Disclaimer: I don't own The Invisible Man or anything related to it. I just watch and write for the sheer pleasure of writing.
Author's Note: This is my first fic for I-Man, please be kind. It takes place between the end of the first season and the beginning of the second season. Plus, this isn't my usually writing genre, I'm not sure what came over me! Sorry for all the P's between the lines, I think I finally got this whole formating thing down now. :)
Dark Musings
"Back off would you? Just back the hell off!" Darien yelled as he backed up against the far wall of the white padded room. He raised his hands to warn her away. His eyes felt like they were bleeding they were pounding so hard and his body shook, but he couldn't tell if it was physical or emotional at this point.
"Darien, you're being unreasonable, come on, just let me give you the shot." Claire tried again, almost pleading with him this time.
"No!" Darien screamed out, hands clasping into fists of rage as he unconsciously took a few steps towards her, the look of murder reverberating off his face. She quickly backed up, fear glimmering in her eyes though her face didn't show it and she refused to run from the room.
With a cry of frustration Darien stopped his advance, turning away with whatever ounce of control he still had. Turning back to the wall his fists pounded, again and again, yearning for the hardness of something more solid. He squinted his eyes shut, they hurt, worse than he'd ever felt, worse than the pain in his neck had ever been.
Suddenly hugging himself, he felt like the nerves in his body were exploding, he just wanted it to end. He couldn't feel, didn't even realize as his fingers clawed into his arms that they were drawing ragged grooves, beads of blood marking the lines.
A light touch on his shoulder pulled his attention away from the pain, his hand springing back to clasp the Keeper's raise arm in a vice grip. She stood there looking up at him, her mouth partially open as she swallowed her outcry. Then she spoke, keeping her voice even and calm, "Just one shot. I promise, the pain will go away."
He didn't know how long he just gazed at her, standing there still holding her wrist. Like frozen time they waited, each anticipating the other to react. Darien felt numb inside, he couldn't think anymore. He let go of his grip and with a dull voice replied, "Okay."
Claire was careful not to move too quickly. In fact, she moved as slow as humanly possible without standing still as she lowered her throbbing hand back to her side and pulled the cap off the needle, always making sure not to break eye contact with him. She didn't even want to blink for fear of loosing the ground she had just gained.
He stared at her like he was in some hypnotic state, her clinical mind surmised a part of him probably was, and with gentle ease, working by feel alone, she pushed the needle slowly into his arm. As soon as the liquid had entered his system and the needle was extracted, his eyes began to dilate. He sank back against the padded wall as a wave of inertia engrossed him from the chemical's toxins. Moments later, his head lulling to the side, he sank to the ground, the keeper helping to ease his dissent until he was slumped in unconsciousness.
Sighing heavily, Claire put the needle back in her pocket then checked his vitals. His pulse was steady and strong, but when she pulled back his eyes lids, his pupils were twice the size they should have been, and droplets of blood accumulated at the corners.
The door to the padded room opened and Hobbes solemnly stepped in. Claire had convinced everyone to stay out even if the situation had turned ugly, which it almost had. "How's he doing?" Bobby questioned coming up next to her.
She looked up at him, the guilt in his eyes was evident. His whole manor, hands half hanging from his pockets, his body slightly stooped over, it was so unBobby like that she wondered if she shouldn't be worried about him, too. "Not good," she stated with simple honesty. He merely nodded.
Truth being, Claire thought to herself, the only real good thing they had going was that the snake tattoo was only half filled. She wasn't sure what they'd do if QuickSilver Madness had been added to all this.
*****
"My forensics professor once said, 'not all your problems can be solved under the scope.' I think he might be right."
Bobby walked through the metal door that locked in the agency's secrets. You could barely tell it was the same Keep it had been three days ago. The fish had been shoved into the corner to make room for Claire's lab work. Machinery and monitors of all types and sizes occupied the old lab space. And in the middle of it all, the modified dentist chair with its restraints was currently being used as a bed.
Stepping softly in, he attracted Claire's attention from the notebook she was quickly scribbling in. For a second she looked surprised to see him, but she waved him in encouragingly and greeted, "Bobby, come in. How are you?"
"I'm good," he replied although his tone was bland. Claire frowned slightly with worry. Hobbes didn't notice, his eyes were glued to the unconscious person lying deathly still on the makeshift bed. Wires and small clear tubes ran from Darien's body to the monitors and the current IV drip.
A small sigh escaped Bobby's lips as he stepped up to the side of the bed, his hand covering Darien's. Darien didn't react, not a single twitch to indicate any life, nothing other than the slight rhythm of his blood pulsating through his wrist. Bobby left his hand there a few minutes longer, letting himself be reassured by the steady beat as his eyes studied the lax expression on his partners face. It didn't look as peaceful as he had hope, more like there was a void, just a lack of life. It pained Bobby to see his partner like this, especially knowing it was his fault.
Breathing out a sigh he turned away. He had avoided this room for the last three days as much as possible, and now that he was here, he knew he didn't want to leave. Claire stood by a microscope, but she'd been watching him instead of looking through the lens. She bit her lip, then softly asked, "You alright?"
"Ya," Bobby responded, he looked about locating a chair. "I think I'm gonna stay a while," he told her.
The Keeper nodded. Inwardly she felt relieved, it was a step in the right direction. "I think he'd like that," she said with a slight smile.
"Ya," Bobby replied, but his voice sounded numb. Still, he settled into the chair and Claire went back to her work in the awkward silence.
Bobby had been lost in his thoughts when the first sign of life entered Darien. His fingers twitched, and a small beep entered the throng of sounds that surrounded him. The change pulled at Bobby's awareness, pushing through the fog that surrounded his thoughts with alarm. Darien's fingers twitched again, then his chest seemed to give a little jump.
