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Back at the hotel room he was now sharing with Hobbes, who was snoring away in the other bed, Darien lay with his hands behind his head staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. He was feeling more than a bit confused. For all that he'd come out here to see her, to make sure she was okay, he hadn't planned on meeting her and it was throwing his life into chaos. Now, while he hadn't spent the last year pining over her, so to speak, neither had he looked elsewhere for long-term female companionship. He had just allowed himself to get involved in the work and tried not to think about her. And now... Now, here she was, alive, happy, and no memory of who the hell he was. It made him want to scream about the unfairness of the world.
Giving up on sleep, he walked quietly across the room and opened the sliding door to go out onto the balcony.
"That you, Fawkes?" rumbled up from the other bed.
"Go back to sleep, Hobbes. Everything's fine," Darien said almost without thought. This wasn't the first time they'd shared a room and Darien had been unable to sleep.
"You want to talk about it?" Hobbes asked, sounding a bit more awake. He had a damn good idea what was keeping his partner from sleeping tonight. He'd been the one to help him through more than a few drunken and sleepless nights after the kid had first left.
"No. Go back to sleep," Darien snapped, replying a bit more forcefully than he intended.
"If you change your mind..." Bobby let the sentence hang, wanted his friend to know he'd do whatever he needed to help him get through this.
"Thanks, Bobby." Darien went out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him. They were staying at one of the nicer hotels in the area and had sprung for a room with an ocean view. A quarter moon hung low over the water, and there was the distant sound of crashing waves from far below. He had to keep reminding himself this was not the Pacific he was looking at. During the day, the difference was obvious, the only time the Pacific took on that shade of gray was during one hell of a storm. Sitting in one of the chairs on the balcony, he stretched out, allowing his legs to extend their full length under the table.
The sound of waves crashing into the tall cliffs just wasn't the same as them rolling along the beach, and he understood now why she had often said she'd missed it. It was something he could easily become accustomed to. Damn. He had to stop thinking like that, unless he wanted to do something drastic like leave the Agency. So much had happened since she had left them; he'd changed in many ways from the person she had known. Been through so much, including having the quicksilver madness removed from the gland. Never again would he have to suffer the throes of madness, never risk harming himself, or more importantly others, because his id had decided it wanted to play.
He had even left for a while, joined Jones over at the FBI, and learned that he missed his friends. That the work was not nearly as much fun without people he liked being with, people who understood him and whom he understood. People who actually thought he was more than a one-trick-wonder and had a use beyond turning invisible on occasion. The Agency had become a family, of sorts, and even with all the hassles of it, he had decided he enjoyed the work. It's not like he stayed for the money. Hell, one of the first things he'd done after gaining freedom from the madness was rob a bank, only to discover that without the challenge, without the risk, it wasn't any fun.
But now, now that he knew she might not live much longer, the temptation to leave, to go ahead and thumb his nose at the Official, to try to have a normal life with her for as long as he could -- well, it was more than tempting. It was a dream, a fantasy he'd played with now and again, even before she'd gotten out. Now, it could really happen -- a couple of phone calls, maybe even some help from Mike, and he'd be here for as long as she had left to her.
Maybe he should talk to Bobby. Nah, Hobbes would go on about what an idiot he was to even think of leaving the Agency, especially for a woman, even if it was Alyx. Michele, he told himself, Michele. She wasn't Alyx anymore. Not that it seemed to make a difference to him. He still wanted her, wanted to fall asleep beside her, wake up with her lying beside him, argue with her, work with her, catch her when she stumbled and be rescued by her when he did, to grow old with her. Except that she wasn't going to grow old, unless they solved her problem.
Shifting, he rested his chin on his hand, his elbow on the padded arm of the chair and looked out at the sea until he drifted off to sleep.
Michael was also unable to sleep. He was wrestling with several concerns, all circling around his sister. He knew she was keeping something from him, and he suspected it was about her condition. Somehow, even though she had only the vaguest memories of her abilities, she still somehow managed to shield him out of her mind. For months he'd only been able to pick up the barest hint of what was going on inside her. He had only recently guessed something was seriously wrong because of the amount of medication she was using. It was beginning to look like the estimate of two years was far too hopeful. She might not have a year unless a solution was found. It might already be too late.
That was a large was part of the reason why he had conspired with Claire, Darien's Keeper, to reintroduce the pair. If she only had a short time left, she should be happy. Or at least as happy as possible. There were other reasons as well. If they ended up telling her the truth, giving her the memories back, then having Darien around would, hopefully, ease the transition. He had never forgiven the Agency for tearing her away from her life, but it was beginning to look as if the Agency might be the only recourse to save it.
He wished she'd talk to him, but she was being her stubborn old self, ignoring any discomfort to be with her kids. Since Jess had died, she'd gotten more stubborn, more determined to be there for them. Not that she smothered them or overprotected them, but come hell or high water, she was not going to leave them alone again. That's why this week had been so important to him. He feared she would not be around much longer, for one reason or another, and was determined to make sure their brothers got to see the person she had become. He'd even pulled some strings and arranged for both of them to be transferred back to the area with their respective companies, so that they could all be together again when the time came.
Part of him wished Jess had died sooner. Oh, that sounded horrible, but the first time he had seen her and Darien together, he knew that they belonged with each other. He hated the fact that he'd been forced to separate them, but he had promised himself and her that if he could get her out, he would. He'd refused to let their attachment to each other change that. He'd known, however, that if the situation presented itself she'd head right back to him like a moth drawn to a candle flame. And if yesterday was any indication, it was working. Now, to just keep Darien from going all noble and leaving her alone. That would be the last thing either of them needed.
Outside, the birds began their predawn ritual of greeting the impending sunrise and he heard the sounds of activity as his sister began her own daily ritual.
Michele stood in her back yard stretching before beginning her morning katas. It drove her crazy, but between the headaches and life in general, she never seemed to sleep more than four or five hours a night. It had become one of the many things Jess had complained bitterly about and used as yet another excuse to try and beat her down. As she moved through her routine, she thought about him as she made herself do every morning. She wished things had been different when she'd returned, but both of them had changed. He had moved on, had found someone else, only to discover that his wife still lived. He'd been sorely tempted to sue the hospital for that screw-up, but she had talked him out of it.
