Transference
Author's Note: For those of you who are fans of the series "C.S.I.", this fic takes place immediately following the episode "Table Stakes." All you Imaniacs, between "Small World" and "Legends"
Bobby Hobbes belched.
Darien rolled his eyes and said, "And you wonder why I'M the only one who'll eat dinner with you."
Hobbes wiped off his mouth and pushed his plate away. ""I'm stuffed, partner. Stuff-ola. Could not eat another bite." He checked his watch and said, "Looks like I'm headin' out. You catch this one?" He asked, indicating the plates.
Darien nodded. "Yeah, sure... but you get lunch tomorrow."
"Sure thing, partner. See you then, all right?"
"All right."
Hobbes stood and walked out of the restaurant, nabbing a fortune cookie out of the container next to the cash register.
Darien Fawkes cracked open the fortune cookie that had been delivered with the check and fished out the small slip of paper inside. He set it on the napkin and proceeded to crunch into the actual cookie. He found that most people threw this part away but he found it sweet, enjoyable. He never passed up the chance to taste the texture of a fortune cookie. He often found it more fulfilling than the proverb found inside. When he finished, he picked up the fortune and unfolded it.
"The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials."
He shrugged and opened his wallet, adding this to the dozens already there. Pulling out a ten, he placed a tip next to the plate and slid to the edge of the booth.
It was then that the old man stepped up to the table. "Greetings, sir. Was the meal... satisfactory?"
"Uh... Yeah. Fine."
"I am pleased to hear that. Do you desire anything further? Dessert? Another drink, perhaps?"
"Uh, no, I'm good."
"Peace?"
Darien paused. "Pardon?"
"I offer peace to you, my son. Come. Follow me." He turned on his heel and began walking towards the back of the restaurant. Darien watched the ancient man slide away, his robes hiding his feet and giving the impression he was floating. After a bit of mental battle, he stood and followed through the swinging doors of the kitchen.
A Chinese boy looked up from the meal he was preparing, his eyes partially hidden behind dark black bangs. The look was fleeting; in under a second the boy was back to chopping greens. Darien continued and found the door the old man had disappeared into. Cracking the door, he peered inside.
The old man had sat behind an old folding table covered with spices, herbs and pots of water. A chill ran down Darien's spine and he wasn't sure why. He had the sudden urge to turn and run, run until he got home and jumped into bed. Against his better judgement, he entered the room and sat across from the man.
"You... are afflicted with a terrible curse. This curse holds you, confines you. It is a barrier to your freedom."
"You could say that..."
"This curse causes you to lose control. The ones who hold you hold the cure to this. Am I correct?"
Darien remained silent.
"I am... I am... Great evil has affected you. It reaches down to your very core, surrounds you at all times of the day and clutches at your throat like a demon pulling you into hell. Every day is a battle against the base desires of yourself. You are living a true hell..."
Darien looked at the herbs. "What did you say about peace?"
"I can stop the curse from holding you. I can release you from your bonds, both mental and physical. You will be free forever more."
Darien's mind reeled. Free? Free of the Agency, of counteragent, of the gland, of Arnaud? It was a lot of things for an old Chinese man to promise. "How?"
"Trust me. My followers call me the Apothecary."
"Followers?" He stood. "Okay, is this some sort of cult thing? Cause all I really wanted was some kung pao chicken..."
The Apothecary laughed. "It is not a cult, I assure you. Please, sit." Darien reluctantly complied. "All I ask is that you allow yourself to be freed. I will charge you nothing; no harm will come to you. To be free, all you must do is drink."
"Drink?"
The Apothecary reached across the table, his bony hands shaking uncontrollably. He picked up a small vial containing green leaves and red berries. Pouring this into a mixing cup, he found a second vial. This one held some sort of blue berries. He added this to the mixing cup and picked up a blunt wooden tool. He mashed the ingredients to a fine powder, then poured it into a sake cup. He slid it to the center of the table and sat back.
The drink smelled like cinnamon; it looked like sewer water. Darien lifted the glass and asked, "This won't make me run through the halls, stripping off my clothes... will it?"
"Of course not. It will free your mind from the demon that holds it. Drink."
Darien thought, 'Well, like the old song says... I held my nose, I closed my eyes....'
He took a drink.
The Apothecary nodded slowly. "Go. Worry no more. You are free."
---
AJ Cross pulled down the lever on the one-armed bandit and began chanting under his breath as the three slots spun rapidly. "Come on, baby... come on, baby... come on..."
