Bobby walked into Darien's apartment, looking around warily. Darien hadn't been answering his phone, and since it was Monday morning and they had a job that evening, it was definitely not a good thing. It certainly didn't bode well with Bobby. He'd been getting decidedly worried over the past couple of hours, and had finally decided that the best thing to do would be to check up on Darien, just in case something had gone wrong. It hadn't been hard to slip inside; Bobby had just picked the lock.
Now, as he looked around the room, he could see that his suspicions had been more than justified. The entire apartment was in a state of disarray. Clothes and empty beer cans were scattered all over, various pieces of furniture had been knocked down, and the bookshelf, which had been loaded down with books the last time Bobby had been here, had its contents scattered all over the room.
Continuing his investigation, Bobby began to look around for any immediate signs of trouble. But, other than the general state of disarray, there was nothing that indicated a specific problem. No bloodstains or bullet-holes in the walls. But no Darien either. Eventually, there was only one place left to search; the bedroom. Bobby was reluctant to go in, but it was the only place he hadn't searched yet.
The bedroom door was firmly closed. Bobby stood in front of it for several minutes, deliberating on whether or not he should open it and go inside. Finally he lifted his hand and turned the doorknob. The door swung open slowly, letting out a long, loud creak as it did so.
The first thing Bobby noticed was the smell. It was far from pleasant; it seemed to be a strange mixture of beer and vomit. Bobby wrinkled his nose in disgust and stepped into the room. What he saw inside didn't do very much to alleviate his concern.
The room was littered with half a dozen empty beer cans. They, combined with the cans out in the other room, would have been more than enough to keep anyone drunk all weekend. And, lying on the bed and holding a half-full beer can in one hand, was Darien. He didn't look good; he obviously hadn't shaved over the weekend and he was wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the last time Bobby had seen him, which were now stained with beer.
Darien looked up, a drunken grin on his face. "Bobby! How ya doin'?" he asked, his voice slurred.
Bobby frowned. "Better than you."
Darien laughed, shaking his head. "Ahh, 'm fine."
"Nah, I don't think you are." Bobby took a few steps closer. Darien promptly clutched the beer can to his chest. "Give it to me," Bobby said sternly.
Darien's grip on the can tightened and he shook his head stubbornly. "Nuh-uh. This's mine, get yer own."
Bobby's temper was growing harder to control by the second. Seeing his friend in this state was disturbing, to say the least. He finished crossing the distance between him and the bed, grabbing the beer can out of Darien's hand. Darien fought to keep hold of it, but his reflexes were extremely slow and Bobby managed to get it out of his grasp without too much trouble.
"Give 't back!" Darien protested angrily, lunging up off of the bed in an attempt to stop Bobby but succeeding only in falling to the floor in an ungainly heap.
Bobby could feel his temper flaring out of control. "You want it?" he asked, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Well, you can have it!" He threw the can, which missed Darien's head by mere inches before crashing into the wall.
Darien looked over at the beer can and then back at Bobby with an almost comical expression of surprise on his face. "What's yer problem?" he yelped, giving Bobby a nervous look.
Bobby's anger faded as he looked at Darien lying so despondently on the floor. He hadn't seen Darien take more than the occasional beer during the last two months; whatever had caused this sudden bout of alcoholism was probably very serious. "Sorry," he mumbled, sitting down next to Darien. "Why'd you do this?" he asked, gesturing around the room at all the empty cans lying around. "You don't exactly seem the type."
Darien laughed bitterly. "You'd be surprised..." Then he looked up at Bobby, a slightly perplexed look on his face. "What're you doin' here, anyway?"
"We've got a job tonight, remember?"
Darien frowned. "Yeah, I remember."
Bobby gave Darien an exasperated look. "Then why'd you go and do this?"
"Wanted t' forget," Darien said in a somber tone.
Bobby shook his head. "Fielding, you're not making any sense." He paused for a minute and then asked in a quieter tone, "You wanna talk about it?" He was hoping Darien would give him an explanation of some kind, but Darien said nothing. "Guess not."
Darien abruptly made an attempt to get up, a slightly panicked expression on his face. "Umm, be right back..." He promptly made a mad dash for his bathroom. Moments later, retching sounds could quite clearly be heard coming from the general vicinity.
Bobby heaved a deep sigh, running a hand across his face. "It's gonna be a long day..." He could only hope that Darien had made it to the toilet.
**********
Bobby spent the rest of the morning caring for Darien and cleaning up his apartment. But as morning wore on into afternoon Darien's temperament showed no signs of improvement, thanks to that wonderful malady known as a hangover. "Get up," Bobby said, poking the rumpled figure that was entwined in the sheets.
Darien let out a loud moan. "Too bright."
Bobby continued to prod Darien's sheet-covered body with one hand, saying in a mildly reproachful tone, "Hey, you were the one that decided to drink half the beer in the state. It's your own fault you're in this situation, now get your skinny butt outta bed!"
"If I get up I'll puke," Darien protested, making no move to get out of bed. Bobby gave Darien a sharp dig in the ribs with his elbows and then yanked the sheets off Darien's body. Darien responded by grabbing his pillow and mashing it firmly down over his head. "Go 'way."
Bobby, who was every bit as stubborn as Darien, grabbed the pillow and after a brief struggle managed to yank it out of his grasp. "Do I have to dump a bucket of cold water on you too?" he asked in a threatening tone.
