh, a project for you. Mom's side or Dad's."
"Or Donovan's." Not that he could really see Uncle Pete giving a rat's ass about dinnerware. No, that was more Celia's style, which meant his Mom's side of the family. Too bad there was no one left to ask about it. Least no one he was aware of. He set the plate back down in its spot , shifted the blanket back into place, and closed the trunk. "How the hell am I going to do that?"
"The wonderful world wide web. has a excellent rep. And there's a few tricks I can teach you if you want to do the search all on your own. Or there are plenty of private firms out there that will do the legwork and keep it on the down low for you." She ran her fingers through his hair causing him to shiver in unexpected pleasure. A simple gesture of comfort he appreciated. "You have every right to know your family history, and more, you deserve to know it. I know how lost you have felt, and while having me has helped, you still wonder and I will do everything I can to assist."
He gazed up at her, once again impressed at how she always knew the right thing to say at any given moment. "Thanks. We'll sic your supercomputer on it when we get back home." He tugged until she'd sat down next to him, her leg angled awkwardly to accommodate the impressive bandages. "Now, should I play eeny meeny or will you point me in the right direction."
She laughed and lifted the lid on the center trunk.
. . . . .
"The only thing you sometimes have control over is perspective. You don't have control over your situation. But you have a choice about how you view it." This from a man who plays the captain of sci-fi's most famous starship.
Trouble is when your perspective has been set for so many years that change can be a challenging one.
.
The house looked empty. Mostly because it was. Every item in the house, including all those mementos from their childhood Celia had kept, poured over, sorted and moved to an appropriate pile. Turned out some of those games she'd saved had been worth some money to collectors on eBay and, though a cut went to the third party dealer, had already put a tidy sum into his pockets. Furniture had been separated into keep, donate, or auction. Personal items, the mundane ones, clothes, linens and such were donated to the local Goodwill if still in usable condition, the rest tossed as filler for the local dump. Jewelry went into a lockbox that would be travelling back with them to be sorted out later. While his eyes remained good even he could mistake a quality CZ for the real thing. The furniture, which included his uncle's desk at the last moment, had been loaded onto a truck and were already on their way back to San Diego.
Tonight they would be "roughing it" on an air mattress that they had been sleeping on in their new house when they'd first moved in and leaving in the morning. They planned on being back in a few weeks to begin renovations on the cabin, which he had decided to keep along with the, as it turned out, valuable acreage it sat on. They both still wanted a place to escape to that was, comparatively speaking, off the grid, and while primitive now, when they were through it would only appear to be so. The place would become a safe house for friends and family alike and given the fact that several of said family members were on the run for one reason or another, it damn well became a necessity.
Alyx lay on the mattress, leg propped up on pillows in a vain effort to keep the throbbing down to a minimum. She'd overdone it today, to the point where she'd ripped the half-healed wound open and managed to bleed through the bandages still wrapped about her thigh. They'd been watching movies on her laptop and just taking it easy. The work was done, a couple days early at that, but the drive home would still be taxing so he'd been attempting to get her to relax without any real success. She felt tense and like she needed to talk to him, but hadn't yet screwed up the courage to speak.
He hit pause on the movie, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "What's up, baby?"
She sighed. "Broadcasting am I?"
"Only a little. Was there another piece you wanted to keep or something?" He had to admit to be surprised at the value of some of the pieces, especially in this day and age of build it yourself furniture. The gentleman from the auction house had gushed over the items they had offered to him and had tried to convince Alyx to allow him to take several others that she had chosen to take with them. He'd gone away with the assurance that if she did ever choose to sell that he would be called first. She hadn't promised so she'd probably been shoveling, but the dweeb had clearly been willing to do pretty much anything to get his greedy mitts on that highboy that had been collecting dust in the attic for the last couple of decades.
"No, nothing like that. I need to tell you something is all." She had her poker face firmly in place, but that overflow of emotions he currently got from her felt like the surface of a storm tossed lake. Rough with whitecaps and spray. Whatever she needed to tell him would not be of the happy-making.
Darien put a faux-concerned look on his face to cover that fact that he was swiftly becoming concerned. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind about living together."
She drummed up a smile for him. "No. No. And, oh, no."
"Then what, sweet thing? Did I do something excessively stupid?" He didn't think he had, but being a guy the stupid occasionally happened and though she often let it pass, now and then he did leave damage in his wake.