She... well, she had awoken someone else. No longer the sweet, naive, complacent, subservient woman he'd married. The woman who had stuck out college, though with a change of major, even after what had happened, and gotten a degree because she loved to learn, who had given up her job for her children, who had allowed herself to become dependent on a single man for everything. A man who beat her down, one way or another, because he enjoyed it. The first time he had tried to verbally abuse her after she had woken up, she had laughed in his face and told him exactly what he could go do with himself. He had been so shocked and so angry she'd been very surprised when he hadn't had a stroke right there before her eyes. Instead, he had stormed off and come home much later, smelling of cheap whiskey and even cheaper women.
Having completed her first routine, she picked up the staff she'd been practicing with recently and began her newest one. Her thoughts continued. Jess had become more and more distant, as well as more violent, but she'd found it little more than annoying. The fear he had once instilled in her was gone, and without that, his ability to control her was gone as well. Their marriage, for all intents and purposes, had ended the day of her accident. She tried to keep their problems from the children, but that proved impossible and, much to Jess' dismay, they, as one, sided with their mother. He felt they owed him their allegiance because of how well he had cared for them while Michele was gone. It was their youngest, Rose, who had pointed out one evening during yet another argument, that it was the money that had taken care of them, bought whatever they'd needed, provided for the housekeepers, tutors, and the private schools. Not him. He had simply spent the money. That proved to be the last straw for him. He went after the child, and Michele stopped him.
Michele ended up with a black eye. Jess... Jess stormed out of the house with a few bruises and a bloody nose of his own, and then drove through a red light into the side of a semi truck, killing himself instantly.
Restarting the routine, Michele ran through it again to try ease the ache in her heart. She still carried the guilt for that night. Part of her still felt it was her fault. If she hadn't fought back... If she hadn't defended herself after stopping him... Rose had been long gone by the time the first punch had been thrown. She'd had no choice but to defend Rose -- she was only eight years old, no match for a full grown man. Michele was her mother, her defender, her guardian. She'd had no choice.
She still 'what iffed' over the incident. What if she'd just let him keep hitting her, what if she'd been more careful when she'd reacted. He didn't know karate, after all, and she'd been studying for years before the accident. She'd been practicing again with her brother Michael, but her response had surprised even herself. Automatic and instantaneous. When he'd swung at her the second time, after she'd pulled herself off the floor, she simply reacted. Dodging his fist, she had grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind his back and marched him face first into the nearest wall. That's when she'd bloodied his nose, she supposed. She remembered herself warning him to never, ever threaten the children again, or she would see to it he would never see them again. Then she released him, almost as astonished as he by what she had done.
For a moment he had stood glaring at her, blood dripping down his face, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. She remembered doing... something -- she was never quite sure what -- but she knew she was angry, the type of anger you see with a lioness defending her cubs. His anger had drained away and, for a fleeting second, he had appeared to be frightened. Of her. It lasted a moment, no more, and then the anger returned and he stormed off into the night.
Michael watched his sister from the side of the yard. Most mornings he would join her, but not this time. He could feel the flow of her thoughts, could see what she was reviewing in her mind, could almost experience the memories she was poring over. He could feel the pain, the anger, and the guilt. He had been the one she called after Jess had stormed out that night. He had been the one with her when the police arrived to tell her what had happened. He had been the one to stand by her side when she told her children. And he had been the only one to realize that what drove Jess off had been her using her powers unconsciously. Her anger had overridden the inhibitors and allowed her to do... something. He never discovered exactly what, but it frightened the man enough to make him leave.
He watched his sister, his twin, as she worked herself towards exhaustion in the early morning sunshine, and wondered if she even noticed the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
"Fawkes, I'm telling you this is not a good idea," Bobby was saying as they walked up to the door of the house. It was not the front door, which was far more elaborate and about half a block away, but the one they'd entered by yesterday that was far closer to the parking lot that her driveway had become. It was obviously the door most commonly used, and opened onto the family area instead of the far more formal living areas. They'd been given the two-bit tour of the house yesterday and both agreed they'd have gotten lost in under five minutes, much to the amusement of their tour guides.
"Look, I promised I'd show up. You can go. I'm sure one of them will drop me back at the hotel later," Darien said starting to get irritated with his partner. They'd returned one of the rental cars, figuring they wouldn't need two of them if they were always together. He didn't need to be reminded that this was a stupid thing to be doing. If it wasn't for the fact that her brother Michael would probably hunt him down for failing to appear, he would not have come. Somewhere over the course of his mental wanderings last night, he had decided to stay away from her. To let her live her life without the complications he would bring to it.
"No way, my friend. Can't keep you out of trouble if I'm not here," Bobby tossed back easily.
"Then shut up and pretend to enjoy yourself," Darien snapped as he rang the doorbell.
The door was opened by Michele's oldest, Dani, who was obviously not surprised to see the two of them. She was already taller than her mother, easily matching Bobby in height "Hey guys, Michael was about to call out the hounds to look for you." She waved them into the house. "Mike, your friends are here!" she bellowed as she led them towards the kitchen.
Michael met them in the doorway with an admonishment for Dani. "Where are your manners, young lady?" he said, trying unsuccessfully to sound angry.
"Right where they belong," she replied saucily. "Saved for real company. According to Rosie-dear, these two count as family."
"Dani!" He laughed and turned to the two men. "You see what I have to put up with. Off with you, wench. Work on that tan, or something else equally useless."
The young woman chuckled and sauntered off towards the back yard.
"Just like her mother, it's scary sometimes." Michael commented. "So you guys decided to show. I was worried this crew scared you all off. Most of them are getting ready to leave."
"Oh?" Darien asked eyebrows lifting.
"Most of the older kids are going with Jake and Rachel to a clambake down at the beach. Patrick and Lisa are taking the rest out for pizza and a movie. We'll have the place to ourselves within half an hour," Michael answered as he led them out to the deck and fetched them beers from the cooler set behind the wet bar. "Sit. Drink. Enjoy the remains of the day."