Bobby was only just realizing it when suddenly Darien's body began to heave. His arms and legs were going taunt against the restraints and his head would have bent back if the back of the chair wasn't stopping him. At the same time a shrill collection of sounds leapt from the mechanical boxes as several sensors went off in a panicked frenzy. Darien was twitching even more now, it was quickly growing more violent and strained. Despite the restraints already holding Darien's limbs, Bobby automatically grabbed the nearest wrist. The spastic shaking that began to wrack Darien's body sent shivers of ice up Bobby's back. "Claire! Get over here!" He cried out.
Alerted by the monitors she was already moving the short distance from the lab to the side of the bed. Pushing down thoughts of panic, she forced herself to be clinical and calm as she quickly checked each sensor. "What's wrong?" Bobby demanded.
"He's having a seizure," she replied. "We need to..." her words faded as she looked frantically around. Spying a pencil on the counter she grabbed it and tried to get it into Darien's mouth. "He could choke himself," she told Bobby. The violent twitching was getting worse, and his head jerked back from her hands.
Bobby reached out and together they managed to place the piece of wood across his mouth preventing the tongue from rolling back. Claire had Bobby hold it there while she worked. He was glad for something to do and almost cried as he vainly tried to hold Darien's head still. Then at last it was over, and Darien's body went limp, but no sigh of relief escaped his lips, virtually no movement betrayed him to be alive. His skin had drained of color turning a pasty white as it glimmered with a coating of sweat. He looked less alive than he had before.
Still working, checking everything, adding another liquid to the IV drip, Claire at last took the pencil out and grabbing her pen light checked his eyes. Claire swore suddenly, anger covering her face.
"Claire, what?" Bobby asked, but he could see it for himself. The whites of Darien's eyes had turned a blood red. Hobbes' eyes automatically went to the wrist where the tattoo lay, but it was covered up by the restraint.
Leaning back against the counter, Claire's fingers ran through her hair and she hugged herself against her frustration. "I can't believe..." She began but cut her words off as she fought with her guilt.
"Hey, Keepie." Hobbes stated suddenly, worry creasing his face. "You've had a lot on your mind," he told her seriously.
"It's just," Claire began again, looking up at Bobby. She paused, her lips thinning considerably. Then with an air of frustration she finished, "I don't know what the counteragent will do to him."
The silence between them drowned out the beeping of the monitors as the two gazed into the other's eyes, their souls reflecting the same pains of guilt. Bobby swallowed, then slowly asked her, "what do you think it will do?"
She glanced down at Darien, watching as the monitors calmed down, slowly returning to the same lull of beeps she'd been living with as she had worked to find a solution to this mess. The exhaustion of the past three days, both mental and physical, was finally taking its toll. She had to force her mind to think, to work past her fears. At last she looked back to the anxious Bobby. "I think, if we don't give it to him, we'll loose him completely."
Bobby nodded, then said simply, "let's do it."
She took reassurance in his confidence, and cutting the flow of juice from the IV, she pulled the counteragent out of the fridge. They prepared for anything as Claire used the already established vein to inject the blue liquid.
After a minute, the beeps all seemed to jump a second, a couple changing tones as the sensors changed, but no alarms went off, and Darien didn't move. Claire quickly checked his eyes again, pleased to see the red fading away. Pulling the restraint off Darien's wrist, she smiled with relief to see the red snake shifting back to it's normal green.
She looked then to the monitors, the readouts had changed, but there was no sign of danger. "I have to take a blood sample," she said suddenly, her mind awakening as she looked from one piece of information to the next.
"Well?" Bobby asked from the other side of the bed.
Keep looked over at him a glimmer of hope rimming her eyes. "He's going to be fine, Bobby, I just know it."
*****
Slowly, like a dim noise across a crowded room, Darien registered the difference. His mind was wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth, and he didn't easily want to leave it. But that tug in the distance pulled at his senses, and once he turned towards it he realized with shock he couldn't turn back.
Unable to stop it, pain creased his awareness, but then it turned dull like an ancient ache, and soon his senses were noticing more, bringing with every new feeling a mix of unexplainable emotion. At last he opened his eyes but the light blasted him with an overwhelming amount of confusion.
With a soft groan he quickly closed them again. Vainly wishing for the warmth to return, instead, numbness dulled his senses till the noise filtered and his mind began to grasp at the things he knew he should know, things slowly coming back into memory.
Someone was talking to him, a low quiet voice calling his name. He clung to the familiarity of the voice and like a person rising out of a murky pool he at last placed a name. "Claire," he whispered.
There was a choked sound of relief and then she said again, "Darien, can you hear me? Open your eyes for me."
Him mind placed word after word into place, comprehension moving quicker with each growing second of consciousness. Hesitant, but willing, his eyes slit open, and blinking back the harsh light he forced them wider. A foreign white ceiling greeted him. He tried to look around but his eyesight was limited to the movement of his eyes alone. His other senses were coming back into play now and he realized with shock that his limbs felt heavy, dead. He tried to turn his head, but it refused. He couldn't move anything.
Panic rose in him as his mind grasped at the concept and fear of immobility. "I can't..." he gasped, his voice was practically mute it was so dry. "...move!" He choked out.
Her hands were on his chest as she leaned over him so he could see her. "Darien, you need to stay calm," she told him urgently, but the panic was rising even further.
"I can't move." He rasped out again, trying even harder to get his limbs to respond. Still nothing happened. He looked up, he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears and her face drawn in worry.
"It's alright, it's gonna be alright Darien," she told him soothingly but he could hear the fear in her voice. Then reaching down to his hand she squeezed one of his fingers. "Can you feel this?" She asked.
"Yes." He could feel it, but when he tried to move that same finger, it refused to respond.
Patting his hand she moved out of sight, then suddenly he felt a pinch in his leg. "Hey!' He breathed out in protest, but when she reappeared into his line of sight she was smiling widely.
"You're going to be fine Darien. You will move again, just not right now," she told him. The relief in her voice flowed to him, settling his fears into submission. The fog that was his mind was rising now as he calmed down, surrounding him, but not like it had before.
