Secrets and Lies

by Lucy Hale

A difficult case leads to some big changes for Bobby and Darien.

Secrets and Lies

---

"The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it."

That was Shaw. George Bernard. Good man, good quote. Most of the time, I agree with it.

Then I met Bobby Hobbes, and learned that sometimes cynicism doesn't have to be accurate, or powerful, or an observation. Sometimes it comes wrapped up in human form.

"I don't like this."

Darien rolled his eyes as they surveyed the quiet house, not surprised in the least. "You getting bad vibes? Maybe it's the two cars in the garage, or the bike in the front yard."

"Details, I'll have you know, are what makes a hiding place work. That's just it. Everything looks too innocent."

Darien glanced at his partner. Bobby Hobbes was a lot of things -- paranoid, deluded, demented. Completely insane. But he was also right a lot of the time. Still… "You don't stop to think that maybe it looks innocent because it is?"

"Never. You're not gonna last too long at this job thinking like that. Look, fact is, we've got witnesses saw the men we're after stopping at this house for almost a full night. Our boys went inside, stayed there, and then left by morning, with no unusual sounds being reported. Nothing. So what I figure is this is either some kind of safe house for them, or someone inside knows at least one of them. Either way, we should get our answers."

Darien heaved a small sigh. "So how do you want to do this?"

"I always like the front door approach." Bobby got out of the van and slammed the door shut.

Darien moved out of his door, but stopped his partner before they could head up to the porch. "What if this is some bad-guy hangout? Wouldn't it be dangerous for a couple of federal types like us to go knocking on the door?"

"Nah. If it's a cover, it's a good one, and they won't risk blowing it by putting bullets in us right from the start." Bobby headed for the house confidently.

"Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better." Darien tailed him more slowly, letting Bobby take the lead. Not that he wouldn't have just taken it anyway. Darien found it was best to just let him do his thing.

Bobby marched right up and knocked on the door, peering casually through a crack in the curtains.

There was no answer. Nothing but the sound of a television from inside the house.

He knocked again. "Anybody home?" he called out, keeping anything official from his voice.

Darien rolled his eyes. "Why don't I go through the back, scope the place out?"

"Why don't you." Bobby knocked again patiently.

Darien moved away, going around the side of the small, average lower-middle-class house. He almost tripped on a doll in the grass, and it brought a slight grin to his face. Some poor family was about to get jumped by Bobby Hobbes and submitted to questioning, just because some van had pulled up outside their house.

He moved to the back door, looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching, and sent a mental cue to the gland in his brain.

His skin shivered, and the thin cover of cold silver seeped from his pores, covering him until he could look down and not see himself.

He tried the door, and grinned when he found it locked.

No problem. He was a professional.

He got down on one knee, digging in his jeans for the small kit of tools he'd taken to carrying around on assignments like this. He let his hand and the kit shimmer into visibility, and pulled out two slim instruments.

A few seconds later, the door was sliding open, and he was inside.

He tucked the kit back in his pocket and slid the door shut, looking around.

A moment later he almost erupted into a coughing fit, his hands flying up to his nose.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was that smell? It was nauseating, disgusting.

He breathed in through his mouth slowly, grimacing. He could almost taste the foulness in the air. Something was definitely off here. He'd broken in to a lot of houses in his day, and no normal family's home ever smelt like this.

He moved out of the kitchen and to the front of the house. The living room was empty. The television was on, entertaining the furniture loudly.

A little too loudly. Darien's eyes narrowed, suspicious.

There was another knock on the door, but he ignored it. He'd have to check and see who was here before he let Bobby just waltz on in here.

He headed down a back hallway, his ears open for the sounds of people. He didn't hear anything, so he cracked the first door he came to and peered in.

A moment later, the door was slammed shut and he was fighting hard not to lose his lunch on the carpet of the hallway.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, his hand tight around his nose. Whatever was in that room could wait.

He moved further down the hall, peeking in to the few doorways. There were bedrooms, toys, video game setups. This was a house like any other, he could tell.

The door in the very back of the hall would lead to the master bedroom. The parents' room. It always seemed to turn out like that, in his experience.

He cracked the door open and blinked in.

There was somebody home after all. Some woman was lying in bed, asleep.

Darien moved slowly up to the bed, wondering what the hell was going on here. Something was definitely wrong in this house, he just couldn't figure out--

The sleeping woman shifted slightly, as if trying to roll over. But she didn't, her arms jerking her to a stop under the covers. With a sleepy groan she settled back where she'd been.

Darien's eyes narrowed. He gingerly moved his hand to one edge of the cover and lifted.

"Holy shit!"

A minute later he was at the front door, flinging it open.

"It's about time, kid. I was-- Jesus Christ!" Bobby's hand flew to his nose, and Darien shimmered into visibility.

"Something bad happened here, Bobby."

"No shit. Where are the bodies?"

"Bodies?"

"What do you think that smell's coming from?"

Darien's hand tightened against his nose at that, disgusted. He remembered that room where the smell had been strongest, and realized he hadn't looked in there well enough.

"First things first. There's a woman back there. She's alive." Darien started back to the last room down the hall, leading his partner, who was looking around at the passing doorways suspiciously.

Bobby paused outside the very door Darien remembered those smalls coming from, and nodded almost imperceptively to himself.

Darien noticed, and wondered if it was worth asking how Bobby so easily recognized the smell of rotting corpses.

He wasn't really sure he wanted to know the answer, though. He was happy as it was now -- neither he nor Bobby took each other all that seriously. Darien almost preferred to think of his partner as an overzealous, lithium-dosed Agency rat, and Bobby preferred to think of Darien, it seemed, as some rebellious, ungrateful punk.

It worked for them. As partners, they made it work.

He shook off the train of thought as he got to that door and hesitated. "She's in here."

Bobby waited, and when Darien just stood there for a minute his eyebrows flew up. "So?"

Darien moved away from the door, waving for Bobby to go on in.

Bobby looked at him questioningly, but moved on in to the room. He stopped right in the doorway and breathed in slightly.

Darien almost resisted the urge to glance in over his shoulder. Almost, but morbid curiosity got the better of him.

Yeah, the cover was still flipped off her. She was still tied there, bleeding and bruised and horrible looking.

"Shit. We gotta get her to a hospital." Bobby went to her side and tugged at the rope holding her wrist to the side of the bed. He glanced up at the drapes in the bedroom, which had been pulled to keep anyone from seeing in. They must have shut the drapes and used the cords to tie her up. Christ, he wanted to catch these guys. "You want to help me out here?"

Darien moved in slowly, uncertain. "What…uh…"

"Just get her other arm untied. We need to get her to help. If those bodies in the other room are any judge, she's been here for a few days at least."

Darien grimaced slightly. He lifted her arm gingerly, examining the cord tied there.

The skin around that cord was raw and bloody in patches, and the knot in the cord was so tight he couldn't get at it. She must have fought pretty hard.

He frowned at Bobby. "I can't--"

Bobby was obviously having the same trouble. "Kitchen. Grab a knife, something serrated."

Darien almost shot out of the room, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between him and that woman.

He hated things like this. He hated pain, whether it was his own or someone else's. Ever since he got involved with the Agency he'd been confronted with it in so many forms, it hurt him to look at. This woman, this entire family of corpses, was the way they were because Bobby and Darien hadn't caught up with these two men they were after. Two of the FBI's ten most wanted.

He couldn't handle that. He didn't even want to look at her again.

****

"In the depths of my heart I can't help being convinced that my dear fellow men, with few exceptions, are worthless."

Siggy Freud. Now there's a quotable guy. Also a cynic in his own way. A man convinced that everyone in the world was sexually deviant, and there wasn't a damned thing people could do about it.

Normally, I'd say he was right, but that there were a lot less fun things in the world to be deviant at than sex. At times like these, though, I'd think back to my days in the pen and remember the few sexual deviants I met there.

And then I agree with Freud. Worthless.

Bobby cursed and dropped the hand he was trying to untie. Fucking bastards. He hated men like the two they were after.

He hated people who had no greater respect for anything but themselves. Whatever gave them kicks was fine, and who cared if it hurt other people?

It made him sick. There were greater causes, greater goods. And yeah, he was probably archaic for thinking that way, but it wasn't going to change. It was the way he was raised. He believed in his country. He believed that men like him should protect innocent people. He believed he was doing right with the Agency, that even though it was a shitty, poor, decrepit little brother to the FBI, it was also getting some real work done.

He couldn't stand people who hurt innocents like this woman here. She had probably been sitting here, in her home, minding her own business. Fate, or luck, or whatever, made these assholes pick this house out of every other one on the block, and fate had deemed she be home when they arrived. For no other reason than some momentary kick, they had tied her here, beat the shit out of her. Probably raped her, but he wasn't about to look hard enough to be sure.

It made him sick. He was going to catch these animals, if it took him and Darien months to do it.

The woman on the bed spoke quietly. "Back for more?"

Bobby turned to her in shock, jerking away from the bed when he saw her eyes open and on his face. She spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but something like defiance shown in her eyes.

He shook his head quickly. "I'm a Federal Agent. We're going to get you out of here."

She didn't buy it for a second. Her eyes went harder, as though attempting to make her feel better was the lowest thing he could have done. "You piece of shit." She was weak, and there wasn't much to her voice. It was laced, though, with pure, unadulterated hatred.

Bobby glanced at the door, then back to her, no idea what to say. "Look, just…uh. Just stay there, huh?"

She laughed at that, faintly. It seemed to hurt her, though, and she flinched. The cold brown eyes shut again heavily.

Bobby stared down at her for a minute, then moved to the door. "Fawkes? Where the hell are you?"

His partner came in a minute later, obviously reluctant to go in. "Here." He thrust out a large kitchen knife.

Bobby took it and moved back to the now-unconscious woman. He sawed at the drape cords around her wrists, but the knife was dull and it took a minute to get the thing frayed.

He glanced up, sensing Darien's discomfort without even looking. "Go call an ambulance," he said gently, ignoring the fact that there was a phone right there.

Darien could hardly disguise his relief as he took off back through the door and out of sight.

The guy was still squeamish, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Bobby wouldn't even kid him about it later. It was kind of nice to be around someone who wasn't as callused to the violence and pain as he was.

Christ, Hobbes. Way to sound like a world-weary old man.

Still, it was the truth. He was used to the dirtiness; he had been since going through Quantico. He could handle it without much more than a flinch.

Darien's innocence was both refreshing and disturbing. It showed Bobby how far he'd gone from being just another average person on the street, but it at least gave Bobby an idea of how innocent most people still were. People should be innocent. They shouldn't have to deal with this kind of shit. That's what guys like him were there for.

Bobby made it through the first cord, and moved around to the other side of the bed, quickly hacking at the second one. These pricks would pay, for what they did to this woman and whatever bodies were rotting in that room down the hall, and for what they'd done to countless other people on the way.

His eyes drifted back to the woman on the bed as he tore through the cord and managed to release her from where she had been stuck for who knew how long. She was still out of it. Her waking up like that had been a fluke, and she'd be safely unconscious until after getting to the hospital, more than likely.

He moved to the door, a hand going to shield his nose as he went out into the hall and passed the doorway that was the center of the rotted meat foulness filling the air in that house.

He heard Darien on the phone, and moved to the kitchen, where the kid was standing. He saw that the back door was all the way open, and Darien was standing as close to the fresh air as he could, trying to breathe in something less contaminated.

Bobby listened long enough to make sure his partner had the details covered, then he steeled himself and turned back around, heading for the doorway he didn't even want to go near.

Someone had to do this, and better him than Darien or some kid medic.

He plugged his nose and breathed in through his mouth, knowing the coppery, rotting odor would enter in however he breathed. He just hoped it wouldn't taste too potent.

The door opened easily, and he almost expected some tangible fog to wash over him.

Instead, he went in to a neat little child's room, and looked around for possible hiding spaces for a body. He shut the door behind him, shielding Darien from having to breathe in anything more than he could handle.

He hoped it wasn't the child. Jesus, he hated seeing kids' bodies. Maybe the kid was away at summer camp or something.

He quickly went to the other side of the small bed, but nothing was behind it. A quick check on his hands and knees revealed nothing under the bed, either.

He stood and faced the closet with a frown. This was the only place left.

Reluctance kept his steps slow, but the need to find this before anyone else came in made him reach for the handle to the closet door and pull it open.

They fell out one on top of the other, the first one hitting Bobby before he could jump out of the way, knocking his hand away from his face in an effort to back up and not fall.

It didn't work. He went down on his rear ungracefully, scrambling away from the first of the dead husks of flesh.

The kid. A little boy, his face frozen in a mask of pain that would never fade. His little body was almost buried under the one that spilled out after it, an older girl. A teenager. She was partially covered by another, an adult man.

And there was probably another left in the closet, staying upright.

Horror swept over Bobby, erasing the callused calm he thought he'd built up. His eyes kept going back to that little boy, whose body was stiff and foul, whose hands were frozen claws.

He breathed in sharply through his nose, and the smell hit him again. All decay and fear and death, the thick, stale copper of blood, the sickly, rotted flesh. The smells that called to nothing good, nothing but memories of other deaths, other decay, other innocent corpses, other bodies too close.

Too damned close.

The nausea wracked his body, turning him over and driving his face into the carpet. His hands moved to his nose out of sheer preservation.

Panic kept him moving, driving him up to his feet and to the door.

It was shut all the way, and for a moment when he tried the knob with one hand, it stuck. He let out a desperate little sound, reluctantly bringing his other hand down to tug at the handle. The door swung open finally and he bolted, slamming it shut behind him.

He fell against the wall beside the doorway, shaking.

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.

He could handle this. He was Bobby Hobbes, he was an agent; he was tough. He could handle this. He'd seen corpses before. He'd seen men die right in front of him He'd seen deformed, violated children, women. He could handle this.

His hands covered his face as he fought to catch his breath, trying to fight off a panic attack. Not since he'd started therapy and gotten hooked on medication had he felt this close to losing control.

"Bobby?"

He was losing it. Jesus, he was losing it. He shut his eyes and saw that little boy, and he shuddered, knowing the image would be in his nightmares for a long time to come.

"Bobby? What's wrong?"

His eyes flew open as Darien came a little too close to that room.

Rule number one -- block anyone else from getting hurt. Keep people back, away from the scene. Keep everyone else safe.

He came off the wall, reaching his partner before Darien could get closer. "Is the ambulance coming?"

Darien nodded, frowning under his hand. "Are you okay?" He glanced at the door behind Bobby and his eyes grew wide. "Shit, you didn't go in there, did you?"

"Just go outside and wait for the ambulance. You'll have to direct them in here."

"Why--"

"Just go!" Bobby pushed with both hands, turning his partner and steering him towards the living room and the front door. "I'll take care of everything in here."

"Bobby, what--"

Bobby didn't wait for more of the inevitable argument. He gave one last shove and turned back to the hall. He'd have to go and sit with that woman, in case she actually did wake up again.

He heard the front door open and shut a minute later, and sighed in relief. At least Darien was out. At least the Agency's seventeen-million-dollar boy had been sheltered from this.

With that sigh, he realized he wasn't covering his nose. He was breathing in that tepid, loathsome air without even noticing.

Somehow that scared him more than anything.

***

"No tyranny is so irksome as petty tyranny: the officious demands of policemen, government clerks, and electromechanical gadgets."

Edward Abbey. I think of that one almost every time I walk in to the office of my Boss. As important as the work is that we do here, it seems that this Agency is what Abbey calls a petty tyranny.

And while irksome is a little less strong than the word I might use to describe it, it does fit.

"All right, boys, what have you got for me?"

Darien glanced at his partner, but Bobby didn't automatically jump to reply. Odd. He grimaced, though, knowing what had knocked Bobby off-kilter like that. "Uh, looks like they just made a pit stop at this house. I don't think there's any connection between the family there and these guys. They just picked a place at random."

He glanced at Bobby, but the older man sat back, expressionless, seemingly willing to let him run the show. "We found five people in all. Four had been dead for a few days…" He shuddered slightly. "And there's one woman. She's in bad shape, but she's alive."

The Official nodded to Hobbes. "Keep an eye on her. When she's stable, go get some answers. I want to know why those men were there, why they killed so many people, and where they're headed next." His eyes were serious as he looked out at his two prize agents. "We're running on a rapidly-depleting timeline here, people. This one is big, and it won't stay quiet for long. Soon the Feds are going to be just as close to the Lyons brothers as we are. I need something solid, and I need it soon."

Darien glanced over at Hobbes, waiting for his next plan to come out.

His partner just sat there.

"Uh, I guess we could get over to the hospital." Darien suggested slowly.

"Yeah. Do that. That was our last lead, that house. You get that woman talking."

Bobby stood automatically, moving to the door.

"Hobbes?"

He barely glanced back. "Yessir?"

The Official hesitated, but stayed stern. "I need you both at one hundred percent right now."

Darien watched Hobbes, knowing the Official was wondering what had the jumpy agent so restrained.

Bobby just shrugged. "We'll find them, sir. Believe me, we're gonna track these guys down." There was a cold look in his eyes, a firmness that said he was speaking nothing but the absolute truth.

Darien almost shivered at that look. Bobby was tenacious, stubborn, and like a rabid dog when he got on the trail of something. From the look on his face, he was on the trail now.

Bobby left without another word. For once, Darien was the one left behind in the office, and he was the one who had to go trailing after Bobby.

****

"Neurosis is the inability to tolerate ambiguity."

The quotable Freud again. I think I read too many psychological journals.

"Hey? You okay?"

Bobby's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn't respond.

"Come on, you're spooking me here. I'm not used to the silent treatment from you."

Again he didn't answer. He wasn't deliberately trying to ignore his partner, but Bobby's mind was on other things, and it just didn't seem important enough to interrupt his thoughts by answering.

He was still shaken up by that damned house. It was ridiculous. It might have been symbolic of something -- him losing his edge, his cool. Whatever. It almost made him panic, and it still had him distracted now.

Those god damned bodies. That smell, the kid's room, the small closet stuffed with corpses. Feeling that lifeless, stiff body falling over, hitting him. Seeing the frozen face and the wide eyes.

Seeing the hatred on the one survivor's face when she refused to believe he was a good guy. Pure, unadulterated hatred, directed at Bobby.

He was almost grateful he'd be talking to her again. He needed to see another look from her, something that wouldn't be driving into his conscience every time he shut his eyes. Something he didn't have to feel guilty about.

He could feel Darien's eyes on him, but he stayed quiet, and he knew Darien wouldn't ask. They weren't friends. They were partners, and every now and then they clicked for a few minutes at a time and worked well together. Still, they didn't ask about personal problems, and didn't go opening up to each other.

He wasn't about to go sharing all his thoughts, and it was fine with him. Partners didn't have to be buddies. He liked the kid well enough when he wasn't making a forced effort to hate everything about the Agency and his life with that gland stuck in his head, but it didn't make them friends.

He wouldn't talk to Darien about that little room with the stuffed closet, and how badly he freaked out. He'd talk to someone else. His shrink, maybe.

Maybe not. Only thing therapy was good for these days was getting a bigger prescription written out. 'Oh, Bobby, bad day? So sorry. Take this to the pharmacy, they'll make it all better.'

Not that he was complaining. This latest shrink was better than those soul-prying ladies who never seemed content without gory details and in-depth reports on every feeling he'd ever had.

So he wouldn't talk to anyone at all. Screw it. He'd never exactly been crazy about the idea of baring his soul to other people. Well, one other person, maybe. But she was long gone and getting hitched to some Naval cop.

He almost grinned to himself at the self-pitying trail his thoughts were taking. Poor Bobby. Poor misunderstood borderline-psychotic Bobby.

"Jesus."

Darien readily responded to the grumbled word. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Darien stared at him for a minute, then shrugged and turned back to look out the window as they approached the hospital.

Bobby relaxed when his partner lost interest. He hated people trying to pry him open. Even just asking him how his day was. If he didn't want to talk about it, that should be good enough.

Looked like Darien was learning to respect that.

He pulled the van into the hospital parking deck, and found a space quickly.

Time to stop feeling sorry for himself. There were witnesses to question and criminals to hunt down.

***

"Men never do evil so fully and cheerfully as when we do it out of conscience."

Guy named Blaise Pascal way back in the 1600s said that. It's one of those truths that doesn't fade with time.

The funny thing about evil is that it can come out in so many forms. It can be large or small, agonizing or just distracting. It's hurtful, always, to someone, but it can be disguised as almost anything -- compassion, love, the good things can all be evil in disguise.

Or maybe I'm just becoming as big a cynic as Freud. Or Bobby. Scary thought.

The woman was awake. She was up and asking questions, from what the doctor said. Which surprised Darien, but it was good, since they wouldn't have to wait to get their answers.

The doctor identified her as Jennifer Sawayah, but that was about all they knew. The police had come and gone, and were tracking down various leads that had nothing to do with medicine, so they didn't bother sharing with the doctor.

After the short talk, the doctor pointed them towards her room. There was a uniformed officer standing guard, and Darien couldn't help but smirk at the sight. Too little, too late. She was hurt already. Not like these guys would come back and try to finish her off in the hospital, right? If they'd wanted her dead, they'd have killed her in the house and stuffed her in a closet.

He shuddered slightly at that, remembering the cool, clinical description of the bodies that Bobby had given to the cops at that house. Calm as he acted, the thing had messed him up bad, Darien knew.

But Bobby was all business as he flipped his badge and got them both waved into the room.

Darien immediately planted a big smile on his face, knowing Bobby would go in all official. The poor woman deserved at least one friendly face.

Bobby kept his badge out long enough to approach the woman, who was sitting up looking at them in unhappy surprise. "Federal agents, ma'am."

Jennifer Sawayah was not looking her best, Darien would guess. But it wasn't surprising. She was bandaged, pale. She had dark eyes that seemed to take up half her face as she watched them come in. It was nice to see those eyes open, after seeing her the way she'd been in that house, no matter how suspicious and nervous they were looking now.

She glanced at the badge, then at Bobby's face. Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Do I…" Her voice was low. "Oh, you were the ones who…" She shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry. You were at the house, right?"

Bobby nodded and stuck his badge back in his pocket. "That's right. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?"

Darien was surprised at how gentle Bobby managed to keep his voice.

She nodded stiffly. "I guess I owe you that much."

Bobby actually smiled faintly. "You don't owe us anything, but we'd like to find the men that did this."

She frowned. "I don't think I'll be much help. I have no idea where they would be now. Roger…my brother…he refused to help them. I think he knew Dave and Phil would kill us anyway, the minute they showed up at the door."

"You knew these guys?" Darien moved to the other side of the bed, surprised. He assumed the Lyons brothers had just broken in to some random house and terrorized the family there.

She nodded slowly. "Roger went to prison with them years ago. They robbed a bank together. It was a stupid thing to do, but he was a kid."

"So they showed up expecting their old partner in crime to help them hide out?"

"They wanted everything. A hiding place, some money, a new car. They were scared. Some agents were closing in on them." She looked at Bobby. "You?"

"Could be. We're not the only ones looking for them, though."

She nodded slightly.

"So your brother refused to help?" Darien asked gently.

"Of course. He's put his life back together; he wasn't about to ruin it again. He's married; he has children. He's not just some dumb kid anymore."

Darien heard the use of present tense, and it kept him quiet for a moment. Was she using it out of reflex, or was she unaware that he and his children were on slabs in the morgue?

She let out a breath suddenly. "Look, I've already told the cops everything that happened. Couldn't you just get a copy of my statement? I really don't feel like going over it again."

"That's all right, we don't expect you to. We're interested in catching them, that's all. Did you hear anything that might have given a clue as to where they would go next?"

She frowned. "I…to be honest, Agent…"

"Hobbes. Bobby Hobbes. This is Darien Fawkes."

She smiled, but it was a wisp of an expression that came and left quickly. "Agent Hobbes, right now it's all kind of confused. The last few days…" She shook her head. "I don't remember. They might have, but it's all pretty unclear right now. Could I have a little time?"

"Take as long as you want." Bobby dug into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Just give us a call the minute you can think of anything that might help."

"I will." She took the card and looked up at Bobby suddenly. "I'm sorry. About before. I knew you weren't…one of them. But my mind was so…confused, I…" She trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

He smiled again, a gentle, easy expression that again caught Darien by surprise. He'd never seen Bobby make a face like that before. "It's all right. You just take it easy, and try and remember what you can."

She nodded.

Bobby glanced at Darien, and they turned and headed for the door.

"Agent…Hobbes?"

He turned back.

She hesitated uncertainly, but spoke up softly. "Would you do something for me?"

"If I can," Bobby said instantly.

"Talk to the doctors. They keep letting all these cops in, but they won't let anyone else. I know Roger must have been here to see me, but they must not be letting anyone in. Tell them I want to see him. Please?"

Bobby's slight smile vanished. He glanced over at Darien, then back at her. "I'll…uh, I'll talk to them."

She smiled faintly. "Thank you."

He nodded once, then left. Darien went after him a minute later.

Bobby didn't wait for him. A new motivation was quickening his pace as he went down the hall and to the desk where they had met with her doctor.

The man was still there, going over some clipboard with a nurse.

Bobby marched right up to him. "You haven't told her?"

He turned, surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Her brother is dead. His wife and kids are dead. You didn't tell her that?"

He frowned. "You did?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, but I'm really tempted."

"Agent, Miss Sawayah is dealing with a lot of stress right now, physical and mental. She has a lot to recover from. I'm not going to add to her trauma by telling her about her family's deaths."

"You're letting her sit there wondering why you won't let him visit? When are you gonna break it to her? The day she gets out? 'Take it easy, stay off your feet, and by the way, your house is going to be empty?'"

The doctor frowned sharply. "Agent Hobbes, I suggest you get on with your investigation and leave the handling of patients to me."

"This is my investigation! Right now that woman is so confused she can't remember anything helpful. Keeping quiet about this isn't helping. This isn't any kind of proper procedure. What gives you the right…"

Darien stood back and watched. He felt his partner's anger over this, but was surprised at how vocal Bobby was being over his aggravations.

He glanced over at the doctor as he finished replying. "--to do your job, and let me handle the patient. You're lucky we're even letting you in to talk to her. You understand me, Agent?"

Bobby was seething. "Listen, you lab rat. If I wanna know her blood pressure, I'll come to you. This isn't about medicine, it's about some asshole in a white coat thinking he knows what's better for people than they do."

Darien spoke up at that, coming forward and grabbing his partner's arm. "Okay, I think it's time for us to go. Thanks, doc."

"Hold on, Fawkes."

"No. I think we should leave."

Bobby jerked his arm out of Darien's grasp, glaring up at him.

"Agent Hobbes, I think you'd better listen to your partner. Otherwise I may not be so tempted to let you in next time you have some questions for my patient."

Darien pulled Bobby away from the man before the agent could respond. He pushed him in front of him and made sure he didn't so much as look back as they moved down the hall towards the elevator.

Bobby resisted for a minute, but he gave up and stalked to the elevator doors, hitting the button on the wall sharply.

Darien stayed close, and almost pushed Bobby in when the doors in front of them opened.

Bobby moved stiffly, turned, pressed the button for the lobby, and waited for the doors to shut. As soon as they were left alone in the large elevator, he moved suddenly, slamming his fist into a wall. "Son of a bitch!"

"Hey!"

Bobby let out another curse, grabbing his fist. "Shit."

"Yeah, it hurts when you do that." Darien stared at his partner. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bobby shook his head, turning to lean against the wall. "I hate this. I hate this fucking assignment."

"Come on, Hobbes. We can talk, you know? You got something you need to get off your chest, I am your partner."

"Forget it, kid."

Darien frowned. It was quiet for a minute, before he decided to speak up again. "You're letting that house get to you, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Come on, Bobby. You've been weird ever since we went to that house. It was bad, I know. But you gotta talk to someone before you blow up, you know?"

"Yeah? Well, I got me a doctor for that. Don't worry about it."

Darien let out a breath, wondering why he even tried. It took forever for them to even start to like each other. What was the chance Bobby would start opening up to him about personal things like this?

And did he really want him to? He wasn't sure. He didn't know if the two of them were ready to have some kind of real friendship.

Although, if he thought about it, he and Bobby had been there for each other on a number of occasions. When Darien had found Kate, when he thought she had the solution for getting the gland out of his head, Bobby was there. He bitched and complained, but when the time came, he covered for Darien, and helped him get her back when she was grabbed.

And Darien had been there for Bobby when his ex-wife decided to remarry, when she decided Bobby couldn't have any more place in her life.

It was strange, but that situation had brought out a new kind of protectiveness towards Bobby. Darien realized that although Bobby was overprotective and paranoid, he really didn't have anyone to look out for him in return. His ex's behavior told Darien that he might never really have had that. She was nice enough, he guessed, and had legitimate complaints about Bobby following her late at night on dark roads.

But still, every chance she got, she shut the guy down. Every time Bobby made a comment that left him open, she was all set to tell him it was over, he was a lunatic, he had been a mistake, she was so much better off now.

Poor guy. Had to hurt, getting those kinds of vibes from a woman he obviously loved a lot.

It made Darien feel like coming to Bobby's aid. It had led him to spy on his partner during more private moments than he normally would have allowed. It led him to make sure he was there at that hospital with Bobby when Vivian came in for that last goodbye.

He really was a good guy, Bobby was. He had some problems -- big ones -- but when you got down to it he was a caring guy who just took things way too far sometimes.

Darien wondered at times what Bobby had been like before. He knew from overhearing the Official that Bobby had had some sort of crack-up that led him to go heavy on the pills, and made him unwanted by anyone but the Agency. And Bobby had been a Fed, however briefly. So it must have been bad, whatever had happened.

He glanced over at his partner as the doors opened, depositing them at the lobby of the hospital.

Bobby ignored the look, leaving the elevator in a hurry. He went right for the front doors, and straight outside towards where the van was parked.

Darien followed quickly, not putting it past Bobby to just drive off without him if he wasn't there in time.

Bobby jumped in to the driver's seat, started the engine, and then just sat there for a minute.

Darien got in and stared right at him.

When he spoke, his voice was almost pinching, like he was forcing the words. "Every person they hurt until we catch them, it's part our fault. You know? I should have looked up old accomplices. I should have known about Roger Sawayah. We should have gotten there before the Lyons' did. This is our fault."

Darien's brow furrowed. "Look, Hobbes, we're not the only ones after these guys. Are you saying it's the FBI's fault too?"

"Sure. They should have known. They should have been there. We should have…" He leaned back, his eyes pointed through the windshield. "This is our job. We should have caught 'em before now."

Darien didn't know how to respond to that.

"And now we've lost 'em again. Unless that woman in there can remember something soon, they're gonna do this again, and it'll be our fault."

"You gotta relax, Hobbes. You can't take responsibility for everything that happens, you know? We do everything we can." Funny, Darien was usually the one trying to assume guilt for everyone that suffered thanks to the agency. It was a lot easier to be on the giving side of this advice than the receiving.

"It's not good enough," Bobby replied simply, glancing at Darien. "We gotta do better." There was an intensity burning in his eyes, a driven look Darien hadn't seen before.

Darien didn't reply. Bobby finally put the van into gear and started them moving.

****

"Even a paranoid can have enemies."

My main man Henry Kissinger said that. Wise words, but easy to forget when you deal with a real, genuine, paranoiac.

Did I think Bobby made up everything he said? Of course not. Did I think he was imagining every little slight against him or me or the Agency? Nope.

But you get so used to laughing at someone like Bobby, and dismissing what he says, that finding out someone is actually working against him can be shocking.

"You're early." The Keeper greeted Darien worriedly as he came in. "I won't have another batch of Counteragent until tomorrow. We told you to use the Quicksilver sparingly, Dar--"

He flashed his hand up, cutting her off. He showed the snake, still less than a quarter red.