Michele looked up from where she'd been sitting and reading in the shade of the gazebo to see her brother get his two friends settled up on the deck with drinks and snacks . She had hoped that it had been a fluke last night. That whatever it was she thought she'd felt for Mr. Fawkes had been her imagination, sheer foolishness, caused by her meds. Anything else, but the instant she saw him she knew it was real. Whatever else was going on in her idiot head, she was apparently falling for this near-total stranger.
With a sigh, she returned her concentration to her book. Her brothers had volunteered to handle all the kids this evening and she was going to take advantage of it while she could. She sipped at her drink, one of her margaritas, and hoped the alcohol would work its magic on her headache. She could hear her brother Michael and the other two men talking quietly and she pushed the sound into the background and she tried to focus her attention on the book.
She was apparently very successful. "'The Pleasure of Finding Things Out' by Richard Feynman. Please tell me this is not what you read to relax?" a voice said out of the blue.
She looked up, dropping the hand that had been unconsciously rubbing her forehead, to see Darien standing over her. "Actually, Manda recommended it to me. So I thought I'd give it a try. It's interesting." Marking the page she closed the book and set it down on the table beside her. "When did it get dark?"
"Oh, thirty minutes ago," he answered sitting down on the end of her lounge chair hands stuffed into his pockets. He was still thinking about the news Michael had given him and Hobbes over the last couple of hours. He was kind of wishing he hadn't been told, that he could continue on in that blissful ignorance of those who did not need-to-know. The results of her latest tests had come back and things were looking grim. Instead of an estimate of one to two years, she had maybe a few months. Maybe. His decision to stay away after today had been tossed unceremoniously out the window and instead he was unsure what to do.
She looked at him sitting there, hands stuffed into his pockets, slouching over, and looking so unhappy that she couldn't help but react. "Are you okay?" she asked him, as she leaned forward and lay a hand gently on his shoulder.
He actually laughed at her. "I'm fine."
"I'm obviously missing something." Michele shook her head in confusion. "Not unusual around here." She stood up and tried to walk past him, but he stopped her with his hand on her arm. She looked at him expectantly, wondering what was going on with him. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
He was thankful she had asked a question he felt safe answering. "Yes." Leading him back up to the main deck area, she flipped a switch on the underside of one section of the railing and small white lights appeared in the lower branches of all the trees surrounding the yard.
"Christmas lights?" Darien was captured by the subtle beauty they gave the yard, but not all that surprised. She had always liked this type of thing.
"I think they look pretty." She shrugged. "C'mon." Down the stairs, across the yard, and onto one of the pathways he had suspected was out there. The wandered along the edged pathway following the lights that ran along it. It was just bright enough that they could see where they were placing their feet, but not bright enough to ruin their night vision.
"How much land do you own?" Back in San Diego she'd never really mentioned her preference for living space. He was realizing that her apartment must have felt very confining if this was the way she wanted to live. Amongst the open air and trees.
"Oh, twenty acres or so. Most of it's wild, except for the paths. We actually have some deer and hawks out here," she answered. "I always dreamed of a place like this. My grandparents had lots of land, and during the summer we used to go wild at their place. Loved being there at the end of the summer with the wild blueberries and goose berries ripening. Not that where I grew up was small, but we lived there." She glanced over at him as they walked. "If you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." He could remember tearing up the woods around the cabin his aunt and uncle would drag them too. It was one of the few places Kevin was just Kevin, his brother, and not Kevin the genius. It didn't last for all that many years as summers eventually became the time when Kev and Uncle Peter would bury themselves in the basement lab to do more experiments that, to Darien, served no purpose except to isolate Kevin from the rest of the world. And isolate himself from his brother.
"So what were the three of you discussing that left you so serious-minded?" Michele wouldn't press, knowing there was a good chance he couldn't talk about it, but wanted to make the offer, to help ease the burden he was obviously carrying about.
Darien shook his head; it was not something he could tell her. "How are you feeling tonight?" He'd noticed the drink; and Mike had told him that it was her back-up pain killer. Her way of dulling some of the pain without taking more medication.
"Been better. Been worse. Haven't needed a shot today, so that's on the plus side anyway." She nudged him as they strolled along. "You don't need to dance around it, Mr. Fawkes, I know how ill I am and know it's something more than just the results of the car accident I was in. And it doesn't matter."
"Call me Darien, please. That much formality makes my skin crawl." It also reminded him of prison, which was not an association he wanted to deal with when near her.
" All right, Darien. You may call me Michele, or 'Chele if you like. Though I've been known to answer to the generic 'hey, you' on more than one occasion." She gave him a wry grin. "Between the kids and their friends 'hey, you' is heard quite a bit around here."
"Are you happy, though?" Darien paused and she stopped step or two beyond him and turned back to face him.
It took her moment to organize her thoughts into a coherent answer. "Overall, I guess I am. I'm alive, with family and friends that I care about, but..."
"But?" He spread his arms wide. "What's missing? Your husband?" More than understandable that she would miss him. To come back and then to have him die so soon after... It was amazing she was dealing as well as she was.
"Jess was..." she shook her head, "is a dead issue -- literally. It's weird. For all that I have, there still seems to be something missing, and I have no idea where to even begin to try and find it." She continued down the trail and he followed her after a moment.
The path ended at a small open area that overlooked the ocean. The grass was short and thick, the kind perfect for lying upon on a hot summer day to stare at the clouds drifting by overhead. There was a small cliff into which a set of steps were cut leading down to the water. Off to one side, a pair of oak trees leaned precariously out over the water with an oversized hammock slung between them.
Michele walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. "Tide's still up, we can't get to the beach."
"Why did you bring me out here?" Darien leaned against a conveniently placed tree and watched her. There was just enough ambient light for him to see her with relative ease. He was betting to her it was bright as day; she'd always had incredible night vision.
"Hmmm. You looked like you needed some peace, and this is where I go to find some. You got bad news, I take it?" She walked over to the hammock and leaned back against one of the trees.
