Girl Like That
By: Bre the Cheez
Summary- Why does Claire have so many secrets? (Please read and review)
Rating- PG
Disclaimer- All characters in this story are property of Sci-Fi Channel and everyone else that owns them, not me. The title is from Matchbox 20.
~*~*~
"Arnaud?" a voice called from the darkness as soon as the door quietly clicked shut. "I know you're here, so you bloody well better show yourself." The richly accented female voice was lightly yelling, but it echoed off each carefully decorated wall, making her shudder at the apparent loneliness. The blonde woman wasn't all that sure that Arnaud de Föhn was actually home in his giant, Victorian mansion, but always better to feign superiority with him instead of giving him the upper hand, as she had learned before. She swiped a loose lock of hair behind her head unconsciously, and slowly advanced further into the mansion, brown leather coat still in hand from when she had taken it off outside of the door.
Immediately, her demand was fulfilled, and the room flooded with bright yellow lights. She shielded her currently sensitive eyes with her hand and found herself face to face with a dark haired, handsome, yet tired-looking, man. At first his dark features were gruff and angry, then, as realization hit, a smile formed on his lips.
"My dear sister," he greeted her, and his accent was different from hers, a mix between German and that of his home, Switzerland. He wrapped his robed arms around her small figure warmly, then kissed both of her cheeks. Letting go, he added, "Welcome back."
She smiled as well, dropping her jacket on the dark green sofa. "Well, I haven't seen this place in a few months." She ran a hand down the couch fondly. "I've actually missed it. The Keep doesn't even compare to home."
"And I'm sure it's missed you as well, Claire," Arnaud said with a grin. He motioned for her to have a seat, and she obeyed, followed by him. "Speaking of The Keep, though…" He paused, knowing that she would understand where he was going with that sentence.
Claire knew. "Don't worry, brother, things are coming along fine, just slower than anticipated. Darien doesn't suspect a thing, so he won't interfere."
He nodded in approval. "Good, good. How is progress, though? Are you far from being done?" He turned in his seat to face her and rested his arm over the back of the couch comfortably with an anxious look plastered to his face, as per usual when Darien Fawkes was the current topic of discussion.
She hesitated. "I can't give you an exact time when I'll be done fixing the minor glitches in the gland, but I can assure you it won't be long. I'm gathering information right now, not acting on it. Don't worry about it. No one believes that I would possibly be a double agent."
Arnaud looked at her for a moment. "I wonder, sometimes, what would have become of you if my parents hadn't adopted you."
"Well, for one thing, you'd be further behind on research on Darien. You'd also be stuck invisible still, since I wouldn't have been able to help you."
"Good enough reasons," he told her, still in a good mood from her news, and return. "You know, I'm glad we have a little time together not playing enemies as usual. It gets tiring."
Claire nodded in agreement. "Although… I'm actually surprised that no one is on to us yet. They're supposed to be federal agents, for God's sake. Really says a lot for The Agency."
"You have a point, my dear. But the worse they are, the better off we are. Just continue to keep an eye on them, especially Darien. We wouldn't want anything to happen to that gland of his. Just make sure he stays safe for a while."
"No problem." There was a quick moment of silence. Neither knew what to say to the other since they usually only spoke about Darien and the gland.
Claire broke the ice. "So, how's Huisclos?"
~*~*~
Darien Fawkes strolled casually into The Keep early Monday morning, the only day he would ever consider coming in early. There was only one reason for that, and it had nothing to do with his being responsible, because anyone who ever worked with, or even knew Darien had found out how irresponsible he could be, unless it involved something he enjoyed. And it was quite obvious that he didn't enjoy working at The Agency, despite a few perks, including his best friend, Bobby Hobbes, and his Monday morning shot. Hence being on time.
"Hey, Keeps," he said in a sing-song voice, his body moving to music he was hearing in his mind. Obviously some rock song he had been listening to on the way to work.
"Good morning, Darien," she replied, getting his shot ready for him on the other side of the lab. He sat down in the dentist-like chair that sat in the middle of the room, and waited.
"So, how was your weekend?" he asked her, trying to make conversation.
"It was nice, actually. I stayed home, and mostly relaxed." She was good at side-stepping the truth- Darien didn't even cross-examine her on her vagueness. "Yours?" She pushed his sleeve up, above his elbow, and readied the shot before sticking into his arm. He didn't even grimace anymore, he had gotten so used to it.
"The usual. Me and Hobbes went bowling once, I won. Again. You know, he really should be a little more modest about his… "bowling ability". Seriously. Have you ever seen him play?"
Claire had to shake her head, but the image was… interesting. She tried not to concentrate on his words, or else she felt herself being dragged into what he was saying, and she didn't want to get attached. She was already getting closer than she wanted to, closer than Arnaud wanted her to. But she was still fixed on the plan, glad that she wasn't really close enough to him to regret her betrayal. She smiled once, pretending to hear him, but she only saw his lips move as she though about her situation.
"Hey, Claire?"
"Mm?" She looked up at him.
"Why won't you tell me your last name?"
She flinched inwardly, not expecting the question, but she didn't show her surprise. Arnaud had taught her that much. "Someday I'll tell you, Darien. Someday." But she knew that was a lie. By the time he found out, he would be in Arnaud's hands, and on his deathbed, and she wouldn't need to tell him by then. And she assumed 'then' would be coming very soon.
End.