Claire gave a happy sigh of relief as she watched him drift back to sleep. Her own body reminded her just how tired she was herself, and feeling too exhausted to try and find a spare bed laid her head down against Darien's side. She was fast asleep the second her eyes closed.
Five minutes later, Eberts walked into the room, freezing to the spot, files clutched tightly in front of him. He stood perfectly still, waiting, expecting the Keeper to wake but she didn't. With a small breath he edged closer, then sighed relieved when he realized she was merely sleeping.
He looked then at Darien, the man's face looked more relaxed than it had during the weeks gone past. Looking down at the files he was supposed to get Claire to sign, he decided against waking her and put them on the near by table for her to find later. This had been a long month, for all of them, Eberts thought to himself.
With the incident they had had here the last time they had brought Darien to Fort Leavitt, and the current situation, the Official had declared that one of them was to be with Darien at all times. So keeping with that, and still getting all the work done had been a difficult challenge. They had come back and forth through security so many times now that Eberts knew all the gate guards by name and no doubt Hobbes knew all the nurses.
With a small smile Eberts left the room again, if someone asked, he'd say he got distracted and merely forgot the papers there.
*****
When Darien woke again, he was still in the same room, and it was still Claire at his side, although unknown to him a couple days had passed since he had first opened his eyes.
Claire looked over from her book with a smile when she saw him looking around. Putting the book down she put a straw to his lips. "Here, sip this, it'll help."
The water was warm and the taste was awful in his mouth but the wetness eased his dry throat. Darien swallowed several times before she pulled it away, preventing him from having too much. He blinked away the crust that rimmed his eyes. She helped, then beaming down at him greeted. "Hey. Welcome back."
"Where..." His voice was still too dry to talk and he automatically tried to clear it but that just made things worse.
She let him have another sip to help ease the tenseness, then told him, understanding his question, "We're at Fort Leavitt. They helped me save you."
"Why can't...move," he breathed out, his voice a whisper.
She pursed her lips in thought, then explained to him, choosing as she usually did the truth over any smoothed over fabrication. "You were exposed to a radioactive chemical compound, Darien. Not only did you end up with radiation poisoning but the gland reacted as well. The toxins had mutated and clustered in your blood. It wasn't until you went quicksilver mad that I realized what was happening. The quicksilver had driven the remaining toxins to your brain where it solidified into a tumor. We had to operate to eradicate the tumor." She paused slightly then said, "there was some cerebral damage." Seeing the panic in his eyes she quickly reassured, "but it doesn't seem to be anything lasting. The human mind only uses an average of ten percent of its brain at most. You're not paralyzed," she told him firmly. "You just, you just need to learn how to move again." Then she smiled and gripped his hand. "You're already doing extremely well, Darien, it won't be long before you're back on your feet, trust me."
He nodded, ever so slightly, but it was a nod. And her grin widened in response. He thought he understood now, but it still felt odd to him. Frustrating.
The next few days inched by for Darien with increasing slowness. The Keeper had been right, he would move again, and after a lot of mental struggle he achieved the barest of accomplishments, but at least it was something.
"Here, let me," Eberts said, automatically reaching to help Darien to lift the juice container to his lips.
Darien scowled. "No, stop it. I can do this much on my own,, ya know!" He complained.
Eberts immediate backed off, a guilty look washing over him. "Sorry," he apologized, but jumped forward again when Darien reflectively tried to shift and lost his grip on the box. The studious helper caught it before the purple liquid could do any damage. With Eberts now holding the offensive carton, Darien slumped his head back letting out a growl of frustration.
"Do you want me to-"
"No!" Darien snapped. He hated this, a lot.
Across the room, the door opened to admit the Keeper and the Official. "How we doing?" Claire asked cheerfully.
"Great!" Darien stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Eberts grimaced and put the juice carton down on the side table next to the other odds and ends of half eaten food.
Claire's smile didn't fade. "I can see that."
Darien closed his eyes against her cheeriness, he wanted to wallow in self pity a few moments longer. Then suddenly he asked, "Say, when can I get out of here?"
The Official chuckled and replied, "When you can get to the front door by yourself!"
Darien let out a groan. That would be a while with the rate he was moving at. "You know, I'm surprised you didn't just give up and take the gland," Darien commented drolly.
Nervous looks passed between the other occupants but the Official told him, "Believe it or not, Darien, you may be a pain in my side, but you're worth saving."
Darien was genuinely touched, he never thought he'd hear the Official say anything halfway sentimental, let alone actually care. Then the Keeper grinned and added, "Besides, we couldn't salvage the gland without removing the tumor anyway. There was already the cost of one operation, why go to the trouble of a second?"
Darien glared at her. "Thanks for bursting my bubble, there Keepie!" Yet the warm feeling that had risen with the Official's words didn't fade and Claire's grin was quickly becoming infectious.
"Alright folks." The Official stated, back to business as usual. "Eberts, I need those reports from yesterday done," He stated.
"Yes, sir." The man was up in an instant but still gave Darien a quick grin. "I'll be back tonight for my next shift." Darien just nodded. Since he'd waken he hadn't had a moment to himself, even at night. Which was fine by him, the idea of being alone and immobile for long periods of time was something he was trying very hard not to think about.
"Hey, what about Hobbes?" Darien asked before the Official and Eberts could leave the room. He hadn't seen his partner once since he'd waken. "When's his shift?"
The Official hesitated slightly but then formally told the man, "Bobby's on assignment. He still has work to do. Unlike you who only has to get better!"
"Ya, like that's easy," Darien grumbled as the other two men left the room leaving him and the Keeper alone. Claire was still smiling. "What?" Darien asked her with a frown.
"Well, we've got a lot of work ahead of us." She stated then coming around to the side of his bed and pulling back the blankets told him, "Today you start your therapy."
"Therapy?" Wasn't holding things and just moving his toes hard enough?
"That's right. You're doing fabulous with training your limbs to move again, but your muscles have had time to atrophy, we need to build them up again."
