Chapter 4

"C'mon baby, I know you can give me more, just a little faster. C'mon, do it for daddy… there ya go!" Hobbes said encouragingly to his beat up old van as he tried to coax a little more speed out of her on the trip back to San Diego. "We're gonna get you a nice tune up and oil change when we get home." He was driving as fast as he could along the busy highway, but kept sneaking a glance over at Fawkes to check on his condition. The kid was being unusually quiet and most worryingly of all, he hadn't even attempted to make any smartass comments about the little pep talk to Golda.

"How you doing there pal, you okay?" Hobbes asked quietly, hoping he'd kept the anxiety out of his voice.

"Yeah," Darien muttered unconvincingly. He was rocking backwards and forwards slightly in his seat, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees. "How much longer?"

"About a half hour," Bobby replied, hating the fact there wasn't a damned thing he could do to help his partner until they made it back to the Keep. He was going to have a serious talk with Fawkes once this was all over about letting the Keeper try out her new relaxant. It wasn't going to be a pleasant experience, for any of them, but if the new stuff worked it would mean these mad dashes back to the Agency could become a thing of the past.

Darien let out an involuntary groan and pressed his hands to the back of his neck trying to force the pain out of his head. Hobbes cursed silently and attempted to push the gas pedal through the floor. With a sudden flash of inspiration, he felt inside his jacket, pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.

"Hey Keep," he began when the call was answered, "the kid's not doing too well, it's a bad one. Can you meet us half way? Yeah, Eberts can give you directions. I'll keep my eye out for you, thanks." Hearing Claire's calm, assured voice helped slow his racing pulse and he breathed a sigh of relief knowing his idea had at least shortened the time Fawkes would have to suffer.

"Not long now, Claire's on her way," he assured his partner comfortingly.

Darien heard the comment, but didn't respond. He was battling to control the pain and just staying upright in his seat was becoming a real challenge. Blocking everything else out of his mind he simply concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths and maintaining his balance. As a result, he hardly noticed when the van eventually pulled over and it wasn't until he felt Claire's gentle hand trying to move his arm that he was able to rouse himself slightly.

"Please…" Darien managed to gasp.

"It's alright sweetheart, I'm right here," said Claire soothingly. "Just a couple of seconds longer."

With Bobby's help, she managed to manoeuvre him so that she could administer the relaxant directly into the gland and the needle was slipped expertly into place. The drug began to take effect almost immediately and the pain slowly lessened. Unable to support himself any longer, Darien slumped onto his partner's shoulder. Time lost all meaning and he allowed his mind to drift in a comfortable semi-conscious haze.

"Darien, Darien." An insistent voice kept repeating his name, calling him back to full consciousness, but he didn't want to go back just yet, it was nice and peaceful here.

"Darien, come on sweetheart, open your eyes for me." The voices mumbling above him were becoming concerned. He didn't want to wake up, but he had to tell them he was okay.

"I think he's coming round," Claire announced with obvious relief. "Darien can you hear me?"

"Urngh." He'd meant to say 'Yeah I'm fine', but the effort of moving his lips was just too great.

"We're going to move you into my car so you can lie back and relax, alright?"

Darien managed to nod his head slightly and then felt himself being lifted out of the van and positioned in the front of Claire's SUV. She'd thoughtfully moved the chair and reclined the back, so he was almost horizontal. Hobbes moved over to secure the seatbelt and gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

"See you back at the Agency Fawkesy. Get some sleep okay?"

"Uh, huh," Darien murmured, allowing his eyes to close.

Bobby came round to the front of the car and looked over to Claire, noticing the deeply concerned look on her face.

"What is it, he's okay, right?"

"I don't know. He had me really worried there for a while. It shouldn't have taken him so long to come round. It was almost ten minutes. Even at his worst it's never taken that long before…I have to get him to the lab." Giving Bobby a quick hug she got into her car and set off back to the Agency.

Hobbes stood silently for a few minutes wondering what on earth was going on with the damned gland this time. He stretched out his arms to help relieve some of the tension in his shoulders and turned to climb in the van. As he rejoined the highway to follow the SUV he tried to push the paranoid whisperings to the back of his mind. Claire would sort things out, she always did.

"I understand you gave an Oscar winning performance my dear," Jared Stark remarked smugly to his wife as he greeted her at their front door.

"But of course darling and it was so much fun," she replied with a broad smile on her face. "My indignant old lady routine was flawless, they didn't suspect a thing." Eleanor Stark draped her arms around her husband's shoulders and placed a light kiss on his cheek. "Where's Brandon?"

"He's attending class in the study," Stark informed her blithely, as if their son were simply watching the latest Scooby Doo video rather than being subjected to a highly sophisticated conditioning session. Although the Starks had broken away from Chrysalis, they still believed in its tenets and were once again working towards taking control. Their greatest hope was that one day Brandon would be able to follow his father as leader of the whole organisation.