She rolled over and faced him, taking his hands into her own. "What if I said your father had never been a thief?"
Darien blinked. That had to be about the last thing he expected to hear from her. He chuckled. "That's one of the few things I know to be true about him. It's what broke my parents up."
"You know they never divorced, right?"
Huh. "That I didn't know. Weird. Guess I always assumed that they had. Not that any of the adults ever talked about it. Least not when I was paying attention." He rubbed his thumbs along the side of her hands. "Why would you think he wasn't a thief. I've seen his record."
She tipped her her head down to gaze at their entwined hands before responding. "Remember when Kevin visited?"
He nodded. "Yeah. So?"
She met his eyes, her control back in place, only the merest hints of the turmoil inside being felt through his hands. "We were looking for a ghost. One that wasn't Kevin."
"Okay, yeah, I remember that morning." He scratched his head, thinking back. He'd been gone for several weeks thanks to a personality suppressor that had given his dead brother control of his body, and when he'd come back he'd been thrown right into the line of fire with the details sketchy at best. "Thought that not-rogue USSA agent was the ghost? Forrester Perdue?"
"He was… is. But that name is just an alias. Much like Alyx Silver is for me." She seemed to be trying to lead him down a particular path, but all he could see was the underbrush blocking the trail.
Darien wondered if he looked as confused as he felt. "Guess I'm missing something. What does this Perdue have to do with anything?"
She sighed softly. "There is no gentle way to say this."
"Say what? Alyx…" He shook his head. He was not going to get it on his own, which annoyed him on some level, and he didn't want to play Twenty Questions to figure out what she was trying to avoid saying. "Just tell me, please?"
She nodded slowly in clear resignation. "While I was trying to save the Agency, yet again, I discovered that Forrester Perdue is really Mason Fawkes. And, yes, I have the documentation to prove it."
Darien sat there in stunned silence for a long moment then burst out laughing. "My Dad, the two-bit thief, is really an assassin for the government? No fucking way."
The laughter died quickly when he realized Alyx's expression hadn't changed one whit.
"Alyx, tell me you're kidding?" He could only hope she had been kidding, that what she had just told him was nothing but an elaborate joke, but given the distress she'd been giving off the last hour or so he feared it was nothing more than the cold, hard facts.
"Wish I could," she told him softly. "I know this is a lot to take in, but you deserve to know the truth."
The truth. One of those things they promised to tell each other… when they could. Work, the job forced them to keep some pretty big secrets even from each other and they had promised to not allow that to impact their relationship, but this… "How long have you known?"
"Six months give or take," she answered, carefully shifting about to sit up and face him.
"And you couldn't tell me before now?" Yeah, he was a bit outraged. This was big. Important. A truth about his family that he'd had no clue about and, like she'd said, one that he deserved to know.
"No." She shook her head.
"Did… did Kevin know?"
"I talked to him about it, yes. He had information I needed and you weren't exactly available."
The reminder valid, but it still stung. She'd told Kevin, but not him. "Who else knows? Claire? The 'Fish?"
"Just Bobby. I needed his opinion on the data."
Darien surged to his feet, jaw clenching in his ire. "Hobbes has known for six months that my Dad is… wasn't... God damn it." He stalked away, hands running through his hair in an effort to keep his temper and not go after her. "Why wait so long to tell me?"
"Honestly, I was hoping I'd never need to tell you." She followed his pacing, but remained seated, her look seemingly calm. Her words, however, not making any sense to him.
"And what the hell does that mean?" he snapped, his temper fraying by the moment, feeling so very betrayed. After everything they'd been through in recent months, to have her keep a secret this big from him… it hurt and made him question all they had done to move their relationship forward.
"It means I gave Mason the chance to tell you himself and he didn't," she explained, looking up at him, clearly not thrilled with his attitude, but not about to apologize either.
And maybe she had nothing to apologize for. Except, if she had given his Dad the option of coming forward... "You spoke to him," Darien hissed, anger and disappointment making his sight color over to red.
If she were aware of his unreasoning anger she kept it to herself. "Yes, I did. At his request. He apparently wanted to make certain what I did was in your best interest, which, in case you have forgotten, always is."