"Oh." She relaxed, meeting his eyes. "So what's this visit about?"

"Hobbes."

"What about him?"

"You guys know everything about us, right? I mean, we're not allowed to have any secrets. What do you know about him?"

"What are you asking about, exactly?"

Darien hesitated. "He's a good agent. I mean, the guy's nutty, but he comes up with things I would never even think of. He's really good. Why is he working for this Agency? Why not the FBI?"

She frowned. "Why not ask him?"

He laughed faintly. "Yeah, he's gonna come right out and tell me everything." He sat down at the edge of the chair he usually got his shots in, his eyes going serious. "The Official said something about a crack-up. What happened?"

"You shouldn't be asking me this, Darien. It isn't my story to tell you."

"Oh, come on! You people know every damned little thing about us. He's my partner. If something's going to set him off again, I need to know, right?"

She thought about it, and heaved a sigh. "I can't give details. You'd have to ask him. Or the Official. If he thinks you should know, he'll tell you."

"At least give me a general idea here."

She sat down beside him, her voice lowering despite the fact that they were alone. "Agent Hobbes comes from an FBI family. When he was around sixteen years old, he saw his parents killed because of someone his father had been close to catching."

Darien's eyes grew wide, but he stayed quiet.

"He had what could be called a minor crack-up right there, but that's hardly surprising. He saw a psychiatrist for a brief period, and was deemed to be all right. But shortly after he graduated from Quantico…" She paused, frowning. "It happened again. He cracked, but it was a lot bigger and a lot more public than his last one. Word got around that he was unreliable and unstable, and the FBI dropped him then and there. No one else would touch him, but the Official…he was willing to give him a chance. That's all I know."

"No, it isn't. That's all you'll tell me, though, right?"

She nodded. "If you want more, ask the Official."

He nodded and slid off the chair.

"No," she stopped him. "Better yet. Ask Hobbes. He's your partner, you're right. You two should be able to trust each other, and if he discovers you went behind his back digging into his past, he may not be able to trust you anymore."

Darien grimaced slightly. Good point. Bobby didn't seem to be the forgiving type.

"You mind telling me why you're so worried?"

He hesitated. "I don't know. This case is getting to him."

She looked on sympathetically. "You two have been after these men for almost two weeks. It's bound to be wearing on you both."

He shook his head. "It's different. He's taking it really personally. He says it's our fault, what happened to this woman and her family. He's holding himself responsible for everything, and it's getting to him. He came close to getting into a fight with a doctor at the hospital."

"Hobbes? That isn't exactly unusual."

"No, you don't get it." Darien frowned. "I don't know. It's hard to explain."

She smiled faintly. "You two are becoming quite the friends, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"You're awfully worried."

Darien returned the smile faintly. "All right, so maybe I like the guy a little."

"That's good. If you're right, he could probably use a friend right now. Help him relax."

"That your professional advice?"

"Why not?" Her smile faded suddenly. "But if he gets much worse, even if he just doesn't get better, you'd better let me or the Official know."

Darien studied her. "You think he's ready, don't you? You think he could crack again any time now."

"It's a possibility the Official and I have discussed. Hobbes is one of the best agents he has, which is why he's your partner. But he's unstable, no matter how many meds he's on. We have to watch him as closely as we watch you."

"But his shrink isn't Agency, is she? I thought he was seeing a private doctor."

She met his eyes seriously. "So does he."

Darien blinked, then his mouth dropped open. "You mean Hobbes goes to this lady and vents all his secrets, not knowing she reports right back to the Boss?"

"Something like that," the Keeper admitted reluctantly.

"You people really have all the angles covered, don't you?" He shook his head in disgust.

"It's necessary."

"Yeah. I'm sure. Very necessary." Darien didn't say anything else, heading for the door.

He couldn't be there anymore. He felt like he had at the hospital -- there was something unbearably condescending about lying to someone, or keeping a secret, just because you thought it was for their own good.

Just when Darien thought he was getting a handle on where he was and what he was doing, the Agency had to reveal something like this to make him remember exactly why he hated almost every aspect of his new life.

**

"Until we get some new lead, there's nothing we can do." Bobby's voice was low, almost angry.

The Official met that anger head-on. "Agent Hobbes, you've been after these men for two weeks now. You're supposedly one of our best -- why don't we have them yet?"

"With all due respect, you fat son of a bitch, we're doing our best. Back off."

Darien shut his eyes with a groan.

The Official's face went hard. Standing over his shoulder, Eberts glared down at Bobby in his quiet capacity as lackey. "You're on a thin rope here, Bobby boy. You'd better think before you go mouthing off again. You want off this case? You want us to stick Fawkes with another agent? Someone a little more dependable?"

Bobby glared right back, but heard the real threat in those words, and didn't respond.

The telephone rang, breaking the tense silence that fell.

Eberts reached over and grabbed it. "Eberts." He listened for a minute. "Very well." He held the phone away from his mouth. "Agent Hobbes, you have a telephone call. Our witness."

Bobby jerked up out of his chair. "Send it through to my office."

"You take it in here, Agent Hobbes."

Bobby didn't even slow down, going through the door and down to his office.

The Official looked dangerous as he stared after Bobby for a minute. He nodded to Eberts once, jerkily.

Eberts raised the phone again. "Connect the call to this office, please." He handed the phone to the Official.

He grabbed it and waited. "Miss Sawayah?" A forced smile appeared on his face. "I'm in charge of the case…I'm afraid he's unavailable right now." His smile vanished a second later. "Hold on," he said reluctantly, and jabbed the phone back at Eberts.

The assistant frowned, but pressed a button on the phone. "Transfer to Agent Hobbes' office, please." He hung up.

The Official turned to Darien. "You get down there. I don't want Hobbes leaving your sight for ten minutes. He takes a leak, you take a leak too. You got me?"

"Great, I'm reduced to spy again." Darien stood slowly.

"Yeah, you are. Accept it. Because if he pisses me off again the way he's pissing me off today, I'm going to seriously rethink his place in this organization."

Darien frowned, but nodded slightly and moved towards the door.

"You may want to remind him, just for good measure, that we partnered you with him because he followed the rules. If one of you doesn't start following them again, I'll separate you two." He smiled grimly. "You think Hobbes was bad, we have a number of very dutiful, by the book agents we could partner you with, Fawkes."

**

Bobby sat there waiting, until finally his phone rang.

The Boss must have tried to talk to her upstairs. Figured.

He answered quickly. "Hobbes."

"Agent Hobbes?"

"Miss Sawayah. What can I do for you?"

"I…I'd like to talk to you. If it's all right."

"Of course it is. You want me to come to the hospital?"

She sounded relieved. "If you wouldn't mind."

He smiled faintly. "Not at all. I can be there in about half an hour."

Darien was at the door by the time he hung up and stood.

Bobby just looked at him for a minute, then sighed. "Don't know why I bothered coming down here. They've got all the phones tapped anyway."

Darien laughed, a forced sound that quickly faded.

"You're Rover again, aren't you?" Bobby asked a moment later.

"Throw the guy a bone." Darien smiled tentatively. "Doesn't matter, though. I'm your partner. I'm going along, right?"

"Yeah, right." Bobby moved towards the door, and stopped right in front of Darien. He looked up at his partner, searching his expression. "You scared of me yet?"

Darien blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked a little too casually.

"You know. Scared I'm gonna flip out and get us both killed or something."

"Come on, Hobbes." Darien grinned instantly, but Bobby's eyes stayed on his, and he had a feeling his partner saw right through the smile.

****

"We are threatened with suffering from three directions: from our own body, which is doomed to decay and dissolution and which cannot even do without pain and anxiety as warning signals; from the external world, which may rage against us with overwhelming and merciless forces of destruction; and finally from our relations to other men. The suffering which comes from this last source is perhaps more painful than any other."

Freud wasn't my kind of guy. He had a lot of bonzo theories I don't agree with. But this one I like. This I can get behind. I've had a lot of experience with bizarre forms of suffering. In fact, if there's one thing in this world I won't underestimate, it's the capacity for a situation to always get worse.

She was looking a little better, anyway.

Darien slid through the door behind his partner, making sure to stay nice and quiet.

They had decided he should go in see-through. She seemed to have decided to trust Hobbes, but anyone else was still uncertain, so Darien would go in invisible to avoid spooking her.

Bobby casually held the door open just long enough to let him slide in, and smiled faintly at the woman on the bed. "Afternoon."

She didn't smile back. "Is it? I can't tell in this place."

Bobby nodded. "About three o'clock."

She looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap nervously. "I…thank you for coming all this way."

Bobby sat in the chair beside her. "Miss Sawayah, right now you're pretty much our case. It was no inconvenience, trust me."

She nodded slowly. "I really don't know how much help this will be. I had a dream -- the doctor says we can't be sure if it was a nightmare, or a memory that was trying to resurface. But I think I have an idea of where Dave and Phil said they'd be going next."

Darien surreptitiously moved a little closer to the bed.

"Anything you can tell us would help."

She hesitated. "My brother, Roger, he had another young friend when he got involved with Dave and Phil. His name was Jason…" She shrugged. "I can't remember his last name. My brother… Anyway, he was involved in a lot of their activities together. Roger told me once that he helped plan the bank job, but he didn't actually participate. He was never arrested. I have no idea where he would be today. Maybe Roger…" She trailed off again, her hands fidgeting nervously. "I had a dream. I was back…in the house, where you found me, and I overheard them talking from outside the room. I heard them mention the name Jason, and I think they were asking Roger if he knew where Jason lived."

Bobby smiled reassuringly. "You have any idea where Jason is now?"

"None at all. Roger never kept up with friends from those days. Not that I know of, anyway. You could ask…" She swallowed. "You could check the house. There may be something there. He's a packrat. He saves everything. Maybe he got a letter or something. I'm sorry I can't help you more."

Bobby's smile didn't fade. "You've been a lot of help, Miss Sawayah. Thanks."

She looked up at him, brown eyes round. "Would you tell me something?"

"Anything you want to know," he answered instantly.

"Is my brother dead?"

Bobby's smile vanished. His mouth stayed shut for a long moment.

She studied him. "I remember hearing his children the first few hours I was in there. I could even overhear him and Julie -- my sister-in-law -- talking. But I don't think I heard them at all after Dave and Phil got done asking Roger their questions. None of the doctors will tell me where he is, and a nurse told me when I asked that no one has been here to visit."

Darien frowned, looking over at Bobby, wondering what his partner would say. With Bobby feeling responsible for what this woman had been through, he was probably feeling a little protective of her. Would he obey the doctor's order or tell her the truth?

Lately, Bobby was no good at obeying orders. He kept his voice low. "He's dead."

She flinched at the words, despite looking like she'd been prepared to hear it. Her eyes dropped to her lap again. "Julie? The kids?"

Bobby swallowed. "I'm sorry."

She nodded slightly, her face hidden from view by stringy brown hair falling over her eyes.

Bobby watched her for a minute, then looked out at the empty room, not quite finding Darien with his eyes.

Darien took a step towards the bed. He took a step back again uncomfortably.

"Why didn't they kill me?" Her voice was quiet.

Darien looked over at his partner, and saw the sympathy in his eyes. That fierce intensity was back -- the one that had sent Darien to the Lab to ask the Keeper about his last crack-up. The look was directed at the young woman on the bed as she sat there shuddering.

She seemed to have forgotten they were in the room. She took a few deep breaths, almost hyperventilating.

Bobby got up from his chair and moved to the bed, reaching out a hesitant, awkward hand to her shoulder. "Miss--"

At his touch she flinched, startled, and jerked away from the hand. "Stop!"

He yanked his hand back as fast as he could.

Her eyes went to him, wide and defensive. She was on the verge of a panic attack, Darien could see. He took another step back, wondering if he should go get a doctor. Bobby sure as hell wasn't going to know what to do.

But, to his surprise, Bobby sat down at the edge of the bed, his hands raised slightly, meeting her eyes. "It's okay. I'm here to help you. I'm not gonna hurt you." He kept his voice low.

She shut her eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. You got nothing to be sorry about. Don't even worry about me right now. I'm not here to hurt you."

"I know. I just…I think I remember almost everything they…they did t-to me." She shook her head helplessly. "I wish they had just killed me too." Her eyes went up to Bobby, suddenly awkward about speaking that way in front of him.

He just gave another of those gentle smiles that seemed so out of place on his face. "I know how you feel."

Darien frowned at his partner, hearing the honesty in his voice. Now that he knew a little more about Bobby's past he could understand most of the motivation behind that. But he didn't know it all. And he wanted to. Seeing the almost natural way his finicky partner was handling this, he grew more and more curious to learn those parts of Bobby he had no idea about.

She straightened suddenly, jerking a hand over her eyes and clearing her face of emotions with some difficulty. "If you go back to the house, search my brother's closet. He kept boxes of everything. If Jason ever wrote to him, or he ever figured out where Jason was living, he'd have written it down somewhere. If nothing else, look for some old yearbooks. Jason graduated high school with my brother. You can at least find his full name."

Bobby nodded, his face going calm and professional again. "Thank you very much for your help."

She nodded. "I'm sorry I can't do more. I want you to find those…"

"We will," Bobby answered plainly, with absolute certainty in his voice.

She searched his face for a moment, then relaxed. "Good."

He stood. "You still have my card?"

She nodded.

"Use it, anytime you need to. If you remember anything else, if you want to know how the case is going. Use it."

She actually smiled somewhat. "I will, thanks."

**

Bobby went right for the doctor when they left the room. Darien stayed behind long enough to wait until the corridor was empty, then come back into view, shaking off the Quicksilver. He followed his partner and groaned when he saw him talking to the man he had almost ended up getting physical with last time he was there.

But as he approached, he heard the doctor talking calmly.

"--abuse, yes. And of course you saw the more physical damage when you found her. That's really all I can tell you."

"Yeah, thanks." Bobby trudged away from the doctor, down the hall and back to the elevator.

Darien followed on his heels. "What'd he say?"

Bobby stayed quiet until they were in the privacy of the elevator. "You know she's twenty-nine years old?"

Darien's brow furrowed. "No. Should I?"

Bobby glared over at him. "She's still young, Fawkes. Whole life in front of her, and she's wishing she was dead. It pisses me off. You think she's gonna recover from this? Whole family's dead, her life's trash. She's gonna have to deal with what those assholes did to her on top of everything." He paused. "I hate them. You know, I don't think I've ever hated anyone as much as I'm starting to hate those fucking Lyons brothers. Think they got the right to just march into someone's house and kill whoever they want, and destroy this woman's life? They shouldn't have that kind of control. Nobody should have that kinda power over someone else, but they do. And the only reason they got that power is 'cause they don't have the morals to know it's wrong." He shook his head bitterly. "We all got that power in us, Fawkes. We could all do that to anyone we wanted. There's so little stopping us. Conscience, whatever. So damned little."

Darien was quiet for a minute. "Hobbes…Bobby. Look, I know this is bad. The whole thing stinks, you're right. These guys are bad to the core, and we're gonna stop them. But you have to relax. You've gotta calm down and take it easy."

Bobby didn't even seem to hear him. "You know what's funny?"

Darien didn't want to ask. "What?"

"People like me, we're probably closest to snapping like that than anyone. We gotta hold onto sanity and morals and conscience through pills and therapy. I'm probably real close to turning into one of those bastards I'm trying to stop."

Darien shook his head automatically. "No way."

Bobby smiled faintly. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely. You're letting this get to you, Bobby. I saw you in there with that girl. You care about people. You try to hide it, but you do. You know it's wrong, what those assholes are doing. That wouldn't change even if you never saw that shrink of yours again."

Bobby paused. "I hope not," he said in return.

"You have to stop driving yourself nuts over this."

Bobby threw him a crooked grin.

Darien rolled his eyes. "I'm speaking figuratively here, pal. You've got to ease off. The Official's one step away from dropping you like a bad habit. Either that or he's gonna split us up."

"That bother you?"

"Yeah, actually it does. I'm learning to work around your insanity. I don't need some new guy's insanity screwing me up."

Bobby chuckled quietly. "It's kinda funny, the fat man being pissed at me for once."

"Funny? No, it's downright nice. Refreshing."

"I'm the one in trouble, and you're the guardian angel sent to make sure I stay in line." Bobby shook his head, wandering out the doors as the elevator opened and deposited them on the first floor. "I guess I'm learning how you feel. It's funny how things are changing, isn't it? Guess we're rubbing off on each other."

"Now that's a scary thought."

"Isn't it? I dunno, Darien, maybe he should split us up."

"Are you kidding? At this rate, I'll have turned you into me in a matter of weeks. I like the idea of having me as a partner."

"I've had you as a partner, kid. It ain't that great."

"Wait until I'm you, see how much you like it then. You've had it easy, Bobby."

"When did we get on a first name basis?"

Darien grinned, happier than he could say to have this old banter, to have Bobby relaxed enough to grin and joke with him. At least he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't still laugh at himself.

He just hoped it was a sign that Bobby wasn't as bad as everyone seemed to think he was. It was either that, or this was just the calm before the storm.

****

"Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys."

Alphonse de Lamartine. And no, I can't say that five times real fast.

I can get behind the sentiment. If one thing about this entire gland-in-the-brain thing has bothered me, it's that no one in the entire world knows how I feel. There's no one I can talk to with any kind of similar frame of reference.

I wish for brief moments that Simon Cole were still alive. I wish I could talk to him. Funny, but reading those journals he wrote during his own time as an experiment, I felt closer to him than most people I've worked with since my start with the Agency.

It's important for people to know they're not alone in their suffering. I understand that well enough. What's hard is finding someone who's not so absorbed in their own pain that they can't help with yours. If you find that, you've got an instant friend.

Bobby dropped his keys down right inside the door and heaved a sigh. The lights went on, the door shut, and he took care to make sure the lock was locked, the bolts were in place. Same as always. He then turned and looked into the brightness of his apartment as though he'd never seen it before.

Funny. He was a pretty spontaneous type guy. That was what Viv had loved about him, right? When she woke up in the morning, she had no idea what her day would be like, thanks to him.

But Jesus, his life was feeling really routine lately. Sure he went after criminals and dodged bullets and dealt with the strangeness of having an invisible partner. Still, it all seemed to be getting so stale. The Agency, the strange assignments. He could even almost guess what Darien's gripes were going to be before he griped them.

Maybe he was burning out, he reflected as he moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

Out of beer. Shit.

He shut the fridge and trudged his way towards the bedroom. He should sleep. Get up early, find the damned Lyons brothers.

He went through his routine, washing up and hitting the sack.

But as he lay there, the lights off, blinking up at the ceiling, he couldn't stop his brain from working.

It was funny, but when the Agency decided to pair him with Darien Fawkes, they hadn't reckoned on the two men having as much in common as they did. They thought Bobby would play the good Agent, and he had, at first.

But it was getting thin. He was realizing that he and Darien were a lot alike, and although he kept arguing when Darien bitched, a part of him was longing to just agree, to bitch along with him.

Darien felt like he was a freak -- someone under the microscope because of the gland in his head. Bobby knew exactly how he felt. He was a freak himself, but he didn't have the excuse of an artificially planted gland. He had no excuses at all. He was just nuts. Even Viv called him nuts. She had back when they were married, and she did now.

And that seemed to be getting worse as well. Now even Darien, who knew what it felt like to be looked at and studied, was watching him as though he was going to spontaneously combust at any time. Along with the Keeper, who greeted him these days with oh-so-casual questions about his dosages, and the Official, who was getting close to just blacklisting him as all the others had.

It was no fun. And the worst part was, Bobby didn't blame them. He couldn't argue, because he had no idea if he was gonna crack up or not. He was taking his meds like a good little psycho, but sometimes that just wasn't enough.

And this damned case. This case was getting to him like none he'd ever worked on. This case with the dead bodies, that foul-smelling room with the kids and parents shoved into a closet. That boy with his eyes staring, his hands frozen into claws.

That woman left behind, sitting in the hospital with no clue what was going to happen next.

It made him feel helpless, and he hated that feeling more than anything else in the world.

He was a protector. That was the only thing he was good at, was keeping people safe. It was what Viv first loved about him -- that he was so wild and spontaneous, but at the same time she never felt like she was in any danger. He kept her safe.

He had first met her before Quantico, when he was still in the Marines. Lifetimes ago. He'd been in uniform, out with a group of friends, and she'd been in a short little dress with some flowers splashed all over it, out with her own group.

He had watched over her even that first night. Since his first sight of her, he wanted to get close. But he was in macho-mode, with the guys, and had to stick it out, drinking beers and laughing way too loudly, until most of the guys were gone or looking for their own action.

When he caught sight of her again after that, some creep was talking to her, and she didn't look too happy about it.

Bobby saved her. Of course he did. And she looked at him with gratitude and surprise, and asked him his name.

Rest was history. They got closer, they got married, she started to realize his protectiveness wasn't going to fade, and it wasn't reserved for just bar situations. He started giving her Tazers, and calling her at home during the day just to make sure she was okay. He started therapy, he started with the meds, but it didn't get better.

And she asked for a divorce, and when the time came she stood in front of the judge and listed every bad thing she could think of.

Bobby could still remember clearly sitting there, staring at his wife, the woman he worshipped, as she denounced him as a paranoid lunatic who was suffocating her.

But it was who he was. It was all he knew how to do. She was the most perfect thing he'd ever known, and he had to watch out for her. Some accident of fate had sent her into his arms, and he was gonna fight like hell to make sure no one took her away. And that made her leave on her own.

But damn it, he just couldn't turn it off. He still wanted to watch out for her. He wanted to watch out for Darien, his partner. He wanted to watch out for that woman in the hospital, who had made him feel so rotten when she saw him in that house and thought he was a bad guy.

He let out a sigh in the dark room. He was sleeping less and less every night, it seemed.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he was about to break again. It was a scary thing, not to be sure of your own sanity. Scary to have to depend on pills, and even scarier when those pills didn't work.

Darien would be over early the next morning, obeying the Official's rules and sticking by him like glue.

Bobby knew there was irony in that, and even more in the fact that he was now going to have to do everything he could to shake Darien off his trail.

In fact, maybe it would be best if he just wasn't there when Darien showed up in the morning.

Hell, he wasn't going to get any sleep anyway.

**

Bobby nodded at the patrolman sitting outside the hospital room, flashing his badge and going to the door. He opened it slowly, just a crack, and peaked in.

To his surprise, she was sitting up, gazing out into space, wide awake.

He hesitated, unsure of why he was even there. He didn't have anything to say to her. No breaks in the case, or anything else.

But she saw him before he could change his mind and leave.

"Hello?"

Bobby opened the door a little wider and grinned crookedly. "Miss Sawayah."

"Agent Hobbes?" Her voice reflected her surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Just checking up on things, that's all." He stayed by the door, ready to make his excuse and then leave.

She again took the decision out of his hands. "Come in, please."

He obeyed, shutting the door and making the dim room even darker. Apparently she was obeying the lights-out rule, even if she wasn't sleeping.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" she asked quietly as he came closer.

He shrugged. "I work for the government."

"Ah. Uncle Sam's faithful servants never sleep?"

"Something like that." He moved to the chair by the bed and sat. "What about you? Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't take much energy to lie here all day."

"I suppose not. When they letting you out of here?"

"A few more days." She smiled slightly. "They say they want me to heal a little more, but they have this woman come in every day and talk to me for a couple of hours. I think they have me on some kind of suicide watch."

Bobby grimaced. It wasn't unusual -- she had lost her family, and at the same time had been attacked pretty brutally, raped… it wasn't pretty. "Do they have good reason?" he asked quietly.

She seemed surprised by the question. "No, not right now. The only thing I want is to know that Dave and Phil Lyons are back in jail."

"And after that?"

She smiled somewhat. "That's the tough question. That's the one she keeps asking that I can't answer. I guess when I've come up with a response, they'll let me out."

"You better think of something fast. Those head-shrinkers are tricky suckers."

"You speak from experience?"

He shrugged.

She studied him through the dim light for a moment. "You know, ever since I woke up here, people have been telling me they know how upset I must be, and they know what a struggle I'm going through." She met his eyes, her brow furrowed slightly. "You were the first person to tell me you know how I feel that I actually believed."

He smiled faintly. "Go figure."

"You were telling the truth, weren't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess not. I can't really know for sure what's going on in your head, but I can take a pretty close guess."

She was quiet for a moment, and to his surprise, she didn't question him any further. She just nodded. "I had a feeling. Is that the reason you're up so late at night?"

"One of them, yeah." He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. He hadn't expected her to even be awake, much less ready to talk about such serious things. He wasn't really equipped to handle it. "Look, I gotta take off. Early morning ahead, you know?"

"Yeah." She watched him, her dark eyes glittering in the dim light. "Agent Hobbes?"

He heard his voice come out before he even realized he was going to respond. "Bobby. Bobby Hobbes."

Her brow furrowed again, but she smiled after a moment. "Bobby. Thanks for stopping by."

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't. He really didn't have a clue why he'd decided to drive to the hospital at two in the morning. He just knew that protectiveness was surging inside of him, and she was the closest thing that really needed protecting.

So when he finally answered, he surprised both of them. "Tell me something. If you could have anything right now, anything that could make this whole thing better, what would it be?"

She answered quickly. "Dave and Phil in jail. I won't feel safe until they're locked up, and that's all I really want now. To feel safe."

He nodded slowly. "Night, Miss Sawayah." He smiled briefly and started out of the room.

"Jennifer," she said quietly. "Jenny."

He paused, glancing back in surprise. He echoed her faint smile and nodded slightly, then left the room quietly.

****

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing."

When I need a justification for doing what I do with the Agency, I turn to Edmund Burke. He had some pretty intense ideas about apathy, and being bystander to the evils of the world. All of which I agree with and all of which help me figure out why I've gone from criminal to crime-fighter.

Still, there comes a point when you can do too much. What good will it be to rid the world of bad guys if the good guys all kill themselves trying?

One of the great truths of the world is that if you go to sleep at night without solving any of the problems of the world, they'll still be there in the morning, and you can try again. This is one of those things I can't explain to Bobby.

Darien was surprised to see Bobby outside his apartment building when he emerged that morning.

Darien was supposed to be the watchdog. He was supposed to go to Bobby's, to make sure he didn't get away. But Bobby knew that, Darien supposed, and was heading him off at the pass.

He went down and got into the van. "Morning."

"We're going to tear that house apart until we find some guy named Jason, and then we're gonna track the Lyons' down." Bobby shifted and pulled the van out quickly.

Darien glanced over and saw the seriousness in his eyes, and the dark circles that meant Bobby hadn't slept.

He sighed quietly, not bothering to speak up.

***

"What's got you worried?"

Darien hugged the phone close to his mouth, cupping his hand and keeping his voice low. "We've been here for five hours now. He's going through that closet for the eighth time, and the guy shows no signs of stopping. He's getting obsessed, and it's bothering me."

The English voice sighed into his ear. "I'll contact his doctor. Maybe he hasn't been taking his medicine."

"I don't know. I'd better go before he hears me on the phone."

"All right. Just keep an eye on him."

Darien hung up, and stayed quiet for a minute until he heard the shuffling and grumbles from down the hall that meant Bobby had stuck with his task and hadn't overheard him.

He looked around the house with a sigh. It gave him the creeps. He couldn't breathe naturally, half-expecting that smell to be filling the air.

He didn't want to be there, much less be camped out for the day waiting for some small reference to someone named Jason.

"Fawkes? You wanna get back in here and help me?"

Darien sighed and started down the hall. He went through the door of the bedroom and deliberately didn't look at the bed, turning right to the closet and stepping through piles of clothes and shoes and papers. "How do you expect to find anything? The place is a mess, and there's hundreds of letters and things in here."

Bobby didn't even look at him. "Just help me out."

But Darien was tired and annoyed, and through obeying the fierce directions. "Bobby. There's nothing here. We've searched time and again, and nothing's going to mysteriously appear the tenth time around."

Bobby practically threw down the pile he was sifting through, glaring up at Darien. "Well? What else you got planned for the day, Rover? There's nothing else to go on. This is our assignment, pal. We got no other clues."

"Come on. There's got to be something else. Let's go talk to the girl again, maybe she remembers something else."

"She doesn't."

"How do--"

"Just drop it, Darien!" Bobby looked down, sorting through the stack he'd dropped, trying to find his place in the pile. He sifted once and again, dropping a few letters and scattering the papers in an exercise of futility.

"Bobby." Darien just stood watching him. "Come on."

"Dammit!" The pile hit the floor again, scattering everywhere. Bobby jerked to his feet, tired and frustrated. "There's got to be another place. An office, another closet. Something in a basement or attic."

"Bobby--"

"Maybe he worked at an office, kept some stuff there."

"Bobby!"

Bobby jerked his eyes to Darien.

"Just stop! Jesus, you're starting to scare me here."

"I can't even find a god damned yearbook."

Darien almost growled his frustration with his partner. "So we'll ask the woman in the hospital where he graduated from, and find another copy of it. We can find this Jason guy some other way."

Bobby stared at him for a minute, then cursed fiercely under his breath, his hands going to his eyes and rubbing tiredly. "Son of a bitch. You're right, let's go."

Surprised at the acceptance, Darien stood there. "We're leaving now?"

"Yes! Jesus, you realize how much time we've wasted in this house?" Bobby was already out the door and going down the hall, and a moment later Darien heard the front door opening and shutting.

He blew out a breath and trudged after him. It was exhausting, keeping up with Bobby when he was driven this bad.

He just hoped they got a break soon.

**

Darien couldn't avoid speaking when they were leaving the elevator. "We could have just called her, you know."

Bobby didn't bother answering. "I want to talk to her alone."

Darien frowned over at him. "Why?"

"She trusts me."

"So? I'm your partner."

"Doesn't matter. I want to ask alone."

"Fine. I'll just go back down to the lobby and wait, huh?"

Bobby nodded slightly, but didn't respond.

Darien turned and headed back down the corridor. One second and a message to the gland later, and he was back on his partner's tail. He'd been ordered to stay with Bobby no matter what, so that's what he was gonna do.

He couldn't help grinning to himself as he slid through the door to the hospital room right behind Bobby. Looked like they were both being selective about which orders they were following.

He moved against the wall and stayed there as his partner went to the bedside of their witness.

"Bobby." She smiled at him in greeting.

He grinned in return. "Jenny."

Darien's brow furrowed. When had those two gotten on a first name basis?

"Are you still working?"

"Never stop," Bobby replied easily.

Darien couldn't help watching his partner. Bobby suddenly seemed a little more relaxed. He wasn't foaming at the mouth over this case, that intensity wasn't blazing in his eyes.

"So what's wrong?"

Bobby sat at the edge of the bed. "We didn't find much at the house. We need something else to go on. Anything you can remember about that Jason."

She frowned. "There should be something. Those old yearbooks, something."

Bobby shook his head. "Maybe the Lyons found it. They've been good about covering their tracks." He frowned at that, suddenly, a flash appearing in his eyes that Darien recognized.

But the woman didn't seem to notice. "It could be. I was in that room, though. I don't remember…" She sighed suddenly. "I don't remember much of anything. I'm sorry I'm not more help to you."

"Don't say that, Jen. You've already done a lot. It isn't up to you to make sure we catch them. It's our job, let us handle it."

She studied him for a moment. "They're letting me out of here in a couple of days," she said suddenly, off the cuff.

Bobby frowned. "They are? That's…good. Must have thought up an answer to that question, huh?"

She shrugged. "A friend of mine has found me an apartment. I can send you the number, if you need to talk to me again."

