Title: Hobbesy's Little Walk-in Closet
Author: Cassima (black_cassima@hotmail.com)
Rating: It was a fairly PG dream, but Monroe swears a little.
Warnings: Evil!Monroe and a hint of slash on the side (Bobby/Darien)
Summary: You summarize a snippet and there goes your snippet, but okay. Monroe is evil, and has thoughts after "Den of Theives".
Episodes: "Den of Theives". You know, the one where Darien goes back to prison--on an assignment from the Agency, of course. Big spoilers on that.
Author's notes: Well, see the lovely little explanation above. Oh, and have you read the "Den of Theives" ep. summary at scifi.com? If not, it's pretty good. I was giggling the entire time... I blame it on the brownies, of course. http://www.scifi.com/invisibleman/episodes/0208.html
Author warning: I'm not proud of this at all, but there needs to be an explanation for "Den of Theives". This is mine, and I might rework it... but it's really not that well written.
Okay, let's just get this over with.
*****
"Put his head on a stick outside my office! This one amuses me."
*****
She smiled smugly. She had the little bastard right where she wanted him. She knew it and he knew it. Hell, blonde little Claire probably knew it, and she was as ditzy as they came.
Honestly, why did she always work with the stupid ones?
They didn't even have flair, and that's what bothered Agent Alex Monroe the most about these Agency Twits; they were all the dregs of the barrel. They all had their particular talents, true: Charlie was a cruel bastard who didn't mind handing people the short end of the stick; Eberts, underneath that whiney pansy of a yes-man, had fairly impressive (though not nearly as impressive as Agent Monroe, of course) computer hacking skills; Claire, however blonde-stupid, was a genius; Fawkes had 17 million clams playing shuffleboard in his head, waste that it was; Robert "Bobby" Hobbes was amusing to play with.
God, she hated the Agency.
All things considered, it had been a fairly successful mission, as far as missions went at this place. Sure, they hadn't caught the bad guy, but, hey, they'd *almost* defused two bombs.
Fawkes had pulled his head out from between his legs long enough to get
incredibly lucky and clobber the guy he'd just sprung from prison. Sure, he'd sunk the car and saved thousands of bloody lives--well, big whoop. If he'd been doing his shoddy job like he was supposed to, Javier never would have *made* the blasted bomb in the first place. They still didn't know anything about Javier, only that he wasn't hot on face-to-face communication and was now probably going to come back later with a small army hell-bent on blasting the shit out of Fawkes. She'd then she'd have to save him again.
But this whole catastrophe was worth the annoyance of having to put up with Robert for an entire day because of one tiny detail:
The bomb hadn't exploded.
Well, yes, of course it hadn't exploded, but that wasn't the little nugget of joy that put a spring in her step today. It was what Bobby had said when he thought he was going to die.
Loudly, bravely, he said, "I love you, Claire." No, no, wait for it.
They'd put their heads down, and for a second, Alex was sure that this was it, the end of the line, and the devil was definitely going to be holding a swinging little sortie for her, 'cause she sure as--fire wasn't going to go to heaven after losing her kid and being a first class bitch.
But, no, the Devil was going to have to postpone their little private party, because the bomb was fake, and she could go back to doing whatever she did before, bitchy or no.
In that last second on the timer, face to the floor, eyes clenched shut, Bobby whispered one word:
"Darien."
And, with the Deathclock countdown over and life busting out like a bad
musical about spring, Alex knew what that meant, and knew Bobby had no idea that the pounding of her heart hadn't drowned out that word, had no idea that her heart had actually skipped a beat at that particular moment.
She let him know later, just for the look on his face. "There's something Claire should know. I think you should tell her."
Claire had looked at them so blondely, amused because Alex was.
She could see the panic on his face as she said, "I bet Darien would like to know."
The look in his eyes was priceless. He was so scared; knew, suddenly, that she knew, and likewise knew that she knew that he knew she knew, and so on.
That terror was a rush of power down her veins, and she grasped onto it in the wake of her near-death experience. Hobbes was in love with his partner clown--dang, but this was going to keep her entertained for a while.
And, as she walked out on Hobbes' panicked statements, she knew she had him right where she wanted him. Everyone in the room could tell that Baldy would have become her dog's love slave if it would keep her from repeating what she said. He was so paranoid, so firmly entrenched in his own little closet, and he didn't realize he'd left the door wide open so that just *anybody* could walk right in and make herself at home.
Well, if this place was her only hope, at least she could have a little fun while here.
*****
And now I will try to sleep, and hope I can duck all those spit-balls that'll be flying tomorrow.