"You could say that I guess." He was avoiding looking at her again, afraid he'd reveal everything. "Shame about the hammock."
"Why? It works fine." Which she proceeded to demonstrate by climbing up the tree and into it. Settling back she hung one leg off the side and, by moving it, could swing the hammock well out over the edge of the cliff and the water that ebbed and surged below. "When we get a really high tide the spray sometimes makes it up here."
Darien walked over and slowed its swaying. The hammock hung at chest level on him at its midpoint. "You are insane."
"Well, yeah. And?" She smiled up at him, her heart contracting painfully tight. Forget falling for this man -- she was gone, much as her brother had accused her of last night. Love at first sight was not something she'd ever thought possible, but meeting Darien had changed her mind. Her throat tight, she said, "C'mon, it's safe. I swear it."
"'Chele..." For an instant he wanted to tell her everything, the entire truth. The Agency, who and what she was, why she was having the headaches. About them, the relationship they'd had. Closing his eyes was the easiest way to keep hers from driving him slowly insane with want and need. They flew open when he felt her hand close about his.
"Well, there appears to be a breeze blowing tonight, though sultry is arguable." That was a mistake, based on the way his face tightened, but she didn't release his hand. "Not feeling as foolish tonight, I take it."
If she only knew how wrong she was. 'I'm only here for a few days,' he failed to say. 'I'm leaving and may never see you again,' he tried to add, without success. 'I've missed you and don't want to lose you again,' he didn't whisper to her. "Perhaps we should just practice for the ravishment then," his mouth said, without direct permission from his brain, and then followed up his words with a kiss.
Michele was stunned for a second -- her words had only been half-serious at most -- her mind telling her she was being a fool, which she studiously ignored and just let herself fall. Her free hand made its way up to curve about his neck and up into the slightly curled hair that was there. She was unable to stifle the moan that escaped as his tongue teased its way into her mouth, much to her pleasure. His free hand sliding across her abdomen to curl about her back and lift her up into a sitting position made her want to melt. It had been such a long time anyone had made her feel like this that it was leaving her shivering and breathless.
Darien forced himself to pull away as that obnoxious tickle of quicksilver reminded him that he didn't dare disappear at the moment. Holding her close he gulped for air and fought for the control she had helped to teach him at one time and that he had chosen not to practice once she had left. 'Chele was tracing the scar under his hair with her fingers as her lips left a heated trail along his throat. It was beginning to seem like she was the one doing the ravishing and not him. When she began to suck gently at the hollow of his throat he groaned and forced his voice to work. "Now I know it's not safe. You're in it."
She pulled away from him. "What? You..." Michele realized he was joking. "Jerk."
He wrapped his arms about her and she allowed herself to be helped out of the hammock and back onto the ground. Cupping her face in his hands he found some of the control he needed and continued with the kiss. They spent long minutes slowly exploring each other with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks just a few feet away from them. When his hands found their way under her shirt to begin a leisurely exploration of her, she tipped her head back and sighed. Opening her eyes she blinked at the stars overhead and it took a moment to realize they were wrong; doubled and slightly blurry to her eyes.
With his fingers making a grand effort at unhooking her bra with one hand she grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged gently till he lifted his lips from her neck to look at her. His hands froze as he stared at her in total disbelief.
Then the pain hit. Sharp, sudden and devastating. She managed a rather pitiful, "Dare?" and folded.
He was so surprised he just barely kept hold of her and went to the ground as she did. "Crap." He'd noticed the way her eyes had gone fully red -- the way his used to during full-blown quicksilver madness -- when she'd encouraged him to lift his head. Now she had a nose bleed as well, and she'd gone very pale. Setting fingers to her throat, he found her pulse -- weak, but there. "All right you, just hold on." Shifting, he lifted her up in his arms, not caring that she was bleeding all over one of his favorite shirts. Following what he hoped was the correct pathway, he headed away from the cliff and towards the house. About halfway back, he was met by Michael, who was running towards them as if his life depended on it.
"What happened?" He had sensed something wrong through the light link he always kept on her, so he also had a very good idea what they had been doing when she'd been struck down.
"She just collapsed. No warning. I barely managed to catch her," Darien explained to Mike as he gave her a quick exam while still in Darien's arms.
"Damn it. It's too soon." Mike led the way back to the house. "Hobbes called for an ambulance, so they should be on their way." Instead of through the house, he led Darien around to the front where Hobbes was waiting for the ambulance to show up. Mike grabbed a chair from the front porch and directed Darien to sit. "Talk to her, see if you can get her to wake up."
Darien didn't know what to say and looked at Hobbes, who was standing nearby. He handed the cell phone to Mike, who began passing on information to whomever was on the other end. It sounded like he might be talking to the Official.
"Not your fault, my friend. And you know it." Hobbes set a hand on Darien's shoulder and looked down at the tiny form in his arms. "She'll be fine, Fawkes. Claire will be here by morning."
"This just sucks." Darien brushed a stray strand of hair off her face and tried to hold it together when she moaned in pain. "Come on, Michele, open those eyes for me."
She did for a moment, allowing him to see they were still solid crimson, then they slid shut again and she went even more limp than before. Something he hadn't thought possible. "Bobby?" He looked at his partner, hoping for some sort of sign, but all that could be seen was the flashing lights of the ambulance changing the color of the trees to red as it rolled down her long driveway.
"I have to go with her." Michael stepped in front of Darien, cutting off his view of the ambulance as it finally arrived. "Will the two of you..."
"We'll stay and explain what happened when the others get back. I'll take care of those other things as well." Hobbes answered before Fawkes could protest.
The EMTs rushed over with a gurney. Darien reluctantly placed her on it and backed away as they went to work on her. "Mike, take care of her."
"Always," Mike told him as he followed his sister into the ambulance. "I'll call as soon as I know anything." Then he was gone, the doors slamming shut and the ambulance roaring away, kicking up dust into the evening air that the lights turned into a red cloud hanging over the peaceful yard.
He and Bobby turned to each other, but said nothing. They both knew how bad waiting could be, both knew it was going to be a very long and sleepless night for all of them.