He nodded. "That'll be good. Do the police have any sort of protection planned?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I told them what I told you, about Jason, and they figure the Lyons are long gone now. And they probably are, right?"

"Right." Bobby didn't sound convincing, though. "Wherever they are, we'll find them. I promise that much. Hopefully we'll get them before they let you out of here."

She smiled slightly. "That would be nice."

He nodded and stood. "Can you tell me the name of the school your brother and this Jason went to? Year they graduated?"

"Sure. It was Elmore, right here in the city. And he's five years older than me, so it had to be '84."

"Thanks. We'll find them, Jen."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"What's the one thing about this that would make you feel better?"

Bobby shrugged. "Same as you. Getting them into jail where they belong. Why d'you ask?"

"You look like hell," she said bluntly. "You must not have slept when you left here."

He grinned. "Don't worry about me. I'm not a person; I'm an Agent. We don't have the same needs as other people."

She laughed faintly, but didn't seem comforted. "Still. You're helping me, so I'll do anything I can to help you put them into jail."

Bobby studied her in surprise. After a moment he moved back to the bed and perched close to her. "I'll do anything I can to keep you safe," he said in return.

Darien wasn't sure where that statement came from, but it seemed to mean something to her. She relaxed and smiled, and it was a more genuine-looking expression than any of her smiles yet.

"Thanks, Bobby."

He nodded and stood, going for the door. "I'll come back later, let you know how it went today."

***

It was easy enough to call Elmore High School and get someone to check the records for Jasons graduating in the class of '90. Fortunately Elmore was a small school, and there were only two Jasons.

From there, Bobby called the girl -- Jenny -- and gave her both names, and she picked out Jason Carver as her brother's old friend.

Bobby talked to her for a few more minutes than was necessary, and laughed once or twice during the conversation.

Darien just sat there, in front of his desk, watching him. He was doing that a lot -- just watching his partner. Whether he was trying to figure out Bobby's strange behavior, his mood swings, or just checking for signs of insanity that didn't seem to be there, he was always watching him.

He was worried, he admitted it. All macho reasoning aside, he liked Bobby. He'd hated seeing the pain on Bobby's face when his ex came around to drill home how things were over. He didn't like seeing his partner with all those guards down, looking so wounded. And he didn't like it now, waiting to see if this was going to get to him so badly he'd lose his mind.

When Bobby hung up with the witness, Darien projected lightness into his tone. "Have a nice chat?"

Bobby glanced up at him, as if he'd forgotten Darien was in the room. "Jason Carver," he said simply, ready to go track the guy down again.

Darien wasn't going to let him get away with going rabid again so soon. "No, come on. Sounded like a nice little conversation. You trying to pick up the witness here?"

Bobby glared across the desk at him. "Why don't you keep your mind on the case, Fawkes?"

Darien shrugged and stood, heading for the door followed by his partner. "She's a little young, don't you think?"

"To be a witness? Is there an age requirement?" He kept his answer deliberately obtuse.

Darien raised his hands. "All right, all right. I'll shut up about it." For now, he added mentally.

Bobby moved past him out of the office and started down the hall. "You know, the Lyons' have been real good so far about tying up their loose ends. We haven't had any solid leads, any real witnesses, until now. They even remembered to grab those yearbooks in case we could get something out of them."

"Uh huh?" Darien kept pace easily, his longer legs matched to Bobby's quick stride.

"So Jenny Sawayah is one big living, breathing loose end. I don't get it. I don't get why they didn't just kill her."

Darien frowned. "Maybe they figured she wouldn't be able to hurt them. I mean, it isn't like we're short on things to accuse them of when we do catch up to them. Maybe they're so overconfident that they didn't think she'd be of any use to us."

"Maybe. But why leave her alive when she might have overheard their conversations, but remember to take the yearbooks?"

"I don't know," Darien answered honestly.

Bobby's frown deepened, but they reached the door they were going for before he could say anything else. He went it without bothering to knock. "Eberts, I need to you to dig up anything you can about a possible lead, a--"

"Hold on, Hobbes." The official cut him off, one hand in the air, the other holding the phone,

Darien looked at Eberts, in his usual spot over his boss's shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked quietly.

Eberts didn't look happy. "We may have more bodies for you."

"Son of a bitch." Bobby kept his voice low, dropping into a chair heavily.

Darien sat right beside him, more slowly.

After a minute of quiet listening, the Official broke the silence that fell over the large office. "Thanks, Jasper." He hung up the phone without another word.

Bobby didn't even pause. "Jason Carver."

If that surprised him, the Boss hid it. "And family," he simply added grimly.

****

"He who angers you conquers you."

A lady named Elizabeth Kenny said that. When I was at my most Zen, in prison and at the beginning of this whole Agency thing, I used to say that to myself a lot. He who angers you conquers you. And I wasn't about to let these people conquer me.

Now, I don't have to say it about the Boss, or the government, or prison guards. I have to say it about the exact kind of people I used to hang out with. The bad ones, the criminals. The people who have so little respect for other lives that they hurt and kill whoever they want.

Hobbes was right. There's so little keeping us from hurting each other. Morals, conscience. And when a person loses those, the rest of us had better watch out.

Darien shuddered as he moved out the front door and into the yard.

Well, that was one more house he never wanted to enter again. One more cross off the list of possible real estate holdings in the future.

It wasn't as bad as the last one had been, granted. The bodies had been discovered early. From what he could make out of the dialogue between his partner and the coroner on the scene, they had probably only been dead a number of hours before the police were called.

Still, a man, his wife, and a four-year-old girl with blonde curls like something off a damned TV commercial. All dead, and for no good reason at all.

He stayed out there, in the yard, trying not to think too hard about what he'd seen, until his partner left the house and came to him.

"We've got a hotter trail now, at least. They can't be more than a day away." Bobby's eyes stayed on the street in front of them as he stood beside Darien.

Darien shook his head, still trapped in the horror of the situation. "Three more people. How could anyone kill three people like that, just because they wouldn't help them hide?"

Bobby frowned. "No. Jason Carver was helping them. For a while, at least."

Darien turned to him now. "What makes you say that?"

"It was approximately eight days ago that they left Sawayah's place. This city is less than three hours drive from there. If they went right for Carver, they had to have been here for a week before this. Which means either Carver decided enough was enough, and he was gonna rat them out anyway, or they just got bored and left."

Call him unprofessional, but as badly as Darien wanted these guys off the street and in jail, he really didn't want to be the one to go face to face with them and take them in. These were two cold-hearted, ruthless SOBs.

"There is one good thing, though," he said thoughtfully.

Bobby snorted slightly and glanced over at him.

"If they were here for a week, they couldn't have gotten rid of every trace of themselves. They might have left something behind we can use, right?"

Bobby thought about it. "I'd say no, first guess. These guys are smart, and they wouldn't have left much more than fingerprints, which won't help us much. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"I've been thinking about Jenny. Uh, Miss Sawayah. We know the Lyons didn't leave her brother's house in a hurry, but they left her alive anyway. They might have been hoping she'd die before anyone found her, and she was almost dehydrated enough. But they wouldn't have taken a chance like that. There has to be a reason they let her live."

Darien's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You think they may be getting cocky, leaving us some kind of trail to see if we can catch them?"

"Could be. If that's the case, the chances are they did leave something behind we can use." Bobby turned immediately and headed for the door. "You coming back in?"

"Uh. Yeah. Just give me a minute."

Bobby paused, his face going surprisingly gentle. "They'll be taking the bodies out in a few more minutes."

Darien nodded, and his partner disappeared into the house.

So Bobby saw his sick, untrained response to those corpses. No big surprise -- Bobby was an observant little guy. Still, he was being understanding about it, which was nice, if uncharacteristic.

Darien's eyes drifted out into the yard, taking in the small tricycle overturned near the porch, the newspaper that must have been thrown in the yard earlier that morning.

It was so much like the other house it was eerie. These two guys, Jason Carver and Roger Sawayah, had settled down into middle-class obscurity, until their pasts had come back to haunt them.

It was sick, thinking about it front their point of view. Someone from their high school days, someone from a stupid time in their lives they had successfully put behind them, showing up at their door. Demanding they cooperate, simply because at one point they were all friends. The Lyons' would have had no respect for their families, or their lives now. They would have come in with guns in hand and taken over, submitting those innocent people to God only knows what before getting bored and pulling the trigger on them all.

It was pretty despicable. This could be any house, any of millions of two-car family homes sheltering average families and their…

Darien's thoughts trailed off suddenly. His thinking of this as a typical two-car garage home had sent his eyes drifting to the driveway.

"Bobby?" His voice was absurdly quiet, and he moved to the front door quickly. He opened it just enough to glance inside. "Hobbes?" he called out loudly, praying he wouldn't have to go back in among the bodies.

Bobby appeared a minute later from the back hall. "What is it, Fawkes?"

"Come out here for a minute." Darien left the door and took the few steps off the porch and down to the grass.

Bobby was at his side a second later. "What's up?"

"What if they didn't leave us anything?"

Bobby shrugged, confused by the question. "We'll find something--"

"No, I mean, what if the clue they were leaving wasn't in something they left behind, but something they took with them?" He nodded towards the driveway.

Bobby followed his gaze, and his sharp brown eyes locked on the single car sitting on the cement. Right beside it was more than enough space to park another car, and there was a rather discriminating dark stain on the cement right where another car might have parked regularly.

Bobby smiled grimly and clapped his partner on the shoulder. "Good eye, kid." He moved back into the house for a phone in a hurry.

Darien grinned after him, hoping this would be a break that would actually help. A quick call to Eberts to get him digging in his computer, and then a massive APB on the missing car. Hopefully the trail was still fresh enough to go somewhere.

****

A woman named Anna Louise Strong once said, "To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough."

I guess it's true. I've fallen in love a few times myself, and it's always been a short-lived kind of thing. That isn't always my choice, but I've always gotten over it quickly enough. Which I guess I wouldn't be able to do if it was real, gut-churning, Greek-epic-causing True Love.

It's made me paranoid about love, I think, and about all the reasons we fool ourselves into being in love. When I see it happening to someone close to me, more often than not I just roll my eyes.

Guess Bobby's not the only cynic in this partnership.

Bobby waltzed through the door, relaxing slightly as a shy smile that was becoming almost familiar greeted him.

"Hi, Bobby."

"How ya feeling, Jen?"

She shrugged. "Cooped up. But I'll be out of here by tomorrow."

He sat at the edge of the bed. "That's good."

She studied him for a moment, her expression friendly. Almost affectionate. "You still look like hell. Busy day?"

His smile faded at that. "Actually, yeah. We got a break, but there's some bad news, too."

"What is it?" she asked, her body tensing slightly as she sat there.

"We found Jason Carver, but the Lyons found him first."

She drew in a breath, her eyes wide. "He's dead?"

Bobby nodded, deciding not to mention the woman and the little girl who they'd also found. "But they stole one of the Carvers' cars, and we're less than a day behind them. We're getting close."

"Where do you think they're going?" she asked quietly, unsuccessfully trying not to sound afraid.

"No telling, really. They may be smart and just get as far from here as they can, as fast as they can."

"And if they don't?"

Bobby hesitated.

The pause was long enough for her to understand what he wasn't saying. She nodded slowly, her eyes going down to the thin sheet covering her lap.

Bobby watched her for a minute, wondering where the boundaries were with them. Could he comfort her at all, or should he stay official?

Funny thing was, he didn't come visit just to report details on the case. He didn't come here feeling like a federal agent. He wasn't her friend, he wasn't anything to her, really, but it wasn't so formal as being just a primary agent on a case she was a witness to.

He didn't know what the hell he was. He couldn't even automatically discount what Darien had suggested, that he was trying in some strange way to pick her up.

She was…her entire life was shot to hell. It wasn't a good time to think about dating. Besides, they really didn't know much about each other at all. He knew the facts from the statement they'd stolen a copy of from the police, and she knew he was an agent for the government. That was hardly a basis for…anything.

But he kept coming back. And the friendly, sincere light in her eyes seemed to be growing with each of his visits.

She was pretty. He hadn't really stopped to think about it before, but then she'd been hurt. She was, though. Her hair was tangled and messy, but it was a nice brunette, going a little past her shoulders. Her eyes…well, her eyes were intense. First time he saw those eyes, glaring at him in glazed hatred from the bed where she was tied, he had felt the impact almost physically. It had been, for a little while, his highest goal -- to see a look other than hatred in those eyes. Ever since then, he relaxed to see them aimed his way, shining with as close to happiness as he imagined she could get under the circumstances.

He stopped his train of thought abruptly. What was he thinking? He didn't have time to be losing himself in some weird personal interest. He couldn't afford to let himself get distracted, not until Dave and Phil Lyons were rotting in a cell.

At which point he'd probably never see her again.

Bobby winced internally. That was another good argument -- he sure as hell didn't have the heart to devote himself to some far-fetched idea of a relationship. Not with this young, confused kid. Not with anyone. As he'd been reminded so vividly a few weeks ago, he was a paranoid psycho, and he wasn't fit material to be married to anyone. Or involved. Or anything else.

Fuck it. He was an agent. He had time for his country, his Agency, and his partner. That was it.

He stood abruptly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I should get out of here."

"Oh." She looked up at that, and the glitter of faint happiness was gone. "Okay."

He backed towards the door. "I'll let you know if we find anything else, okay?"

Wide, deep brown eyes seemed to drive straight into his as she spoke quietly. "Bobby?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Would you…come by? Once I'm out of here?" Her skin flushed a slight pink. "To let me know how things are going. With the case."

As awkward as Bobby was feeling suddenly, there wasn't a single part of him that wanted to say no to that. "Sure. No problem."

"Good." She relaxed slightly. "I think the only time I smile these days is when you're--" Her light flush deepened as her mouth shut quickly, embarrassed.

Strange things flipped around inside him, and he decided he had better just get the hell out of there, fast. "See ya around, Jen." He was out the door in a flash, closing it tightly behind him.

**

Darien cursed mentally as the door slammed shut. Bobby's hurried exit had given him no time to slip out the door.

He glanced over at the bed, wondering if she'd be going to sleep sometime soon. If not, he could just open the door, make it look like some fluke. He'd done it before.

He tried to judge how she was feeling, and got to studying her a little more thoughtfully. There was something going on between her and his partner, and apparently none of the three of them had the faintest clue what it was.

She looked after Bobby, and the solemn embarrassment in her eyes faded. As Darien watched, her face slowly spread into a broad, satisfied smile.

His eyes narrowed, and his train of thought crashed into a wall and started up on a whole new track.

***

"Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes...just be an illusion."

I'm not much for romantic poetry, especially not the modern stuff. But this guy Javan hit on some truths now and then in his works, and they've stuck with me.

"Morning, ace. I've already talked to the police, and they've had a few call-ins about blue Hyundai's. May be dead ends, but we've got a few that look good we should check out soon as you get done with Miss Keeper."

Darien didn't bother responding as Bobby pulled the van away from his apartment building.

Bobby glanced over, his eyebrows raised at the uncharacteristic quiet. "Something wrong?"

"No," Darien replied absently. "Hey, you think you can handle some of those leads on your own?"

"Sure I could. Do I need to?"

Darien looked over at him finally. "Yeah. The Official called me early with something he wants me to check out."

His eyebrows almost flew off his head. "The Official? Called you? To check something out?"

"Yeah," Darien replied defensively, even though he was lying through his teeth. "It's a minor thing, but he needs invisibility. Won't take me too long. If you just want to drop me at the Agency, we can meet up for lunch. After that I'm all yours."

Bobby smirked. "Be still, my heart. All right, hotshot. You got some secret mission? Fine. Don't tell your own partner."

Darien grinned faintly. "Oh, so you don't like it when it's someone else who's on the side of the Boss's little secrets, do you?"

"Nope. Don't like it one bit."

Uh oh. Darien had a mental flash of Hobbes going to the Official out of sheer annoyance of being kept out of the loop. Wouldn't do.

He thought fast. "Well, actually, the Boss himself didn't call, it was Eberts. I think he's gonna be the only one in the office today."

Bobby grimaced, predictably. Darien wasn't sure why, but Bobby and the Official's right hand man were downright snippy towards each other lately.

At least this insured Bobby wouldn't go upstairs to talk to anyone, if he thought Eberts would be the only one home.

**

Darien broke through the lock without even looking too closely at it.

That was the good thing about houses like those. They were plain, not fancy enough to justify an alarm system, and usually resided in by people who didn't remember to fasten the bolts.

Of course, the police had been marching in and out of here a lot, and no one had been home since then. Which made it easier.

Darien ignored the tug at his guts when he stepped into the house. There were no bodies here, no rotted smell in the air. It was an empty house, like dozens he'd broken into before.

Only this time he walked past the TV, and didn't even think about jewelry or cookie jars with stores of emergency cash.

This time he headed for the room he remembered Bobby pointing out on their last visit, the one that Jennifer Sawayah had been staying in.

He let himself in, looking around for something to catch his eye and his suspicion. Something was up with this girl; he knew it. He read it in that grin that appeared on her face the minute she was alone.

He knew it hadn't made sense that the Lyons would erase every trace of themselves, but leave a living witness tied for the police to find. Something stank about this whole thing, and he was gonna find out what it was.

He absently opened a few drawers and pushed some clothes around. It was half-empty, but he remembered her telling Bobby that a friend was setting her up in an apartment, so she wouldn't have to go back to the house.

Come to think of it, why would a twenty-nine year old be living with her brother and his family?

The room had a sterile feel about it. The matching furniture, the few personal items.

He'd bet anything that was some kind of guest room originally. And he'd also bet she hadn't been living there very long before the Lyons showed up.

Quite a happy coincidence.

He started rooting more thoroughly now, getting a little angry. She was playing them. Her and the Lyons brothers had some sort of scheme worked out, where she could give clues too late and get let in on everything happening in the investigation. She was even making nice with Bobby to get in closer.

It pissed him off. Bobby was falling for it. Paranoid Bobby hadn't spotted the trap, but Darien had. And he would warn his partner before Bobby tried to get any friendlier with the girl.

He just hoped Bobby listened. If he could only find some kind of proof, something small, even. It wouldn't take him much to have to convince his paranoid partner that someone was setting him up.

**

Bobby arrived at the deli already tired and frustrated, from four hours of tracing nothing leads from local yokel cops.

Darien was waiting for him, a folder sitting on the table beside him. There was a strange look on his face as he watched Bobby come in.

"All right, secret agent man. You gonna talk to me about this little mission you had to go on?"

"Glad to. Want to get something first?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, but followed Darien to the counter. They ordered quickly, and took their sandwiches and sodas back to the table.

Bobby realized he was starving the minute he sat in front of food. "So what's up?" he managed to ask before stuffing his face full.

Darien looked at him seriously. "The witness is a plant."

Bobby's mouth stopped moving. He sat there for a minute, before a grin rose to his face and he swallowed quickly. "Damn, that was convincing."

"This isn't a joke, Bobby."

The grin faded slightly. "Yeah it is. There's no way that girl's a fake."

"She's working with the Lyons', Bobby." Darien kept his voice quiet, unsure of how Bobby felt about Jenny Sawayah, and hoping to avoid hurting the guy.

"Bull shit," Bobby said simply, dropping his sandwich back on the table. "You got some kind of proof?"

Darien smiled then, a grim little number. "As a matter of fact, I do. I stopped by that house this morning."

"That was your mission? To spy on this girl? The Official--"

"The Official had nothing to do with it. I suspected her on my own."

"What? You better start making some sense here, my friend." The grin was gone, and Bobby was rapidly getting angry.

Darien grabbed the folder he'd brought in with him, flipping it open. "All right. She said Roger Sawayah was a pack rat, right? Well, she was right. Turns out she was paying him rent, and he kept a nice, neat little record of the first payment. She moved in to that house two weeks before the brothers grim showed up."

"So?"

"So, it was almost the very day they broke out of prison."

Bobby laughed faintly. "You gotta do better than that, pal. One coincidence--"

"Fine. I went through her stuff. There's this tiny little shoebox shoved in the back of a shelf way at the top of her closet. I almost didn't see it." He held up a couple of envelopes, opened and worn-looking. "Seems your witness has pen pals in the local penitentiary."

Bobby frowned. "What?"

"Her and Phil Lyons apparently exchanged a few of these letters before he got out. There's a whole stack of them back at the Lab, waiting to be read. I went through, and a few of them, mostly from the last few months, are gone. Vanished, just likes those yearbooks and any other incriminating evidence."

Bobby grabbed the envelopes and looked down at them wordlessly.

"You think it's a coincidence they let her live? Not a chance. They haven't left a single person alive the entire time they've been out. Suddenly they change the program?" He didn't have to force the doubt into his voice. "So they cut a deal with sister there, and get her to move in to the place they'll be showing up once they're out of the pen. They smack her around a little, enough to make it look bad, and then leave her to be a nice little plant for the cops…or various other agents that might pop up." He looked at his partner pointedly.

Bobby was shaking his head slightly, looking down at those letters with the scrawled handwriting of Phillip Lyons in disbelief.

"She played you, Bobby. She played everybody."

"No." He looked up briefly, then back at the papers in his hand. "No, she wasn't…you saw what they did to her, Darien. They raped her."

Darien shrugged, his elation at finding the evidence fading slightly at Bobby's pained reaction. "If her and Phil were getting it on, it wouldn't be hard to fake the evidence, you know? It wouldn't have felt good, but maybe the pay off at the end was gonna be worth it."

"No. No, dammit. She was telling the truth."

Darien picked up the last sheet of paper from the folder ruefully. "She did a couple of years of college. Know what her major was?"

Bobby blinked up at him silently.

"Theatre. Little witness was an acting major."

Bobby swallowed. "Doesn't mean anything," he said quietly.

Darien set the paper down. "Look, I'm sorry, but you can't deny the proof."

"This isn't proof. Doesn't prove anything. You're speculating."

"Bobby, come on! The facts are there! She gave us Carver's name, yeah. Probably right after he was killed. Enough time to get an OK from loverboy Phil."

"Darien--"

"Why do you trust her so much? You don't trust anybody, Bobby." That's what Darien didn't get -- the big question: why trust her? She wasn't quite pretty enough to justify a whole turnaround in Bobby's attitude. Especially the way he'd been lately, with the intensity and the unpredictable mood swings.

Bobby sat there for a long time, food forgotten. He stared at those letters wordlessly, and looked at the other items Darien had gathered without trying to read them.

It was quiet long enough for Darien to start getting worried. Bobby was on the edge lately, and he probably hadn't helped matters by telling him that someone he trusted and liked was working for the other side.

Bobby broke the silence with a harsh whisper. "Dammit."

Darien tried to meet his eyes, but they were lowered enough to be hidden. "I'm sorry. I know you liked her."

"Dammit!" He jerked out of his chair, letters crumpling in his fist, and moved back from the table so fast his chair fell over and hit the floor with a bang.

Darien was after him a minute later, but by the time he hit the door to the deli Bobby was already in the van, slamming the door shut.

He started crossing the street quickly, and he shouldn't have been surprised when the engine started and the van peeled off without him.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Surprised and alarmed.

Bobby was close to the edge, and Darien had just knocked him a little more off balance. He had to get to the hospital. He knew that's where Bobby was headed, and he had to stop his partner from doing something he'd regret later.

***

Joyce Brothers once said, "The best proof of love is trust."

I'm with her. Trust has to be earned, unlike love, which most people give away a little too freely. If you're sparing with your trust, that is. Some people give that away as well.

Now Bobby, he had his act together. He didn't trust anyone. I figured if he did decide to trust a woman, love couldn't be that far behind. He's just that kind of guy.

Problem is, he'll have to trust one first.

He had actually calmed down slightly by the time he reached the hospital. Still, he swerved the van into the closest spot available, ignoring the handicapped sign, and rushed in without a thought.

In the elevator going up, he had time to work through a few of his harsher emotions. He drew on past therapies enough to suck in slow, deep breaths, forcibly trying to stay calm.

And it worked. By the time he knocked on her door, he was almost relaxed.

She was sitting up, feet on the floor, and she smiled when he came in. "Bobby! I wasn't expecting you before I left."

He moved in and stood over her, keeping his voice calm. "I've got a few more questions."

Her smile faded slightly in confusion at the formal, tense voice, but she nodded. "All right."

"Why were you living with your brother?"

She seemed surprised by the question. "Well, I had an apartment, and my lease expired. I hadn't found a new place yet, so Roger said I could stay with them for a few weeks."

"It had nothing to do with Phil or Dave Lyons?"

She blinked. "No. What could it have to do…" She trailed off, studying his icy face. "Did something happen, Bobby? What's wrong?"

Asking for information again. Jesus. Bobby held up the papers he still held clenched in a fist. "How long were you and Phil Lyons pen pals before he broke out?"

She blanched, a hand coming out and reaching for the letters.

Bobby snatched his arm back before she could touch them, his anger growing again despite his efforts to control it.

"He…he was Roger's friend. When they were in jail together, I w-would write to Roger." Her voice was shaky. "Phil answered one of the letters, and we…I wrote him back. It went on from…from there."

"Uh huh." Bobby crossed his arms and looked down at her.

She shook her head slightly. "What are…Bobby, I…it didn't seem…important, so I didn't tell anyone. They're just stupid letters. Small talk. I kept answering because he was in jail, and he probably didn't have much else to do."

Bobby practically scoffed. "You wrote him out of pity, to give him a way to spend his time? That's sweet."

She looked away from him.

Bobby felt something inside him give, and the anger and betrayal flooded up inside of him. She was lying. Jesus, since the first day…

She spoke before he could tell her exactly what he thought of her. "Dave wanted to kill me. When they showed up at the house, I was the only one there. Dave was going to shoot me."

He opened his mouth to let her know he wasn't falling for it anymore.

But she kept going. "Phil…he stopped him. He remembered the letters, and said he was…he said I was nice. He liked me. So they didn't…didn't kill me." Her voice was getting thick with repressed emotion. "He liked me," she said again in a near-whisper. "So they tied me to the bed and…and…instead of killing me." Her voice broke, but she sucked in a breath, trying to control herself.

She moved suddenly, reaching out and grabbing the letters Bobby held, ripping them in half convulsively. "Because of these stupid letters! They…hit me, and burned me, and r-raped me. Because I was nice!" She dropped the torn paper on the floor and buried her face in her hands, trying to control herself.

Bobby stared down at her, his mind blank. He looked at the torn paper on the floor, and a voice inside rose up, telling him it was okay, they had a whole stack at the Agency.

The overwhelming feeling that she was telling the truth drowned that small voice out suddenly. He just couldn't believe she was lying. Every instinct he had told him…

Acting. Majored in acting. She was probably really good at it.

She looked up at him, swiping at the wetness trailing out of her eyes almost angrily. "You think I had something to do with this?"

He looked into those bright, pained brown eyes, and the answer came instantly. "No." He sat down beside her, awkward. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" He shook his head, his thoughts spinning.

She straightened, giving her face a last swipe to clear it of moisture. "I have to go," she said quietly, her voice distant. "My friend will be here any time now."

Bobby swallowed, hearing that for what it was. She was telling him to leave. He had gone too far, bought what Darien was selling without question. He had gone in shouting accusations, and now she was sending him away.

He stood again, wishing he were good with words, wishing he could find a way to say he was sorry.

How could he have believed it? A little bit of circumstantial…

Oh, but that was Paranoid Bobby all over. Not fit to have a decent relationship with anyone. Hardly fit to be around other people at all.

Better he walked out now than try to stumble over an apology. Better to cut it clean then to go on trying to be friends until she discovered what a nutcase he was and cracked him even more completely.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, sincere. He didn't make her answer, turning and heading out the door.

A woman was standing there, poised to knock. She dropped her hand with a smile when she saw Bobby. "Hi. Is Jenny in there? I'm here to…"

Bobby moved past her without a word, going down the corridor towards the exit.

He was almost at the end of the corridor when there was a scream.

He wheeled, instincts sweeping his gun out before the sound even stopped.

Before it was cut off. By a gunshot.

He barreled back down the hall. It wasn't crowded, but the few people there were pretty much running for their lives. He fought his way through them, and stumbled to a stop, his weapon aimed steadily. "Lyons!"

Dave Lyons snapped his eyes, and then his own gun, towards Bobby.

"Drop the gun. Now!"

Lyons got his control back a moment later, and the gun left Bobby and moved back to the wall.

Bobby glanced over quickly, and sucked in a breath. Jenny was okay. But her friend was probably dead.

He moved his eyes back to Lyons. "You do it, and you're dead."

"Drop the gun, I won't shoot her," he gritted out in return.

Bobby almost smirked. "No way, pal. You first."

Lyons' eyes moved to him, growing darker.

Bobby kept his aim steady, and for a long, tense moment they glared at each other, waiting for the other to back off.

The standoff ended abruptly when Lyons suddenly stumbled forward, his arms yanked down by some unseen force.

The gun went off, but the bullet buried itself harmlessly in the floor feet away from Bobby.

The agent moved fast. He dove not for Lyons, but for Jenny, wanting to get her out of the way.

She had sunk back against the wall, her eyes going from Lyons to the still body of her friend on the floor. She looked up as he came at her.

He didn't give her a pause to digest things. He pushed her straight into the still-opened door of her room, turning in the doorway to make sure Lyons wasn't gonna try to come in after her.

He was trying to move, but something was holding him back. That same unseen force.

Bobby almost grinned. His partner's tendency to pop in unannounced was sometimes really damned inconvenient, but sometimes he had the right idea.

Lyons twisted abruptly, his hand moving up sharply, aimed right at Bobby.

Bobby brought his own gun up, but knew with the certainty of having faced guns down before that he was too late -- Lyons had him.

The gun boomed, but miraculously missed Bobby, whizzing through the open doorway.

Bobby glanced back instantly, but Jenny hadn't been touched. She was sitting on the bed, looking she hadn't noticed the bullet at all.

And then another shot rang out, and Bobby whirled, shocked at himself for turning his back on an enemy with a loaded gun.

But Lyons was on the floor. He was sprawled out, his shirt slowly growing red. His gun was on the ground beside him.

Bobby looked around for the shooter, but the halls were cleared.

His answer became obvious when flicks of silver suddenly showered the ground around Lyons. Darien came into view, his face pale and shocked as he looked down at the man on the ground.

Bobby glanced back into the room and cursed lightly, guessing what had happened. She didn't look like she was going anywhere, so he shut the door after him and started for his partner. "Darien?"

Darien looked over, frozen where he was standing. "I…"

"You did, huh?" Bobby looked down at the body on the ground. The middle of a hospital, but he doubted anyone would be able to save Lyon's life. He crouched, reaching for his neck to feel for a pulse. After a minute he sighed and dropped his hand, looking up at Darien. "You did."

Darien wilted, his tall frame sagging slightly. "Oh my God." He looked down at Bobby, his eyes wide. "He was…gonna shoot. You were…"

Bobby stood, going to his partner and laying a hand on his shoulder lightly. "You did the right thing. Wrestled him for the gun, and it went off? Right?"

Darien nodded blankly.

"So it was as much his fault as yours. And mine. I turned my back. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry you had to do that, but it was the right thing."

"I just killed a man." Darien sounded like he was in shock.

Bobby grimaced. "Look, I know how you feel. But we don't have time for this right now. You've gotta call and tell the Boss about this. We've gotta get the Agency here ASAP."

Darien nodded blankly.

"Kid…Darien. Look, I do know how you feel, I promise. And we can deal with it later. You were right to do it. You hear me?"

"Yeah." Darien made a visible effort to straighten. "Yeah. I'll go call the Boss."

Bobby watched him turn and head down the hall.

Any minute now doctors and cops and other people would be swarming around. He decided to take advantage of the brief quiet and slip into Jenny's room.