Darien opened his eyes just enough to give Bobby an irritated glare, and then reluctantly sat up. "Alright, I'm up already!"
Bobby smiled. "That's better." Then he reached over and grabbed some items of clothing and a towel he had located earlier, thrusting them into Darien's arms. "Go get cleaned up. I've made some-"
Darien held up a hand, interrupting Bobby in mid-sentence. "Don't say anything that involves food."
Bobby put his hands up in mock-surrender. "Whatever you say, man." He glanced at his watch and then frowned. "Aw crap, it's getting late, I need to go. You think you'll be okay now?"
Darien nodded. "Yeah, I can handle it. Go on, get outta here," he said, waving Bobby out of the bedroom and closing the door.
Bobby shook his head. "Not even a thank-you. Typical," he muttered, turning around and preparing to leave. But before he left he made sure to gather up any remaining beer cans that weren't empty. He dropped them into the first available trash can on his way out.
**********
Darien had finished gathering together the equipment necessary for the job that night. However, there were three more things he needed to locate so he could pull this off properly. The first was relatively easy to find; he just pulled his cell phone from its charger and tucked it in his jacket pocket. The second two, however, he knew would be a little more difficult to get at.
Darien walked into the main room of his apartment, absently noting that the room seemed cleaner than he remembered it being the last time he'd seen it. He didn't dwell on that realization, though. He walked over to his bookcase and began to push it away from the wall. It was far from easy; the bookcase was extremely heavy, and would have taken Darien quite a lot of effort to move even without the books, which Bobby had placed back on the shelves. But Darien was determined, and after a couple of minutes of straining and tugging, he managed to move it.
There was a small hole in the wall, about twelve inches long and four inches high. Darien reached inside, hoping desperately that no errant spiders had decided to make it their home. He needn't have worried, though; when he pulled his hand back out, all he held was a clear plastic bag with his ID badge, his .44, and two clips of ammunition inside.
Darien opened the plastic bag and pulled out his gun and the clips of ammo, shoving one of them into the gun and the other into his pocket. He pulled out his badge, shoving that into his pocket as well. Then, after making sure his gun's safety was on, he placed it in his duffle bag along with the rest of his equipment. He slung the bag over his shoulder, a frown on his face. Once again, it was time to head off to work, and once again he found himself dreading the upcoming job. However, his reasons for dreading it were very different than they had been in the past.
**********
About an hour after they had finished the robbery, Darien, Bobby, Neville, Jonathan, and Fabio were all gathered outside of a small warehouse. Darien had discretely turned on his cell phone a few minutes ago. Theoretically, Jones and the other members of whatever team he'd managed to pull together should have triangulated where the signal was coming from and be on their way by now. The only problem was Javier was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?" Jonathan asked, glancing pointedly at Fabio.
"Patience," Fabio muttered, "he'll be here soon."
"We've been waiting almost ten minutes!" Neville exclaimed, squirming anxiously.
"He will be here soon," Fabio reiterated solemnly.
Bobby glanced over at Darien. "You okay there?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough so that the others couldn't hear. "You look a little tense."
Darien was very tense indeed, but he merely shook his head, muttering in a hushed tone, "I'm fine."
Bobby considered this for a moment and then said, "Girlfriend?"
Darien shook his head. "Definitely not."
Bobby rolled his eyes. "Well, something's bugging you."
Darien sighed, wishing he could find a way to get Bobby off his case. "I don't wanna talk about it."
Bobby frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Fabio held up a hand. "Shh! He's here!"
Sure enough, a black car had just pulled up into the parking lot. Three large, muscular guards and a man in a business suit stepped out, walking toward the warehouse. Fabio began walking toward them, carrying the case that Darien had helped to steal earlier that evening. Darien had no clue what was inside, not having had the opportunity to look yet, but if Javier wanted it, it couldn't be anything good.
"Hello sir," Fabio said, walking up to the man in the suit, who was obviously Javier. "We have the goods right here. Now, if you have the money, we can-"
"Why did you bring them?" Javier asked in a stern tone, gesturing to Darien and the others.
Fabio shrugged. "I didn't see any harm in it."
"I do," Javier growled. "That man," he said, pointing directly at Darien, "is a federal agent!" Javier's men pulled out their firearms, aiming them at Darien.
There was a whirl of responses from the other members of the thieving ring. Bobby shook his head in disbelief, saying that there must have been some kind of mistake. Jonathan whirled on Darien with a dangerous look in his eyes, exclaiming, "I knew he was trouble!" at the top of his lungs. Neville's mouth dropped open in shock, and Fabio immediately began protesting the presence of the guns currently being aimed at Darien's person.
Darien, on the other hand, was trying to keep himself from panicking. There was no way he could immediately tell whether Javier really knew or was just suspicious. So, he opted for the smart-aleck routine. "Me? A fed?" He laughed, shaking his head in feigned amusement. "Pull the other one."
"I don't joke, Mister Fielding. Or should I say Mister Fawkes?" Javier said, giving Darien a pointed look. "I always make sure to do a very thorough background check on all of my employees, no matter how miniscule they may seem. A very, very thorough background check. Too bad you didn't think to do the same," he hissed, glancing over at Fabio. He looked at his men and then gestured at Darien, saying in an authorative tone, "Shoot him."