Being fed, dressed, and washed, was something Darien still was having a hard time getting used to, but now, Claire was even helping him move. Exercise, she called it, but to him he felt like a paper doll being folded back and forth. Still, the movement was refreshing, and he actually felt tired when they were done, like he had really done some sort of workout.
"You know, Darien got out last night," She said to him as they talked about the mundane events he'd missed over the last month. "Darien the rat that is."
"Oh? He's not, he didn't, you know..." Darien didn't want to say it, he had become quite attached to that rat.
Claire just laughed at his worry, "No I found him, but it was in the weirdest of places." Her grin looked ready to crack her face.
"Oh?" Darien asked on the edge of anticipation.
She covered her mouth briefly trying to contain her laughter. "Well, I didn't even know he'd gotten out till this morning. I had only just gotten up, and Pavlov was curled up at tight as a button at the end of my bed when I noticed there was something odd sticking out of Pavlov's hair."
Darien was smiling now, too. His mind immediately jumped to the conclusion. "You're kidding!"
She shook her head with mirth. "Nope. There he was, curled up right next to my dog. And Pavlov for the life of him could have cared less. It was sincerely adorable. I wish I had had my camera." She helped him up into a more comfortable sitting position.
"I wish I'd been there," Darien replied.
Claire paused, there was more to his wish than the obvious. With a smile and a pat she told him confidently, "Soon, Darien. You'll get out of here soon."
They spent the rest of the evening with a movie and a pack of cards. There was really only so much a person could do confined to a hospital bed, and Claire thought holding cards was good practice. He was getting better finger control each day, plus, once he learned the rules it wasn't long before it became hard to beat him.
"Remind me not to play poker with you," Claire murmured as he laid the winning hand down once again.
"This isn't poker, that'd be more fun," he told her plainly.
Claire picked up the book from the desk, it's cover read, 'A hundred and One Things to do With Face Cards.' She flipped through it looking for another game. "How about Go Fish?" She asked.
Darien gave her a look which she ignored, but before he could really say anything she let out a huge yawn. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, then with a small smile told him, "I'm going to go get something to drink, you want anything?" She stretched as she stood. Darien watched with envy. He had become so accustomed to his stiffness, but it was like a constant ache and there she was just moving around like it was no big deal. He never realized how much he'd taken it for granted before. Claire must have sensed his change in thoughts because she softly touched his wrist inquiring, "Darien?"
"How about a Beer?"
Grinning slightly, Claire suggested instead, "How about a pop?"
"Ya alright," he replied a little sullen, then called after her, "You didn't specify!"
Claire slightly chuckled to herself as the door closed behind her but she stopped suddenly with a start when she almost ran straight into Bobby. He'd been leaning up against the wall just outside the door. "Bobby! What are-" She quickly changed her question. "How long have you been there?"
Bobby shrugged. "A while." He looked subdued. She suspected he'd been there for quite a long time indeed.
A small silence descended in the hall, only the small sounds of the people talking and going about their business at the end of the corridor penetrated it. With a hesitant breath, Claire looked at bobby and suggested, "Why don't you go in and talk to him?"
Hobbes shrugged again, then fidgeted, coming out of his reserved behavior to reflect his nervousness. "I don't know. I don't think..." He trailed off.
Putting her hand on his arm to get his attention, Claire gave him a heartfelt smile and told him. "Darien misses you Bobby. You should go in and talk with him." Then with a small comforting pat she moved down the hall towards the vending machine.
Watching her for a second, Hobbes collected his nerves, swallowed a couple pills and sighed resigned. He put his hand on the door handle and with a small breath opened it, stepping in. "Hey buddy." Hobbes greeted with a half smile, but Darien's face completely lit up.
"Hobbes, man, where ya been?" Darien asked, completely enthralled to finally see his partner again. He knew Bobby had been avoiding him, it was obvious from the way everyone dodged answering any of his questions about Bobby's whereabouts, and confirmed by the look on Bobby's face now. Darien didn't care. The Official was all business, Eberts was okay, but Darien could only take so much computer talk, and Claire was fun, but, he seriously needed someone who would joke with him.
Bobby's smile grew slightly, encouraged by Darien's reaction. He came up by the bed replying noncommittally, "You know, the usual, work." Then Bobby added, "The Fat Man's a slave driver!"
Darien smirked. "Tell me about it! The moment I figured out how to hold a pencil he's got me filling in reports!" Bobby chuckled, but he didn't make any retort about following the book or the ethics of good detective work like usually would have so before a silence could span between them Darien asked as lightly as possible. "So, how did the Chargers do against the Raiders?" Darien had never really gotten into football but he knew Hobbes was and he was determined to get his partner talking again.
Hobbes gave Darien a sly look of disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"
Fawkes played innocent. "Hey, I've been out for a month, you think I'm going to get someone like Eberts to tell me?"
"Eberts has probably never even touched a football in his life!" Hobbes tartly replied, but it did the trick and soon Hobbes was telling Fawkes all about the highlights of the game coupled with his own personal opinions.
Fawkes doubted he'd remember much of this conversation later, only a couple of the names Bobby rambled out even registered as familiar in his mind, but Darien didn't care. He was just happy they were talking and it wasn't long before their conversations turned back to something more normal for them. The finer points of half-useless information.
Eberts tucked the video and the huge stack of reports he'd brought for late night reading further under his arm, but almost lost grip of it again when he spotted Claire leaning against the wall just outside Darien's door. "Keeper," he exclaimed rushing up. "Is anything wrong?" He was a little surprised to see her standing there just calming sipping at a can of Coke.
"No, Albert," Claire said with a huge smile. "In fact, I think things are going amazingly well."
Eberts leaned over and took a peak into the room, surprise filtering across his face when he realized it was Bobby in there with Darien. They were both smiling and laughing, and he watched as they attempted a high five. It didn't work so well, but their smiles weren't discouraged because of it. "Oh!" Eberts stated simply.