She was still sitting there, staring into space. But she looked over when the door opened, tensing. When she saw who it was she didn't relax.

He noticed that, and it sent a pang through him. Darien had been right to turn that gun on Lyons. But he had been wrong about her.

Very, very wrong.

Bobby went in slowly. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Kim…is she…"

"I'm sorry," he said again quietly.

She shook her head, her eyes dropping to the ground. "She…she was all I had left."

Bobby recognized the distant, unattached tone in her voice that said she was in shock. He moved closer to the bed.

Her eyes came up again suddenly and locked into his. "I didn't lie to you, Bobby. I didn't tell you about the letters, and I should have. But I never lied. I had nothing to do with them."

Bobby swallowed. "I believe you. I'm sorry I suggested…"

"I just…I could really use…" She shook her head, looking almost embarrassed.

Bobby looked down at her for a moment, and suddenly had a good idea of what it was she meant. He somehow knew what she couldn't ask for.

He moved without thinking, sitting on the bed beside her and slowly holding his arms open to her.

She couldn't meet his eyes, but fell into the embrace, shuddering hard.

He held her loosely, awkward for a minute. He was just the agent here, right? He was the guy that had just pissed her off by implying she'd been consorting with the men who raped her, and then he'd left her to be confronted by the man himself with gun in hand. He didn't really know where his place was here.

Before he could make any decisions on the subject, the door cracked open. Darien peeked in and looked around, and stopped when he saw Bobby. His solemn face went a little embarrassed when he saw Jenny holding back sobs in Bobby's arms.

"Uh. You need to come out here, Bobby."

He nodded quietly and nodded back out the door.

Darien took the hint and headed back out, shutting the door behind him.

Bobby sat back slowly. "Hey. You okay?"

She thought about it for a minute, brushing off an escaped tear absently. "You know, I really have no idea," she said quietly.

He smiled faintly. "I can understand that. Look, I gotta go take care of this. Just stay here, and I can drive you somewhere when I get done."

She nodded slowly, then blinked up at him, her eyes huge and bright and casting an impression of youth and innocence over her face. "Kim's dead. I can't believe she just…she just showed up five minutes ago, and she's…I have to call…her brother. Her mom. I have too…" She trailed off, her eyes going distant.

"Hey, don't worry about it. The police will notify her family. All you have to do is sit here and rest for a few minutes, until I sort this out. I'll be back in a few, okay?"

She glanced over almost distractedly, and nodded.

Bobby frowned, but headed for the door. He headed out into the hallway, where police and doctors now surrounded the two bodies.

Darien stood to the side, looking silently freaked out by everything.

Bobby headed to his partner's side to make sure he was all right.

A cop made his way to Darien at the same time. "Sir, you reported the shooting. Did you see the person who did it?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered for him, closing the distance to the two as he fished for his badge. "I'm the one who shot the creep on the floor over there. I'm a federal agent."

If the officer was surprised by the blatant confession, he hid it. "Agent…Hobbes." He took the badge and studied it. "This was self-defense?"

"What do you think? The guy shows up in a hospital hallway and starts blowing people away. I didn't mean to kill him, but I'm not sorry I did."

The officer nodded. "It looks clean, but you'll have to come with us, answer some questions and give some statements. You too, sir."

Bobby shook his head, taking his badge back. "Agent Fawkes wasn't there. He showed up right after it happened. He was making the call for me."

The officer glanced over at Darien for confirmation.

Darien was wide-eyed, looking to Bobby for help.

Bobby nodded slightly, encouraging him. Yeah, it was a lie. So what? Darien was freaked; he didn't need police statements and self-defense motives being questioned. Bobby had been through it before. He could handle it.

Darien echoed the nod to the officer. "That's right," he added quietly.

Showed how freaked out he truly was, if he did what Bobby suggested without question.

The officer looked slightly suspicious, but nodded. "All right, you can go. Agent Hobbes?"

"Yeah, I'll be right with you." Bobby grabbed Darien's arm and pulled him away a few steps. "I promised Jenny I'd take her home. Looks like you're gonna have to do it for me."

Despite his shock over the last few minutes, Darien stiffened at that, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Bobby shook his head. "You were wrong. Lyons came back to kill her. You were wrong about her, all right? I asked her about it, and I believe what she told me. I believe it. Paranoid Hobbes, remember? Just take her home."

"How do you know he came here to kill her? He didn't, and he was standing right there. He could have made the shot easily, but he took out the woman beside her."

Bobby's lips pursed slightly in annoyance. He of course understood the lack of trust that motivated Darien. It was the same lack of trust he had towards ninety-eight percent of other people in this world. But he didn't have it towards Jenny, and it irked him that Darien did. "All right, if you don't trust her, take her to the Agency with you. You can keep an eye on her until I sort out this whole thing."

Darien glanced over and saw that their friend the cop was obviously listening in on their conversation, making sure they hadn't been lying to him. He frowned, but turned back to Bobby. "Fine. You gonna be long?"

"Hopefully only a couple of hours or so. If you don't want to stay with her, send her down to the Lab and let the Keeper watch her. I don't want her to think she's under arrest or anything, you got me?"

"Yeah. Bobby…" The question was in Darien's eyes now, as Bobby started turning back to the cop. Why had he lied, so naturally and easily, about having killed Lyons? Why was he protecting Darien when it was completely self-defense either way?

Bobby just shot him a warning look and turned back to the cop. "Let's get this over with."

**

Darien opened the door and peered inside. "Hey, uh, Miss Sawayah?"

Jenny looked up, frowning. "Hello, Agent. Where's B…Agent Hobbes?"

"Looks like he's gonna have to go downtown and answer a few questions. He said you…uh…" How to word this? "You might be uncomfortable being left alone right now, so we were thinking I could take you to our department's headquarters until he gets done."

She was obviously uncomfortable, but she stood slowly. "All right, Agent…Fawkes?"

Darien smiled slightly despite the misgivings that remained about the woman. "That's right. Call me Darien."

She seemed surprised by that. "Darien. Okay. Where is this place we're going?"

"It's nearby. Don't worry -- Bobby'll meet you there, and he'll take you home."

Her expression grew more solemn, but she didn't say a word. She moved slowly to the door, and Darien let her slip past him into the hallway.

Immediately she stopped, frozen, staring at the sheet-covered lump by her door.

Darien grimaced -- her friend. He should have remembered.

He placed a hand on her arm and steered her around and past the covered corpse. "Come on. Sorry about this whole thing."

She didn't answer, looking almost blank.

Darien blew out a breath and led her to the elevator. It was going to be a long couple of hours.

****

We all know that quote about assuming, don't we? It's not even worth writing out.

Sure, I was assuming a lot of things here. And all cute little phrases about making asses of ourselves aside, just because something is an assumption, doesn't mean it's necessarily wrong. I mean, I had no reason to be biased in this situation, right?

That's what I thought, anyway.

"He's what?"

"He's answering questions about killing Dave Lyons." Darien rubbed the back of his neck, growing more tired and annoyed with every minute that ticked by.

"Dammit, I told him to take Lyons alive." The Official glared at Darien for a moment, then turned the glare to Eberts. "Call the police station and get a hold of him."

Eberts moved to obey, lifting the phone and moving a few paces away from the desk to allow the Official and Darien space to talk.

"You brought her here, right?"

Darien nodded. "She's down in the Lab. The Keeper's gonna watch over her until we figure out if she's on the level or not, or until Bobby gets back. Whichever comes first." He said that with a slight ironic edge he couldn't hide.

"On the level?" The Official's eyebrows flew up.

"Yeah. I…there's a lot of stuff going on with her that looks fishy. Things that connect her to the Lyons brothers."

"Wait a minute. You're telling me our only witness so far could be a plant?"

"Looks that way. I thought she might be, but Hobbes doesn't think so."

"Hobbes doesn't…" Surprise gave way to amusement for a brief moment. "That's interesting."

"Sir?" Eberts turned back, hanging the phone up.

"What is it, Eberts?"

"They've already let him go. If he was planning to come here, he should be back any--"

"I miss anything? Where's Jenny, Fawkes?"

Darien turned an unsurprised look to his partner as Bobby strolled through the door right on cue. "With Claire."

"I'd better go check in on her. I'll give a report in a few minutes, boss. I gotta--"

"Hobbes, get in here and sit down. Now."

He stopped, surprised, but did as he was told, casting a questioning look at Darien. "Yes, sir?"

"You killed Lyons. After I gave you explicit instructions to bring them in alive, you--"

"Sir, wait a minute." Darien raised a hand.

The Official ignored him. Not that Darien should have been surprised by that.

"You brought us a witness that's probably working for the brothers, and you let yourself get arrested again."

Bobby shot a dark look at Darien, but Darien got the feeling the growing anger was more over the Official thinking Jenny was a plant than because of his own situation.

"Sir, hang on. I can explain--"

"I don't want to hear it. What did the cops tell you?"

Bobby stayed stiff. "They let me go. Officially they'll interview more witnesses and figure out if it was really self-defense, but unofficially they said there wouldn't be a problem. Said I was a frigging hero. Now you mind telling me why you're jumping down my throat over it?"

"You disobeyed orders! You can't tell me you didn't have a clear enough shot to have just wounded him. I know how good you are, Hobbes. You killed him because you wanted him to die. You're losing it. I should have pulled you off this case when Fawkes and the Keeper first expressed concern, but I figured I might as well trust you. I should have known better. You're on suspension."

"What?" Bobby sat bolt upright, gaping. "You can't be serious! For how long?"

"Until I figure out something else to do with you. This is it, Hobbes. You're unstable. I can't trust you enough to work with Fawkes anymore. He's too important to--"

"Hey! Knock it off!" Darien had heard enough. Bobby did what he did to protect him; he wasn't about to sit by and watch Bobby get nailed to a wall for it. "I'm the one that killed Lyons."

The Official and Eberts sent the exact same fish-out-of-water expression his way. The Boss, not one to be cut off mid-tirade, was instantly speechless.

"I shot him because he was gonna shoot Hobbes. I had no choice. And I don't think I could have just wounded him. It was an accident, the way it…" He trailed off, his mind going back to the corridor, and Lyons. The gun going off, the look of pain and shock that flitted over Lyons' face before it was replaced with a glassy blankness.

"You killed Lyons?"

"I didn't mean to."

The Official looked between the two men for a minute. Bobby was still frozen in anger, and Darien's expression held remorse and a slight anger of his own. "Why did you tell the police--"

"Because Darien's a criminal. With my badge and my record, I got away with a slap on the back in thanks. Darien woulda been suspected, held until further investigation." Bobby spoke stiffly. "You don't want your seventeen million dollar boy back in the slammer."

The Official was quiet for a minute, uncertain. Finally he nodded once brusquely. "Fine. Good thinking. Now get out there and get back to work, boys. You've still got one brother out there somewhere."

Bobby's eyebrows lifted coolly. "This mean I'm not unstable enough to be sent out to pasture?"

The Official met his eyes for a minute. "You're off suspension," he said in reply, simply.

Bobby accepted that as the closest thing he'd get to the Official admitting he was wrong. He slid out of his chair and stood. "I gotta get Jenny home."

"You keep your mouth shut to this woman until you know if she's on our side or not."

His face hardened even further. "She's no plant. I told Fawkes that, I'll tell you."

"Uh huh." The Official wasn't convinced in the slightest. "Just make sure you don't give out anything we know when you're seeing 'Jenny' to her home." He said the first name deliberately, stressing that he saw that Bobby and the woman were on a first-name basis, and implying with those few words everything he could have said directly about Bobby getting too involved and becoming biased.

Darien found himself agreeing with the Boss. Silently, of course. Bobby was too close --for some reason he'd decided to make friends with the woman, and now he was biased and emotionally involved.

When Bobby left the office, still in a huff, Darien followed quickly. "I didn't mean to make him think you really did kill Lyons," he said as he used long legs to easily catch up to his partner's quick stride.

"Yeah. Forget it." Bobby was still angry, and it showed.

"What's wrong with you?"

"You. You been talking to the fat man, telling him I'm emotionally unbalanced? You trying to get me pulled out of the Agency?"

"No!" Darien stopped dead, grabbing Bobby's arm and forcing him to stop. "I didn't say anything to the Official. I told Claire I was getting worried about you, that was all."

Bobby didn't seem appeased. "That's enough. You didn't think she'd go talking to the boss, telling him you think I'm unstable?"

"No," Darien replied honestly. "I didn't think about it."

Bobby blew out a breath. "Didn't think about it," he repeated lowly. "Next time, think about it. This Agency may not be much to you, pal, but it's as good as it gets for me. You know I was a Fed, you've probably been told about my crack-ups. Nobody else wants me, Fawkes. Nobody but this shit-hole of an Agency. You get me thrown out of here, and I got nothing. So think about it next time."

Darien grimaced. Great. He'd probably blown the small amount of trust Bobby already had in him. "I was just worried about you," he offered as an excuse. It was the truth.

Bobby barked a slight laugh. "Do me a favor and stop worrying."

"Stop giving me a reason to," Darien countered.

Bobby glanced over at him, and Darien met his gaze head-on.

Argument still unresolved, though that was hardly surprising, they reached the doors to the Lab. Bobby went in first, and his face fairly lit up when he saw the two women sitting down by the Keeper's desk. "Hey, Jen."

She looked over and returned his broad smile. "Bobby. How'd it go at the police station?"

"Pretty good."

"Are they going to want to talk to me?" Her smile faded slightly.

"I'm afraid so. I told them to give you a day, so you won't hear from them until tomorrow."

"Thanks." She paused, glancing over at Darien and then back to Bobby. "So what happens now?"

"You're free to get the hell out of here. I can take you to your new place."

She stood up slowly. "I could just catch a cab," she offered half-heartedly.

Bobby smiled. "Not while I'm around, you won't. Let's go."

She returned the smile, and they headed out the door without a word to either of the other occupants of the room.

Darien turned to the Keeper as soon as they were gone. "So what do you think?"

She was smiling slightly. "I think it's cute."

"What?"

"I don't think Bobby's dated a single person since he started working here."

Darien rolled his eyes. "Not them. Her. What do you think about her?"

"You mean, do I think she's really a bad guy?" Her eyes went to the door they had just left from, narrowing thoughtfully. "Honestly, no. She seems very forthright. She was showing all the classic symptoms of shock when she first arrived here, and I had to talk for quite a while before she started responding. Either she's a very, very good actress, or she's for real."

Darien frowned, not at all satisfied by that answer.

She turned her thoughtful gaze to him. "Is there some reason you're trying so hard to prove she's not what she seems to be?"

"I don't know. She's getting a little too involved in the investigation."

The Keeper nodded slightly. "A little too close to Bobby, as well."

"What? Whaddaya mean?"

"Darien, what do you think of Bobby? Do you consider him a friend?"

"Sure. Of course. He's my partner."

"That's not what I mean. Do you honestly count him among your friends? Outside of this Agency, would you have anything to do with him?"

Darien thought about it. Funny, but he'd never looked at it in that way. Everyone involved with the Agency was just that -- involved with the Agency. He had to deal with them every day, because the Agency had him over a barrel. He would never deal with the Official or Eberts outside these walls on any kind of personal basis; he knew that. Claire…well, maybe. There was some chance of friendship there.

Bobby? Yeah. They were friends. As much as they argued and sniped at each other, when they were in sync, it was nice. Like Darien's old days with Liz. He enjoyed the feeling of being totally in tune with someone else, anticipating their moves and bantering back and forth like old friends. There was something nice about it. Which was strange to discover, since Darien had always considered himself sort of a lone wolf.

Would he be a friend with Bobby outside the Agency? Sure. They went out a lot, after work getting a burger, whatever. It had nothing to do with the Agency, and they didn't talk shop while they were out. Sure, they were friends. In fact, Bobby was probably the closest friend he had right then.

That should have felt pathetic, but surprisingly Darien didn't really mind so much.

So he finally nodded. "Yeah. He's my friend."

The Keeper smiled, as though she'd known what he was going to say before he did. "All right. Now, as a friend, I don't suppose you would enjoy seeing him get hurt."

Darien shrugged. Of course he didn't want to see Bobby hurt. He'd already seen it, courtesy of some illegal animal smugglers and a second-floor fire escape. He wasn't too eager to see it again.

He'd also seen it courtesy of the ex Mrs. Hobbes. He'd seen Bobby hurt emotionally, instead of physically. And that had sucked, too. As much of a revelation it was to meet Viv and learn about that aspect of his partner's personality, Darien had found himself wanting to punch the woman for causing Bobby pain every little chance she got.

"What's your point?" he asked finally.

"You're trying to protect your friend. It's not that hard to understand. Bobby doesn't normally let himself get close to people, and now that he has, you want to make sure she won't stab him in the back. It's normal."

He frowned. "Okay, you're probably right. So what do I do if it turns out she is lying to him?"

The Keeper raised her eyebrows. "You know full well what you would do. What you haven't thought of is what you would do if it turns out she's being completely honest. You shouldn't let jealousy convince you she's something she isn't."

"Jealousy?" Darien stared at her. "Exactly who is it I'm jealous of?"

"Both of them, a little bit. I don't imagine you have too many close friends, Darien. If you consider Bobby to be one of the few, it won't sit well when he suddenly has someone else he wants to spend his time with. And I suppose you're also a little jealous of Bobby for perhaps finding what you lost when Doctor Easton left."

Darien's eyebrows shot up. Kate. He hadn't thought about her in…a while. He didn't like thinking of her. Or Casey. Or any of the other women who had been unable to handle some aspect of what he was, and left him alone.

Huh. Maybe the Keeper was right.

But maybe everyone was wrong. About Jenny Sawayah. There was still a chance she was in league with Phil Lyons. If she had genuinely been in shock, it might have been as much for Dave Lyons being killed than for her friend Kim.

It was his job to find out. As an agent, and as Bobby's friend, it was his obligation. He had to know whose side she was on. He would think about what to do about it later.

****

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them."

Okay, maybe old Ma Theresa had something there. Maybe jumping to conclusions and forming opinions about people right off the bat isn't a good way to form a solid relationship with them.

Funny thing is, in this case it didn't matter much, because I was the one that was forming opinions, not my partner. He believed me for a few short minutes, but she batted her eyelids and he listened to her.

I was judging her plenty, sure. But I wasn't the one who thought he loved her.

I was just the one who had to watch and make sure the guy who was in love in this case doesn't end up tricked and betrayed and hurt.

It was a thankless job.

Bobby glanced at the passenger side of the car for the eighth time since the ride had started.

She was still sitting there, staring out the window.

He cleared his throat and faced the road awkwardly. They'd been happy enough to see each other at the lab -- at least, Bobby had been happy. She seemed to be as well. But now, alone, tension was pulsing between them. He wanted to clear it up.

"Jen?"

She glanced over. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about your friend," he said sincerely. He'd seen people killed before, people he knew. Back before he was an agent and conditioned to it, he had seen it. He still remembered what it felt like.

She turned back to the window. "Thanks."

He frowned. "I'm serious. I'm sorry I walked out and let Lyons have a clear shot at you." He paused. "I…uh, I'm sorry about the whole day, you know? I'm sorry for barging in asking questions, and I'm sorry I let myself believe for one second that you had anything to do with those bastards. I'm sorry I got involved in this as more than just an agent. I'm sorry…hell, I'm sorry for a lot of things."

She turned back to him, her eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean, more than just an agent?"

Bobby shrugged. He wasn't usually the kind of guy to open up to someone he barely knew, but what the hell? He'd already botched any chance of being friends, or anything else, with this woman, so he had nothing to lose. "Only reason I came in like that was 'cause I liked you, okay? I let myself get personally involved."

She studied him for a long moment, silent.

Under the scrutiny, he felt the urge to keep going, to make it clearer. "I'm a pretty paranoid guy, Jen. Ask anyone. It's this huge joke to everyone who knows me. Sometimes it feels like I just ain't happy unless someone's plotting against me somewhere." He smiled briefly, absent of humor. "There aren't a lot of people in the world I trust. Fawkes, he's my partner. I trust him. I trust the guy I work for, and the woman who works with us. Beyond that, there's not a lot more people on the list. People I've known for years haven't made it up there yet."

She kept her eyes on him -- he could feel them scrutinizing him as he rambled on.

It should have made him shut up, but he heard himself stumble on, and couldn't do anything to stop it. "I trusted you. I don't know why, but I did. From day one. That's why I kept stopping by. And it wasn't just like as a witness. Something made me wanna keep seeing you. I liked you. And I kinda started thinking that outside the whole agent/witness thing, we could be…something." He glanced over, and back to the road before he could really register her expression.

"Bobby--"

"So then they showed me all this stuff they found that said you might have more to do with the Lyons than we thought. And I didn't believe it, because I…because you're on that list. But they found more and more stuff, and I guess in some sick way it was easier to believe that you'd been lying and tricking us than to believe that you were really who you were and you actually might've liked me back." He could hear himself babbling, and with a deep inhaled breath he cut it off, hardening his expression against any kind of response she might make.

"Bobby?"

He swallowed. "What?"

Her voice was carefully neutral. "You trusted me."

He almost wanted to look over at her, and the van slowed to a stop in front of a red light, giving him the perfect opportunity. But he kept his gaze straight ahead. "Yeah."

"Do you now?"

He could answer that easily enough. "Yeah."

There was a pause. "You liked me, huh?"

He nodded quickly, his hands curling around the steering wheel.

"Do you still?"

Surprised at the question, he looked over before he could stop himself.

Those wide brown eyes were studying him closely, and he could find nothing but simple curiosity in her expression. Nothing that clued him in on how this was going to go.

But he had to be honest, whatever happened. "Yeah. I do."

He saw her swallow and look away. She was looking almost as uncertain as he felt. "I…Bobby, I wouldn't know how to handle any…any kind of…" She stopped, shaking her head. "I mean, after what happened, I still can't…" She blew out a breath, frustrated in her inability to explain herself.

Bobby kept his eyes on her until a horn blared behind them. His eyes jerked to the road, and he got the van moving.

She was quiet long enough for him to think she might have given up trying to say whatever she had to say. But eventually her soft voice started again jerkily. "I really don't want to spend the night in an empty apartment. And I do like you. A lot more than I could explain. But after what happened in that house, I don't know if I can handle…anything. Yet."

He took a minute to put those words together in his mind.

The conclusion he came to made his mouth drop open. "You want me to stay with you tonight?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it indecisively and nodded.

He put the rest together well enough. She liked him. She felt some of what he did. But she had been beaten and raped and wasn't anywhere near ready to handle anything physical.

She liked him. After everything.

He allowed a faint smile to cross his face, just hoping he wasn't reading the signals wrong. "I'm not much for bare floors, but give me a couch to bunk down on, and you've got a deal."

She smiled then, deflating with relief that he understood what she was saying. "I can do better than that. It's a two-bedroom."

He grinned, instantly and completely relaxed for the first time all day.

"Just do me a favor?"

He glanced over, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "Anything."

She laughed quietly at his expression. "Don't doubt me anymore. It hurt like hell that you thought I was lying to you."

His grin faded slightly at that, and he nodded. "Yeah, it did. I'm sorry about--"

"Don't apologize again. Just promise. If you can."

He pulled into the parking lot of the apartment buildings, and found a spot quickly. Stopping then van, he shut the engine off and turned to her. "I…like I told you, I'm a paranoid guy."

She nodded. Her eyes were understanding, even accepting. "I won't ask you to do anything you can't do." She smiled again easily. "Consider the subject dropped."

Bobby watched her opened the door and leave the van, and a feeling like amazement struck him. That was it? It was that easy? She just…understood…that he couldn't make a promise like that so soon? And that was all right?

By the time she was unlocking the door to her new apartment, he still wasn't sure of what to say. He followed her in, and looked around along with her as she saw her new home for the first time.

"Jesus. Kim didn't tell me it was so big. Good thing she's paying first month's rent, otherwise I wouldn't…" She trailed off suddenly. The spark of realization and memory appeared in her eyes, and her interest in the apartment around them faded into nothing. "I'll be back in a minute," she said quietly, making her way down a short hallway, glancing through doors.

Bobby heard a door shutting, and the sound of running water, and he frowned. Jenny was a wreck, and she had every right to be. Her best friend had been killed, her brother, his family, and after the attack she herself had gone through, it was too much for most anyone to handle.

Should he really be there now? Should he ask anything of her, or accept her agreement about anything, when she was so emotionally screwed over?

He knew well what it felt like, when you could see your life crashing in around you, and any friendly face was welcome. When any offer that might have led to a shred of happiness, or even just to a few minutes of memory loss, was seized without consideration.

Was he taking advantage of that? Could she be honest to herself or him about what she was feeling?

A minute later, he decided it didn't really matter. Not that night, anyway. In her right mind or not, she definitely didn't need to be alone. He could sleep a room away and there wouldn't be anything to regret if she figured out later that she had confused gratitude with affection.

Nothing to regret. Except building himself up for another relationship that was doomed to die. That was going to sting.

But he'd been stung before. He could deal with it when it happened.

The sound of shattering glass broke through his thoughts, and he jumped. In two seconds he was by the bathroom door. "Jenny? You okay?"

She didn't answer.

He tried the door, and it swung open under his hand. Without even thinking he came in full-steam. "Jenny, what…" He stopped as his feet crunched over some glass.

The mirror was broken. A flowery decorated, heavy-looking soap dish was on the floor, broken in half.

She must have thrown it.

He looked down at her. She was sitting on the lid of the toilet, her hands covering her face. She was crying, and it looked for all the world like she didn't want Bobby to see.

He moved in to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently. "It's okay. You got a right to be upset, you know."

She shook her head slightly, but didn't say anything.

He crouched down beside her, and made to get on his knees.

She looked up abruptly. "Don't!"

Bobby was back on his feet a moment later. "I'm sorry. You want to be alone?"

She shook her head, and let out a small, breathy noise that was half-sob, half-laugh. "Don't want you to cut yourself." She waved a vague hand towards the glass on the floor.

He smiled faintly. "Come on, kid, let's get out of here."

She stood shakily when he took her arm, and went where he steered her, out the bathroom and into the sparsely decorated living room.

Bobby led her to the couch. "Sit."

She obeyed, wiping her eyes messily.

He sat down next to her. "See? This is more comfortable. Better than the john, anyway. You wanna cry on my shoulder, this is a much better place to do it."

Jenny looked at him for a minute, and a small smile appeared on her face, through the wetness still leaking from her eyes. "You're a nice guy, Bobby."

"Yeah? You think? I should get that in writing. My partner'd never believe someone said that."

She moved slightly closer, her smile going shy. "But I think I'm done breaking down now."

"Don't get closed up on me, Jen. I'm here 'cause you need someone, and 'cause I want to be that person. Use me, I'm inviting you."

She was quiet for a minute. "No, I guess I'm really done."

He sighed and looped an arm over her shoulder. "Well, we could always watch some really depressing movie."

She laughed. "You want me to break down? This is some goal you're aiming towards?"

He smiled. "Nah. But it's bad to keep it all in. I know the shrinks at the hospital told ya that. I think they're programmed in school to say it. But in most cases it's true."

"Well, next time I feel it coming on, you'll be the first one I call, okay?"

"Deal."

She relaxed slowly beside him, until her head was leaning against his shoulder. "I can't say this isn't nice, though."

"Mmm." He tightened his hold and shifted slightly, so he was supporting her as she rested against him. "Kinda like hug therapy." He laughed suddenly. "Hope you never get hug therapy. I don't know the technical name for it, but it isn't the most comfortable feeling when your doc's coming at you with a big grin on her face, arms wide open."

Jenny laughed slightly, then turned her head to look somewhat up at him. "Why all the shrinks, Bobby?"

He grimaced. "Long story. Ask me again some other night."

She smiled at that. "Deal," she threw back at him. "You think…once this case is over, and you don't have anything to do with me on some work-related level…" She hesitated. "You want to go to dinner sometime?"

Bobby grinned, and something warm spread through his guts. "Here I thought you were all sweet and shy, and you're asking me out?"

She shrugged against him. "I was almost killed twice in two weeks. I guess that's made me realize how important living for the moment is."

"I know that feeling." He pulled back enough to be able to meet her eyes. "You got a date, Jen."

She lit up, a smile lighting her face that was brighter than anything he'd seen from her before. A moment later the smile tapered and she dropped her eyes, like she was self-conscious about such a visible reaction.

The warm feeling just kept getting warmer. "Although," he kept going, encouraged by her reaction. "You're not a suspect in any way, so technically it wouldn't compromise anything for us to go out before the case is solved."

"Really?" Her smile grew a few more watts. "I'm feeling kinda hungry, now that you mention it."

He shook his head slightly, a feeling of almost amazement coming over him. For some reason, this felt so easy. Comfortable. They were hedging about the relationship, maybe, but he had a fairly negative history where women were concerned, and she was recovering from a hell of a lot. It was surprising this was going so well, considering.

Despite the problems in his past, and the problems he knew she would have with getting physically intimate with anyone anytime soon, this felt remarkably natural and easy.

Holding on to that feeling, Bobby moved forward slowly, keeping his arm tight around her. "Jen, you think I could…"

Her smile grew slightly nervous, but she leaned into him as he closed the space between them.

He kept the kiss soft and gentle, no pressure. This wasn't going to make either of them uncomfortable if he had anything to say about it. It wasn't about leading the two of them to bed; it was about sharing space and breath and confirming that they were on the same wavelength about where this was going.

She relaxed into his grasp after shifting slightly to make them more comfortable. Her arm came up slowly and came to rest on his arm, moving slowly to his back as he pulled away slightly.

"You okay with this?" he asked softly.

Her eyes were glittering as she nodded and moved in.

He shut his eyes as their mouths made contact again, and let those suddenly burning, fiery feelings charge through him. As much as he didn't want this to be about sex, he couldn't help having a reaction to her being so close, and affecting him so much.

It had been a long time since Bobby had been close to anyone. Really close. Oh, he was never exactly celibate, but there was a difference between bringing home some woman whose name he'd forget in an hour and who thought he was a textiles man from the east, and holding on to someone he'd known for more than a day. Someone he actually wanted something more from than the one night. Someone who knew him and a lot of his quirks, and who was there anyway.

There was a difference between holding on to someone and getting a thrill because he knew he was gonna get some, and holding on to them and feeling like he could go without sex for months if he could just keep holding her.

Bobby had known that difference before. He'd felt it with Viv. But he had forgotten it when she left. Until now.

Jenny broke away after a long, heated moment, drawing in a breath and smiling wistfully. "God, I wish I wasn't so scared of this right now."

He grinned. She wasn't like Viv much. Vivian had been confident, spirited. She had been perfect, in every way he knew.

Jenny wasn't. She was quiet; she was self-conscious and shy. Almost timid, though that was probably more from the attack than a character trait. She was pretty, but not perfect.

"I'm not forgetting about dinner, but do you mind if we just…stay like this? For a little while?"

Bobby answered the soft question by wrapping his arms tighter around her. "Long as you want, Jen." He smiled to himself.

No, she wasn't like Viv. He had held Viv tightly to keep her there, always convinced that some accident or fluke had made her think she loved him. He had always been worried about her leaving. Perfection didn't belong in the arms of a normal guy like him.

Jenny didn't give him that feeling. Jenny belonged.

He felt his smile growing. The usual small voice that would be telling him right then to not get his hopes up, and to remember everything that could go wrong, was completely absent.

He shut his eyes in a rare moment of contentedness, and repeated himself quietly. "Long as you want."

****

One of my biggest problems is believing that everything I do is absolutely right. I've always had trouble accepting other people's judgements about my character or my actions.

As one of the greats, Voltaire, wrote, "It is dangerous to be right in matters on which the established authorities are wrong." That is the story of my life.