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Back at the hotel room he was now sharing with Hobbes, who was snoring away in the other bed, Darien lay with his hands behind his head staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. He was feeling more than a bit confused. For all that he'd come out here to see her, to make sure she was okay, he hadn't planned on meeting her and it was throwing his life into chaos. Now, while he hadn't spent the last year pining over her, so to speak, neither had he looked elsewhere for long-term female companionship. He had just allowed himself to get involved in the work and tried not to think about her. And now... Now, here she was, alive, happy, and no memory of who the hell he was. It made him want to scream about the unfairness of the world.
Giving up on sleep, he walked quietly across the room and opened the sliding door to go out onto the balcony.
"That you, Fawkes?" rumbled up from the other bed.
"Go back to sleep, Hobbes. Everything's fine," Darien said almost without thought. This wasn't the first time they'd shared a room and Darien had been unable to sleep.
"You want to talk about it?" Hobbes asked, sounding a bit more awake. He had a damn good idea what was keeping his partner from sleeping tonight. He'd been the one to help him through more than a few drunken and sleepless nights after the kid had first left.
"No. Go back to sleep," Darien snapped, replying a bit more forcefully than he intended.
"If you change your mind..." Bobby let the sentence hang, wanted his friend to know he'd do whatever he needed to help him get through this.
"Thanks, Bobby." Darien went out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him. They were staying at one of the nicer hotels in the area and had sprung for a room with an ocean view. A quarter moon hung low over the water, and there was the distant sound of crashing waves from far below. He had to keep reminding himself this was not the Pacific he was looking at. During the day, the difference was obvious, the only time the Pacific took on that shade of gray was during one hell of a storm. Sitting in one of the chairs on the balcony, he stretched out, allowing his legs to extend their full length under the table.
The sound of waves crashing into the tall cliffs just wasn't the same as them rolling along the beach, and he understood now why she had often said she'd missed it. It was something he could easily become accustomed to. Damn. He had to stop thinking like that, unless he wanted to do something drastic like leave the Agency. So much had happened since she had left them; he'd changed in many ways from the person she had known. Been through so much, including having the quicksilver madness removed from the gland. Never again would he have to suffer the throes of madness, never risk harming himself, or more importantly others, because his id had decided it wanted to play.
He had even left for a while, joined Jones over at the FBI, and learned that he missed his friends. That the work was not nearly as much fun without people he liked being with, people who understood him and whom he understood. People who actually thought he was more than a one-trick-wonder and had a use beyond turning invisible on occasion. The Agency had become a family, of sorts, and even with all the hassles of it, he had decided he enjoyed the work. It's not like he stayed for the money. Hell, one of the first things he'd done after gaining freedom from the madness was rob a bank, only to discover that without the challenge, without the risk, it wasn't any fun.
But now, now that he knew she might not live much longer, the temptation to leave, to go ahead and thumb his nose at the Official, to try to have a normal life with her for as long as he could -- well, it was more than tempting. It was a dream, a fantasy he'd played with now and again, even before she'd gotten out. Now, it could really happen -- a couple of phone calls, maybe even some help from Mike, and he'd be here for as long as she had left to her.
Maybe he should talk to Bobby. Nah, Hobbes would go on about what an idiot he was to even think of leaving the Agency, especially for a woman, even if it was Alyx. Michele, he told himself, Michele. She wasn't Alyx anymore. Not that it seemed to make a difference to him. He still wanted her, wanted to fall asleep beside her, wake up with her lying beside him, argue with her, work with her, catch her when she stumbled and be rescued by her when he did, to grow old with her. Except that she wasn't going to grow old, unless they solved her problem.
Shifting, he rested his chin on his hand, his elbow on the padded arm of the chair and looked out at the sea until he drifted off to sleep.
Michael was also unable to sleep. He was wrestling with several concerns, all circling around his sister. He knew she was keeping something from him, and he suspected it was about her condition. Somehow, even though she had only the vaguest memories of her abilities, she still somehow managed to shield him out of her mind. For months he'd only been able to pick up the barest hint of what was going on inside her. He had only recently guessed something was seriously wrong because of the amount of medication she was using. It was beginning to look like the estimate of two years was far too hopeful. She might not have a year unless a solution was found. It might already be too late.
That was a large was part of the reason why he had conspired with Claire, Darien's Keeper, to reintroduce the pair. If she only had a short time left, she should be happy. Or at least as happy as possible. There were other reasons as well. If they ended up telling her the truth, giving her the memories back, then having Darien around would, hopefully, ease the transition. He had never forgiven the Agency for tearing her away from her life, but it was beginning to look as if the Agency might be the only recourse to save it.
He wished she'd talk to him, but she was being her stubborn old self, ignoring any discomfort to be with her kids. Since Jess had died, she'd gotten more stubborn, more determined to be there for them. Not that she smothered them or overprotected them, but come hell or high water, she was not going to leave them alone again. That's why this week had been so important to him. He feared she would not be around much longer, for one reason or another, and was determined to make sure their brothers got to see the person she had become. He'd even pulled some strings and arranged for both of them to be transferred back to the area with their respective companies, so that they could all be together again when the time came.
Part of him wished Jess had died sooner. Oh, that sounded horrible, but the first time he had seen her and Darien together, he knew that they belonged with each other. He hated the fact that he'd been forced to separate them, but he had promised himself and her that if he could get her out, he would. He'd refused to let their attachment to each other change that. He'd known, however, that if the situation presented itself she'd head right back to him like a moth drawn to a candle flame. And if yesterday was any indication, it was working. Now, to just keep Darien from going all noble and leaving her alone. That would be the last thing either of them needed.
Outside, the birds began their predawn ritual of greeting the impending sunrise and he heard the sounds of activity as his sister began her own daily ritual.
Michele stood in her back yard stretching before beginning her morning katas. It drove her crazy, but between the headaches and life in general, she never seemed to sleep more than four or five hours a night. It had become one of the many things Jess had complained bitterly about and used as yet another excuse to try and beat her down. As she moved through her routine, she thought about him as she made herself do every morning. She wished things had been different when she'd returned, but both of them had changed. He had moved on, had found someone else, only to discover that his wife still lived. He'd been sorely tempted to sue the hospital for that screw-up, but she had talked him out of it.
