Darien
So there I was, standing at the top of the stairs overlooking the crowd. Directly across from me
was the stage where speech number three -- or was it four? -- was going on. I was wired nine ways
to Sunday -- not one, but two headsets, and one handheld. I ignored most of the voices, just
standard location checks.
Alyx sat on the stage next to her husband, looking lovely. She was dressed in a stylish off-white
pant suit that emphasized her slenderness. She appeared to be calm and still, but somehow I knew
she wasn't. I had twice now felt her mental touch, just a light tap to confirm I was who I was.
Most people wouldn't even feel it, but she and I had spent months practicing this silent way of
saying 'it's me', so I couldn't help but notice.
I looked away from the stage to check the rest of the area. The lawn was flanked by buildings on
three sides. The actual hotel was behind me, with convention halls and restaurants in the smaller
buildings on either side. I don't know why, but something about the building to my right caught my
attention. Or rather, the lack of something. There were several security men easily visible on the
roof to my left, but none on the one to the right.
"Hobbes, do we have security on the roof of building two?" I asked into one of my headsets.
"I don't know, bud. Why?" he replied.
"I'm not sure. Something's not right," I replied. Maybe it was just some of Hobbes' paranoia
rubbing off on me, but something about the building just seemed wrong.
There was silence for a long moment, then "Let's check it out."
I took off for the building. Hobbes and I would meet up somewhere along the way.
Down on the stage, the current speaker introduced the next. Ariana Goranov Vallenchevski.
Hobbes caught up with me at the service elevator, the only one that went to the roof.
"They didn't post a guard on the roof, just here." Hobbes swept the hallway with a look. "Where
the hell is he?"
"No one was here when I got here," I said. My bad feeling was turning into an 'aw, crap' feeling.
We spent a couple minutes looking for the guard, and found what was left of him in an equipment
case.
"Code red," Hobbes said into the handheld. "We have a code red in building two."
Static came back. We were being jammed.
"Aw, crap," I muttered. I had a really bad feeling about this.
"You said it, partner. Let's do this," Hobbes said, getting into the elevator car.
Once we got to the roof, I wondered just why they'd had to put every extraneous piece of equipment
up here. Aside from the fact it gave decent cover, it was a major pain in the butt.
"Disappear and find him," Hobbes said.
So my partner might be paranoid. That doesn't mean he's not right. I quicksilvered and started
searching the roof. I could hear Alyx's voice drifting up from below as she did her speech. Where
the hell was the bastard? I got to the edge of the building facing the stage. It was a crappy
angle, but a good shooter could manage it. Further down the building I saw...something.
"Hobbes, far end, on top of a storage shed," I shouted starting to run towards the spot.
"Gotcha. On my way."
I ran.
Down on the stage, I could hear Alyx introducing her husband. It was going to be close.
I shouted, hoping to distract the shooter, but to no avail. As I leaped up to get to the roof of
the storage unit, I heard the gun fire. I kicked the guy in the face, just as the screams began
down below.
Furious, as much at myself as at him, I kicked him again, knocking him off the shed and onto the
roof below. I jumped down and let the quicksilver fall from me. Bobby came round the corner of the
building, gun drawn. With practiced ease, he knelt down and handcuffed the bastard. Our headsets
burst into life with shouts for emergency vehicles and for the area to be locked down.
"Who was hit?" I asked into my set. If there was an answer, I couldn't make it out from all the
other traffic. Leaving Hobbes to deal with the shooter I walked to the edge of the building to see
what was going on. The stage was swarming with security, and the crowd was quickly being removed
from the area. Even from my vantage point, I couldn't see a thing.
Hobbes came up behind me shoving the shooter in front of him. Forcing him down to his knees, Hobbes
said, "He missed. The King is fine..."
"I hear a really big 'but' in there Hobbes. Spit it out," I said, somehow knowing I really, really
didn't want to hear this.
"He got her, instead."
"Her?" Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?
"He got the Queen instead. They don't think she's going to make it."