I figured I just had some juvenile complex about authority figures, but it turned out I disagreed with more than just orders or suggestions about me and my life.

When those authority figures tried to turn on my partner, I got about as mad as I ever have.

"You're late."

Bobby gave a completely unapologetic look to the Official as he dropped beside Darien. "Sorry. What's with the early meeting, anyway? We're going after Phil Lyons, right?"

"Nope. Not anymore. You've got a new job at the NewLife Cen--"

"Wait, wait. Hold up. You start the briefing without me?" Bobby glanced over at Darien, who sat strangely stiff in his chair. "We're not looking for Lyons?"

"I've got another team working on that. Your new assignment is a man named Luis Mendes."

Darien came in with his usual sarcastic tone of voice. "You're gonna love this. The guy's started this big evangelical movement, but he's wanted for murder in at least four other countr--"

"No. No, I don't love this. What's going on here, boss? Why are you taking us off the case? We've been busting our butts for over three weeks now."

"Exactly," the Official replied easily. "We need fresh blood on this one. You two are too close now."

"Too close? Boss, I gotta catch this guy. We're close, you know that."

"Yeah. Like I said, too close."

"This is nuts! You're really jerking--"

"Agent Hobbes."

Bobby trailed off. "What?"

"We need to have a word with Fawkes alone."

Surprised, Bobby hesitated. He looked over at Darien, then back to the boss.

"Now, please." There was nothing 'please' about the Official's tone.

Bobby stood slowly. "Yes, sir." His voice was stiff as he moved to the door.

Something told him that this couldn't be leading to anything good.

***

Darien watched his partner leave, and turned back to the Official. "What's going on?"

The Official was serious. "Put the sarcasm aside for one minute and answer a question for me."

A snide response rose up, but was swallowed at the last minute. "Yeah?"

"How would you feel about working with a new partner?"

His mouth dropped open. "You're kidding."

"Not at all."

He studied his boss's face. Nope, the guy didn't look like he was kidding. "Why?"

"Hobbes is unstable. He's getting worse every day, and we can't risk keeping you with someone like that."

"Hey, look. First of all, I don't need a babysitter, okay? Maybe I did at first, but I think I'm handling these little jobs well enough on my own. And second of all…no, I don't want another partner. Hobbes isn't going to crack. All he did was ask why you were taking us off the case. I was asking the same thing ten minutes ago."

"But there's a difference between you and Hobbes."

"Yeah? What?"

"About a hundred milligrams of anti-psychotics," Eberts replied in a mumble.

The Official shot a look back at him before answering Darien. "You haven't known Hobbes as long as we have. His behavior is erratic, uncharacteristic, and deliberately defiant. While that's nothing new for you, it's new for Hobbes. The only thing I can figure is something's wrong with him. The drugs, the therapy, something we can't control. If it keeps up, I'll have no choice but to reassign you both."

Darien shook his head slowly. "You assume if he argues with you he's a psycho? Maybe he's just getting sick and tired of being jerked around."

The Official raised his eyebrows, studying Darien. "A few days ago you were asking the Keeper if we thought he was ready to crack, now you don't think he is?"

That was it, Darien thought with a shake of his head. Last time he trusted Claire enough to ask some private questions. "I don't want another partner," he said firmly. "You reassign Bobby, and you'll have more than one deliberately defiant agent on your hands."

The Official's mouth tightened, and he glanced back at Eberts. "Get Hobbes back in here."

The lackey went to the door immediately. "Agent Hobbes?"

Bobby came in a few moments later, not looking at Darien as he took his seat beside him. "So am I outta here yet?" he asked with forced casualness.

"No," Darien replied emphatically. "Now sit there and be quiet and listen to our new assignment."

Bobby glanced over, but in a surprising burst of self-restraint, he didn't say anything.

****

"The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."

I've made it through a few of Victor Hugo's novels, and buried in long pages of speeches and descriptions are a few pearls I really latched on to.

This one here, I consider one of the more romantic of the quotes I like. It's an ideal, I guess. I'm not sure about the existence of love to the degree that Hugo wrote about, but I admit, the idea is appealing. Being with someone who knows every dark or stupid or embarrassing facet of you, and who loves you all the more because of it…it's nice.

Bobby seemed to have the same problem I do. He found it hard to believe that anyone would be that crazy over him that they'd overlook those flaws in his personality. His ex-wife sure didn't love him that much, so I figure she spoiled him for other women.

Don't do it. Don't do it. It's been a couple of hours. No problem. Don't start this shit, Hobbes.

"What's wrong?"

Bobby jerked at the voice, wheeling to the door of his office. "Christ, Fawkes."

Darien stood in the doorway, brown eyes serious. "You just sitting in here staring at the phone?"

Bobby glanced back at the device. "Something like that. You done with the Keeper?"

"Yeah. Ready to get out of here?"

"Just let me make a phone call." Bobby picked up the phone, and his mind kept bitching at him. Don't do this. This is how you lost Viv. Don't screw things up this early.

He kept dialing, though, and didn't hang up when it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jen."

"Bobby!" She sounded happy to hear from him. "How's it going over there?"

"Been better. How're you doing?"

"I'm…I'm pretty good, actually. I was thinking about going back to work."

"Already? It's kinda soon, isn't it?"

"I guess. I have to do something, though. Besides, I'm going to have to pay for this place all on my own now. I need the money."

"We can work something else out, Jen. Don't worry about that right now."

"We?" She laughed faintly. "Thanks, Bobby, but you don't have to promise me anything. I'll manage."

He hesitated. Darien's eyes were on him -- he could feel them. This wasn't a good time for in-depth conversation. "You want me to bring some lunch by later?"

"That would be nice," she said, the smiling tone still in her voice.

"Good. See you later, Jen."

"You be careful, Bobby."

"Always." He smiled into the phone.

"Bye."

He hung up, and felt the grin on his face even as he turned to Darien. "All right, let's get out of here."

Darien was studying him closely, a little stiff where he stood. "That was her, huh?"

"Who's 'her'?" Bobby's grin faded. "If you mean the witness, the one who isn't connected to the Lyons' in any way, yeah. That's her." He stood, and the smile returned inexplicably as he headed for the door. "Come on, Fawkes. Stop thinking paranoid thoughts and let's get to this NewLife Center."

***

Darien couldn't help looking over at Bobby every so often as they drove. It wasn't that Bobby was smiling, though he was. He was also looking almost relaxed. Which was such a far cry from how he was that morning that it was conspicuous.

Something had put his partner in a good mood, and Darien had to figure out what it was and how to get it to happen more often, so Bobby didn't end up working with someone else.

"I'm gonna find Phil Lyons," Bobby said out of nowhere as they drove.

"What?"

"I don't care who the fat man's got on the case, or what else he wants us to work on. I'm gonna find him."

Darien sat back and eyed him. "What difference does it make, as long as he ends up in jail? Does it really matter who catches him?"

"Sure as hell does. I'm gonna put him where he belongs, you can be sure of that. I don't care if I gotta spend every minute of off time I get looking for the bastard."

"Why is this such a crusade for you?" Darien couldn't help asking.

Bobby opened his mouth to answer, then glanced sideways over at Darien and shook his head. "Forget it, Fawkes. I'm not asking for your help or your approval."

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why aren't you asking for my help? I thought we were partners."

Bobby smirked. "Yeah? Let's see how long that lasts."

"Well, if you would just stop arguing with every word the fat man says, it would last a hell of a lot longer!"

"Maybe I'd stop arguing if everyone stopped second-guessing every single thing I do," Bobby retorted, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"Maybe if you'd start explaining some thing to me, I wouldn't have to second-guess anything."

There was silence for a long minute. Darien could tell Bobby wasn't angry, and that encouraged him to keep talking. "You gotta trust me, Bobby. I don't want them reassigning anyone, and I don't want to have to keep second-guessing you. But you gotta start talking to me."

Bobby pursed his lips briefly, thinking. "Forget it," he said finally. "You don't even wanna hear this."

Darien rolled his eyes in frustration. "Who's second-guessing who, now? Come on, Bobby. We're friends, right? I want to know what's got you so worked up."

Bobby glanced over, and shrugged. "Fine. I think I'm in love."

Darien was caught entirely by surprise. His mouth opened, then shut.

"Told you you didn't want to hear it." Bobby faced the road again, stiff.

"You…" Darien shook his head to clear it. "Hang on. You…"

"It isn't that hard, Fawkes. I'm falling for Jenny Sawayah. I can't talk to you about it, 'cause you think she's some kind of conspirator. The Boss won't let me nail Lyons, which I'm gonna do if it kills me. He hurt her, Darien. Phil Lyons hurt Jenny more than anyone should get hurt, and I'm gonna make the bastard pay for it." He shrugged. "That's it. That's what I'm thinking. That's all that's working in my head right now, okay? So either you help me out, or you go running back to the fat man and your Keeper and you tell 'em how nuts I am. Your call."

Darien watched him, surprised and thoughtful. It did explain a lot of things, and Darien couldn't even say he hadn't seen it coming. "What do you want from me?" he asked finally, his voice low.

Bobby glanced over, a strange smile on his face. "You know what I want most? I want you to trust her."

Surprised, Darien frowned out the window. He just wasn't convinced that all the coincidences linking her to the Lyons' were just coincidences. Still… "You trust her, Bobby? Really?"

Bobby nodded easily. "Absolutely."

"Okay. I trust you. You say she's on the level, I guess she is." He just hoped against hope that Bobby wouldn't get proven wrong later.

Bobby flashed a smile. "Good. Next thing I want is Phil Lyons in a cell. Or in a grave. Then…I guess I'll be happy."

**

"I'm embarrassed over how easy that was." Darien shook his head as he climbed into the van, next to his partner.

"You all done out there?"

"Yeah. The boys in the matching suits will deliver Mendes to the Agency, and the Boss says we earned us an entire two-hour lunch break."

"Be still, my heart." Bobby rolled his eyes as he started the engine. "Makes me wonder why they send their seventeen million dollar toy to do something any other schmuck agent could have done."

"Watch who you're calling a toy, pal."

Bobby went silent for a minute, then gazed sideways at Darien. "You got plans for lunch? Want me to drop you back at the Agency?"

Darien's eyebrows went up. "No big plans, Hobbes. We usually do lunch togeth…oh." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You wanted to take Jenny lunch, huh?"

Bobby glared back at him, daring him to make some kind of joke. "I told her I would, yeah."

"And you don't want me coming along."

"I figured you wouldn't want to."

"Why not?"

Bobby shot him an angled look. "Oh, something about your constant suspicion about her, maybe."

Darien laughed. "Looks like the pot's name-calling again."

Bobby's mouth quirked in a faint smile. "So you want to tag along?"

"Yeah. If it won't be invading your privacy or anything." Darien smirked.

Bobby pulled the van out onto the street. "For some reason, I get the feeling this is a bad idea."

**

"Hi… Oh. Hi, guys. Come on in."

Darien was surprised the grin on Jenny's face didn't fade when she looked over Bobby's shoulder and saw him standing there. On the other hand, he had a feeling that she barely noticed him at all.

"How're you doing, kid?" Bobby went in without waiting for Darien, walking with Jenny into the living room of the apartment.

"I'm fine, Bobby." She smiled at him genuinely. "How about you?"

"We're good. We got a couple of hours to kill; I figured we could take you out somewhere."

She glanced at Darien, but her eyes went back to Bobby a moment later. "That would be nice. I have a feeling I'm going to get tired of these walls pretty quickly."

"Great." Bobby dropped down on the couch even as he spoke, and Jenny sat down beside him, half-turned to face him. "So you got any more friends in mind to rent the other room?"

She shrugged. "Not yet. Most of my friends are married and settled by now. They have no use for one room of a two bedroom apartment."

Darien stood awkwardly near the couch, glancing back and forth between the two of them. They showed no signs of getting up any time soon. "Maybe I should just get some take out and bring it back here," he said, half-joking.

Bobby barely glanced over. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Darien waited for a moment, but their conversation continued, and he almost wanted to look down and see if he had made himself invisible without realizing it. "Uh. Okay. So I'll be back. I guess."

Bobby waved him out without a word.

He headed for the door, and made it out without either of them even looking at him again. Once the door was shut, he heaved a sigh. "So much for being tired of staring at the walls," he grumbled as he started down the hall.

Then again, neither of them had been looking at any walls. They'd been too busy looking at each other.

Before he could get too resentful about suddenly being the third wheel in his own life, he had a flash of his conversation with the Keeper. When she had told him he was letting jealousy affect what he thought of Jenny.

Maybe he was jealous. He was jealous of Bobby for having somewhere to go during his lunch break, even if he'd only known the girl for a couple of weeks. He was jealous of Jenny for monopolizing his partner's attention just by being in the same room as Bobby.

He was jealous of an awkward, uncertain relationship between a paranoid schizophrenic and a woman the doctor said would probably end up clinically depressed.

Jesus. He had to stop spending his nights alone reading psychology journals. There had to be something better than this in the world for him.

****

"If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country."

E.M. Forster. Bobby would probably hate that one, but it fits me.

Then again, the things I'm dealing with now, the things that keep me caught between being a friend and partner to Bobby or obeying the fat man; they're hardly a matter of national security.

Still, it takes a certain amount of courage to burn a bridge, however small it may be.

"What are you doing?"

Bobby looked up from the phone he was dialing, an almost-guilty look on his face. "Just making a call."

Darien rolled his eyes. "Bobby, we only left her place a couple of hours ago. What's with you?"

"Nothin'." Bobby held the phone for a second, then hung up without completing the call. "I just wanted to check up on her."

"What do you think might have happened in two hours?" Darien pressed.

Bobby heaved a breath and stood. "Just drop it. Did you need something?"

"Yeah. Eberts says the Boss needs to have a word with you. Alone."

Bobby grimaced. "Great."

"Yeah. Just play nice, okay? Don't talk back to the guy, and maybe he won't give you any trouble."

"Yeah." Bobby sighed and went to the door of his small office. "You gonna hang out in here?"

"Thought I might. I'm kinda done for the day, and I figured we could grab some dinner."

Bobby looked back at him, stopping in the doorway to fix his partner with a surprisingly suspicious gaze. "We'll see," he said stiffly, before heading out the door.

Darien waited until the door was shut, then set out exploring Bobby's office. The large map on the wall grabbed his attention, and he looked at some of the places stuck with small, blank tags.

Interesting. China, Russia, one of the Japanese islands. Sicily. Vietnam. Huh. Bobby wasn't old enough for Vietnam.

The US and Mexico were practically covered, and there were a few pins stuck all around Canada. One way up there in Eskimo land.

Darien studied it, realizing with some surprise that he really knew next to nothing about his partner. He knew Bobby used to be a Fed. Thanks to the Keeper, he knew a few details about his younger days. But these pins and all the bouncing around Bobby had done from agency to agency, that was all a mystery. There was a lot to the guy. They did have an entire set of drawers dedicated to his life before the Agency, and Darien didn't know a thing about that time.

He'd have to ask Bobby about it. The more he knew Bobby Hobbes, the more he wanted to know what made the guy tick.

He turned away from the map and looked right into a picture of the president. He couldn't help a slight grin, wondering if Bobby had voted for the guy, or if he just felt like he had to have a picture of the Commander in Chief up in his office. "Hi, Billy," he tossed off a one-fingered salute to the photo, and turned his attention to the desk.

Darien took a seat in the abandoned chair behind the desk and slowed his prying eyes, waiting for his partner to get back.

Which he did a few minutes later. The door opened and Bobby came tromping in, unsurprisingly looking pissed.

"How'd it go?" Darien asked unnecessarily.

Bobby just blew out a disgusted breath and dropped into the visitor's chair. "I'm getting real damned tired of these people poking into my private life."

"Join the club." Darien sat up. "What was it this time?"

"I was working late the other night. Missed an appointment with the latest shrink. Somehow the fat man knew about it." He gave a humorless smile. "Nice of him to be so concerned about my mental health. I just don't know how he finds this stuff out, unless he's got some tail on me whenever I'm supposed to go." He looked directly at Darien as he said that.

Darien instantly remembered the Keeper saying that Bobby had no idea the shrink he went to reported right back to the Official. That wasn't exactly something Bobby should be told, he figured. "Uh. I don't know."

Bobby gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod and reached for the phone. "I think I'll have to take a rain check on dinner, Fawkes."

Darien nodded, and opted not to say anything as Bobby started dialing what was most likely Jenny's number.

He couldn't help feeling guilty. Bobby was his partner. Bobby was the one who should have his loyalty, right?

It was hard to say. The Official had the counteragent, and the only reason Darien was working with them was to get shot up when he needed it. So his loyalty should be to the Official, right?

But Bobby had grown a lot closer to him than he would have expected. Bobby had been there to help when Darien thought Kevin might still be alive. He had been there when Kate Easton had been kidnapped. He'd even been there looking out for Darien's best interests in his own gung-ho, arrest-first-ask-questions-later way when Liz had popped back up in Darien's life.

Darien had made Bobby choose, a few weeks ago. Between helping Darien discover the truth about his brother and protecting the Official if it turned out he had something to do with it. And Bobby had chosen to help Darien.

Darien shook his head slightly. He knew where his loyalties were, counteragent or no.

He reached out a hand and touched Bobby's arm. "Hey, Hobbes?"

Bobby cut off whatever he was saying into the phone. "Hang on a sec." He moved a hand to cover the mouthpiece and looked at Darien. "What?"

Darien had to speak up now before he lost his nerve. "You should know something about your shrink."

Bobby's eyebrows flew up. "What?"

"She's working for the fat man. All of them have been. He probably hears everything you tell her."

Bobby's face took on a strange expression, and he studied Darien for a long moment. Surprisingly, a small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, and he nodded slowly before lifting the phone back up. "Get some rest, kid…. No, I'm good. Me and Fawkes are gonna go grab some food."

Darien knew then -- Bobby had known. He had known about his doc, or at least suspected. That's why he made that comment to Darien about not knowing how the Boss knew when he showed up for his appointments. Some kind of test, maybe. Some way to figure out if Darien would hide the truth from him like everyone else at the Agency had.

And it looked like Darien passed the test.

"See you tomorrow," Bobby said into the phone before hanging it up. His grin stayed in place as he stood. "Come on, ace. I'm hungry."

****

Now I'm a thief, or I was one, anyway. As such I have a lot of respect for the trade, and those who are good at it.

In all my time reading and memorizing and studying the thoughts of great men, I've looked for historical support for my trade. And I've found some. For instance, the Marquis de Sade insists that being a thief is a great way to become stronger and braver, and more skillful. According to him, it builds up the kind of skills the government should appreciate in its citizens.

"Is theft," he asked once upon a time, "whose effect is to distribute wealth more evenly, to be branded as a wrong in our day, under our government, which aims at equality?"

To him, the answer was a big no. But then, the Marquis de Sade was not known for his stunning rationality or brilliant feats of logical deduction.

And the Marquis de Sade never had a meal interrupted by some moron with a gun hoping to make a few bucks.

"Bobby, the guy at the counter has a gun."

Bobby's eyes didn't move from his plate. "Yeah. And the guy sitting by himself three tables behind me? Helping him out."

Darien glanced casually over, and saw a forty-something businessman reading the paper, drinking some coffee. "Now how the hell do you know that?"

"I'm a professional," Bobby replied with typical Hobbesian confidence.

"So what do we do about it?"

"Hell, kid, I'm just trying to finish my steak. Let the cops handle this one."

Darien's eyes went to the quietly panicked woman behind the counter, who was trying to stick money into a paper bag without attracting attention. "I really think we ought to handle this one, Bobby."

His partner sighed and stood. "All right, you ready to go?"

Darien followed his lead instinctively. "Sure." He matched the casual tone perfectly, and didn't even look at the businessman as they passed.

Bobby marched right up to the counter and brushed past the gunman, pretending not to notice anything out of the ordinary. "Sorry, pal, we're in a hurry."

The woman behind the counter looked at them with huge, petrified eyes. "E-excuse me, gentlemen, but…"

"This guy doesn't mind if we go ahead of him, does he?" Bobby looked back at the man, an expectant look on his face.

"Actually," the guy recovered from his shock enough to push right on past Bobby. "I do."

"Actually," Bobby replied, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I don't really care."

The guy turned around, and his face swung right into Bobby's fist.

The man staggered back, and Bobby jumped at him, grabbing his arm and keeping the gun aimed at the floor before the man could bring it up. He jabbed his other elbow into the man's stomach, doubling him over.

Darien watched, tense, ready to jump in at the slightest hint of being needed.

A movement from behind him caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see that businessman rising, aiming a gun at his partner and the first man.

Darien jumped at him, but the gun went off before the guy in the suit noticed him coming.

The gun swung Darien's way, but long legs had Darien on top of the guy before he could fire again.

Darien had the older, out of shape man in his control easily enough. "Someone want to call the cops?" he shouted out to the gawking onlookers.

The woman behind the counter used shaking hands to grab the phone and start dialing.

Darien turned a grin to Bobby. "See? Easy. And it didn't even ruin my appetite." His grin faded a minute later. "Bobby, you okay?"

"Been better." Bobby held the first man's gun on the man, who was sitting up against a wall glaring up at him. Bobby's shirt was stained red, and growing darker fast.

Darien could see a trail of thick, dark liquid running from Bobby onto the handle of the gun he held, and dripping down to the floor. "Dammit!" He jerked the gun out of businessman's hand and left him there on the ground. "Someone get an ambulance over here!"

Bobby grinned slightly. "Just a flesh wound, Fawkes. I've nicked myself worse shaving."

"You're bleeding all over your gun," Darien stated flatly, taking the weapon out of Bobby's hand.

Bobby let him take the gun, blinking down at his arm in surprise. "Oh. Huh. Well, it felt like a flesh wound, anyway."

"Yeah, right. Come on, we gotta get you to a doctor." He dropped the two guns out the counter.

"Fawkes. Criminals. Bad guys, remember? We can't leave until the cops get here."

A man with a cheap suit and name tag came up to the counter, taking one of the guns with both hands and turning a pinched glare to the men who had tried to rob his restaurant. "We'll make sure they don't get away."

Darien grinned. "Good enough for me. Come on, Bobby."

Bobby let Darien lead him out. "You know, if we were cops this would get us fired."

"We're not cops, and what's the problem? They won't get away."

"You're gonna trust Dirty Harry in there?"

Darien rolled his eyes and opened the door to the passenger side of the van. "Get in there, Hobbes."

Bobby climbed into the van with a wince, but stayed quiet.

Darien moved to the driver's seat and started the engine. A grin creased his face suddenly.

"What's so funny? I'm bleeding to death over here."

"Bleeding to death, Mr. Flesh Wound?" Darien shook his head as he pulled the van out. "I was just thinking. Funny that we can take down an international assassin and con man in a clerical collar without breaking a sweat, but we can't go out for a steak without one of us getting shot."

"Hilarious. Now drive, funny man."

****

"If there is something to pardon in everything, there is also something to condemn."

I'm kind of hypersensitive to dishonesty lately. Nietzsche comes to mind when I think about trusting people I have no business trusting. It's a good, solid reminder that there is good and evil in everyone, and the only way to give your trust is to learn how those two things balance in a person's mind.

As I said before, trust has to be earned. And the way I see it, if someone hasn't earned my trust yet, I'm justified in being paranoid.

"--and don't sit there and tell me to be quiet! Just because I may not have come in here with my arm hanging by a flap of skin doesn't mean this isn't a high priority! A bullet wound is a bullet wound. This, you white-coated pill pusher, is a bullet wound."

Darien rolled his eyes as he shut the door on his partner's tirade. Bobby was sure hopped up about something, and Darien actually felt some small amount of pity for the nurse who was saddled with the task of patching him up.

He grinned to himself as he started down the hall. He got the unenviable task of calling the Official and letting him know that Bobby was once again going to raise their insurance premiums. The Boss wouldn't be happy, especially since this wasn't even an Agency assignment.

He was strolling towards the pay phone by the waiting area of the fourth floor, when a familiar-looking form crossed a few yards in front of him, heading down an arm of the hall.

He stopped and peered down that branch of hallway, and his grin faded slightly. Just as he thought. Jenny Sawayah. But hadn't she told Bobby she was too tired to even have company tonight?

Hmmm.

The Official left Darien's mind. He moved down that corridor after the woman. A quick glance behind him insured no one was watching, and he sent a mental signal to the gland in his brain. The cold invisibility seeped over him, and a moment later he was tracking her with no chance of being spotted.

She stopped finally in front of an office door and knocked. A voice invited her in, and Darien reached for the door as it shut, stalling the process to make it appear the door was shutting slowly on its own, as he slid in and against the wall, out of the way of the occupants.

A woman sitting at a desk greeted Jenny with a smile. "Right on time."

Jenny sat down on a comfortable-looking armchair, returning the smile only slightly. "Yeah. I may not be much, but I'm punctual."

The smile instantly turned to chastisement. "Now, Jenny, what have I told you?"

She sighed. "Comments like that, however intended, can cause irreparable damage to one's self esteem," she recited.

"Right. You promised to work on that."

"Yeah. I have been. I've been…" She stopped with a shrug.

"Don't clam up so early in the session," the woman urged immediately.

Darien grimaced to himself from the safety of the wall. This was some hospital-appointed shrink Jenny had to go see. He could almost understand why she would have lied to Bobby. No one likes to admit they're getting their head shrinked.

"Please," the doctor continued. "Tell me how you've been since we last talked."

Jenny hesitated. "I'm fine. I've been fine. Actually, I've been pretty happy the last couple of days."

"Oh? That's wonderful. Why do you think that is?"

Her smile grew more genuine. "I know exactly why it is."

The doctor returned the smile, obviously familiar with Jenny's situation. "I get the feeling I know his name."

Jenny laughed faintly. "Yeah. The same man." Her laughter trailed off, and her smile faded.

"So what's wrong? Why do you seem so pensive?"

"I'm lying to him."

Darien's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward in interest.

"No, I'm not…not really lying. But I'm keeping a secret. A big one."

The doctor leaned back in her chair, studying Jenny. "Do I know this secret?"

Jenny frowned and shook her head. "No. I haven't told anyone. No one knows but…but one other man."

Phil Lyons. Jesus. Was she still with Phil? He was right about her all along.

No, he was jumping to conclusions.

Still, what else could she be talking about?

"Would you like to tell me what it is?" The doctor kept her voice casual, almost disinterested.

Jenny smiled slightly. "Not really."

"If it's bothering you so much to be keeping secrets from this man…Bobby, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"Perhaps you should rethink not telling him whatever it is."

Jenny shook her head instantly. "No. I can't."

"People are far more understanding than we believe them to be, most times."

"No. I'll lose him. I don't want to lose…not yet. I just want a little while to be…happy. Is that a big request?"

"Of course not. But are you really as happy as you think? If so, would you be here with me?"

Jenny's smile grew slightly ironic. "They make me come here."

"Because you need it. If this man were enough to erase all your problems, you wouldn't need to. Maybe you're not giving him enough credit. If he cares about you at all--"

"No," she said again, her volume rising slightly. "Listen to me here, doc. I can't tell him. Can't. He'll make himself scarce, and he'd have every right. I won't do that. Not yet."

The woman behind the desk made a few unhurried comments on a pad in front of her. "Let me ask you this: were you aware of this secret when you chose to get involved with him?"

"Yeah." Her voice dropped back down to its usual quiet tone.

"Yet you chose to involve yourself anyway."

"I didn't think…" She shrugged, her eyes drifting to the wall. "I never thought he'd become so important to me. We haven't known each other very long, but…" She turned back to the doctor. "I don't want to lose him."

Darien bit back any sort of response to what was being said. Mixed feelings coursed inside him as he glanced at the door, hoping he'd get some chance to get out of there.

So she was keeping some big secret from Bobby, something that would make him leave her. But she was actually starting to fall for the guy, so she didn't want to 'fess up.

She was playing Bobby, just as Darien had suspected. For some reason or another, she was lying to him. That pissed Darien off. He'd spent the day watching Bobby think about her and worry about her and stop himself from calling her about six times an hour, and she was dangling him on a hook like a fish.

He had to talk to Bobby.

No. No, that didn't accomplish anything. Bobby had this huge blind spot about the woman.

He had to talk to Jenny. He had to confront her, find out everything she was hiding. He had to protect his partner; the way Bobby always protected him, and everyone else he cared about.

Yeah. It was definitely time someone started looking out for Bobby.

**

"Where the frigging hell have you been?"

Darien almost winced. Apparently Bobby wasn't in any better a mood. "I got a little stuck somewhere, sorry."

"Stuck?" Bobby studied him with narrowed eyes, then reached out and grabbed his arm. He flipped the watchband up and peered at the half-full tattoo. "Uh huh. You were out snooping without your partner."

"I wasn't snooping," Darien protested, injecting an impressive amount of innocence into the words despite the fact that they were a blatant lie. "I guess hospitals just make me kinda paranoid lately."

Bobby grimaced. "Yeah, you're not the only one." He stood from the cot he was sitting up on. "Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah, sure." Distracted, Darien just followed as Bobby started out the door. He wanted to talk to his partner, lay the groundwork for the eventual revelation that Jenny Sawayah wasn't what she seemed. But he couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't sound like the same stuff he's been saying before. He couldn't confess to Bobby that she was the person he'd been spying on, not after his promise to Bobby that he would trust her.

Still…

"You want me to drop you at home, ace?"

"Sure," Darien said automatically. "Wait. Are you okay to drive?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and flexed his arm slightly. "I'll manage somehow," he replied dryly. "I was gonna check in on Jen. You want to come, or should I drop you first?"

Darien grimaced, but grinned to cover it before Bobby could see his reaction. "I should get home." He had seen too much of Jenny that day as it was.

****

"Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go."

This quote always made me think of that stupid little poster. You know the one with the cat hanging off the tree limb by its paws, with the words 'Hang in there' in bright, cheery white letters?

But William Feather had one thing right -- persistence often does lead to success. Just like giving up when everyone tells you you should most of the time makes you fail.

There's something to be said for the tenacity of some people. Laid back cats like me never really get it, but it seems like another of those lessons Bobby is determined to teach by example.

Six in the morning.

Why the hell would anyone in the world even think about contemplating the idea of considering being up at such a horrible, unredeemable time of day?

Darien wasn't his best in the mornings. After a nice seven or eight hour shift between the sheets, he could manage without depending on coffee or any other vices to wake him up, but if he didn't get that seven hours, forget it.

He couldn't even make himself look decent. His hair after five hours in bed achieved some irreparable spiked condition that was even wilder than his normal style. His eyes made him look part raccoon, and he couldn't achieve his typical long-legged stride without dragging his feet behind him.

Still, it was be up early, or wind up going clinically insane by the end of the day, and as repulsive as both choices were, it wasn't a hard decision to make.

Thanks to the Keeper having more free time on her hands now that Gloria wasn't keeping half of her mind occupied, she was branching out into researching some other ideas several branches of the government had in the works. She was meeting with other researchers and scientists and doctors, and liaising with all kinds of suited government types.

Which all meant less time in the Lab, and no instant availability whenever Darien needed it. Which was why she had called him at home the night before and told him she wouldn't be in that day, and if he needed a shot, he had to get it when she went by that morning to check up on the Lab.

So there he was. Six in the morning, hair wild, eyes puffy and dark, and feet dragging. But at least his tattoo would be green that day.

Still, he intended to have a few choice words with the Official about having to live around the Keeper's work schedule.

The halls of the Agency were deserted as he walked through on his way out the door and back to a warm bed. The Official's office was shut and locked, and Darien was almost surprised at that. The few times he'd come in and the Boss wasn't there, he had planned it specifically that way. He almost expected the Official to be sitting there at six in the morning, ready to be a public servant.