Author: Cassima (black_cassima@hotmail.com)
Rating: It was a fairly PG dream, but Monroe swears a little.
Warnings: Evil!Monroe and a hint of slash on the side (Bobby/Darien)
Summary: You summarize a snippet and there goes your snippet, but okay. Monroe is evil, and has thoughts after "Den of Theives".
Episodes: "Den of Theives". You know, the one where Darien goes back to prison--on an assignment from the Agency, of course. Big spoilers on that.
Author's notes: Well, see the lovely little explanation above. Oh, and have you read the "Den of Theives" ep. summary at scifi.com? If not, it's pretty good. I was giggling the entire time... I blame it on the brownies, of course. http://www.scifi.com/invisibleman/episodes/0208.html
Author warning: I'm not proud of this at all, but there needs to be an explanation for "Den of Theives". This is mine, and I might rework it... but it's really not that well written.
Okay, let's just get this over with.
*****
"Put his head on a stick outside my office! This one amuses me."
*****
She smiled smugly. She had the little bastard right where she wanted him. She knew it and he knew it. Hell, blonde little Claire probably knew it, and she was as ditzy as they came.
Honestly, why did she always work with the stupid ones?
They didn't even have flair, and that's what bothered Agent Alex Monroe the most about these Agency Twits; they were all the dregs of the barrel. They all had their particular talents, true: Charlie was a cruel bastard who didn't mind handing people the short end of the stick; Eberts, underneath that whiney pansy of a yes-man, had fairly impressive (though not nearly as impressive as Agent Monroe, of course) computer hacking skills; Claire, however blonde-stupid, was a genius; Fawkes had 17 million clams playing shuffleboard in his head, waste that it was; Robert "Bobby" Hobbes was amusing to play with.
God, she hated the Agency.
All things considered, it had been a fairly successful mission, as far as missions went at this place. Sure, they hadn't caught the bad guy, but, hey, they'd *almost* defused two bombs.
Fawkes had pulled his head out from between his legs long enough to get
incredibly lucky and clobber the guy he'd just sprung from prison. Sure, he'd sunk the car and saved thousands of bloody lives--well, big whoop. If he'd been doing his shoddy job like he was supposed to, Javier never would have *made* the blasted bomb in the first place. They still didn't know anything about Javier, only that he wasn't hot on face-to-face communication and was now probably going to come back later with a small army hell-bent on blasting the shit out of Fawkes. She'd then she'd have to save him again.
But this whole catastrophe was worth the annoyance of having to put up with Robert for an entire day because of one tiny detail:
The bomb hadn't exploded.
Well, yes, of course it hadn't exploded, but that wasn't the little nugget of joy that put a spring in her step today. It was what Bobby had said when he thought he was going to die.
Loudly, bravely, he said, "I love you, Claire." No, no, wait for it.
They'd put their heads down, and for a second, Alex was sure that this was it, the end of the line, and the devil was definitely going to be holding a swinging little sortie for her, 'cause she sure as--fire wasn't going to go to heaven after losing her kid and being a first class bitch.
But, no, the Devil was going to have to postpone their little private party, because the bomb was fake, and she could go back to doing whatever she did before, bitchy or no.
In that last second on the timer, face to the floor, eyes clenched shut, Bobby whispered one word:
"Darien."
And, with the Deathclock countdown over and life busting out like a bad
musical about spring, Alex knew what that meant, and knew Bobby had no idea that the pounding of her heart hadn't drowned out that word, had no idea that her heart had actually skipped a beat at that particular moment.
She let him know later, just for the look on his face. "There's something Claire should know. I think you should tell her."
Claire had looked at them so blondely, amused because Alex was.
She could see the panic on his face as she said, "I bet Darien would like to know."
The look in his eyes was priceless. He was so scared; knew, suddenly, that she knew, and likewise knew that she knew that he knew she knew, and so on.
That terror was a rush of power down her veins, and she grasped onto it in the wake of her near-death experience. Hobbes was in love with his partner clown--dang, but this was going to keep her entertained for a while.
And, as she walked out on Hobbes' panicked statements, she knew she had him right where she wanted him. Everyone in the room could tell that Baldy would have become her dog's love slave if it would keep her from repeating what she said. He was so paranoid, so firmly entrenched in his own little closet, and he didn't realize he'd left the door wide open so that just *anybody* could walk right in and make herself at home.
Well, if this place was her only hope, at least she could have a little fun while here.
*****
And now I will try to sleep, and hope I can duck all those spit-balls that'll be flying tomorrow.