She... well, she had awoken someone else. No longer the sweet, naive, complacent, subservient woman he'd married. The woman who had stuck out college, though with a change of major, even after what had happened, and gotten a degree because she loved to learn, who had given up her job for her children, who had allowed herself to become dependent on a single man for everything. A man who beat her down, one way or another, because he enjoyed it. The first time he had tried to verbally abuse her after she had woken up, she had laughed in his face and told him exactly what he could go do with himself. He had been so shocked and so angry she'd been very surprised when he hadn't had a stroke right there before her eyes. Instead, he had stormed off and come home much later, smelling of cheap whiskey and even cheaper women.
Having completed her first routine, she picked up the staff she'd been practicing with recently and began her newest one. Her thoughts continued. Jess had become more and more distant, as well as more violent, but she'd found it little more than annoying. The fear he had once instilled in her was gone, and without that, his ability to control her was gone as well. Their marriage, for all intents and purposes, had ended the day of her accident. She tried to keep their problems from the children, but that proved impossible and, much to Jess' dismay, they, as one, sided with their mother. He felt they owed him their allegiance because of how well he had cared for them while Michele was gone. It was their youngest, Rose, who had pointed out one evening during yet another argument, that it was the money that had taken care of them, bought whatever they'd needed, provided for the housekeepers, tutors, and the private schools. Not him. He had simply spent the money. That proved to be the last straw for him. He went after the child, and Michele stopped him.
Michele ended up with a black eye. Jess... Jess stormed out of the house with a few bruises and a bloody nose of his own, and then drove through a red light into the side of a semi truck, killing himself instantly.
Restarting the routine, Michele ran through it again to try ease the ache in her heart. She still carried the guilt for that night. Part of her still felt it was her fault. If she hadn't fought back... If she hadn't defended herself after stopping him... Rose had been long gone by the time the first punch had been thrown. She'd had no choice but to defend Rose -- she was only eight years old, no match for a full grown man. Michele was her mother, her defender, her guardian. She'd had no choice.
She still 'what iffed' over the incident. What if she'd just let him keep hitting her, what if she'd been more careful when she'd reacted. He didn't know karate, after all, and she'd been studying for years before the accident. She'd been practicing again with her brother Michael, but her response had surprised even herself. Automatic and instantaneous. When he'd swung at her the second time, after she'd pulled herself off the floor, she simply reacted. Dodging his fist, she had grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind his back and marched him face first into the nearest wall. That's when she'd bloodied his nose, she supposed. She remembered herself warning him to never, ever threaten the children again, or she would see to it he would never see them again. Then she released him, almost as astonished as he by what she had done.
For a moment he had stood glaring at her, blood dripping down his face, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. She remembered doing... something -- she was never quite sure what -- but she knew she was angry, the type of anger you see with a lioness defending her cubs. His anger had drained away and, for a fleeting second, he had appeared to be frightened. Of her. It lasted a moment, no more, and then the anger returned and he stormed off into the night.
Michael watched his sister from the side of the yard. Most mornings he would join her, but not this time. He could feel the flow of her thoughts, could see what she was reviewing in her mind, could almost experience the memories she was poring over. He could feel the pain, the anger, and the guilt. He had been the one she called after Jess had stormed out that night. He had been the one with her when the police arrived to tell her what had happened. He had been the one to stand by her side when she told her children. And he had been the only one to realize that what drove Jess off had been her using her powers unconsciously. Her anger had overridden the inhibitors and allowed her to do... something. He never discovered exactly what, but it frightened the man enough to make him leave.
He watched his sister, his twin, as she worked herself towards exhaustion in the early morning sunshine, and wondered if she even noticed the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
"Fawkes, I'm telling you this is not a good idea," Bobby was saying as they walked up to the door of the house. It was not the front door, which was far more elaborate and about half a block away, but the one they'd entered by yesterday that was far closer to the parking lot that her driveway had become. It was obviously the door most commonly used, and opened onto the family area instead of the far more formal living areas. They'd been given the two-bit tour of the house yesterday and both agreed they'd have gotten lost in under five minutes, much to the amusement of their tour guides.
"Look, I promised I'd show up. You can go. I'm sure one of them will drop me back at the hotel later," Darien said starting to get irritated with his partner. They'd returned one of the rental cars, figuring they wouldn't need two of them if they were always together. He didn't need to be reminded that this was a stupid thing to be doing. If it wasn't for the fact that her brother Michael would probably hunt him down for failing to appear, he would not have come. Somewhere over the course of his mental wanderings last night, he had decided to stay away from her. To let her live her life without the complications he would bring to it.
"No way, my friend. Can't keep you out of trouble if I'm not here," Bobby tossed back easily.
"Then shut up and pretend to enjoy yourself," Darien snapped as he rang the doorbell.
The door was opened by Michele's oldest, Dani, who was obviously not surprised to see the two of them. She was already taller than her mother, easily matching Bobby in height "Hey guys, Michael was about to call out the hounds to look for you." She waved them into the house. "Mike, your friends are here!" she bellowed as she led them towards the kitchen.
Michael met them in the doorway with an admonishment for Dani. "Where are your manners, young lady?" he said, trying unsuccessfully to sound angry.
"Right where they belong," she replied saucily. "Saved for real company. According to Rosie-dear, these two count as family."
"Dani!" He laughed and turned to the two men. "You see what I have to put up with. Off with you, wench. Work on that tan, or something else equally useless."
The young woman chuckled and sauntered off towards the back yard.
"Just like her mother, it's scary sometimes." Michael commented. "So you guys decided to show. I was worried this crew scared you all off. Most of them are getting ready to leave."
"Oh?" Darien asked eyebrows lifting.
"Most of the older kids are going with Jake and Rachel to a clambake down at the beach. Patrick and Lisa are taking the rest out for pizza and a movie. We'll have the place to ourselves within half an hour," Michael answered as he led them out to the deck and fetched them beers from the cooler set behind the wet bar. "Sit. Drink. Enjoy the remains of the day."