There was a light coming from under Bobby's door.

Darien slowed when he saw that. Bobby never got to work early. Was someone in his office?

Paranoid instantly, for his partner's sake, Darien stopped in his tracks and crept to the door.

The quiet voice he could barely make out was his partner, all right. But what the hell was Bobby doing…

He interrupted his thoughts to open the door and peak in. "Bobby?"

Surprised brown eyes rose to meet his, and Bobby gestured Darien quiet as he listened to whoever was talking in his ear.

Darien came in and plopped down onto the only other chair, curious enough to hang around until Bobby was off the phone.

"Yeah, so there's nothing?" Bobby blew out a sigh, sounding tired and frustrated. "Thanks. Yeah, call you later today." He hung up the phone and rubbed a hand over his face before looking back at Darien. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Had to get a shot. What's your excuse?"

Bobby shrugged. "Had some work to do." He looked down suddenly, as if reminded of something, and started sorting through a sloppy stack of papers on his desk.

"Work? We haven't gotten another case since Mendes. What kind of work…"

Bobby found what he was looking for and stood, taking the paper with him. "Come on. Out of my office."

Darien stood and let Bobby shepherd him out. "Where we going?"

"I've got work, I told you." Bobby started down the hall, unconcerned with Darien now that he was out of the office.

Darien followed instantly. "Hey, you want to share with your partner here?"

"It's got nothing to do with you, don't worry about it."

Darien rolled his eyes, annoyed if unsurprised. He easily caught up to his partner and snagged the paper he held with a whipfire movement.

Bobby stopped and grabbed at the sheet. "Fawkes…" His voice was a warning.

Darien ignored it, looking down at the paper. A familiar mug shot looked back up at him, and he only had to glance at the writing -- statistics he'd memorized weeks ago. "Lyons?" he looked up at Bobby.

Bobby grabbed the paper back, meeting his eyes. "I told you. I'm gonna find him."

Darien took that opportunity to study his partner. Either Bobby looked even worse in the mornings than Darien did, or he just wasn't getting any sleep at all. "You came here at six in the morning to track him down?"

Bobby started down the hall again. He moved slower, not bothering to try and shake Darien when he knew Darien wouldn't be shook. "When else am I supposed to do it? Fat man won't give us a day off, and I can't do it during the day, or he'll find out."

"How long have you been coming in early?"

Bobby shrugged, opening a door and going in to the Agency's version of a copy room. There was an old model copy machine, a small table that always held a pot of surprisingly decent coffee, and a fax machine.

Bobby went up to the fax machine and started punching in numbers with quick jabs of his finger. "Ever since he took us off the case," he answered Darien's question without looking up. "You don't have to hang around."

Darien hesitated in the doorway before coming in. "Anything I can do?"

Bobby looked up at that, pausing his jabs. "You don't have to," he said again neutrally.

Darien's eyebrows rose and he gazed at his partner.

Bobby's mouth quirked in the faintest smile. "You want to blow your morning, it's fine with me. Let me send this to the cops out in…" The machine let out a small electronic squeal, and Bobby turned his eyes to the small display. He let out a quiet curse and started jabbing at buttons again.

Darien stood back and watched Bobby try to figure out the small machine. Bobby was actually a wiz with most things electronic, which had come as a surprise to Darien. He would have thought Bobby would have something against computers, with all the crap people could find out about other people on the Internet, all the damage that could be done through those little boxes. And he was right -- Bobby wasn't crazy about the things. It was fodder for a paranoid mind what could happen through computers these days.

Still, the first time Bobby had sat down at a computer to dig up some fact, some afternoon when Eberts hadn't been around to do it for him, his fingers had flown over those keys, and it had taken him only slightly longer than it would have taken the Official's lackey.

"Son of a bitch!" Bobby's hand slammed down onto the small buttons of the machine, which gave another squeal in protest. "Fucking piece of crap!" The paper in his hand crumbled as he turned away from the machine. "I have had just about enough of this nickel and dime shit! This is a government agency, for God's sake. They could at least afford a working fucking fax machine!"

Darien came off the wall and took a few steps towards his partner, arms held up. Half of him wanted to laugh at the tantrum, but something in him saw the genuine dark emotion on Bobby's face and was concerned. "Hey. Relax."

"Relax." Bobby turned on him. "I got phone calls coming in from cops around the state, that I ain't getting because the voice mail's on the fritz. I got a fax I can't send, and time I can't spend trying to find this son of a bitch, because the Boss thinks I'm too emotionally involved."

Darien studied him for a moment. "You're not making the best statement for emotional detachment right now, Bobby."

"Fuck detachment. Nothing in this place is working. I got a job to do here, and I can't fucking do it. Everything's going to hell and you want me to stay detached?"

A thought occurred to Darien suddenly. "Why do I get the feeling this is about a little more than a fax machine?"

Bobby faced him and took in his searching gaze for a total of half a second. "Don't do this, Fawkes. Don't you start analyzing me. I get it from everyone else around here, I sure as hell don't need it from you."

"Yeah? So tell me what's wrong. Maybe we can talk about it. Maybe I can help."

"I doubt it," Bobby retorted, his voice quieter suddenly.

Darien shook his head slightly, but didn't reply. Instead he took the two steps forward to put him beside his partner. He grabbed Bobby's arm, and pushed him towards the door.

Bobby went along until he reached the doorway, where he planted his feet. "What are you doing? I got work to do."

"No, you don't. What you have to do is get the hell out of this building. We're gonna go get some coffee and doughnuts. We're gonna sit down in some corner somewhere and you're going to tell me what's wrong, and I'm going to offer brilliant advice that'll make it all better."

Bobby opened his mouth to protest.

Darien kept going before he could get a word out. "I'm sick of this, Bobby. We keep swinging back and forth. One day we're friends and we got each other's backs, the next we're just together 'cause that's how the Boss wants it, and we don't trust each other at all. We gotta pick one and stick with it." Darien kept moving as he talked, dragging Bobby alongside him.

"Look, kid, I respect the thought, but I've really got a lot--"

"Shut up. You need to stop and get a jacket? No? Good. Let's get the hell out of here."

****

"There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not."

La Rochefoucauld. It's a nice sentiment, but what I really like about quoting this particular guy is just saying his name. La Rochefoucauld.

Seriously, though, I had suspicions about Bobby's new fling, and I wasn't letting them die. I really figured that as paranoid as Bobby was, he would stumble across the truth eventually.

"All right, no excuses. No macho posturing, no faking that everything's fine. No talk about the Agency or our work. None of that typical Bobby Hobbes crap. Just tell me what's bothering you."

Bobby studied him across a plate of pastries already forgotten about. "You serious about this, Darien?"

"Serious as a heart attack. I'm your friend, Bobby. Tell me what's going on with you." Darien was almost half-certain that despite his demands, this entire venture was a waste of time.

In front of his eyes, though, Bobby went through a slight transformation. If Darien hadn't been watching him so closely, he wouldn't have seen it. His partner's brown eyes went softer, more inward. His mouth dropped out of its tight nervousness into a more thoughtful frown, and his gaze moved away from Darien, off into the distance somewhere.

"Were you and that old girlfriend, the doctor, were you guys in love?"

Surprised by the question, Darien almost protested that this wasn't about him. Something stopped that protest, though, and he gave Bobby the benefit of the doubt. "I thought so. Felt like it, but I guess we weren't."

"No?"

Darien shrugged. "If we were, she'd be here now, right?"

"Nah. Maybe not. I sure as hell loved Viv, and look where she is now."

She was married, that's where she was. If not, than she was pretty close to it. Darien grimaced slightly. "I always figured if it was really real, it would be real to both people. You know?"

"You're a romantic," Bobby said with a slight, insincere smirk. "I never would have guessed." The expression dropped. "It isn't true, though. I loved Viv. Loved her more than anything. But it was…I dunno. Like if ya go to a museum and see some real nice picture. You can imagine what it would look like in your living room, but you know you're never gonna get it. 'Cause it belongs in the museum, with the frame around it and a velvet rope keeping it safe from schmucks like you."

Darien nodded. "Of course, that's where my old profession came in handy." He meant it to lighten the air, but nodded for Bobby to keep going, unwilling to sway this sincere and uncharacteristically revealing side of his partner.

Bobby smiled slightly. "That was Viv. I loved her like I loved Ali McGraw when I was a kid. I wasn't supposed to ever get her. And once I did, I was always worrying about it." He looked up at Darien. "You know what I mean? I couldn't figure out what I did to score her, so I never knew if I was gonna lose it, and have her take off back to the museum." He shrugged. "I never managed to shake the feeling that she was too good for me, and just didn't belong there. Now…"

Darien spoke after a pause. "Is this about Jenny?" he asked uncertainly.

Bobby looked down at the table. "I know. I know you think it's dumb, I know you don't trust her. I know I've known her for less than a month. But…" He paused, then gathered the courage to look up at Darien directly. "I always figured I was a one-woman kind of guy. Once Viv left, that was it for me. I figured I was retired and out of the game. I never thought I could love anyone so much. But I do. I feel it now, but…but it's different. Jenny isn't some museum piece. She's not perfect. She needs me as much as I need her. I can be with her and be happy, 'cause it feels like she does belong there."

Darien nodded his understanding of what Bobby said. He buried his own discomfort at talking about the woman he knew was hiding things from Bobby. "Sounds like you should be pretty happy," he said slowly. "So why aren't you?"

"I'm losing her already," Bobby answered simply.

"What do you mean?"

"The last few days…" Bobby looked down at his hands, fiddling with the cup of coffee in front of him that was rapidly losing its steam. "She's acting different. She isn't that happy to see me anymore. Funny thing is, she's told me…I mean, I think…" He sighed. "No. I know she loves me too. That's not the problem. I just can't figure out what the problem is. I can't figure out if she's starting to realize that I'm a paranoid nutcase, or she's just getting tired of me period."

Darien could figure it out easily enough. The only problem was how to breach the idea to Bobby. "What if it isn't you?"

Bobby's brow furrowed. "Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean, what if it has nothing to do with you? What if she's…" He blew out a slight breath, trying to figure out the best way to word this without Bobby freaking out. "What if she's not what you think she is? She could be hiding something from you, you know."

Bobby's face hardened. "I told you, Fawkes. I told you she was on the level. I told you to trust her--"

"--and I said I would. But if--"

"If nothing. No ifs. She's no liar." Bobby shook his head insistently. "No. No, I think it maybe something else. Maybe since Phil Lyons hasn't been caught, she's just getting more and more nervous he'll come after her again. Maybe she's just scared and she doesn't know how to--"

"Bobby."

"Forget it, Fawkes. I trust her. That should be good enough for you."

Darien winced at that. Any other time, it would have been good enough. More than enough. But not this time. This time Darien had followed her into her shrink's office and heard her confess to deceiving Bobby.

But Bobby wouldn't listen to it. Not that Darien was surprised. Bobby was bound to be as fiercely loyal towards the woman he was involved with as he was towards Darien, or the Agency.

Still, Darien knew now what was troubling his partner so much, and he had to do something about it before Bobby's worry made him kill himself trying to find Lyons.

If Bobby wouldn't listen to him, maybe he could try the other approach.

****

"It is better to risk saving a guilty person than to condemn an innocent one."

That's Voltaire again, and usually something I agree with wholeheartedly. Someone like me, well, I know all about saving the guilty and blaming the innocent. If you go by what folks in the slammer tell you, you'd know the justice system is just single-mindedly condemning the innocent.

So I didn't have any proof of Jenny Sawayah's betrayal. I had suspicion and I had a lot of loyalty towards Bobby. That was enough. And whether that makes me better or worse than those people who condemn without discovering if the person was truly guilty, I don't know.

Darien knocked on the door for the second time, shifting around in the hallway restlessly.

He wasn't good at this kind of thing. He wasn't really good at confronting people. He avoided having to do it as much as possible, but this time there wasn't any choice. If he didn't let Jenny know that he knew about her, she would keep her claws in Bobby as long as she could.

A soft voice sounded from inside the door. "Bobby?"

"Uh, no. It's Darien Fawkes."

The door opened, and confused, surprised eyes looked out at him. "Hi, Darien. Bobby's not here."

"I know that," Darien replied seriously. "Can I come in?"

She opened the door wider and let him move into the room. Shutting the door, she leaned her back against it, looking at him with suddenly huge brown eyes. "Did something happen to him?" she asked quietly.

"No. He's with his doctor, I think."

She nodded, breathing out what looked like relief and moving away from the door. "What can I do for you?"

"You seen Bobby lately?"

She blinked, surprised at the increasing anger in Darien's voice. "I saw him last night. He'll be over when he's done with his doctor. Why?"

"Because he's killing himself, and it's your fault." The words were maybe too harsh, but Darien wasn't in a mood to sugarcoat anything.

She drew in a breath, startled. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's driving himself crazy. He's not sleeping; he's not eating. He's spending every minute trying to find Phil Lyons, even though our boss took us off the case and put us on other things. He already tends to obsess over things, and you've got him going ten times worse than usual. You not noticing any of this? Or do you just not care?"

She flinched under his words. "Darien, I…" She fell quiet for a minute. "He has been quiet the last few nights. I thought he was just tired."

"No. He's exhausted. You should know something about Bobby -- he doesn't let himself feel things for a lot of people. When he does decide he likes you, that's it. He'll spend every ounce of time and energy trying to help you out if he thinks you're in trouble. He doesn't waste any time worrying about himself, that's why other people have to do it for him." Darien walked a few paces closer as he talked. "So what he doesn't need is to give his heart and his time to someone who's just jerking him around. Bobby hates secrets and lies, and he doesn't deserve what you're doing to him."

She drew in a harsh breath, her face going pale. A hand reached out for the arm of the couch she was standing beside, and she stared at him. "How…how did you…?"

"It doesn't matter. I know you're keeping something big from him, and I've even got a really damn good idea what it is. If you really care anything about him at all, you tell him tonight, and let him get out of this."

She swallowed, her eyes going to the ground. "I can't."

"Yes. You can, and you will, otherwise he's gonna hear it from somebody else." Darien could see that there was some amount of genuine pain on her face, and hoped some small part of her actually did feel something for Bobby, so he could get through to her. "Look, he's got enough problems. He's already kinda bruised psychologically, and he's had his heart broken before. End this now, before he gets any more involved."

She shook her head slowly. "What…what do you expect me to do?"

"Tell him," Darien replied firmly.

"No." Her eyes were wide and almost helpless.

He wasn't about to fall for it. She'd used those eyes against Bobby since the very first day. "Yes. Or I'll be sitting outside this building when he leaves tonight, and I'll tell him myself. This is my partner's life you're talking about here, and you're fucking with it in a bad way. I won't let you do it anymore."

She dropped her eyes from view, a hand going up to her face. She drew in a shaky breath and nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll tell him."

Darien breathed out a sigh of relief, but knew he couldn't trust her to do what she said. He would have to sneak his way in tonight, listen in to their conversation. He had to make sure.

She looked up at him after a minute, and he was surprised at how real the pain on her face looked. "It wasn't him, you know."

He blinked. "What?"

"It's not his. You don't…I wouldn't have kept it from him if it was his."

Darien opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. Why weren't these words making any sense to him?

She saw his confusion and gave a tiny, humorless smile. "You thought it was? I wouldn't do that to Bobby. I guess it makes it worse that it's not, though." She sniffled once, her eyes bright with moisture. "So I have to tell him. Easy as that."

Darien had the sudden, strange feeling that he wasn't sure what it was she had to tell him anymore. "You can't keep secrets from someone like Bobby," he said slowly. "Not if it's important."

"So what am I supposed to say?" The pain was turning to a kind of anger on her face. "You want me to go through a practice confession, so you know I'm going to do it right?"

Actually, the part of his mind that realized they were on two different wavelengths did want her to run through a confession for him.

She saw that on his face. "You do, huh? Fine. Tell me how this sounds: 'Bobby, you saved my entire life. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anything, and I actually think you love me, too. But it's just not enough, because I got tied down to a bed and r…and attacked, and along with all the emotional baggage that left me with I've got this kid growing inside me that isn't even yours but if you want to be with me you'd have to be with both of us. And you've got too many problems to have to put up with me and mine. So yeah, maybe we should just end this now before I cause you any more trouble.'" Her voice was bitter, but her eyes were growing brighter by the second.

Darien's mouth dropped open. He looked at her in silence, unsure of what to say. He was starting to realize that maybe he had made a mistake here.

In the quiet that followed, her eyes dropped again, and the bitter anger seeped out of her, replaced by sadness. "You're right," she said quietly. "I know you're right. I didn't mean to hurt him." She looked back up, meeting his eyes sincerely. "I didn't. I just wanted to…I don't know. I wanted to hold on to him as long as I could. It was selfish."

He watched her hand rise up and absently rub her still-flat stomach, and he swallowed. "How long have you known you're pregnant?"

"A little over a week," she replied, her voice still soft. "I was hoping it was a mistake, but they tested me again, and it's not."

"You're sure it was Phil Lyons?"

She shrugged. "One of the brothers, anyway. Before that it was a couple of months since I last…" She trailed off, her eyes going to the wall behind Darien.

He glanced back, following her gaze to a clock on the wall. Nine o'clock.

Bobby got out of his meetings with the shrink at nine, Darien remembered. The office was on the other side of town, but he'd be on his way here soon.

He turned back to Jenny, and searched her face. That was what she was hiding. That was her big secret. She'd been impregnated by her rapist, and didn't want to scare Bobby off by telling him.

Jesus. Bobby was right. She was on the level. He knew emotions could be faked, but the pain in her eyes was real -- he felt it in his gut.

She dropped onto the couch as he studied her. "Darien…what am I going to do?"

He moved over to the couch and sat beside her. "You have to tell him," he restated. "He can tell you're keeping something from him, and it's killing him wondering what it is. You have to be honest with Bobby, all the time."

She shook her head sadly. "I don't want to lose him," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Darien grimaced. "But you gotta let him make up his own mind. He may surprise you. Or he may leave. You just have to let him work it out for himself."

She nodded. "I know."

He stood after a minute. "I should get out of here. He'll be here soon."

She blanched. "Yeah." A hand reached up and swiped under her eyes, and she looked up at him. "I hope I see you again, Darien."

He nodded slightly, knowing what she meant by that. Funny thing was, he hoped it too. He'd been way off about her, and his sense of justice made him think that meant he owed her something.

He couldn't even attempt to guess what Bobby's reaction was going to be, but he hoped for all of their sakes that Bobby was more understanding and more willing to accept the responsibilities than Jenny feared he would be.

****

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage."

Lao-Tzu. He was right, for the most part. But it's one of those great contradictions -- love can make a person braver than they ever thought they could be, but it can also lead a person to fear the smallest thing.

Bobby opened the door and peeked inside. "Jen?"

She was sitting on her couch, staring out at the wall. She didn't even turn when he came in. "Hi, Bobby."

He came in slowly, shutting the door behind him. "How you doing?"

She shrugged, her eyes still on the wall. "How was your appointment?"

He didn't bother answering, going to the couch slowly. "What's wrong?"

She sat for a minute longer, then turned to him. She got to her feet and closed the distance between them. Reaching for a hand almost shyly, she leaned in close to him, her eyes shutting.

Bobby didn't know what was going on, but he knew enough to be on alert. Something was wrong here. He squeezed her hand and wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her in to him. "Hey, come on. What's wrong?"

She inhaled, her face still buried against him. "I have to tell you something."

He tensed slightly, but kept his attention on her. "All right, come here." He walked her the step back to the couch and sat her down, moving in close beside her. "I had the feeling something was bothering you," he stated softly.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide and bright, almost frightened. That look was enough to tug something deep inside him. "Bobby…" She dropped her eyes. "I can't do this."

"C'mon, kid." Bobby injected a rather false confidence in his voice. "It can't be that bad. Just come out with it." He flashed his biggest grin.

She laughed faintly. "I love you." Her grin faded. "You know that, right? I mean, I've said it, but you know it's true, right? You believe me."

His smile grew slightly more sincere. "Actually, I do."

"Good."

He studied her for a moment, his smile fading. "Is it that bad?"

She nodded. "Pretty bad, yeah."

She was scared, and he hated that. His ingrained need to protect had grown by leap and bounds every day he was with her. It was part of the reason he was so sure they belonged together. He had to have something to protect. Viv had chafed under his watchfulness, but Jenny didn't mind. Jenny welcomed it. He wanted to keep her safe from everything, including fear and sadness. It was too much to hope for, he knew, but that didn't mean he wouldn't spend every minute trying.

So he leaned in and planted a light kiss on her, twining their fingers together between them. Pulling back slightly, he met her eyes. "We can handle it. Just tell me."

She nodded slowly. "I'm…I'm pregnant. It's either Phil or Dave's, and I'm not getting rid of it."

He drew back, surprised. Searching her eyes, he knew she was serious, and worried to the point of being petrified about what he was going to say. His gaping mouth shut slowly and he had to think about what this meant for a good, long minute.

**

"Come on. Ring." Darien paced a few more steps, turned, and paced some more. His eyes went back to the phone inevitably. "Ring. Come on."

Bobby would call him. Right? Whatever happened, it was big enough that Bobby would call his partner. They were friends. Weren't they?

Dammit. He was going to worry about this all night. He should have stayed over there, gone see through like he originally planned.

Darien grinned to himself suddenly and slowed his nervous steps. Why was it he was spending a Friday night alone in his apartment, worrying about his partner's love life when he should have been going out to find one of his own?

He should get out of the apartment, out into the city. He would see Bobby tomorrow. Well, no, it was the weekend.

If nothing else, if they didn't get together for dinner and a game or something, he'd see Bobby Monday. He could wait until Monday to find out what happened.

Couldn't he?

Nope.

He had to track Bobby down. Or stay here hoping Bobby called him.

His eyes went to the phone. "Come on, you little overpriced gadget. Ring. Earn your cost."

There was a knock on the door in answer.

Surprised, he turned and headed for the door. A quick glance showed him Bobby's profile, and he threw the door open. "Bobby!"

Bobby bounded in, and Darien grinned when Jenny came right behind him, attached by the hands. "Darien, you may want to sit down for this," Bobby announced grandly.

Darien's eyes went from the grin splitting Bobby's face to the glow of happiness dulled by shock on Jenny, and he obeyed, trying not to grin back too early. "What's going on?"

Bobby held on to Jenny's hand tightly, beaming down at Darien. "Your partner is gonna be a daddy!"

Darien's eyes went to Jenny automatically. Bobby thought the baby was his?

Bobby spoke again before he could wonder any more about it. "Okay, so technically the kid won't be mine. But when did Bobby Hobbes ever sweat technicalities?" He grinned over at the girl by his side.

She laughed, a breathy sound of sheer surprised happiness.

Darien looked back and forth between the two of them. "Huh."

"Yeah." Bobby tugged Jenny closer, his arm going around her waist. "And ya know, I figure being a government agent, I gotta do the responsible thing, now that she's having a kid and all."

Darien tried to hide a grin, but his mouth quirked up into a smile regardless. "And what would that be?"

Bobby glanced over at Jenny, then leaned in to Darien and dropped his voice. "I think I'm gonna marry her."

Darien's mouth dropped open. "Whoa."

"Yep." Bobby beamed down at his partner.

Darien met his eyes, shaking his head slightly in his surprise. Big step. Huge step Bobby was making here.

Was he really surprised? He knew, and he'd told Jenny, that if Bobby decided he cared, he went all the way. The fact that he hardly knew this woman wouldn't be a deterrent. Not for Bobby. Bobby loved her, and that'd be enough for him.

But was it enough? Really? Darien knew Bobby would make it enough for him. He wasn't so sure about Jenny, but remembering her pain earlier, when she was so sure Bobby would leave her and her baggage, and seeing her happiness now…Darien figured maybe they might actually be able to make something so insane work for them.

He had a feeling Bobby asking her to marry him had little to do with responsibility.

He suddenly realized that he was sitting there like a log, and the grin on Bobby's face was getting slightly strained under Darien's unwavering gaze.

He blinked and shook his head slightly. Jumping out of the chair, he stuck his hand out quickly. "Well, let me be the first to congratulate you."

Bobby shook his hand a little too enthusiastically, and pulled him into a one-armed, affectionate hug. "Whaddaya think, partner? Wanna be best man?"

Darien laughed. "I'm your guy." He turned his eyes to Jenny. Now certain that she was on their side after all and she really did love Bobby enough to deal with his eccentricities, the glow on her face was enough to make him even happier. "Congrats, Jen."

She reached out impulsively and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you," she said softly into his ear.

Darien knew she was thanking him for more than the congratulations, and he returned the hug with a growing amount of sincere affection. "Anytime."

****

"When unhappy, one doubts everything; when happy, one doubts nothing."

You know, I've read Joseph Roux, even though his stuff is a little too religious for me sometimes, and I never thought about this twice until lately.

If it's true that unhappiness causes doubt, than my partner must have been one of the most unhappy people in the world. And I never noticed it -- not until he actually started coming in happy. That's enough to make me a little ticked off at myself. I always go out of my way to help people who need it, whether they want me to or not. Why did I have this big blind spot towards my own partner?

"Come on, Jen. Best place in town." Bobby tugged the hand of the slow-moving woman enthusiastically. "We gotta celebrate, right?"

She laughed and let him steer her. "I'm actually in the mood for a little celebration, yeah."

Bobby waved to the maitre de. "Tom! Yo."

"Bobby! How've you been? It's been months."

"Busy. I live for my work these days."

"Shame." The overly enthusiastic man turned to Jenny, studying her with a friendly grin. "I see your work's a lot more attractive than usual."

She grinned, flushing.

Tom laughed. "Honey, we'll have to get together sometime and exchange notes on this guy. Bobby, I'm still waiting for you to tell me what every female in the world has that I don't."

Bobby rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "More like something you have that they don't, pal, but, as usual, I'm flattered."

Tom sighed dramatically. "All right, I shouldn't be mixing business with pleasure anyway. Let's get you kids a table."

Once seated, Jenny couldn't help laughing slightly at Tom's departing back.

"What?"

"I get the feeling you've got some strange friends all over this city."

Bobby shrugged. "A lot of truth to that. I'll introduce you to all of them. Don't worry, long as you're with me, you're safe."

"I'm sure of that," she said easily. "I'm just getting worried. Soon you're going to find out how boring a person I am."

Bobby laughed. "I got enough excitement in my life as it is. Don't change a thing, Jen." His eyes caught on something, and he froze, his grin fading.

She glanced back. "What's wrong?"

He swallowed. "Uh. I see someone I…Viv. Viv's here."

Jenny turned back to him. "Oh." Her voice went quiet as she watched his reaction.

He tore his eyes from the laughing face of his ex-wife to the woman across from him. "You wanna…you know."

She smiled, but her sudden nervousness showed through plainly. "Sure."

So they got up and he led her to the beautiful blonde laughing with her new husband. He planted a grin to his face. "Hi."

Her eyes lifted to him, and she smiled broadly. "Bobby! How are you?"

He returned the smile somewhat ironically. It was hard to tell at any given time whether she'd be happy to see him or not. "I'm good." He glanced over at the man across from her. "Brock."

The Navy officer nodded back. "How you been, Hobbes?"

Bobby shrugged then glanced back at Jenny. He grinned as his awkwardness faded. "Jen, this is Viv. Her husband, Brock."

Jenny smiled with her quiet self-consciousness. "Nice to meet you," she said to Viv. "I've heard a lot about you."

Viv returned the smile, but her reply was directed at Bobby. "Are you two…"

His grin took on the slightly giddy broadness it had been at for most of the last few hours. "Engaged," he completed happily.

Viv's smile went slightly crooked. "Really? Well, congratulations." Her eyes went to Jenny, studying her more closely. "I wish you luck. Bobby, we'll have to get together sometime."

"Yeah," Bobby replied automatically. "Sure. See you later, Viv."

He followed Jenny back to the table, and when he sat, he knew the amazement he felt showed on his face. "Huh. You know, that's the first time I've seen her and not gotten upset."

Jenny smiled more easily now that it was just the two of them again. "I'll consider that a compliment."

Bobby grinned and stood quickly, moving to the seat beside her. He grabbed her and pulled her in for a quick but hard, heartfelt kiss. "You should."

She flushed and laughed.

**

"Morning, everybody!"

Darien couldn't help a grin at Bobby's enthusiastic entrance. "Jesus. Someone had a good night last night, huh?"

Bobby dropped down beside him and shrugged. "Not bad."

Darien shook his head with a grin.

"I hate to interrupt, but we've got business." The Official didn't seem to share his agents' high spirits.

"What's up, chief?"

The Official looked at Bobby for a minute, then shook his head slightly and reached for a file on his desk. "Your unsolved case is back in town."

Bobby sat up and grabbed the file, flipping it open long enough to see Phil Lyons' picture. His smile turned grim. "You're giving it back to us?"

"You're the best chance we have to catch him," The Official agreed.

Bobby jumped out of the chair, dropping the file on the desk. "It's about damned time! All right, Fawkes, I've got a lead on a few people he used to know here in town. We've got a few good tips from a few local cops about where he's come before. Let's get out of here and check--"

"Agent Hobbes."

Bobby glanced at the Official. "What?"

"Alive. You take him alive. Don't let this be a repeat of his brother."

"Yeah. You got it, boss."

****

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

I always thought courage was a highly overrated quality. And I'm not a coward, I just happen to think that the ordinary Joe and Jane walking down the street shouldn't have to be able to face down a gun or a murderer without showing any fear.

Basically, I don't think the ordinary people walking down the street should have to put up with that, which is why I don't expect they've developed any great immunity to fear. When I do come across some innocent person who's been hurt by another, as I do a lot in this new occupation, I rarely see that person behave as bravely as television and movies might suggest.

Darien followed Bobby up stairs, wondering why he was going up at all. Not that he didn't understand it, but inviting himself to be a third wheel in Bobby's evening was something he could probably live without.

Bobby didn't even knock on the door, which told Darien a lot. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she was packing her stuff to move in with him.

"Jen?"

Darien could see over Bobby's shoulder as the woman in the living room wheeled to face them, an almost panicked look in her eyes.

She saw who it was, and the panic faded. "Bobby!" She met him halfway across the living room, folding herself into his arms without a self-conscious thought about Darien being there.

Alarmed, Bobby hugged her close for a second, then pulled back to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"He…he called. He called me. I don't even know how he got the number, but he knows. He said he was back. He said he knew where I was."

Bobby's eyes grew hard. "Lyons."

She nodded shakily. "I…I'm sorry. I just…I didn't know what to do. I was going to call the police, but I thought…you were coming, so I didn't…"

"Shhh. Hey, it's okay. I'm here. We're not gonna let the bastard anywhere near you, Jen. I promise you that." He smiled reassuringly, and pulled her in close again.

Darien stood by the door, awkward.

"I'm sorry," she said again quietly, her voice slightly muffled by Bobby's shirt.

Bobby looked up over her, meeting Darien's eyes with a dark grimness in his face.

Darien knew what that meant. They had worked all through the day, chasing leads and tips and tracking people Lyons had known in the city. They turned up empty, and Darien had a feeling they'd be working at twice the pace the next day.

He didn't blame Bobby, though.

Darien had been a criminal, yeah. He had broken into houses and stolen things from innocent people, and sold them for his own profit. He had ended up in prison on more than one occasion, and he'd mingled with the other bad people shut up from society. He had called some of those people friends. He knew murderers, thieves, and arsonists. He knew a couple of kidnappers.