"You know," Claire said giving his shoulder a pat. "I think you can skip you shift tonight."
Eberts smiled. "Yes, I believe you're right." His mind was immediately attracted to the idea of sleep, but with a glance down at the stack in his hands he knew that wasn't a feasible option. Still, a couple hours.
"Come on," Keeper said and together the two left, leaving the agents in the room with some privacy.
*****
The days passed quicker for Darien after that. Between the Official's reports and Keeper's therapy sessions, Darien's workload only increased, but Bobby was always there to encourage him or liven the day up. In fact, he was almost constantly there, even when the Official had him on assignment, Hobbes always found some reason to drop by.
Four days later Darien finally stood for the first time. Propped up between the Keep and Hobbes, which was more than awkward considering Darien's height, but it worked. Unfortunately when he tried to put too much pressure on his feet too soon, his legs refused to cooperate. Keeper insisted it was normal, that given a week more he'd be walking again. For Darien a week was far too long.
Determined, Darien had managed to stand with only the furniture for help, but any movement and he lost it. With a growl of frustration he pushed the helping hands away and struggled to get at least to his knees on his own.
"Come on partner," Hobbes said simply, and ignoring Darien's protests pulled Fawkes' arm over his shoulder lifting the man up. "You know what I think?"
"Yea? What do you think?" Darien griped darkly.
Bobby wasn't fazed by Darien's bad temper and told him, "I think you need some fresh air, my friend. There's this cute waitress down by the cafeteria..."
"Hobbes, no." Darien immediately disputed. The only way for him to get down there was in a wheelchair, and he'd rather be stuck in this room for another month then go out in a wheelchair.
Yet Claire was in agreement with Bobby and pushed at the idea. "Darien, it'd be good for you. You've been cooped up here for a week now, not to mention the time you weren't conscious."
Darien tried to protest again but Bobby cut him off with a grin. "Come on, Fawkes, it'll be fun!"
"Guys, please!" Darien stated a little angry now. "I don't want to go!"
Darien was practically seething in the chair as Hobbes pushed from behind. "See, this isn't so bad. Fresh air, there's a nice view." Bobby commented, smiling as he flourished his hand to emphasize his point.
"Great view," Darien groused. "Sure, concrete wall, military guards everywhere!" The view wasn't much being a military fort hospital, but although he wasn't ready to admit it, the air on his face did feel good.
Darien shivered. A smile crept up his face, he'd forgotten just how good it felt. He shivered again, then looking around suddenly stated. "Let's go to that tree!"
"What?" Hobbes asked, eyeing the patio that resided at the back of the fort.
"Hobbes come on! You're the one who dragged me out here. Let's go to the tree!"
Bobby looked to the tree Darien was pointing towards, it was down the gravel slope on the grass by the wall, far from any paved path, but a look at his partner's impatient face changed Bobby's mind. He shrugged, grinning crookedly as he replied, "Sure pal." He pushed the wheelchair onto the gravel.
It was rocky going, the wheels caught on every bump and dip and Bobby was amazed when he reached the grass and hadn't managed to throw Darien out of the chair, but Darien didn't seem to care. He was reaching out to touch the tree as they neared it. A peculiar smile stretched across the man's face as his fingers felt up and down the smooth and ruff sections of the bark.
"I can't believe I forgot what this felt like," Darien murmured.
Hobbes frowned. Mimicking Darien he put his hand on the tree trunk as well, but all he felt was wood. He turned, leaning against the tree. They could still see the patio from here. Was that...? "I'd think you'd like Tiffany." He suddenly stated.
"Who?" Darien asked, a little distracted now as he reached down to touch the grass. He almost lost his balance but managed to pluck a couple blades first.
"She's actually with the FBI I think, but she's doing a medical intern here, or something like that. I was only half listen when she explained it," Bobby confessed. "But I think you'd like her." He said again trying to grab Darien interest.
Darien paused from his minute study of the grass to look up at Hobbes. Scrunching his face up, Darien bluntly asked, "Why?"
"Cause she's your type!"
"My type?" Darien asked.
"Ya, you know, your type. Don't you have a type? Everyone has a type!" Bobby stated as he crossed his arms.
Darien shrugged. "Sure I have a type, but what do you know of it? There's still a lot to me you don't know, Hobbes."
"Ya, like you don't date." Hobbes groused.
"I date!" Darien immediately protested.
"Ya? When was your last date, uh?" Bobby waited, but Darien couldn't readily answer so before he could give an excuse Bobby continued. "See, that's your problem, my friend, you're so closed off."
"Hello!" Darien exclaimed. "We don't exactly lead open book lives ya know!"
"I never said you were supposed to tell the truth!" Hobbes replied, then grumbled, "You'd think for an ex-convict that wouldn't be a problem."
A small silence lapsed between the two men but then Bobby added. "She's got great eyes!"
Darien groaned. "What?" Hobbes asked with a purely innocent expression on his face.
*****
For the next two days it rained. The dim light outside put a dank gray to the white hospital walls inside. It could very easily have been a similitude of how Darien felt. He'd been cooped up longer than he cared to wish, and the Keeper had postponed the workout today to spend her time in the lab. She told him it was critical work on the counteragent, but he couldn't help the feelings of resentment from creeping up.
Even Hobbes hadn't been able to visit today. He'd gotten a lead on some smuggling ring assignment he was on. Oddly, Bobby hadn't wanted to tell Darien any of the details, so the younger man let the matter drop.
He sighed, moving the pencil across the crossword, filling in the correct answer with only a minimal amount of energy. He'd done far too many of these today, the letters were starting to blend together with his boredom and still he was getting the correct answers.
Eberts glanced up briefly from his laptop. His fingers were flying across the keys in a blur, with barely a pause as he picked up a different report from the stack to confer to. The small table by the bed was practically overflowing with papers and reports. Darien had seen the piles only grow as the day wore on. He was bored enough he wouldn't mind it if some of the paperwork was stuff he had to fill out, but just about all the work there was Eberts'. The man was swamped so Darien was doing his best to stay out of the way. It was becoming increasingly hard.