Fuck. Her tone had gone ice cold, the look in her eyes pained, but emotionally he got nothing. She had locked everything down tight. A trick she had learned when kept at The Centre with her brother Jarod. Of course, that field trip had also markedly increased her abilities, scarily so and yet she had never, ever used them on him in anger, though right now she just might if he kept lashing out at her.
But who else was there. She'd discovered the truth and then kept it from him for half a year, protecting a man who didn't deserve it given he'd abandoned his family nearly three decades ago. "Like he gave a damn about me," he groused, pacing away from her before he said something he would regret.
"More than you know," she responded, getting to her feet. "I get that you're mad, and why, but I had to give him the chance to come forward on his own. He didn't want to put you at risk by coming out into the open."
"I'm not a child," Darien snapped.
"Which I pointed out." She limped in the direction of the kitchen. "You may be an adult, but you will always be his child." She shrugged. "I can relate to that."
She disappeared around the corner and for an instant he debated charging after her, but instead paused, took in a deep breath and blew it out to a slow count of ten. And that was enough to get him to calm down and look at things from her perspective, which is probably why she had left the room in the first place. An out of sight out of mind kind of deal. She stayed away from her family, her children especially, to protect them, to allow them as normal lives as possible while being raised by their uncle and thinking both their parents were dead. Oh and having superpowers. Alyx drew attention away from them by being the bright shining star in the sky and keeping the eyes of all those who coveted them upon her.
Dangerous, yes, but it would be far worse for her should her children come to harm. And if push came to shove she would reveal herself and to hell with the consequences. She would do anything for her family. At this point in time, however, staying away remained the best, and safest for them, course of action.
So, was she implying his father had done the same? Gotten out of their lives to protect them? That he did, in fact, care?
Hard to believe, but possible. It simply did not fit in the well worn and biased world-view he had of his father.
Alyx reappeared then with a bottle of whiskey and two plastic cups in her hands; the minimal food left boxed up to be moved or tossed in the morning. Her timing perfect as always as he had just begun to realize he was in need of a stiff drink.
He went to her, set hands on her shoulders and forehead against hers. "Sorry, baby."
"No need. I doubt I would have reacted half as well to similar news."
He chuckled ruefully. "One of these days I'll have to learn to not have a bad case of messengeritis."
Although he had managed an apology she felt tense under his hands. "He's a fool for not coming forward to tell you. No, you wouldn't be thrilled with the news, but it should come from him. When the time is right I will be there to tell my kids, they need to hear it from me." She opened the bottle and poured two fingers into each cup, offering them up to him so he could take one. "Least that way they know who to hate for all the deceptions."
He swallowed down a mouthful before saying, "They won't hate you. Mad for a bit, yeah, but never hate." He watched as she leaned heavily against wall as she drank the whiskey and poured more.
Her shoulders drooped, not able to meet his eyes at the moment. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but based on your reaction theirs won't be much better."
He frowned slightly. That hadn't been his intent, he'd simply reacted to very surprising news in the only way that made sense. Hell, he was still in shock and had about a million questions to ask her. "When did you meet with him?"
"A couple a weeks after the Royce sitch was cleared up." She shifted slightly, getting the weight off her left leg, the bandage bloody again. "He was aware of everything that had happened. Kevin being back and why. He'd even done his homework on me, though he was more than a bit surprised that I could Quicksilver." She sighed softly. "He cares, make no mistake, but I no longer agree with his whole staying away to protect his family line. You're pretty much all that's left and it's way past time you knew the truth."
Darien's lightbulb went off then. "So that's why Kev wanted me to get in contact with Grams."
Alyx tipped her head slightly in a clear request to provide more information.
"My Dad's mother. Still alive as far as I know. Owns a huge orange grove north of the city." He ducked his head, swirling the last bit of whiskey in his glass before continuing. "Mom didn't take us to see her much after Dad left. Probably thought she wouldn't be a great influence as a grandma if she had managed to raise a thief for a son."
She poured more alcohol into his glass. "Instead she raised one of the best assassins in the country. Little wonder Royce wanted to you use to continue Perdue's work."
"How much do you know?" He hated that the anger crept back into his voice and demeanor. He had to wonder if the better question would be how much she didn't know.
"I'm the one who vetted all Royce's files, so everything. Your Dad has had other handlers over the years, so those mission files are mostly redacted, but I have clearance to read the originals."