Michele looked up from where she'd been sitting and reading in the shade of the gazebo to see her brother get his two friends settled up on the deck with drinks and snacks . She had hoped that it had been a fluke last night. That whatever it was she thought she'd felt for Mr. Fawkes had been her imagination, sheer foolishness, caused by her meds. Anything else, but the instant she saw him she knew it was real. Whatever else was going on in her idiot head, she was apparently falling for this near-total stranger.
With a sigh, she returned her concentration to her book. Her brothers had volunteered to handle all the kids this evening and she was going to take advantage of it while she could. She sipped at her drink, one of her margaritas, and hoped the alcohol would work its magic on her headache. She could hear her brother Michael and the other two men talking quietly and she pushed the sound into the background and she tried to focus her attention on the book.
She was apparently very successful. "'The Pleasure of Finding Things Out' by Richard Feynman. Please tell me this is not what you read to relax?" a voice said out of the blue.
She looked up, dropping the hand that had been unconsciously rubbing her forehead, to see Darien standing over her. "Actually, Manda recommended it to me. So I thought I'd give it a try. It's interesting." Marking the page she closed the book and set it down on the table beside her. "When did it get dark?"
"Oh, thirty minutes ago," he answered sitting down on the end of her lounge chair hands stuffed into his pockets. He was still thinking about the news Michael had given him and Hobbes over the last couple of hours. He was kind of wishing he hadn't been told, that he could continue on in that blissful ignorance of those who did not need-to-know. The results of her latest tests had come back and things were looking grim. Instead of an estimate of one to two years, she had maybe a few months. Maybe. His decision to stay away after today had been tossed unceremoniously out the window and instead he was unsure what to do.
She looked at him sitting there, hands stuffed into his pockets, slouching over, and looking so unhappy that she couldn't help but react. "Are you okay?" she asked him, as she leaned forward and lay a hand gently on his shoulder.
He actually laughed at her. "I'm fine."
"I'm obviously missing something." Michele shook her head in confusion. "Not unusual around here." She stood up and tried to walk past him, but he stopped her with his hand on her arm. She looked at him expectantly, wondering what was going on with him. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
He was thankful she had asked a question he felt safe answering. "Yes." Leading him back up to the main deck area, she flipped a switch on the underside of one section of the railing and small white lights appeared in the lower branches of all the trees surrounding the yard.
"Christmas lights?" Darien was captured by the subtle beauty they gave the yard, but not all that surprised. She had always liked this type of thing.
"I think they look pretty." She shrugged. "C'mon." Down the stairs, across the yard, and onto one of the pathways he had suspected was out there. The wandered along the edged pathway following the lights that ran along it. It was just bright enough that they could see where they were placing their feet, but not bright enough to ruin their night vision.
"How much land do you own?" Back in San Diego she'd never really mentioned her preference for living space. He was realizing that her apartment must have felt very confining if this was the way she wanted to live. Amongst the open air and trees.
"Oh, twenty acres or so. Most of it's wild, except for the paths. We actually have some deer and hawks out here," she answered. "I always dreamed of a place like this. My grandparents had lots of land, and during the summer we used to go wild at their place. Loved being there at the end of the summer with the wild blueberries and goose berries ripening. Not that where I grew up was small, but we lived there." She glanced over at him as they walked. "If you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." He could remember tearing up the woods around the cabin his aunt and uncle would drag them too. It was one of the few places Kevin was just Kevin, his brother, and not Kevin the genius. It didn't last for all that many years as summers eventually became the time when Kev and Uncle Peter would bury themselves in the basement lab to do more experiments that, to Darien, served no purpose except to isolate Kevin from the rest of the world. And isolate himself from his brother.
"So what were the three of you discussing that left you so serious-minded?" Michele wouldn't press, knowing there was a good chance he couldn't talk about it, but wanted to make the offer, to help ease the burden he was obviously carrying about.
Darien shook his head; it was not something he could tell her. "How are you feeling tonight?" He'd noticed the drink; and Mike had told him that it was her back-up pain killer. Her way of dulling some of the pain without taking more medication.
"Been better. Been worse. Haven't needed a shot today, so that's on the plus side anyway." She nudged him as they strolled along. "You don't need to dance around it, Mr. Fawkes, I know how ill I am and know it's something more than just the results of the car accident I was in. And it doesn't matter."
"Call me Darien, please. That much formality makes my skin crawl." It also reminded him of prison, which was not an association he wanted to deal with when near her.
" All right, Darien. You may call me Michele, or 'Chele if you like. Though I've been known to answer to the generic 'hey, you' on more than one occasion." She gave him a wry grin. "Between the kids and their friends 'hey, you' is heard quite a bit around here."
"Are you happy, though?" Darien paused and she stopped step or two beyond him and turned back to face him.
It took her moment to organize her thoughts into a coherent answer. "Overall, I guess I am. I'm alive, with family and friends that I care about, but..."
"But?" He spread his arms wide. "What's missing? Your husband?" More than understandable that she would miss him. To come back and then to have him die so soon after... It was amazing she was dealing as well as she was.
"Jess was..." she shook her head, "is a dead issue -- literally. It's weird. For all that I have, there still seems to be something missing, and I have no idea where to even begin to try and find it." She continued down the trail and he followed her after a moment.
The path ended at a small open area that overlooked the ocean. The grass was short and thick, the kind perfect for lying upon on a hot summer day to stare at the clouds drifting by overhead. There was a small cliff into which a set of steps were cut leading down to the water. Off to one side, a pair of oak trees leaned precariously out over the water with an oversized hammock slung between them.
Michele walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. "Tide's still up, we can't get to the beach."
"Why did you bring me out here?" Darien leaned against a conveniently placed tree and watched her. There was just enough ambient light for him to see her with relative ease. He was betting to her it was bright as day; she'd always had incredible night vision.
"Hmmm. You looked like you needed some peace, and this is where I go to find some. You got bad news, I take it?" She walked over to the hammock and leaned back against one of the trees.