Funny thing was, even prison had its undesirables. No matter how many people an inmate had killed or terrorized, he still considered himself better than a rapist. Sex offenders were the lowest of the low. Black, white, didn't matter. Claimed you were innocent? Big deal; so did everyone else in the joint. If you were in there for a sex crime, you were going to be ostracized and terrorized by the rest of the pack.

Darien had his own private disgust for the kind of people who would attack a fellow human being in that way. Sure, he might have stolen some paintings, jewelry, cash, whatever. Even he would never even consider attacking someone with the sole purpose of stealing their self-respect, their dignity, self-esteem. Rapists wanted their victims to feel helpless. They stripped the people they attacked of any power over their own fates. Darien saw no reason to forgive anyone of a crime like that, however rehabilitated they may claim to be.

Phil Lyons was a killer, a thief, and a kidnapper. And a rapist. Someone who, according to Bobby, had some strange kind of affection for Jenny Sawayah, an affection that made him think tying her to a bed and doing whatever he wanted with her for an entire day and night was better than just killing her.

Phil Lyons deserved to be killed or thrown back in prison. He deserved to be stripped of dignity and power, like he'd stripped her. Darien felt that strongly about it, even if Jenny was practically a stranger.

He couldn't imagine how Bobby was feeling. As protective as Bobby was, as much as he went out of his way to protect the few people he held close, and considering how much he said he loved Jenny, he had to be about as furious as a person could get. He had to be a step away from losing control and Darien sure as hell didn't envy Phil Lyons if Bobby got to him first.

He also had a funny feeling that if they did find Lyons, and Bobby lost control, he wouldn't do much to get in between them.

"You okay?" Bobby's quiet question brought Darien out of his thoughts. The anger had drained from his partner's brown eyes as he looked down at the woman in his arms.

She pulled back, nodding. She sniffed self-consciously, glancing over at Darien. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"It's okay. You've had a hard month, you're justified." Bobby searched her eyes. "I won't let him get to you."

She met his gaze, then smiled slightly. "No, I guess you won't."

Bobby turned to Darien. "We'll talk to the Boss. Someone has to be here with her until we find Lyons."

"You think he'll go for it?"

Bobby's mouth tightened. "She's the only witness we've got right now. He'll go for it. And if he doesn't, she'll just go with us." He turned back to Jenny, slightly apologetic about talking to her like she wasn't there. "If it's okay with you. I just want to keep you safe."

"I know. It's fine. I'm really…I'm pretty scared of him."

Bobby smiled. Darien couldn't remember a more tender expression coming from his partner. "You don't have to be brave, Jen. That's my job." He reached up and touched her face lightly, his eyes glowing with some emotion Darien had never seen on him.

Darien watched Bobby lean over and kiss her gently, and he glanced over at the wall, to give them some small amount of privacy. Third wheel time again.

"Love you," he heard Bobby say quietly. Sounded like his partner was smiling.

"I love you," Jenny's soft voice responded.

He glanced back, and realized with a start as he looked at them that he was totally and completely jealous.

He could tell a lot of things about them, just from the way they were standing there sharing the same space, looking at each other. Jenny's face was glowing with near-adoration as she smiled at Bobby, and he showed the same tender protectiveness, even more magnified.

Those two had something. It was nice for Bobby, but something in Darien felt kind of hollow and alone as he looked at it.

Jenny's eyes went to him suddenly, and she flushed slightly, stepping away from Bobby. "So did you guys want to have dinner?"

He appreciated the break of that moment. Nice as it was, there was no place for him there. "I could just get out of here," he offered.

Bobby grinned and waved him off. "Don't be stupid. You hungry?"

"Yeah." Darien smiled suddenly. Good thing about this was, during the day at work he was still Bobby's partner, and he could rag him mercilessly for this little scene.

****

"Love casts out fear." One of the big maxims of our time, huh? It isn't true, not in my experience. When you love someone, you fear for him or her more than you ever have anyone else.

There's a guy named Alldous Huxley, he added to that little maxim. He said, "Love casts out fear; but conversely fear casts out love." I hoped that sentiment was as off as the first one.

"You sure you don't want me to drop you at home?"

Bobby made a face at the smirk in Darien's tone. "I think I'll be fine here, thanks."

Darien heaved a huge sigh. "Well, I guess I should be happy that one of us is getting some action, anyway."

Bobby glanced back to make sure Jenny was out of earshot by the door to the apartments. When he turned back to Darien, his eyes were serious. "No action. She's still pretty messed up from what Lyons did to her."

Darien grimaced. "Yeah, I guess so."

Bobby shook his head, anger returning that he had kept at bay all night. "I'm gonna find him."

"I know. I'll be there with you, Bobby."

Bobby nodded slightly. "Yeah. I…" He sighed. "See you in the morning, Darien."

"See ya." Darien started the van, watching Bobby go up and join Jenny by the door. She turned and waved to him once before they disappeared inside.

Darien smiled slightly to himself. As much as he may have felt like a third wheel tonight, it wasn't that bad. He had been worried about Bobby lately, ever since this case had started. Bobby was growing obsessive, almost rabid. He had everyone at the Agency on their toes, waiting for him to crack up.

Now he had even more reason to be on the edge than ever, with Jenny, and Lyons returning and calling her the way he had. But something was different now.

Darien sat and watched Bobby during dinner. He grinned and chatted and acted almost the same as always, but there was more an element of calm to him. He was more relaxed, more at peace, almost.

And Darien supposed he had Jenny Sawayah to thank for that. He had watched her almost as much as he watched Bobby and a part of him was surprised he'd ever doubted her. She wore her feelings about Bobby so plainly they were almost tangible.

They were ridiculously cute, like some couple on their honeymoon. It was a Bobby he'd never seen before, and he figured that if he wasn't as active in the conversation as he was when it was just he and Bobby, the easy grin on his partner's face made it worth it.

**

There was just something about the woman. Bobby couldn't have told anyone what it was, and he would have felt like some dime store Romeo trying to explain it, but there really was something. Something that caused a brush of her hand on his arm to make his skin awaken and long for more contact. Something that made him feel like the greatest guy on the planet whenever she smiled or laughed at something he said.

Something that made him not mind the fact that she was too uncomfortable to go very far physically, as long as he could hold on to her, kiss her.

He had fallen hard, but it didn't scare him as much as it should have. He was absolutely sure she felt the same way about him, and that gave him a lot more confidence in what they had.

"Bobby?"

He unconsciously tightened his hold on the woman lying beside him. She had lifted her head from his chest and was smiling at him through the darkness. "You okay? You look pretty serious."

He grinned. "I'm good. Pretty close to being perfect, actually. Just thinking about everything."

She searched his eyes in the dim light. "I told you before that you don't have to take so big a step with me just because I'm having a baby. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to commit to anything when it's not even your--"

"Hey." He cut in before she could finish. "I wouldn't have offered to commit myself to anything if I didn't want it. And let's get something straight here. You and me are gonna get hitched before the kid shows up, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes the kid mine. I'm in this for the long haul, Jen. That means I'm dad to the little guy."

"Girl," she corrected instantly, her eyes glowing. She shook her head at him a moment later. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yep. That okay?"

She laughed slightly, and dipped her head down in answer, meeting his mouth firmly.

He moved his hands up her back slowly, shutting his eyes and enjoying the feel of her lips against his. Her body pressed against his, and he couldn't resist holding her and gently rolling them over, bracing himself over her and returning the kiss with fervor.

Her arms circled his back, pulling him tight against her. His body sang out with the contact, and despite his attempts to keep it light and free of pressure to go further, he was almost instantly aroused by the intimate closeness.

He pulled himself up for a breath, mentally willing his sudden erection to fade again before she felt it and things got uncomfortable.

She reached up and glanced her fingers over his face, drawing his eyes. Her face was glowing with a smile, and she arched herself against him gently. "It's okay," she said in a near-whisper.

He felt a flush spreading through his chest at that breathy voice, but shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you," he managed to say, despite his body's desire to take her word for it.

Her smile grew. "You won't. I know that. That's why it's okay."

He returned the smile and couldn't resist dropping into another firm kiss. He could feel her lips parting under his, and he dove in to explore the inside of that mouth before he could stop himself.

The flush going through him erupted into a hotter fire. When he broke off for air, his body moved on automatic, and he dropped a trail of kisses down her jawline, to the nape of her neck, where he slowed down, relishing the taste of her skin.

She let out a breathy moan, her hands running up and down his back restlessly.

He could feel his control starting to slip, and he forced himself up to meet her eyes, just to make sure.

She nodded quickly before he could even ask. Her eyes were glowing, her face flushed and her lips parted and swollen from his kisses. He took a long moment to enjoy the sight of her, before giving in to both of their desires and capturing her mouth again.

****

"Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action."

Benny Disraeli probably didn't mean the word 'action' the way I was using it, but either way, the sentiment works the same.

Darien laughed the minute he saw his partner swaggering into the lab.

Bobby looked like he had discovered the secret of life, and wasn't about to share it with anyone else. A private kind of glow surrounded him, and the wide grin he shot Darien was probably restrained.

Darien's eyebrows flew up when his partner met his eyes. "No action, huh?" he asked laughingly.

Bobby shrugged easily, strolling across the room and dropping down in the chair by the Keeper's desk. "I think she's starting to recover."

Darien chuckled at the happiness his normally cynical partner radiated. "I guess I'm happy for you."

"Morning, Bobby." The Keeper's accented voice rang out as she came in from deeper in the lab. "What are you doing here?"

"Got a busy day ahead. I figured I'd keep our boy company through his checkup, and get him out of here early." He was practically twitching in his seat.

"Aha." She went to Darien and he obligingly held out his arm. She took a quick look at the tattoo, and let him go. "Checkup completed."

Bobby jumped out of his seat. "All right, kid, let's motor."

Darien stood, grinning at the Keeper's amused look.

"Come on!" Bobby stood in the doorway. "We've got an uncle in Midtown we need to go talk to."

Darien rolled his eyes and started after his partner. "All right, all right. Jesus. You get pushy when you get laid."

Bobby gaped over at him, then chuckled. "Guess you're gonna have to get used to it, my friend."

****

"Since fear and love can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved."

Me, I don't agree with much Machiavelli says. I think people use his writings and his philosophy as excuse. Like the people back in the 1800s who figured white folks had a divine right to spread over America like a bunch of ants, killing everyone else in their way or shoving them into closed off reservations.

People who use fear to be obeyed are pretty low on the respect scale for me. Just like those people who can do any kind of hurt to people in the name of love.

The front door opened. She could hear it from the bathroom.

She set the brush down and shook some of the extra water out of her hair, and opened the door. "Bobby?" she called out without looking. "You forget something?"

There was no answer.

Jenny grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. She left the bathroom and headed for the front of the apartment. "Bobby? Is everything okay?"

The familiar face that greeted her in the living room wasn't the one she was expecting. "Morning, Jen."

She froze, her expectant grin vanishing in a rush of fear. "Phil."

His answering smile was grim, and just an inch from being completely psychotic. "Who's Bobby?"

**

Bobby's cell phone started ringing more than halfway to the house of Phil Lyons' uncle. He reached in and grabbed the phone, tossing it over to Darien.

Darien flipped the phone open. "Yello…This is his partner, Agent Fawkes."

Bobby made a face in the driver's seat. "Ooh. 'Agent Fawkes,'" he repeated with a smirk.

Darien moved a hand over the mouthpiece. "That's what it says on my badge, smart ass."

Bobby shook his head with a grin.

Darien frowned suddenly into the phone. "What?"

Bobby glanced over as he listened, his grin fading at Darien's sudden seriousness.

Darien lowered the phone briefly. "You've got some Lieutenant in the southside telling his men to report sightings of Lyons' car to you?"

Bobby reached for the phone instantly.

Darien handed it over.

"This is Hobbes. What've you got for me."

He listened for a minute, and then the color drained out of his face and he dropped the phone on the floor of the van, flooring the gas and veering a sharp right at the next light.

Darien grabbed the armrest to keep from sliding out of his chair. "What's going on?" he asked, instantly alarmed.

"They spotted Jason Carver's stolen car," Bobby answered, his voice almost wavering as he sent the van slicing through the slow-moving, early morning traffic.

Darien got a sinking feeling suddenly. Hoping his instinct was wrong, he swallowed. "Where?"

"Right outside Jenny's apartment."

****

"It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees." That's been said a lot of different ways by a lot of different people, and to be honest, I still don't know how true it is.

Is it ever better to be dead?

The two agents in matching black suits were sitting in a car outside the apartment, same as when Bobby left that morning. Only they seemed a little more slumped in their seats.

"Call the Official, get some help!" Bobby only glanced at the car and the unconscious agents before racing through the door and up the stairs.

Darien slowed down, looking in at the wounded agents. His desire to help his partner was tempered by the wounded men, and Bobby's own words, and he cursed mentally as he let Bobby go in alone, running back to the van and getting the phone Bobby had dropped.

He hit the speed dial.

"Eberts."

"Tell the Boss Lyons is at Jenny Sawayah's apartment. Bobby's gone in, and we've got two agents hurt out here. You guys better send someone fast."

"Agent Fawkes, I--"

But Darien wasn't listening. He disconnected and dropped the phone on the seat of the van, running back across the street and into the apartment building. He went up the stairs three at a time, and didn't slow down until he was near her door.

The door was cracked open, and Darien got close enough to hear Bobby's furious voice before he sent that mental signal to the gland in his head, and let the invisibility seep out of his pores and cover him. He moved to the door and pushed it slowly wide enough for him to slip through.

Bobby was aiming his gun directly at the large and insane form of Phil Lyons. Lyons had Jenny with her back pressed to him, a large hand around her throat. He had a pistol out and aimed right back at Bobby.

The same wild fury Darien had seen flashes of the last few days was back on Bobby's face. "One more chance. Let her go!"

"Drop the gun or she's dead!" Lyons turned his arm until the gun was lodged against Jenny's temple.

She shut her eyes briefly, her face a mask of fear, as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Bobby tensed. "You do it and you're dead."

"I'm dead if I go with you," Lyons retorted.

Darien was frozen in indecision by the door, uncertain of how to best take advantage of his invisibility. Lyons' finger was too itchy on that trigger to risk sneaking up and attacking him.

"Phil?" Jenny's voice cut through the tense silence, drawing all three man's eyes to her. "You would kill me?" Her voice was soft, sounding surprised and almost offended.

Lyons swallowed, but the gun moved from her back to Bobby. "You're gonna come with me, Jen. I'll get rid of this guy and we can go."

Her eyes locked on Bobby for a moment. "Phil, if you kill him they'll never stop looking for you. Just take his gun away and leave him here."

Phil frowned, obviously not in his right mind, and leaning towards trusting the certain, soft voice of the woman he was threatening.

Darien moved forward slowly, careful not to make a sound. With Lyons' gun away from Jenny, Darien stood a better chance of knocking it out of harm's way before he could fire it.

"Drop your gun," Lyons said finally, his mind made up.

Bobby shook his head grimly. "I'm not letting you take her."

"Bobby, drop the gun," Jenny's voice was starting to waver now.

He hesitated.

Darien moved around behind Lyons, and let the quicksilver flake off of him.

Bobby's eyes widened as he saw his partner appear, and he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "All right." He slowly lowered the gun and let it drop from his hand to the floor.

Lyons looked ready to release his vice grip on Jenny's throat, but he stiffened suddenly and let out a noise that was almost a growl. "Bobby. This is Bobby?" He moved suddenly, jerking Jenny away and out to arm's length, still holding her throat.

The move put Darien in his sight, and he jerked, his gun flying up to aim at the other agent. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Darien raised his hands slightly, cursing himself mentally.

Lyons was looking more and more unstable by the minute. "Get over there!" He jerked the gun towards Bobby.

Darien sent Jenny an apologetic look and started inching over towards the wall where Bobby stood.

"Phil, let's just go." She could see the insanity in his eyes, and her voice was growing desperate. "Just leave them here."

"Leave Bobby?" Lyons' voice was tight, rising in pitch. "Leave your little boyfriend alive?"

"If you kill either of them," she said quietly. "I won't come. You'll have to kill me too."

Lyons' eyes jerked from the two agents to the woman he had hold of and then back again.

Suddenly he released her, sending her stumbling back, her hands going to her throat. His gun came up and aimed directly at her. "You cheated on me."

Her eyes widened in surprise. He actually sounded hurt.

"Dave said he had to tie up loose ends, and they killed him. And you and this agent…" His face grew hard. "Up to you, Jen. I'll shoot you and leave them here, or I can kill them and you can come with me."

Darien could feel Bobby practically twitching with the need to do something, but Lyons' eyes kept them in sight, making sure they stayed where they were.

He wished he could do something, but if he went quicksilver the maniac would shoot someone, he had no doubt. The man was unstable.

His eyes went to Jenny, and as he watched she straightened, her hands falling to her sides to reveal bright red marks left by his hand. She swallowed, but her expression was calm. "Shoot me."

Lyons obeyed almost instantly.

The shot caused both men against the wall to flinch, and Darien's mouth dropped open, stunned by the suddenness of the action.

Jenny stumbled back, her chest exploding with red, and she crumbled ungracefully on her back.

For a moment, the room was frozen. Phil Lyons stood gaping at what he had just done, and Darien had the strangest, most disconnected feeling that the last three seconds were some weird trick of his mind.

Then Jenny let out a small whimper, and her hand lifted limply and touched the blood forming streams down to the floor.

Bobby came alive then. "No." The word was spoken as complete denial of what his mind told him had just happened. He was off the wall in a flash, ignoring Lyons and hitting his knees beside Jenny. "No. No, no, no." His voice was quiet.

Darien stumbled forward a few steps, staring at them in horror. Some part of him registered that there was movement behind him and his mind recognized the sound of the door shutting behind them, but he didn't move.

"Jenny? Jen, baby, we'll get some help." Bobby yanked his jacket off and bunched it up, pressing it against her chest.

Darien moved at that, using Bobby's words as an indirect command, and moving fast to the phone on an end table near Jenny's head. He grabbed it and dialed 911, his hands shaking.

Jenny's eyes were open, on Bobby's face, and her bloody hand came up and searched for him almost blindly. "Bobby…" Her voice was broken and panicked. Her breathing came out in wheezing, thick gasps. Coughing followed a sob of pain, which sent a small trail of dark blood moving from her mouth down her chin.

He took her hand and held it tightly. "It's okay, Jen. It's okay, you're okay. You're okay."

She mumbled something in between choked gasps that Bobby couldn't understand, and he held her hard even more tightly. The jacket his other hand held pressed to her was nearly saturated.

Darien turned his back on the two of them, speaking quietly and urgently to the operator on the phone. "154 Florence Avenue. Apartment 207."

"All right, sir, an ambulance in en route. I'd like to ask you to remain on the phone until the paramedics are actually on the scene."

"Yeah," Darien was starting to feel distinctly sick. The violence of what had happened to that woman, the suddenness, was catching up to him. He hadn't seen many people hurt right in front of him like that.

The operator was saying something in his ear, but his mind was now blocking it out. He turned and looked back at the floor, and the phone lowered unconsciously at the sight. "Oh, no."

She was still, eyes open and sightless. Bobby was still holding that jacket over her, shaking his head in mute refusal of what his eyes told him. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." His voice was a mumble.

Darien dropped the phone and moved to his partner's side. He crouched down beside him, swallowing back a huge lump in his throat. "Bobby…"

"You got the ambulance?"

"Yeah, they're coming." Darien swallowed again, his throat sandpaper. "Bobby, I don't think…"

Bobby glanced at him, but looked back at Jenny a second later. He seemed to see for the first time her open, dull eyes, and waxy stillness.

There was silence for a minute, broken only by the muted, distant sound of sirens.

"Jen?" Bobby's voice was quiet.

Darien shut his eyes briefly, wishing pointlessly that this entire day just hadn't happened. "She's dead, Bobby."

"No." Bobby turned helpless eyes to his partner. "I told her I'd keep her safe."

"There's nothing you can--"

"No. Don't say that. Jen?" He turned wild eyes back to his fiancee. "Jen? Come on, baby. Breathe." He reached out and almost absently felt her wrist for a pulse.

Darien stayed quiet, reaching out to put a hand on Bobby's shoulder in silent support.

Bobby's eyes shut and his head bowed slightly. "No," he said again. "I said I'd…no." His voice grew louder. "No. It can't happen like this, Darien."

Darien swallowed against any pointless response he could make. "I should…I should call the Official."

"No, no, no." Bobby kept mumbling as Darien stood and moved slowly back to the phone, still lying off the hook on the floor.

He picked it up and heard the voice of the 911 dispatcher, still on and listening. He hung up on her and dialed the Agency mechanically.

"This is the Official."

Darien wheeled around at the scream that came from behind him.

"NOOO!" Bobby was still bowed over her body, his eyes shut, screaming his denial. The sound was harsh, almost animalistic. It made small bumps rise up on Darien's skin, and he started to realize that this was even more serious than he'd thought.

"Who is this?" the Official demanded in his ear.

"Boss," Darien said softly, his eyes on Bobby's agonized face. "We've got a big problem here."

"Fawkes? What's going on?"

The still-cracked door opened suddenly, and two paramedics came into the room. They quickly saw what was happening and ran to Jenny's side.

Bobby didn't move.

"Sir, we've got to--"

Darien watched his partner's face come up, and saw absolutely no reason in his eyes.

"Get away," Bobby said harshly, his voice hoarse.

"Sir, please, we've got to get this woman to--"

"She's dead," Bobby grated out, his expression dangerous. "Leave us alone."

"We don't know she's--"

"Get out!" Bobby surged up, turning on the man. "She's dead!"

"Sir, if you don't let us help her, we'll--"

Bobby lashed out, his hand streaking, fist slamming into the jaw of the paramedic. "Get out!"

Darien let the phone drop again, surprise coating his features. "Bobby, Jesus!"

The other medic caught his partner as he stumbled back. "Dammit! Sir, we're just trying to help!"

"Bobby, stop it."

His partner's wild eyes darted from the medics to Darien, not seeming to recognize any of them. "Get away from us," he rasped out, his hands still locked into fists.

There was a pounding of footsteps from down the hall, and the door opened wider to reveal a couple of uniformed policeman.

Darien moved fast, knowing this could get really ugly. "Bobby, stop it. Calm down."

"Stay away," Bobby replied in warning, not looking like he recognized Darien at all.

"Bobby, it's me. Darien. These guys are just trying to help."

"They killed her! You killed her!" Bobby started towards Darien, his face burning with dark, senseless rage.

Darien backpedaled, actually scared of his partner. "Bobby, stop it." He could see behind him as the medics took advantage of Bobby's distraction to check on Jenny.

Bobby stiffened and turned, following his gaze. He jumped back to Jenny's side. "I said stay back!"

The policemen came forward. "Sir, if you don't calm down, we'll have to take you into custody."

"Wait a minute." Darien approached from behind Bobby slowly. "Everybody just needs to calm--"

Bobby wheeled and swung at him. Only Darien's reflexes got him out of the way of his partner's fist.

The cops came forward. "That's it," one of them said. "Sir, you're under arrest."

Bobby was grabbed from behind, and he turned into a trapped animal as Darien watched. He fought, struggling wildly to get out of their grasp, growling and kicking to no avail.

"Stop it!" Darien started for them, angered over their treatment of his partner. He couldn't recognize anything in Bobby's face as the man he knew, but that didn't change the fact that Bobby was his partner, his best friend, and had just watched his fiancee die right in front of him.

The cops hauled him towards the door, Bobby fighting every inch of the way.

Darien glanced back at the body on the floor of the apartment, and saw the medics moving slowly to get her up into a stretcher. She was dead. He could see it confirmed in the absence of urgency in their actions.

He swallowed, then turned and headed down the stairs after the police and his partner.

They were stopped in the doorway, and Darien sighed with some slight relief at the appearance of suit-clad agents outside.

Eberts was there. He must have been sent to the apartment after Darien's first phone call.

"Agents Hobbes will be remanded into our custody, officer. I don't suggest you test my authority on this."

"You want him? Take him. The guy's completely nuts."

Darien's jaw tightened, and he moved past them to Bobby, who was in handcuffs. The officer who spoke pushed him towards two of the agents, who took him in hand.

Darien went right to his side, not even hesitating. The fight appeared to have drained out of Bobby. "Are you okay?" Darien asked quietly.

Bobby just stood there, blinking glazed eyes at him without focusing.

Darien swallowed. This wasn't good.

Eberts' voice sounded at his side before he even realized the Official's right-hand man was there. "Agent Fawkes? The police would like you to make some kind of statement." Eberts' own curiosity showed through.

Darien nodded slightly. He'd probably be held up here for a while. He glanced at Bobby, but the man was completely unresponsive to anything happening around him. He turned back to Eberts. "Okay. Look, get him to the Keeper or something."

"Is something the matter with him?" Eberts had a quiet way of digging for more information.

Darien recognized that and gave the man what he wanted. "Look, Bobby and Jenny Sawayah were pretty involved, and she just got killed right in front of him. He's a little messed up."

Eberts' eyes widened slightly, and his bland face turned to Bobby. A strange almost-empathy showed in his eyes, but he was back to being blank a moment later. "We'll take care of him. The Official will want to talk to you as soon as you're done here."

Darien nodded and turned back to the cops, not looking forward to the next hour or two.

****

"Death is the only inescapable, unavoidable, sure thing. We are sentenced to die the day we're born."

Garry Gilmore and a lot of other people have said things about the inevitability of death. We are born dying, and all that.

It's bullshit. It tries to give us all some fatalistic, peaceful attitude about death and loss, but when it comes right down to it, it hurts to die, and it hurts like absolute hell to see someone close to you die.

I didn't know what the hell I was going to do.

"Bobby?" Darien looked around the lab, expecting to see his partner. "Claire?"

The blonde Keeper emerged from further in the lab, brushing her hands off on the white coat she wore. "Darien." Her expression was grim.

"Where's Bobby? Is he okay?"

"The Official needs to speak to you," she said calmly in return.

Darien hesitated. "Why? Where's my partner?"

"Darien, Bobby was…" She blew out a breath, looking reluctant for her silence. "Just go talk to the Official."

Darien almost gave an angry reply, but he knew nothing would come of it. Restraining himself from saying what he felt, he turned and went back out the doors, leaving her behind and starting up the stairs to the rest of the Agency offices.

His heart was starting to thump a little faster than normal. This couldn't be good. Bobby wasn't in the Lab, which meant either he had enough control to go home or up to the Boss's office to make a report, or…

Well, he didn't know what the or was, but it couldn't be good. And something told him Bobby hadn't pulled himself together this quickly.

He opened the door and went in to the Official's office without bothering to knock. "Where's Bobby?"

The Official was as grim-faced as the Keeper had been. Eberts was nowhere to be seen. "Agent Hobbes has been taken under our custody temporarily."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean he was out of control." The Official actually looked a little apologetic. "He attacked other agents, including Eberts, and had to be restrained. I've only seen him like that once before, and if he's about to have another crack-up, I want him to be somewhere where other people are safe from him."

"You arrested him?" Darien's mouth dropped open, a dark, red anger swirling up through him. "Don't you know what just happened? Jesus--"

"I didn't arrest him. I put him with some people who can help him."

Darien cut off, blinking as he put that together.

Unfortunately, the answer did nothing to absolve his anger. "You put him in some nuthouse?"

The Official shrugged. "I did what I had to."

"Son of a bitch." Darien stood, his face flushing with anger. "You insensitive bastard. Where is he?"

"Agent Fawkes, I have a few questions about what went down today, and I suggest you sit back down and answer them for me."

"The old Agency nuthouse? Same place you put the Catavari?" Darien nodded to himself. It made sense. He moved to the door.

"Darien."

He glanced back, prepared for an argument and not at all prepared to let it stop him. "What?"

But, to his surprise, the Official didn't argue. He didn't even look too surprised by Darien's insubordination. "Hobbes told us he intended to get married. Eberts told me what happened today. I do realize what he's going through, but that doesn't discount the fact that he was violent towards himself and his fellow agents."

Darien frowned, but he nodded his acceptance of that. He didn't reply, though, going out the door and heading quickly towards the exit.

****

R.D. Lang called insanity "a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world."

I didn't know how true that was, but I was hoping. Hoping for what, I'm not sure exactly. Hoping my partner wasn't going to be insane when I saw him next? Hoping this crack-up people had been predicting hadn't just happened big time?

I guess I was just hoping that Bobby would still be Bobby when I saw him. That wasn't too much to ask for.

The hospital was about two hours drive, but Darien made it in a hurry. He could still remember the last time he'd made the trip -- when the Catavari had escaped from the Nevada hospital. He had driven in with Hobbes, during the first, more awkward days of their partnership.

Hopefully he'd be driving back with him now. Bobby didn't belong in a place like that. Especially not hours after watching Jenny die right in front of him.

The guard at the front gate waved him through after Darien flashed his badge, and he tugged the old van into a parking space easily.

Walking up to the front, he looked around at how little the place had changed. Hopefully there wouldn't be a floor full of corpses, like there was last time he was there. Even if there was, of course, he wasn't getting involved. He was there for one reason and one reason only -- to get Bobby the hell out.

"Yes, sir? Can I help you?"

The white-clad nurse who met Darien in the front of the hospital seemed surprised, like they didn't get many unexpected visitors.

Darien flashed his badge again. "Agent Robert Hobbes was admitted earlier. I'd like to see him."

The man frowned. "I'm not sure if Agent Hobbes is cleared for visitors. I'll go locate his doctor, and let her come talk to you. Wait here?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Darien gave the man a second to turn his back, then let the Quicksilver work its magic. He tailed the nurse down the hall, glancing in though the few open doorways.

There was a large room, some kind of recreation area, he guessed. Lots of tables, decks of cards, chessboards. Nice, peaceful crazy activities, probably. And a lot of people sitting around inside.

He couldn't help pausing to get a look at the number of people in this one room of the agency nuthouse. He knew it wasn't specifically his Agency that supplied all the nutcases, but it was still frightening to think that the people who controlled his life right now had caused this much mental instability.

He started moving again quickly to catch up to the nurse.

He was stopped further down the hall, talking to a short, squat little woman with a stern face and a clipboard clutched to her chest.

He moved past them quietly, going right to the door behind her. She hadn't shut it all the way behind her, and Darien could see the still-dazed form of his partner sitting up on a bed inside.

He stayed quiet, slipping in to the room with his eyes on Bobby. He couldn't say anything or risk becoming visible, in case she came back in, but he felt better at least having his partner in his sight.

The door shut behind him a minute or so later, without the doctor coming back in.

He sighed with relief, and let the Quicksilver fall from his skin. "Bobby."

Bobby's eyes jerked up and stared at him in surprise. "Fawkes." His voice was rough.

"Yeah. I'm gonna get you the hell out of this place."

Bobby didn't answer, staring at him intensely.

Darien's eyebrows rose as the silence stretched on. "Um. Bobby? I'm sneaking you out. That means faster the better, you know?"

Bobby shook his head slightly to clear it. "You know," he started conversationally, his voice strangely disconnected. "I woke up in here, and until just now I thought I never left. Like maybe I've been here the last few years, and the whole thing with you and the fat man was just some kind of psychotic episode."

Darien smiled faintly. "Nope. I'm real as they come, pal. Now can we go?"

Bobby blinked heavy eyes at him. "I think I'm gonna rest here for a while, Fawkes. You go on."

"What? You can't be serious. You wanna stay here?"

Bobby shrugged, his gaze moving from Darien to a dirty, barred up window.

"Bobby, come on."

"I think I liked it better when it was all just an episode," Bobby said quietly.

Darien swallowed, starting to the bed. "Look, I know how you're feeling, but you can't stay here. They shouldn't have sent you here, no matter what you did. It's only been a few hours since…they can't expect you to be in your right mind so soon. Anyone would…" He stopped, blowing out a breath. "Bobby, I'm not leaving you here."