"You'll give me the files? Even though I don't have clearance?" He found that hard to believe given her love of the rules, but, then again, this was family and when it was about family the rules went flying violently out the window.
"If you want me to, yes. I think you'd get more out of it if you asked him though."
"He ain't exactly here," he sniped, wishing he could stop directing his anger at the situation on her. "Crap," he muttered.
"I'll go," she said, but didn't move. She just looked him right in the eyes and waited to see how he would react.
He clenched his jaw, not able to let go of the anger.
She finished the drink in her hand, set the bottle and cup down on the floor and turned away.
"Alyx, where are you going?"
"To a hotel. I'll see you back in San Diego."
She made it out of the room and halfway to the front door, next to which sat their suitcases, before he realized he was being a fucking idiot. He charged forward and managed to get between her and the door before she got her hand on the knob.
"Stop, please."
"Darien, I'm not upset. I knew you would be angry and prepared accordingly. I'll be fine and you need the time alone." She didn't look upset, more resigned, as if she had expected this, but had hoped it wouldn't happen. The fact that she knew him so well both annoyed and pleased him. He had always considered himself unpredictable… until now. Until Alyx.
"No. I've spent enough time alone." He reached out to cup her cheek, the skin cool to the touch. "I'm sorry. I just… it hurts to know you kept this from me, but I get why. My Dad has no clue what you are capable of and probably thinks you would never tell me."
"No one has a clue what I'm capable of, including myself," she grumbled, taking a few steps back, wincing as she did so.
He followed after her, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. "Easy there. You were hurt worse than Claire told me, weren't you." Obvious in retrospect and he'd been letting her do whatever she wanted for the last few days even though he knew better. She just faked hale and whole so well that he let himself forget she'd been hurt badly enough to be sidelined and permitted to go on this trip to heal. Which she had clearly not done. Not enough anyway.
"Let's go with yes for now." She shifted, trying to get her weight, slight as it was, off her bad leg, only to have her right knee try to fold on her.
Quick as he could, and without losing his grip on the drink in his hand, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the living room where they had set up camp. "Interesting bluff," he commented as he went to his knees and set her on the mattress.
"Wasn't a bluff. I was going to leave."
He kissed her softly. "I know." Then sat on the floor before her. "Not that I don't believe you, but can I see the proof you have on my Dad?"
"You sure?"
He nodded. "Positive."
She waved at her laptop. "I only have the basics with me, the detailed files are back home, but you are more than welcome to peruse what I have."
"And answer questions?" he asked, certain he would have dozens of them for her.
"Are you sure you don't want to ask him?"
He sighed, pretty sure they'd already gone this way. "He's not here… Wait, do you know where he is?"
She frowned slightly, as if uncertain if she should answer truthfully. "Precisely, no, but it shouldn't take me long to track him down."
"Christ, you are trouble on two feet, aren't you."
She glanced down at her bum leg.
"On one foot then. And still twice as much trouble as anyone else." He laughed softly, glad he could make her smile after being such a boneheaded idiot. "How about you show me the files, and answer what you can. The details… well, they'll have to wait for a reunion with dear old Dad."
"Sure." She reached out to run her fingers along his jaw. "I can still go. You feel like you need to be alone to scream at the universe."
He grasped her hand, turning his head to kiss the palm. "You'd be right, of course, but… But I don't want to do this alone. Don't want pride make me shut you out just because you kept your word. He's had thirty years to come forward, it's not your fault he didn't take you seriously."
"My curse. So sweet and innocent seeming, that's me."
Darien burst out in laughter. Yeah, she might just look sweet and innocent, but she was dangerous as anyone could be, more so in some ways because of her deceptive looks. "Do not leave. Not tonight. I can't promise I won't get angry again, but I'm sure I need you here, okay?"
She nodded. The amusement having faded to a far more serious expression. "Okay." She waved at the laptop, the movie vanishing and replaced with files. "Ready?"
"As I can be," he answered, moving the computer closer to them. "This is nuts, you know that, right?"
She chuckled. "Kevin said the same thing. It's not a bad thing though, just a paradigm shift."
"Like I needed another one of those in my life," he groused, then dropped it. He wanted to yell, scream and rant, but for now he would hold it in, saving it for the person who actually deserved the harsh word. "So, what are we looking at here?"