Just then a sombre little boy with strawberry blond hair came toddling into the hall. He was dressed immaculately in charcoal grey shorts, white shirt and navy blue blazer.

"Mommy," the little boy said happily noticing Eleanor's return. He rushed towards her, hoping for a cuddle.

"Now, now Brandon," Stark admonished the child. "'We don't run in the house do we? And 'mommy' is a word babies use, not big boys like you."

Brandon slowed to a walk, a look of hurt and confusion on his small face. Given another few year of conditioning he would no doubt be a truly worthy member of Chrysalis, focused and ruthlessly loyal to their cause, but at the moment, though gene manipulation had ensured that he was an extremely bright child, his emotions were still those of any normal two year old.

"Sorry Sir," the little boy apologised contritely.

"Don't be sorry, just remember next time," his mother said with a smile, taking some of the sting out of her husband's words. "Now run along into the garden. Mr Peters will be waiting to go through your exercises with you."

Brandon looked longingly at his mother for a few seconds, then turned to leave. Hugs had been banned now that he was a big boy and his beloved teddy bear had been taken away weeks ago. He knew he shouldn't, but he still missed them terribly.

"Have you had an update yet?" Eleanor asked as soon as the child had disappeared outside.

"Brubaker lured them out of the city like he promised and was dealt with at the scene. Sinclair and Gordon were caught, but they were not important," Stark informed her. "The only danger was that Fawkes' Keeper might perform tests that could have revealed the toxin in his body before it had time to do any damage, however the plan to keep him away from the Agency was a complete success. I'm assured his demise will be fairly swift, but agonisingly painful and most importantly, the gland will be irreparably damaged and unsuitable for re-implantation."

"That's wonderful darling!" Eleanor said enthusiastically. "I can't believe Harry fell for your reconciliation speech though," she chuckled, returning to Brubaker's part in the affair. "The way he gushed his thanks for your forgiveness before he left was so funny, especially knowing what you had planned."

Stark nodded his agreement. "We ought to consider a career in acting, don't you think?" he suggested in an amused tone. "After all, we both played our parts magnificently!"

"I didn't make my world famous macaroni and cheese for you to just move it around your plate you know," Hobbes gently chided his friend later that night. He was sitting at the small table in Darien's apartment unsuccessfully trying to get his partner to eat something. "Where's that insatiable appetite we all know and love?" he joked. "I don't want to be kept awake if your stomach decides to rumble like Mount St Helene in the middle of the night."

"Sorry, I guess I'm not really very hungry tonight," Darien apologised wearily, too tired to think of a witty reply. Truth be told, he was feeling exhausted and achy after the day's events and just wanted to crawl into bed. However, the bath he'd taken earlier hadn't helped his aches and pains and moving across the apartment to the bed seemed like far too much effort right now.

"Are you sure you don't wanna go back to lab three to spend the night?" Hobbes suggested uneasily. "You don't look so hot." Claire had examined Darien on their return to the Keep, taken some blood, and was currently running a whole host of tests to try and alleviate her nagging worries about his health. She'd reluctantly agreed to let him go home after persistent pleading and unfair use of his puppy dog eyes had weakened her resolve. However, she had made him promise to rest and insisted Bobby stay to keep an eye on him.

Hobbes was fervently hoping her decision hadn't been a mistake.

"Honestly man I'm fine," Darien reiterated. "Just need to get some shuteye and I'll be ready for anything." He pushed himself up from the table to prevent any further discussion, but staggered slightly as he straightened up.

"Whoa there, take it easy," Hobbes said, moving to steady him. "You need a hand?"

"Thanks Bobby," Darien replied gratefully, accepting his friend's help without further comment. Hobbes scowled unhappily, where was the "No thanks," and the wiseass remark about having been able to walk unaided since he was one?

After settling Darien in bed and making sure he was asleep, Hobbes moved back to the kitchen to phone the Keeper.

"Hey Claire, it's Bobby," he said once she'd answered. "Is everything okay with the tests? He's asleep now, but he doesn't seem right to me. Nothin' I can put my finger on, but…" he broke off, not knowing how to voice his concerns. "Yeah, okay, let me know when you've got something, alright, see you in a couple of hours." He breathed a sigh of relief. Claire had agreed to come over and check on Darien as soon as she'd received the results from her tests. Hopefully he was just overreacting.

Hobbes moved over to the sofa and switched on the tv, to distract himself from further worry. After flicking through the channels he settled on an old Jimmy Cagney movie he'd seen countless times before and despite his determination to stay awake, he was soon fast asleep.

A loud thud on the apartment floor brought him back to full wakefulness some time later. He shot up from the sofa wondering what the hell had woken him and stared around the room. The only light was coming from the tv and he squinted through the semi-darkness.

"Bobby!" came a choked cry filled with fear and panic.

Flicking on the light switch Hobbes looked over to the bed and saw a figure lying sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath.

"Oh my God! Fawkes!" he exclaimed in horror.

TBC