"I think…I think I really lost it, Darien. I can't feel anything right now, and I know I should be feeling…something."

"You're probably in shock. I know I am." Darien sat down at the edge of the bed. "It's understandable, and I know it's gonna be hard facing what happened, but you have to give it a chance."

Bobby slowly moved his eyes back to Darien. "Why?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Darien opened his mouth, then shut it, searching for an answer that would make sense.

Bobby gave a crooked, brief smile, then looked back out the window.

Great, Fawkes. Way to seal the deal. Irritated at himself, Darien reached out for Bobby's arm. "Look. I'm not leaving you here. Why don't you…" He trailed off, his eyes catching on something. He tugged Bobby's arm closer, frowning at the red, fresh track mark near the vein. "Bobby, they gave you a shot of something?"

"S'what they do here, kid."

"Dammit." No wonder the dull disinterest in getting himself out. "That's it, we're leaving."

Bobby turned to him, steady, only slightly drugged eyes meeting his partner's. "I told you, I think I'm good here."

"Bobby, come on!"

"No."

That stopped Darien. He had come all set to rescue Bobby, and on the drive up he had imagined his partner several different ways. Grieving, shocked, pissed, all of the above. He had figured out ways to deal with Bobby if he was any of those.

He had no clue how to deal with a Bobby who just didn't want to be rescued.

"Darien."

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"You should go."

He frowned. "You don't want me here?"

Bobby hesitated, then shrugged slightly. "No."

Darien drew back. "Oh. Well. Uh, I guess I should go." He stood up, hurt and confused and doing a bad job hiding it.

His partner was giving up his life. Hours after losing some woman he'd only known for a little over a month, he was ready to crawl under the sheets in this hospital bed and die.

Bobby looked up at him as he started for the door. "Look, Fawkes, I…you should…" He trailed off and heaved a sigh. "Come back, huh? Give me a few days."

Darien's dismay lifted slightly. "No problem." He cracked the door open, and turned back to his partner. "Take care of yourself. Call if you need to, okay?"

"Yeah."

Bobby watched him go Quicksilver, and a minute later Darien was shutting the door and leaving him behind.

****

"While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till grief be digested, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it."

Samuel Johnson has a point here. Time heals all wounds, like they say. Well, most wounds, anyway. Bobby Hobbes was a resilient guy, and I knew it.

Still, that didn't mean there was nothing to worry about. Grief may lessen with time, but some people don't survive the initial effects of it. Not that I thought Bobby might try to slit his wrists or something, because he wasn't the type. I was just worried that the guy I knew as my partner might not survive.

I let him have his few days, because it's what he wanted. I even tried to think about other things. Phil Lyons was still out there, and now I wanted to find him more than ever. And there were funeral arrangements to be made.

It was depressing. Jenny Sawayah's family had been killed, her best friend shot. There were people, friends, but not many. The list he could call about the funeral was small.

Darien drove down the long, dusty highway towards the Nevada Military Infirmary, lost in thought over the last few days.

He had gotten to know Jenny pretty well post-mortem. Going into her apartment just once, he found an address book and started making calls to old friends to tell them about the funeral. He couldn't resist asking a few questions about her, mentioning that he was making the calls for a friend of his who knew her much better than he had.

The reports were all pretty much the same. Jenny's shy routine wasn't a routine -- according to people who knew her for years, she was a quiet personality until she knew someone really well. Still, there were a lot of people who were shocked and sad to hear she'd died, and Darien was gratified that even though so many people close to her had been killed, she would still have a crowded funeral.

Now he just had to convince Bobby to break out of the hospital. He was prepared to use the funeral as an excuse, but was hoping his partner was going to have come to his senses in the last few days.

Still lost in his musings, he reached the hospital. Waved in the same way he had been before, Darien found it ridiculously easy to go invisible and find his partner's room without even having to speak to anyone.

Bobby was exactly where Darien had left him. He was sitting up in his bed, staring at the wall, ignoring the rest of the hospital through the cracked door.

Darien slipped in, shutting the door behind him quietly. He let the quicksilver drop from his skin, and grinned. "Morning."

Bobby jumped in surprise. "Darien, Jesus!"

Darien laughed and perched at the edge of the bed. "I'm happy to see you, too. How you doing?"

"Not bad. You missed therapy. You'd have probably gotten a big kick out of it." His eyes narrowed slightly. "You did miss it, didn't you?"

Darien grinned at the old, familiar paranoia. "Yeah. I just got here, relax."

"Huh. So what's up?"

Darien's grin faded slightly -- time to get serious. "You ready to get out of here?"

Bobby sighed and looked away from him. "Why did I know you were going to ask me that?"

"Maybe because you don't belong here."

"Official says I do."

"The Official doesn't know shit. He had you locked up before you had time to calm down."

Bobby shrugged. "He had the right idea. He's a smart guy, our boss."

"Sometimes," Darien agreed. He paused, wishing he could get through to his stubborn partner without bringing Jenny Sawayah into the conversation. "Her funeral's tomorrow."

Bobby sucked in a breath, stiffening. He looked back at Darien, and his eyes were shadowed. "So?"

"So you're gonna come, right? I thought you'd want to be there."

"What difference will it make?"

Darien almost growled, frustrated. "Bobby, for Christ's sake…"

There was a brief knock on the door suddenly, and it started to swing open.

**

A doc named Borenstein said, "Just when you think that a person is just a backdrop for the rest of the universe, watch them and see that they laugh, they cry, they tell jokes ... they're just friends waiting to be made."

As much of a people person as I am, there are certain people I'm pretty sure I'll never be a pal with. Though I know as well as anyone else that people aren't always what you think they are, I tend to make judgments and I have a hard time shaking them.

Of course people don't like to be pigeonholed like that. Occasionally they break out and surprise me, and I'm forced to reevaluate my opinion of them. That was the case in this particular situation.

Darien was invisible before he even registered the sound of the door. Apparently the gland was starting to become more of a reflex for him than he thought.

He got off the bed and moved to the back wall, to stay out of the way of whomever was coming in.

To his surprise, it wasn't a doctor or nurse. The familiar, stiff-moving form of Eberts came into the room. "Agent Hobbes."

Bobby turned to the visitor. He smirked half-heartedly when he saw who it was. "Tell the fat man I can't give a report. Oh, wait, he's the one that threw me in here."

Eberts came in further, and Darien could see the bruise on his temple, left from the day they put Bobby in this place, marring the bland forgetful face. "I'm not here for the Official."

"Oh? You want to get me back for that bump on your head? Go for it."

Eberts opened his mouth, then hesitated. "Agent Hobbes, I'd like to take you back to the city."

Darien took a step off the wall in surprise. Had the Boss changed his mind?

Bobby didn't show much reaction. "Yeah? Well, join the club. Suddenly everyone wants me around."

"I…I understand that you don't have much respect for me, but you should listen when I say this isn't the best thing for you right now. Agent Fawkes explained to me what happened, and I don't believe that putting you here was in anyone's best interest."

Eberts was disagreeing with one of the Official's decisions? Darien gaped at him from his invisible spot by the wall.

"Yeah? Maybe I don't agree with you."

Eberts showed none of the surprise Darien had felt at Bobby's refusal to go. "I didn't imagine you would. However, this is not a good place for you to be. You have to accept everything that's happened. You have to put a stop to that man Lyons, and you have to--"

"Who the hell are you to tell me what I have to do?" Bobby sat up, his eyes flashing a sudden fire. It was the first real emotion Darien had seen on his face since he was put in that room.

Eberts fell silent for a moment. "Don't misinterpret what I'm trying to say, Agent Hobbes."

"No? What are you trying to say? Where do you get off pretending like you have any idea what's going on with me?"

Eberts stood stiffly, blinking normally placid eyes at the agent. For a moment he didn't move, then suddenly he took a few steps towards the bed and reached a hand into his inside coat pocket.

Bobby tensed at the movement. "What're you doing?"

Eberts gave a tight-lipped smile at the instant paranoia, and pulled out a thin wallet. He flipped it open, and pulled out a small rectangle of paper, handing it to Bobby.

Bobby took it reflexively, and looked down at it in silence for a minute.

Unable to resist, Darien moved from his safe place by the wall over to the other side of Bobby's bed, where he bent over his shoulder and looked at what Eberts had given him.

It was a photo. A woman, young and fairly plain, but with a big, happy smile that seemed to light her entire face.

Bobby looked up at Eberts with an unspoken question.

Eberts gave that same tight-lipped smile. "My wife."

Darien almost responded verbally to that. He managed to catch himself, staying quiet, looking at the Official's yes-man in surprise.

"She…well, she was killed several years ago. I was…upset, at the time. I came very close to…to not living anymore." Eberts reached out and took the picture quickly, folding it back into his wallet. He put it neatly back into his pocket, and cleared his throat slightly. "I made the decision instead to quit my job at the IRS and find something that would perhaps help people from being hurt the way…she was."

Bobby's face was neutral as he studied Eberts. "What was her name?" he asked quietly.

"Lynn. Lynn Renee Eberts." Eberts shifted slightly, clasping his hands behind his back. "It isn't fair for me to assume I know how you feel, but it isn't fair for you to act as though you have a right to end your life over something that many other people go through."

Bobby shook his head slowly, his voice quiet. "It's…I know what you're saying, but…"

"Agent Hobbes. If I could recover, certainly you can. Or do you not believe I'm capable of the same kind of feelings as you?"

Bobby actually smiled somewhat. "It is kind of a surprise."

Eberts returned the smile briefly. "I imagine so." His smile widened slightly, growing more sincere. "If it will help, you can consider this a challenge. I know you would despise it if I were better at something than you were, and I can't possibly be stronger. You won't let me beat you at this, will you?"

Darien grinned invisibly. It was obvious what Eberts was doing -- Eberts was making it obvious. But the very fact that he was there, talking to Bobby this way, trying to convince him of the same thing Darien was, lent a whole new air to the man.

Eberts raised his eyebrows, as Bobby didn't answer. "What will it be, Agent Hobbes? You do have work to do, and I'm sure your partner is concerned about you."

At that, Bobby glanced over to the last place he'd seen Darien standing. "You should come on out, kid. It's rude to listen in on people who don't know you're there."

Darien obeyed, flashing into visibility with a sheepish grin. "Uh. Hi, Eberts."

"Agent Fawkes. What a surprise." Eberts didn't seem at all surprised.

Darien frowned slightly, studying the lackey. "Eberts, help me out here. Was that sarcasm?"

"There aren't many people who drive vans like the Agency's, especially visiting places like this. I did figure out that you were here. So yes, that was sarcasm."

Bobby chuckled. "You're just full of surprises today, pal."

"This isn't about me." Eberts turned back to Bobby. "As you can imagine, I don't often bare my soul to people. Should I regret it now?"

Bobby frowned, but glanced over at Darien and then back at Eberts. "All right, I get the point. You want to break me out, fine."

He didn't sound too excited, but Darien was beyond hoping he'd be happy about it. At least he was agreeing. "Good. You get dressed. Eberts, watch the door."

Eberts went to the door obediently, cracking it open and peering out.

Bobby got to his feet slowly, moving like he didn't want to be going. "I appreciate this new assertive role you're taking, but they took my clothes when I got here."

"Dammit. Okay, no problem, you'll be invisible anyway."

"Oh lord." Bobby watched him approach, shutting his eyes and tensing up. "Okay, just hurry it up."

A moment later Darien tapped on Eberts' shoulder. "We're ready."

Eberts turned and blinked at the empty air of the room. "Oh. Yes. Good." He shook his head slightly and started out the door, leaving it open behind him.

He walked tensely, darting his eyes at everyone who passed. The antithesis of casual.

Darien couldn't help rolling his eyes. As surprised as he had been by Eberts that day, some of his impressions still held up. The guy would never be an agent; that was for sure.

****

"Where does one go from a world of insanity?" The question, posed by T.S. Elliot, was one I couldn't help but think about as we left the hospital that day.

I didn't know the answer, but I had hopes. Bobby was smiling at least. He would get better. He would at least know he didn't belong in some small room taking shots in the arm for the rest of his life.

I guessed and hoped, but I didn't know. The answer T.S. Elliot gave to the question was, 'Somewhere on the other side of despair.'

I was going to do everything I could to make sure that turned out to be wrong.

Darien shifted slightly where he stood, wanting to tug at the collar of his suit, but resisted the urge.

This was his second speech at a funeral in a couple of months, but this time he actually had to mean it.

"A man named Charles Sanders Pierce once said, 'If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when every thing in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming eventually to hopeless misery. He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does. In place of this we have death.' Put that way, death can be seen as a blessing. A way to hold on to some of your ideals and beliefs, to not get completely embittered by life."

He paused, glancing over at Bobby. He was standing flanked by his friends from the Agency. Eberts stood right beside him, closer than would have been seen a week before. Darien knew Bobby actually took his presence as some sort of comfort, given Eberts' revelation about his past.

The Keeper stood at Bobby's other side, dressed in black, and paying close attention to Darien's words. She was sympathetic towards Bobby, which was why she was there, but she was nowhere near as upset as she'd been at the last funeral.

The Official wasn't there, but that wasn't surprising.

Darien moved his eyes back to the paper in his hand. He had asked Bobby if he wanted to do this himself, but Bobby almost had to be forced into coming at all, forget about getting up and talking.

"Jenny Sawayah died young, but she died with her ideals still intact. Despite the hardships she endured, she still believed in the good of people. She still believed in love." He cleared his throat slightly, trying not to feel too awkward in front of the crowd, most of whom had probably known her so much better than he had. "Jenny had an uncommon kind of strength. She had the strength to endure pain and not let it destroy how she looked at the world. She taught me a lot about what true strength is, and I can say that at least she died with that strength intact."

He folded the paper and moved out from in front of the crowd. It wasn't much, but he didn't figure any amount of words would ever be enough to give credit to a good person who had died.

He joined Bobby, moving between him and Claire, and turned to watch them lower the coffin into the ground.

Bobby was unmoving beside him, his eyes dry and his face blank. He glanced over at Darien, nodding slightly in appreciation of his words, and then looked back at the coffin.

Darien was almost disheartened. He didn't exactly want Bobby to break down, but he knew it was bad that Bobby had yet to express a single emotion over her death. He felt things too deeply -- keeping anything repressed couldn't be good for a guy like Bobby.

The cemetery around them was quiet as the coffin vanished from sight. Then the clusters of people started slowly and quietly breaking off, going their own ways.

Bobby didn't move. Darien couldn't help looking over at his partner.

The Keeper touched his arm, drawing his attention. "Darien, that was lovely."

He smiled faintly. "Thanks. If I had known her any better…" He shrugged. "Thanks for coming."

She nodded. "Jenny was a nice woman. She could have been…" Her eyes went to Bobby, then back to Darien quickly.

"Yeah," he said, knowing what she was going to say. "She could have."

Claire smiled sympathetically and moved around Darien. "Bobby, if you need anything you just call."

He nodded stiffly, but didn't reply.

Her eyes went to Darien, flashing a concerned look, before she started back towards the cars.

Eberts reached out and laid a stiff hand on Bobby's shoulder. "It will get easier," he said quietly. He didn't bother waiting for a response, turning and going to catch up to the Keeper.

Darien was left alone with his partner, and he followed Bobby's unmoving gaze back to the hole in the ground.

There was silence for a few minutes, and then Bobby broke it, finally speaking quietly. "I can't leave."

Darien turned to him immediately. "What?"

Bobby breathed in deeply. "I can't leave her here like this."

Darien turned a frown back towards the coffin.

"I know it's time to go, but I…" Bobby shrugged stiffly. "I don't want to leave her. In the ground." His voice was flat, but it wavered slightly despite his fight to control it.

"You have to," Darien replied simply.

"It's funny." Bobby spoke almost absently. "I guess I didn't know her that long, but I…I don't know. I already had it all planned out. I made the mistake of getting used to the idea that when I got home from work, she'd be there. I didn't realize how much I missed having someone there until she…" He drew in a deep, shaking breath. "I love her, Darien."

"I know." Darien moved a hand to his partner's shoulder, comforting. "She loved you, too." He wasn't sure that was much comfort, but it was the first thing he thought to say.

Bobby's face screwed up slightly, and his breathing got shakier. "Yeah. She did." He smiled faintly, a sad expression. "We coulda been happy."

Darien felt his chest clench with sympathy for his repressed partner. He turned the touch on Bobby's shoulder into a one-armed hug, pulling Bobby closer to him.

The friendly, sympathetic touch drove a little more of the control away from Bobby. He blinked away growing brightness in his eyes, and sniffled slightly. "I just wonder why I can't have that. Why couldn't she have been allowed to be happy for a while before this happened?"

Darien shook his head slightly. "She was happy, Bobby. Even I could see that."

Bobby frowned. "It wasn't enough. Not after what she went through." His voice cracked, and he drew in a breath.

"Don't do that," Darien said automatically. "You can stop controlling yourself, Bobby. It's just us here."

Bobby gave a half-hearted smile and started to say something, but a noise like a sob came out of his throat instead.

Darien reached out his other arm, pulling his partner into a loose hug that should have felt awkward, but didn't.

Bobby was stiff in his arms, but after a moment he relaxed, and after another few seconds his head dropped against Darien's chest, and his body started shaking with sobs.

Darien held on to him, looking out at the cemetery absently. It was pretty there. He wouldn't mind visiting. He'd come with Bobby every now and then, so his partner wouldn't always have to come alone.

He knew Bobby would visit, and often. Bobby never let circumstances like death or divorce change his feelings towards someone. In fact, Bobby had the worst kind of personality to deal with the death of someone he loved.

But Darien would be there. They were partners. They were friends. In fact, Bobby was the best friend he had.

He just hoped he'd be a good enough friend to get him through this.

****

"And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

Khalil Gibran was a philosopher and a poet, and he wrote some of the more on-target things I've ever read from a philosopher and a poet. He sure had this one pegged.

Bobby was taking steps, and he'd get over this eventually. Until he did, he would probably behave close to normally, at least around the Agency. He was a professional, and dedicated to his job.

And we were still on the trail of Phil Lyons. Until that man was caught for good Bobby wouldn't let anything, even his feelings, get in the way of the hunt.

If the Official had anything to say about Bobby being out of the hospital and back at work by his partner's side, he kept it to himself. He didn't ask to see either of them the day after the funeral, when they both returned to work.

In fact, the closest contact they had with him was Eberts coming to the lab that morning. "We've got a lead on Lyons."

Bobby jerked to attention instantly. "What kind of lead?"

"The car he was driving, Jason Carver's, was found abandoned in a neighborhood at the north side of town. A block away another car was stolen that same night. That car has been under APB, and police tracked it to a hotel off Tenth and Bradford. I think Dave Lyons must have been the brains of the two men." Eberts might have been smirking slightly. Darien couldn't tell.

"We're on it." Bobby glanced over at Darien and the Keeper.

She nodded. "You're free to go, Darien."

**

The drive was quiet, but Darien wasn't surprised, and didn't bother trying to break the silence.

Bobby was focussed; his eyes on the road, his hands so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles were white. His jaw was set, his expression carefully set in a neutral mask.

Darien knew what his role today would be -- make sure Bobby found Phil Lyons, wherever he was, and then stay out of Bobby's way as he dealt with the man.

The Official wouldn't agree with him -- he still wanted Lyons alive. But there was no guarantee Bobby would kill the man if he had his own way.

No, Darien didn't believe that. It was strange, but he was almost sure Bobby would kill Lyons. And he didn't think he minded all that much. In a way, he was grateful. Darien had killed Dave Lyons, and that was still something he had to come to terms with. It had been an accident -- no matter how much he thought someone deserved it, he could never kill anyone deliberately.

Phil deserved it, more than anyone Darien had known. He was a murderer, a rapist, and a thief. A remorseless man, who would keep hurting people the longer he lived. He deserved to be stopped. And Darien couldn't do it. So he would let Bobby.

The hotel in question was about twenty minutes from the Agency. The ride seemed to last an hour, tension thick in the van as neither man said a word to each other.

Finally the small, one-level hotel came into view. It was the kind of place mostly used by people in the city who needed a place to go if their wives kicked them out, or if they wanted to do something with another woman that would cause their wives to kick them out. It wasn't a tourist kind of place, and so far from the highway travelers wouldn't choose it.

Armed with a mug shot of Phil Lyons, Darien climbed out of the van and to the front office. Bobby stayed in the van, in case Lyons saw them pull up and tried to make a break for it.

Darien went in to the small, dim office and immediately flashed a smile at the woman at the desk. "Hi there, ma'am. Could you tell me what room this man is checked in to?" He lofted the picture.

The older woman studied him, unimpressed by the full effects of Darien Charm. "Yeah. Sure. That's information we give to every total stranger who walks up."

Darien was impressed -- this was someone who could inject more sarcasm into her voice than he could.

He dug his badge out. "Excuse me. I'm a federal agent."

"Figures." She glanced at the picture. "He's in 136."

"You don't have to look it up or anything?"

"Honey, there are four people checked in here right now. Would you have to check?"

"Got ya. 136. Thanks." Darien turned and headed for the door, shaking off the cold reception with a smile.

This was gonna be over real soon. This case that had lasted about a month too long, it was all going to end today. He knew it.

When he got outside, Bobby was still sitting there, staring at the doors of the rooms, and looking almost anxious for one of them to open and a familiar son of a bitch to try and make a getaway.

Darien went up and opened Bobby's door. "136. You ready?"

Bobby just nodded grimly, pulling out his gun as he stepped from the van.

Somehow, it just seemed too anticlimactic. After everything they had gone through since being assigned to stop Dave and Phil Lyons, it was too easy to catch the last brother.

When Bobby forced the door open, the man they were after was relaxing on a bed, watching TV. He jerked up when the two agents came in, but his things, including his pistol, were on the dresser. Too far to be reached before Bobby could get to him.

Bobby walked right up, a grim smile spreading over his face. "Phil. Good to see you again."

"Dammit," Lyons breathed out.

Bobby looked down at him for a minute, his brow furrowed. "You know, I thought you snapped. When you killed Jen, you were acting nuts. Were you?"

Phil frowned, confused at the question and calm voice from the man who should be throwing him into handcuffs. "I wasn't gonna kill her," he said in reply.

"That's not what I asked." Bobby raised his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger. "But I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

Lyons' hands came up. "Fine. You got me. Take me back to the pen."

Bobby shook his head, his eyes burning. "Not this time, Lyons."

The man on the bed looked at Bobby, then swallowed, going pale. His eyes went behind Bobby, to where Darien was standing. "What…what's going on here? You can't just kill me."

Darien took a few steps forward, until he was right behind Bobby. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly, not making a move to stop him either way.

Bobby was quiet for a minute. "Yeah," he said finally. His voice was firm.

Darien nodded and backed up, going to the door to watch for any other Agency cars.

A few seconds later, the loud retort of a gunshot shattered the silence behind him. He flinched slightly in surprise, but didn't turn back.

A few moments later, Bobby joined him at the door, and they gazed out at the quiet parking lot. "We oughta leave before the cops show."

Darien followed him to the van, and they climbed in in silence. Bobby started the engine, and pulled them out onto the road.

Darien couldn't resist breaking the silence. "You killed him. Did it help?"

Bobby glanced over, his eyes going slightly pensive. "It wasn't enough," he said softly. "It'll never be enough."

Darien nodded and looked out the window again.

**

"Phil Lyons has been found dead in his hotel room, sir."

The Official looked up in surprise. "What? Who shot him?"

Eberts stood stiffly. "The woman working the front desk reported a man claiming to be a federal agent came looking for him."

"Dammit. Hobbes and Fawkes?"

"From her description, I would assume so."

He cursed under his breath. "We were supposed to sit back, keep an eye on him. Where were the agents you sent to watch his room?"

Eberts shifted slightly. "I…it seems somehow they got the wrong address. They were four blocks away when it happened."

The Official's brow furrowed, and he studied his right-hand man for a moment. "You gave them the wrong address?"

"It appears so." Eberts looked back without wavering.

"And should I even ask how Fawkes and Hobbes learned about the right hotel?"

Eberts looked down for a moment, then cleared his throat and met his boss's eyes again. "No, sir."

The Official's jaw tightened, but he nodded slowly. "I know this case was awkward for you, so I'll assume this deliberate defiance is a one-time occurrence only." The threat was clear in his voice.

Eberts started slightly in surprise. "Yes, sir."

The Official smiled faintly. "You think I let someone work for me without doing extensive background checks?"

Eberts opted not to answer.

"Don't do it again."

It seemed a mild recrimination for what Eberts had done, but he accepted it, shoving surprise aside to nod. "I won't, sir."

****

"Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh."

I started this whole case with George Bernard Shaw on my mind; it's only fitting that I end it that way, too. Despite everything that happened over the last couple of months, there are some things that will never change. Bobby and me are still partners, and actually a little more sure of the boundaries of our relationship now.

We're much closer friends now, and I think I have Jenny Sawayah to thank for that. I should thank her for a lot of things, actually. Bobby says the same thing, although his is more of a melancholy kind of gratitude.

There was no way to end this on a happy note, but despite the hurt he feels, Bobby will be fine. He laughs and pals around with me, sarcastic as always, and though there's sadness there that wasn't before, I'm glad to see how recovered he is.

Bobby sat for a long time, just looking straight ahead, lost in his thoughts.

Darien stood back, leaning against a tree, enjoying the quiet and stillness of the cemetery. He enjoyed coming here, to his surprise. At first it was just so Bobby wouldn't have to come alone, but Darien soon realized that there was something deep about the place. Something meditative and solemn.

Something that actually put his own life into perspective a little bit. It reminded him why he fought with the gland in his brain, why he withstood the oddness of the Agency, and the pain and grief it caused him.

Because it was better than being here, six feet under.

He wasn't sure what Bobby got out of it. They didn't talk about it much. It seemed like once Phil Lyons was dead, life snapped back to normal. They got assigned to stop some group of animal poachers in the forests of northern California, and were back to the old abnormal routine.

Some things were different. Bobby didn't go out at night much anymore. Darien had stopped by his apartment late one night, only half-expecting him to be there, but he was. Darien asked, and Bobby shrugged and said he just didn't feel much like being around people these days.

Darien had a feeling it went deeper than that. Bobby, from what Darien could surmise, felt his divorce very deeply. He clubbed it all night long most nights; maybe hoping that someone else would come along and light a fire under him. Darien suspected that Bobby had never been too hopeful about finding love again, but at least he was having fun.

Now things were different. Maybe Bobby didn't want to find it a third time. Maybe it hurt him too much to find love twice and lose it both times. Maybe Jenny had ruined him for anyone else.

Maybe Bobby still loved her. No, Darien was sure that Bobby still loved her, just as he still loved Viv. Only Viv had chosen to leave him, and Jenny hadn't. Was that difference enough to make Bobby so much more loyal to Jenny's memory?

He wasn't sure. Darien hadn't been in that position before and he couldn't have guessed how Bobby felt about it.

Either way, Bobby wasn't looking anymore.

Darien heaved a quiet sigh and shifted his back away from some bark digging into his shirt.

His eyes caught on a movement in the distance, disrupting the stillness of the scene.

He squinted, sure there was something familiar about the figure moving almost over the hill and out of sight, but he couldn't be sure.

He glanced back at Bobby, and knew from the last few weeks' experience that Bobby wouldn't even remember he was there for another good few minutes, and he pushed off the tree and wandered towards where he had seen the familiar figure.

He looked around as he walked, reflecting that it was time for him to go pay Kevin's grave a visit. He'd have to tidy it up, take some flowers. Sit down and have a nice long chat with his brother about the afterlife, Maybe get Kev to look after Jen until she knew her way around.

He topped the hill, and the figure came into view again, sitting on a small bench under a tree, looking very much like Bobby did whenever he came.

Eberts.

Darien's brow furrowed, but he suddenly remembered Eberts' revelation about his wife, and he wondered if that was her grave he was sitting and looking at.

He debated with himself for a minute, and then made up his mind. The quicksilver flashed over him, and when he started walking again, he couldn't see his own feet moving.

He wasn't going to spy, he told himself. Just a quick check to satisfy his curiosity, and he'd go back to Bobby.

He walked quietly, hyper-aware of his footsteps on the grass in the exaggerated silence of the landscape around him. The closer he got, the slower he moved.

Finally he was near enough to circle around the seated Agency man and get a look at the name on the tombstone he was staring at.

Yep. Lynn Renee Eberts, Beloved Wife and Daughter. 1976-1998

Depressing. She was twenty-two years old when she died. Darien realized with a frown that he had no idea how old Eberts was.

And she had died just two years ago. That was less time than he had thought.

There was a lot he didn't know about this guy. Hell, he really didn't know anything. Eberts used to work for the IRS, and he had a dead wife. That was about it.

Darien felt a small thread of guilt at that fact. He had bad-mouthed Eberts before, and he didn't know the first thing about him. Christ, he didn't know the man's first name.

The subject of his thoughts let out a small, compact little sigh, and stood. He moved to the grave and knelt, setting out to pull the few slight overgrown weeds.

It was too quiet. It was depressing.

He thought about getting back to Bobby, and just as quickly thought about this poor guy, who looked like he came here on a regular basis, and had no friend or partner to sit with him, or take him to lunch to cheer him up afterwards.

"Eberts."

The voice startled both of them, and Darien turned just as Bobby moved past him barely two feet away, of course not knowing he was there.

Eberts got to his feet quickly, looking almost embarrassed. "Agent Hobbes."

"Uh. Hey. You seen Fawkes? I thought he came this way, but I wasn't paying much attention."

"No. No, I haven't seen anyone."

"Oh." Bobby looked around the empty landscape, and his brow furrowed slightly as if suspicious his invisible partner may have been around after all.

Darien wasn't about to justify that paranoia by appearing and showing him it was the truth.

Eberts cleared his throat slightly. "Maybe he went back to your car?"

Bobby glanced back at him. "Oh. Yeah, maybe. Sorry to interrupt…whatever." He started off back the way he came.

Darien looked back and forth between them for a minute, debating. He could beat Bobby back to the car, or he could hang around, reappear behind some tree, and maybe keep Eberts company for a few minutes.

Fortunately, the decision was made for him.

Bobby stopped moving, turning back and heading down the hill to where Eberts still stood. He looked down at the small, neatly kept gravesite. "She was young," he said quietly.

Eberts swallowed, but nodded. "She was."

Bobby glanced from the grave to his fellow Agency man, then back again. "Hey. You…uh, you wanna get out of here? Fawkes and I usually hit the Italian place a few blocks down."

Surprised, Eberts stared at him for a moment.

Bobby shifted self-consciously. "I mean, I don't wanna take you from anything. If you wanna stay here…"

Eberts looked back down at his wife's grave, and gave a faint smile. "Actually I am a little hungry."

Bobby grinned. "Good. Let's track down my partner and get out of here." He started moving again.

Eberts hesitated, mouthing a silent but apparently sincere endearment to the grave, and then following Bobby slowly.

Darien grinned and started moving, cutting across a few trees to keep him distanced from his coworkers as he hoofed it back to the car.

When he glanced back to make sure he'd beat them with enough time to come out of the quicksilver, he saw the two had caught up and were walking together. Eberts was saying something, Bobby nodding thoughtfully. Probably telling him about his wife. Sharing this one big thing the two men had in common.

It would probably do them both some good, Darien figured. They could help each other out with their problems, and Darien would be there to make sure no one got too depressed, and nothing got too hopeless. At the end of the day, they would each have one or two more friends than they had yesterday.

Looked like something good came out of everything.

End