Epilogue

Six years later

Darien logged onto his computer and clicked the AOL icon on the desktop.  It pulled up the internet browser, signing him up on Instant Messenger as well.  Darien was just about to check his e-mail when he noticed the current headline the news ticker was displaying.  It was a headline for a story about a molester of the elderly who was currently on trial.  Normally Darien would have paid no attention to it whatsoever, but this time he felt a chill run up his spine.  The accused molester's name was listed in the headline as 'Robert Hobbes'.

It couldn't be him, Darien reasoned.  Bobby Hobbes wouldn't do something like that; it had to be someone with the same name, that was all.  Still, he found himself clicking on the headline as it scrolled across the ticker so that he could get the full story.  As the article began to display itself in his browser Darien's eyes widened.  The picture that was loading on his screen was unmistakable.  There, in a simple black suit, a slightly shocked look on his face, was Bobby Hobbes.

"Aw crap," he muttered quietly, running a hand over his face.  Just then an instant message popped up on his screen.

QS9300: Hey bro, wassup?

Ah yes, that would be Kevin.  Darien didn't understand why Kevin would want to use the name of the project he was currently working on, but he wasn't going to pry.  It was entirely possible that it was an inside joke of some kind that he hadn't been filled in on yet.  Just because he was the chief of security for said project didn't mean he was best buddies with all the techies and scientists hanging around the place.  He typed in a few words on the keyboard and then sent his reply to Kevin's question.

FuriousD: Something strange.

QS9300: Yeah?  Strange how?

FuriousD: A friend of mine's on trial.

QS9300: What'd he do, get caught putting an illegal tap on a phone line?

Darien frowned, momentarily puzzled, and then realized that Kevin had probably assumed that the person in question was an old friend from the FBI or something.

FuriousD: No, not a fibbie.

FuriousD: A thief.

QS9300: Let me guess.  From the undercover job, right?

FuriousD: You hit the nail on the head.

QS9300: Well, considering he's a career criminal, it's not that unusual.

FuriousD: But he couldn't have done this.

QS9300: What are you talking about?

FuriousD: Check out the top stories on AOL today.

QS9300: There are a lot of top stories, Darien.

FuriousD: They're trying to set him up as a molester of the elderly.

QS9300: Oh.

FuriousD: He wouldn't do that.

QS9300: How would you know?

QS9300: I mean, people's... preferences... can differ.

Darien felt a surge of anger run through him at this.  He had known Bobby, had known him quite well.  There was no way Bobby was homosexual, and definitely no way he'd ever be interested in jumping an old man on Medicare.  Darien began typing furiously, his hands flying over the keyboard.

FuriousD: Look, I know this guy, and there is no way he'd do something like this.

FuriousD: I'd be guessing he was either set up

FuriousD: or he was robbing the old guy's and something went wrong.

FuriousD: He's a thief, not a sicko!

QS9300: Okay, okay!  I was just saying.

FuriousD: I know what you were saying, and I don't appreciate it.

QS9300: What is he, a saint?

FuriousD: No, but he's not some creep either.

FuriousD: He's a good guy, he just fell in with the wrong crowd and stuff.

FuriousD: The way things are going so far, he'll probably get sent up for life.

QS9300: And he really doesn't deserve it, huh?

FuriousD: Of course not!  If things had gone differently in his life, he coulda been a cop.

QS9300: From criminal to cop.  I've always said you had a vivid imagination.

FuriousD: Come on Kev, I'm serious.

FuriousD: He's a good guy.  He just chose the wrong job.

Darien received no response for quite some time.  After a few minutes he decided Kevin had given up on the conversation and started to check his e-mail like he'd intended to in the first place, but then a message from Kevin appeared on the screen.

QS9300: So, do you think we should do something about it?

Darien stared at his computer monitor for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face.  Then he began to type again.

FuriousD: What can we do?  We don't have any proof he isn't guilty, and it's not like we could break him out of jail.

QS9300: I could talk to the Official, see if he'd make a deal for your friend like he did for you.

FuriousD: Would he do that?

FuriousD: I mean, hiring me and exonerating a known criminal aren't exactly the same thing.

QS9300: Leave the specifics up to me.  Do you really think getting him out would be the right thing?

FuriousD: Yeah.  It'd be the right thing.

QS9300: Okay then.

QS9300: Look, I gotta go, the missus says it's my turn to cook.  We'll talk about this later though, okay?

FuriousD: Okay.  ttyl, Kev.

QS9300: Talk to you later, D.

*QS9300 has signed off*

The End

Ending notes (a.k.a. my thank you list): As always, I would like to thank my wonnaful beta reader Invision, who has saved my butt any number of times.  I'd like to thank A.X. Zanier, for bribing me into getting back to work on this story (something I am very grateful for).  I'd also like to thank Drakkar, for helping me figure out how to properly deal with a section of part 4 that I was having trouble with.  And, last but definitely not least, I would like to thank Naomi, a.k.a. iwomans_sister, a.k.a. my beta listener, for listening to my rants on not just this story, but all the rest of the 'Reversed Images' series to come (yes, if the bunnies have their way this will eventually become a series), as well as several other plot bunnies to boot.  Thank you, ladies!  Words cannot express how grateful I am to y'all.

Oh, one more thing: I had Darien call Jones a twit for a reason.  I firmly believe that Jones is a twit.  But, when calling someone a twit, there's something you have to know -- a twit is a pregnant goldfish.  Jones is a twit.  Therefore, he is a pregnant goldfish.  I'll never be able to think of him the same way again...  ;)

liz_Z