With another exaggerated sigh he finally put the pencil down and just stared at the ceiling.
"If you're bored..." Eberts hesitantly began, feeling sympathy for the man.
"No, no it's fine." Darien quickly reassured. Yes, he was bored! By golly he was bored to death! Yet one look at Eberts' concerned face and Darien knew it wouldn't be right to get Eberts into trouble by taking his time away from his work to keep Darien...not bored. Amused was too strong a word, he thought dryly to himself. Still, it was tempting.
Right then, as if sent from on high someone knocked on his door and a second later a woman with soft brown hair pulled back in a short pony tail poked her head in.
Darien brightened immediately but before he could say anything Eberts was on his feet approaching the woman. "Yes, can I help you?" He asked stiffly.
"Eberts!" Darien protested, then introduced, "This is Tiffany. Tiffany, Eberts."
"I'm afraid you can't-" Eberts began but Darien cut him off.
"Tiffany, how are you? Come in come in!"
Tiffany smiled, her crystal blue eyes twinkling with amusement as she walked up next to his bed. "Darien, it's good to see you again. You never told me you needed the highest clearance to see you. You wouldn't believe what it took to get here," she laughed.
"Yes, um, how did you get here?" Eberts asked still standing cautiously by the door.
Darien thought Eberts looked like he was waiting for her to change into Arnaud or something. "Hey, Eberts, can you give us a few moments?" He asked.
Fidgeting uneasily Eberts protested. "Darien, I really shouldn't-"
Once again Darien cut him off. "Come on, man! Nothing's going to happen, alright?" The man didn't seem to be budging. "Hey," Darien protested, "I've been stuck in here for forever I need someone to talk to. No offense." He added quickly.
Eberts nodded, but he still said, "The Official-"
This time it was Tiffany who cut him off, as she said, laughing, "It's alright Darien. I can't stay anyway, I just wanted to bring you a book."
"No, don't go, please, don't go." He gave her the puppy dog look, and her smile brightened.
Handing him the book and patting his hand she told him, "When you're...available, give me a call."
He returned her smile and would have tried convincing her to stay but she turned and with a wave goodbye coupled with a 'get better,' she departed. Darien sighed again, a little more exaggerated than before, and merely to make his point then because he was instantly bored. Actually, his eyes were eagerly reading over the preface for the book in his hand. 'The King of the Ants: Mythological Essays.' Maybe not something he would have picked up at first, but it had to be far more interesting than a seven-letter word for split on ice!
Eberts sighed too, low and under his breath as he began to collect the piles of papers strung about on the tabletop. "The Official will be here any minute now Darien."
"Ya ya," Darien mumbled, his eyes glancing through the pages.
The door to the room opened, but it wasn't the Official who entered. "Hello, Albert, Darien," The Keeper greeted. "How are things going?"
Neither man chose to answer that question, and Eberts having managed to fit everything in either his suitcase or bag, turned to the Keeper saying instead, "I have to get this back to the office before it closes, can you..." He trailed off as Darien glared at him over the edge of his book.
Claire smiled, "Ya, I've got this." He nodded gratefully and departed as fast as possible.
"You know I'm not some child to be babysat!" He stated loudly before the man could completely vacate the room.
Pursing her lips before smiling in amusement, Claire began to open her bag as she commented, "That remains to be seen." She forestalled any of his remarks by pulling out a shot of counteragent.
"You know, I haven't gone see through is so long, I almost forgot about that stuff. Almost." He Frowned, putting the book carefully aside as he awkwardly shifted positions.
The Keeper sat down next to him and taking his arm looked at the almost red tattoo before tying the band that would coax his veins into appearance. She had done this so many times on Darien that more than half the time she could fine his vein without the help. "Have you tried going invisible yet."
Darien looked at her a little perplexed before he realized he hadn't. Not once since he'd woken up. He hissed slightly as she injected the blue liquid. Waiting a few minutes to let the counteragent to take effect and the bead of red to disappear, Darien stared at his hand, focusing hard. Unfortunately nothing happened.
"Doesn't work, does it?" Claire asked but she didn't sound too surprised.
Shaking his head he tried again with no success. "I don't get it." He finally stated. "Why is it that I can remember how to speak, and all my memories, but not how to move or use the gland?"
Keeper's lips thinned as she thought about it for a second. "Actually, you're very lucky you can remember things like speech. Most incidents that result in brain damage, the person usually looses almost all their memories and they have to start from scratch. The removal of the tumor resulted in your body and mind forgetting muscle control, and since using the gland is a lot like learning to use a muscle it must have effected it the same way."
"So the gland is fine, and I will be able to use it again." He affirmed. Half of him wished it wasn't, while the other half of him silently reminded him that the Agency wouldn't have any nneed of him at that point.
"Yes." Claire stated."But then how am I supposed to learn how to use it again?" He asked suddenly.
She kept her voice even. "I can only think of one way."
So could he. Memories of that fateful day he had first discovered his new science born ability swarmed over him. He'd been locked alone in a room with a hundred spiders, his arachnophobia raising his heart beat with his fear and bringing the gland to life. He visibly shuddered, unbidden images and feelings of hairy legs crawled up his body. "No!" He stated emphatically. "There is no way in Hell I'm doing that again!"
"There's no other way, Darien, you'll have to do it," Keeper told him, her voice flat and unwavering.
"No, no, you can't make me do it," Darien told her the agitation quickly growing. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if they did it while he was still stuck in this damn hospital! He reactively backed up an inch as he shook his head. "I'm not doing it!" The wall suddenly seemed too close to him, and inwardly he began cursing his stiff and unresponsive joints. He needed out! Now!
"Darien," Claire called to him, but he wasn't paying her any attention, he was trying to figure a way out of this place. "Darien!" She called once more, sharper this time.
"What?!" He snapped. "You can't make me go through that again!"