"You could say that I guess." He was avoiding looking at her again, afraid he'd reveal everything. "Shame about the hammock."
"Why? It works fine." Which she proceeded to demonstrate by climbing up the tree and into it. Settling back she hung one leg off the side and, by moving it, could swing the hammock well out over the edge of the cliff and the water that ebbed and surged below. "When we get a really high tide the spray sometimes makes it up here."
Darien walked over and slowed its swaying. The hammock hung at chest level on him at its midpoint. "You are insane."
"Well, yeah. And?" She smiled up at him, her heart contracting painfully tight. Forget falling for this man -- she was gone, much as her brother had accused her of last night. Love at first sight was not something she'd ever thought possible, but meeting Darien had changed her mind. Her throat tight, she said, "C'mon, it's safe. I swear it."
"'Chele..." For an instant he wanted to tell her everything, the entire truth. The Agency, who and what she was, why she was having the headaches. About them, the relationship they'd had. Closing his eyes was the easiest way to keep hers from driving him slowly insane with want and need. They flew open when he felt her hand close about his.
"Well, there appears to be a breeze blowing tonight, though sultry is arguable." That was a mistake, based on the way his face tightened, but she didn't release his hand. "Not feeling as foolish tonight, I take it."
If she only knew how wrong she was. 'I'm only here for a few days,' he failed to say. 'I'm leaving and may never see you again,' he tried to add, without success. 'I've missed you and don't want to lose you again,' he didn't whisper to her. "Perhaps we should just practice for the ravishment then," his mouth said, without direct permission from his brain, and then followed up his words with a kiss.
Michele was stunned for a second -- her words had only been half-serious at most -- her mind telling her she was being a fool, which she studiously ignored and just let herself fall. Her free hand made its way up to curve about his neck and up into the slightly curled hair that was there. She was unable to stifle the moan that escaped as his tongue teased its way into her mouth, much to her pleasure. His free hand sliding across her abdomen to curl about her back and lift her up into a sitting position made her want to melt. It had been such a long time anyone had made her feel like this that it was leaving her shivering and breathless.
Darien forced himself to pull away as that obnoxious tickle of quicksilver reminded him that he didn't dare disappear at the moment. Holding her close he gulped for air and fought for the control she had helped to teach him at one time and that he had chosen not to practice once she had left. 'Chele was tracing the scar under his hair with her fingers as her lips left a heated trail along his throat. It was beginning to seem like she was the one doing the ravishing and not him. When she began to suck gently at the hollow of his throat he groaned and forced his voice to work. "Now I know it's not safe. You're in it."
She pulled away from him. "What? You..." Michele realized he was joking. "Jerk."
He wrapped his arms about her and she allowed herself to be helped out of the hammock and back onto the ground. Cupping her face in his hands he found some of the control he needed and continued with the kiss. They spent long minutes slowly exploring each other with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks just a few feet away from them. When his hands found their way under her shirt to begin a leisurely exploration of her, she tipped her head back and sighed. Opening her eyes she blinked at the stars overhead and it took a moment to realize they were wrong; doubled and slightly blurry to her eyes.
With his fingers making a grand effort at unhooking her bra with one hand she grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged gently till he lifted his lips from her neck to look at her. His hands froze as he stared at her in total disbelief.
Then the pain hit. Sharp, sudden and devastating. She managed a rather pitiful, "Dare?" and folded.
He was so surprised he just barely kept hold of her and went to the ground as she did. "Crap." He'd noticed the way her eyes had gone fully red -- the way his used to during full-blown quicksilver madness -- when she'd encouraged him to lift his head. Now she had a nose bleed as well, and she'd gone very pale. Setting fingers to her throat, he found her pulse -- weak, but there. "All right you, just hold on." Shifting, he lifted her up in his arms, not caring that she was bleeding all over one of his favorite shirts. Following what he hoped was the correct pathway, he headed away from the cliff and towards the house. About halfway back, he was met by Michael, who was running towards them as if his life depended on it.
"What happened?" He had sensed something wrong through the light link he always kept on her, so he also had a very good idea what they had been doing when she'd been struck down.
"She just collapsed. No warning. I barely managed to catch her," Darien explained to Mike as he gave her a quick exam while still in Darien's arms.
"Damn it. It's too soon." Mike led the way back to the house. "Hobbes called for an ambulance, so they should be on their way." Instead of through the house, he led Darien around to the front where Hobbes was waiting for the ambulance to show up. Mike grabbed a chair from the front porch and directed Darien to sit. "Talk to her, see if you can get her to wake up."
Darien didn't know what to say and looked at Hobbes, who was standing nearby. He handed the cell phone to Mike, who began passing on information to whomever was on the other end. It sounded like he might be talking to the Official.
"Not your fault, my friend. And you know it." Hobbes set a hand on Darien's shoulder and looked down at the tiny form in his arms. "She'll be fine, Fawkes. Claire will be here by morning."
"This just sucks." Darien brushed a stray strand of hair off her face and tried to hold it together when she moaned in pain. "Come on, Michele, open those eyes for me."
She did for a moment, allowing him to see they were still solid crimson, then they slid shut again and she went even more limp than before. Something he hadn't thought possible. "Bobby?" He looked at his partner, hoping for some sort of sign, but all that could be seen was the flashing lights of the ambulance changing the color of the trees to red as it rolled down her long driveway.
"I have to go with her." Michael stepped in front of Darien, cutting off his view of the ambulance as it finally arrived. "Will the two of you..."
"We'll stay and explain what happened when the others get back. I'll take care of those other things as well." Hobbes answered before Fawkes could protest.
The EMTs rushed over with a gurney. Darien reluctantly placed her on it and backed away as they went to work on her. "Mike, take care of her."
"Always," Mike told him as he followed his sister into the ambulance. "I'll call as soon as I know anything." Then he was gone, the doors slamming shut and the ambulance roaring away, kicking up dust into the evening air that the lights turned into a red cloud hanging over the peaceful yard.
He and Bobby turned to each other, but said nothing. They both knew how bad waiting could be, both knew it was going to be a very long and sleepless night for all of them.
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