Cherry... cherry... 7...
"AW! Come on!" He slapped the side of the machine in frustration and looked into his coin jar. He had roughly ten dollars left out of 200. With a groan of disappointment, he decided to cut his losses and give in. He walked away from the machine and went deeper into the casino.
Las Vegas, Nevada. Not the normal destination for a two-week getaway. Well, at least not for Arthur Jamison Cross. His idea of a vacation was sitting at home, falling asleep in the recliner with a beer in one hand, potato chips in the other and some inane game show playing on TV. But this year, the wife had won out and they actually scrapped together an actual vacation. They'd loaded up the station wagon and headed out to Sin City itself.
Now, Cross was wishing he was back in that recliner. He had lost one-hundred and ninety dollars. Who could tell how much his wife had lost by now. As he headed for the exit of the casino, he spotted someone walking away from a slot machine in anger. Chewing his lip, AJ Cross decided that, for once in his life, he was going to take a chance.
He pounced on the recently vacated machine and pumped in a coin. Pulling down the arm, he began chanting, "Don't fail me now, don't fail me now..."
Seven... Seven... Seven... Jackpot!
Bells rang, lights flashed and people screamed, several people patted him on the back. Cross was in shock. He stared at the coins filling the tray and tried to catch his breath. Jackpot... he had hit the jackpot! He was a winner! He gathered the coins, already planning on how he would tell Shannon...
---
That night, as Darien Fawkes brushed his teeth, he looked at himself in the mirror, then checked his tattoo. He looked back into the mirror and stuck his tongue out.
He didn't FEEL any different.
He didn't LOOK any different.
The tattoo was two segments full; same as it had been before he had taken the Chinese man's potion. All he had gotten was a purple tongue from the red and blue berries. He sighed and shut off the bathroom light. Climbing into bed, he remembered the fortune he had gotten earlier. The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials. Trials like quicksilver madness, he guessed. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.
---
Once he was alone again, the Apothecary picked up the glass and poured the remaining liquid into a small candle holder. Lighting a match, he lit the wick and watched as the drink burst into flames. Thick plumes of silver-colored smoke rose from the candle. The Apothecary blew softly, sending the smoke forward. It would reach it's destination soon enough.
Soon enough...
---
That night, Shannon and AJ made love like they hadn't in a long time. Hell, ever. When they finally stopped to rest, Shannon picked up AJ's coin bucket and grabbed a handful, letting it slip through her slender fingers and clank against the other coins. She laughed and said, "Outstanding! How did you win all of this?"
AJ sighed, smiling. "I told you three times."
She curled up against his side, stroking his chest. AJ hadn't been an athlete since high school, and his muscle tone showed it. Most of his muscle was beginning to turn to flab, but for the most part his torso was firm. She kissed his shoulder and whispered, "Tell me again."
Brushing a strand of Shannon's light brown hair out of her face, he said, "I slid a coin in the slot machine... and I won. I was on a high. Blackjack, poker, slots... After that first win, baby, I was unstoppable. I was a walking ATM..."
"How much did you win?"
AJ smiled. "You know how much."
She slid her hands down his stomach, traveling lower. "How... much... money?"
AJ drew out his words. "Two... Hundred..." He gasped as she began to stroke him slowly. "Thousand... Seven Hundred... and three dollars..."
Shannon captured his lips with her own and threw her leg over his waist. She whispered, "Make love to me again..."
AJ kissed his wife as she straddled him, trying to ignore the faint trembling at the back of his skull...
---
Several minutes before dawn broke, AJ woke to the stong smell of smoke in the hotel room. He sat up quickly, searching for the flames. Shannon was still draped across him, dead to the world for a few more hours.
AJ swung his legs onto the floor and stood, shivering in the early morning coldness of the room. His once powerful legs shook as he walked from the bed to the bathroom. He flipped on the lightswitch and looked at himself in the mirror. For a fleeting moment, he could have sworn his eyes were blood red. He blinked, rubbing his face and looking again. His eyes were normal.
It was when he turned the lights off that it happened.
A headache shot through the back of his skull, running the length of his spine before clutching his skull with it's painful fingers. He moaned and dropped to his knees. The pain was intense, but fleeting; like an ice cream headache. He blinked several more times, then found his bearings and stood. He climbed back in bed, kissed his wife's forehead, and pulled the blankets tightly around his nude form.
When the alarm clock he had brought from home rang two hours later, he was still trying to fall asleep...