"Look down at your hands," she told him calmly.
"What?" He looked down, but his hands weren't there. And then it hit him, he could feel the trace of the quicksilver as it swarmed its way up his chest, the cold feeling like fingers of ice crawling over his skin. His fear of the mere possibility of being trapped in a room of spiders again had triggered the reaction of the gland. Once the realization hit him, the quicksilver immediately shed like a fountain of silver falling from his body. Darien looked up to see Claire smiling. He scowled and with a pointing finger accused, "You did that on purpose!"
"Would you rather the alternative?" She questioned lightly, then told him seriously. "I don't think the trick will work again so I hope you picked up something or we will have to resort to more practical methods."
Darien shuddered again, but he kept it under control. Looking around the now far too small room he realized one thing, he seriously wanted out.
The Official never did show, called, but didn't make an appearance. Bobby had called as well, but he had been short on the phone and it was more to say he wouldn't be in that night or the next day. Darien had tried to get Hobbes to tell him about the case, but once again bobby blew it off as nothing interesting. It had to be something interesting, Darien mused to himself after hanging up, or Bobby wouldn't be so consumed by it. Then an odd thought entered his head. Maybe Bobby just didn't want to hang around him anymore, he wouldn't blame the man is that was the case. Darien shook the thought from his mind. That wasn't his partner.
It had gotten late before Darien fell asleep that night, and when he did he almost wished he hadn't. For the last week and a bit his dreams had been pretty stagnant, nothing that he'd remember in the morning, Darien had reveled in the peace of night, even started to take it for granted, but not anymore.
It was dark, the walls seemed to be twisting in various directions, voices clawed at his head. He tried to move away from them, but no matter what way he turned the voices were getting louder and more garbled. None of it made sense to him, just trying to listen to the noises was causing him pain.
Ahead of him an errie small light seemed to be shining, he could feel a heat radiating from it as he reached out to touch the glowing spec. The instant his fingers covered it he awoke, silence filling in where the noise had been a second ago in a deafening wake. He gasped, struggling to sit up. Then his senses were taking in his surroundings, the familiarity of the hospital room and its white walls. He was surprised to find himself alone. Claire's jacket was still hung over the edge of the chair she had been sitting in when he fell asleep, but she was no where in sight.
He first reaction was one of panic, but Darien quickly quelled that urge, more than a little surprised at himself. He shook his head trying to get the recesses of the dream to leave as he cleared his mind. It was morning again, the light seeping in between the drawn curtains betrayed that. It was also a brighter morning than the one before which meant the rain had stopped, but Darien didn't feel the warmth. He unconsciously hugged himself against the sudden bout of shivers that swept his body.
Letting out a small growl of frustration he scolded himself. "Darien, you're being stupid!" Then looking around the empty room he suddenly found new confidence, the paranoia of the dream oddly encouraging him along. With a growing determination, Darien pushed the blankets back and swung his legs over the side.
First things first, he quickly realized looking down at the gurney greens his was dressed in. Thankfully his bag with some cloths was still lying next to the bed, but even the effort of getting dressed was enough to exhaust him. His arms felt like they were made of lead by time he'd gotten the jeans on and a T-shirt over his head. All he wanted to do was lie back down, but gritting his teeth instead, Darien forced himself to focus on the door.
Then slowly, he stood, his bare feet wanting to fold before him as they tried to become accustomed to the weight and movement. His hands gripped firmly at anything around him. The movement was excruciating, and his balance precarious at best, but with the aid of the bed frame, the table, the chair, or just about anything in reach, he at last made it to the door. He wondered if taking the chair with him might not be a bad idea, it'd be like having one of those walkers, but no, he had to do this on his own.
Darien almost reconsidered as he grabbed the door handle, intending to support his weight on the small knob but almost loosing it as it turned in his hands. He let out an exclamation of surprise as the door swung open, taking him with it. At the last second Darien barely caught himself, and gritting his teeth pulled himself back up.
"Darien!" Claire voice suddenly called out to him in alarm from down the hall. She rushed up even as he was managing to get his balance as he leaned against the now steady door for support. "You shouldn't be up yet, what do you think you're doing?" She asked immediately concerned.
"I'm leaving!" Darien stated simply.
Claire half smiled in exasperation, "Darien you can't leave, it's too early. You need to give yourself time-"
He cut her off with a shake of his head. "I'm leaving. All I have to do is make it to the front door."
"Darien," the Keeper stated automatically reaching out to help him but with a look of frustration he stopped her.
"No Claire. I'm doing this!"
The Keeper regarded him for a second, crossing her arms as her lips thinned in disapproval. Her mouth curled into a tight smile and she finally stated, "Alright Darien. Go ahead. I'm not going to stand in your way." She even stepped back a few steps to open a way for him to get to head down the hall.
Darien took several deep breaths and stepped unsteadily forward but immediately grabbed the handle again when he realized his legs weren't ready. The door jumped a but, slamming back against the wall again as Darien all but fell on it. Claire looked ready to jump forward again, but stopped with his warning glare.
Carefully looking down the hall in the direction he knew the elevators were, Darien considered his options, which weren't many. If only the halls had handrails, that would help a lot. Realizing he had no choice but to trust more fully that his legs would hold him, Darien took the step again in the right direction. Then he took another. The pain in his legs from lack of use crescendo, and his muscles were tight and partially unresponsive as if they're been asleep for a long time. In a lot of ways, he figured, they had.
Yet step by step he was making his way down the hall, using the wall to maintain his balance, and focusing on only small movements at a time. On more than one occasion just along the short stretch he could feel his limbs bending the wrong way and had to bite his tongue against his outcry. Claire was only a couple feet from him the whole time, but respectfully she no longer tried to help him and with her arms behind her back she followed as his silent sentinel.
Time stretched out, and the noises ahead of people going about there usual routines, some pausing as they noticed Darien's efforts and commenting to their co-workers before continuing, drifted down to him becoming as white noise. Then at last he reached the corner.
He looked up and down the hall, ignoring the looks from the nearby nurses as he continued his slow and careful pace towards the elevators. Claire simply followed, not saying a word to him or anyone else.
A chair lay ahead of him, and gripping the back of it, he tried to alleviate some of the pressure from his feet. He could barely feel the difference anymore and it was taking most of his concentration to ignore the pain in his limbs as well as maintain his balance. He wanted nothing more than to sit, sitting in the chair sounded so good. No, he told himself sharply, he wanted out.
Ironically, he forced himself to think of the room with the spiders, and how small it had suddenly felt. Letting out a shudder and a heavy breath he regained his determination to leave this place and once again began the trek to the elevator. He wasn't sure how long it had taken him to get there, all he knew was that he'd made it, and stepping inside immediately clung tightly to the handrails. He breathed in a shaky breath as Claire stepped in. Her face was scrunched up in concern, but still she said nothing.
For several minutes Darien just focused on breathing and trying to give any relief to his legs as his arms took on his weight. Then he realized the elevator wasn't moving and glancing up noticed that Claire had her hand across the sensor of the door. As calmly as he could like it was an ordinary request he asked, "Would you hit the button for ground level, please?"
Her lips curled slightly in a smile as her face relaxed somewhat. She did as he asked, and in the next instant Darien regretted it. The slight motion of the elevator threw him and like with the door to his room, he was barely catching himself from falling completely. He had only just pulled himself forcefully up when the elevator reached bottom and he was thrown again. A new pain pierced his ankle and trying to shift all his weight to his arms, he only just managed to keep himself upright.
Gasping quickly for air, he cried out ever so slightly as he strained to get his feet correctly under him. The new pain in his right ankle screamed at him, but it dulled a little the longer he stood. Almost afraid to look, he glanced down at his feet, he could see no blood, but that didn't mean it wasn't broken. He put a bit more weight on it, it protested, but not violently so, at least, not more so than the other.
He sighed, relieved, then suddenly gulped down several startled breaths as the Official suddenly appeared at the elevators edge roaring, "What the hell is going on here?!" Darien didn't answered, couldn't answer.
"I'm afraid, "Keeper began solemnly as she stepped towards him. He automatically backed up and Darien took an unsteady step before the doors could shut on him. The Keeper continued, keeping her face completely composed as she explained. "I'm sorry to say you made a bargain with Darien and he's only trying to keep his end of the deal."
"And what bargain was this?" the Official growled out.
"That I could leave!" Darien gasped out as he quickly grabbed hold of the trash container beside the elevator.
"Yes," the Keeper confirmed keeping her face as straight of possible. "I believe your exact words were 'if he made it to the front door on his own.'"
The Official grumbled to himself for a few minutes, watching as Darien moved from the container to the wall, and onwards. By this point Darien giving up was out of the question. And realizing the stubbornness of his agent turned with a scowl to the keeper. "I don't want him left on his own until you've declared him able to handle himself." He intoned.
"Of coarse," Claire immediately agreed, then smiled her amusement as the Official grumbled some more, and slyly commented, "it's your own fault you know."
The Official turned his glare upon her, but was distracted as Darien at last reached the front door to the hospital. He left out a huge sigh and unceremoniously sank to the ground. Claire made a small despairing sound and rushed over.
At first the Official had wanted to quarantine him at the office instead of at the hospital. Darien had immediately protested and told the Fat Man that he'd rather stay at the hospital then be stuck inside the office. Of coarse the Official readily agreed.
Twenty minutes later they managed to come to an agreement of sorts. During the day Darien was to stay with Claire at all times, whether at the keep or on her errands, or where ever she was, until Hobbes took over. And then Darien wasn't to leave Hobbes' side till the next morning when he was back with Claire.
"You mean I'm not even going to get to spend a night in my own apartment?" Darien protested desperately.
"You can spend all the time you want there later. For now, it's this or nothing!" The Official stated unrelenting.
Darien still groused. "Don't you think this is a bit of overkill? You're all acting like I need to be watched twenty-four seven, I'm getting better you know, I can do things on my own now!"
"It's not that," Claire automatically said wanting to reassure him.
Darien just frowned. "Then what is it? What? You think someone want's to kidnap me or something?" Even as he said it he hadn't meant it seriously, but he couldn't miss the hesitant look passing between the Keeper and Official. "Who?!" He demanded, his mind racing to the most obvious, "Arnaud?!"
"No." Claire immediately told him even as the Official stated, "The situation is being handled. You," and he pointed one of his fingers at Darien to emphasize, "are not to concern yourself with anything but getting better." Then he added almost in an offhand manor, "At least not until the Keeper has put you back on full time duty." Darien got the hint, it wasn't hard to miss the underlining tone that indicated just how much the Official would rather him working than living off disability.
Sighing, Darien slumped back against the chair in his room. He had refused to lie down again after they all but dragged him back up stairs, while at the same time his eyes were having a hard time staying open in his exhaustion. Still, a small smile crept up his face, he'd done it, on his own, and now he was getting out of there. Even with the restrictions placed upon him, the mere idea of leaving the hospital was enough to leave him with an overwhelming sense of relief. Darien didn't realize when he felt asleep, and if he'd been conscious at the time probably he would have looked at himself in wonder at the audacity of that action.
Keep looked up from her examination of Darien's newly injured ankle with a start as a light sound began to emanate from the man in a soft but rhythmic pattern. She raised her eyebrows and her lips twitched ever so slightly in amusement. The Official was frowning deeply and looked ready to shake the man awake just to tell him that no one fell asleep while the Official was talking! Claire was grateful when the Official merely glowered, than realizing she had a moment alone with her boss, carefully and quietly asked him, "So, how is the progress going?"
The Official knew what she was talking about and just as carefully responded. "We've had some success, but not much. Hobbes still has to report back today on where the lead took us."
"I'm going to need samples," the Keeper told him. The Official nodded, his gaze was still focused on the softly snoring Darien.