I don't remember much about the next few minutes. Somehow I got down from the roof, in time to see
her being wheeled away on a gurney and into an ambulance. There was so much blood.
The King was standing to one side, surrounded by guards and arguing with them about something. His
jacket was gone and the shirt was liberally splattered with blood. He saw me and, for some unknown
reason, called me over to them. "Agent Fawkes, would you please convince these men that I must and
will go to the hospital?"
He was surrounded by Agent James' assorted goons, and I knew something was up. "He's going," I
said. After watching Alyx argue with James, I had become very wary of him. If Alyx didn't like the
guy, there must be a reason. A real reason.
"But, we can't. Agent James..." one of them sputtered.
"Agent James is the one who screwed this whole thing up." I glanced around and located the two
Royal Bodyguards. Waving them over, I said, "Get these idiots out of here please," hoping they
understood English.
The one who'd always been following Alyx said, "Of course sir," with only the slightest trace of an
accent. Somehow, I wasn't the least bit surprised.
It took mere moments before the CIA goons had scattered and the bodyguards were back.
"Hobbes, we've just been tagged for King duty, care to join me?" I said into the Agency's headset.
"On my way, partner," he replied, showing up mere seconds later.
"Where did they take her, Your Majesty?" Yeah, I was being polite. It was the least I could do,
and for the time being the pretense of who she was had to be maintained. Even I knew that.
"Piotr," he said to me, then. "I don't know."
"Gimme a sec," Hobbes said, and began talking into one of the headsets. It took a couple of
minutes, but he eventually achieved success. "Got it. Let's go."
We took one of the limos sitting out front and drove. Well, one of the bodyguards drove while Bobby
gave directions. I don't remember much of the drive, just that we got there much sooner than I had
expected. As soon as the hospital staff realized who Piotr was, we were escorted into private room
and told that someone would be by soon to tell us what was going on. Television crews had followed,
but were being kept outside. Soon, though, even this small island of peace would be inundated. I
leaned back against the wall and said "Alyx..." under my breath.
"Was that her name?" Piotr asked in English. "I never knew, she was just Ariana to me."
"Yeah, Alyx...Alyx Silver," I replied, sitting down in one of the cheap plastic chairs.
"Fawkes, what are you talking about? Alyx left months ago, remember? What would she have to do with
this?" Hobbes asked.
Sometimes my partner just can't see the obvious. Luckily I was saved the trouble of having to
answer.
"She was hired by your government to act as a double for my betrothed, who was killed months ago.
One of her duties was to protect me at any cost," Piotr answered to Hobbes surprise.
"So that was Alyx? I'm gonna kill that son of a...." Hobbes didn't get a chance to finish.
The door opened and a doctor in bloodied scrubs walked in. The look on his face said it all. We'd
been too late. We'd lost Alyx. Once again I hadn't got the chance to say goodbye.
Hobbes got me home. We were both stunned and he offered to stay, but I was in no mood for company.
I went to work on getting stinking drunk. At some point I turned on the TV, only to discover the
big news of the day was my day. Over and over they showed the scenes of Alyx being killed. I swear
it was on every channel. I couldn't escape it. There were even shots of me and Hobbes with Piotr
mingled with the images of a bloody Alyx being loaded into an ambulance. Someone had managed a face
shot, and even with the oxygen mask over her face you could tell it was bad.
I threw my bottle at the damn box to make the images go away. After that I don't remember much,
other than doing my best to drink my way into oblivion.
The next morning, if anything, was worse. Not only was I at a loss, but I was hung-over as hell.
For a moment I envied Alyx her immunity to this side effect, until I remembered. Remembered that
now she was a lot closer to my brother Kevin than she was to me. That didn't make me feel any
better. In fact, I was far more tempted to just head down to the liquor store and continue my binge
instead of heading in to work.
I managed to get to the office, only to be told that Hobbes and I had done as good a job as could
be expected, that we'd protected the target, and that Agent James was the one who had dropped the
ball on security. I wanted to throttle the man. No mention of Alyx. No 'sorry about your
partner.' Nothing. Just what I should have expected. I hated my job.
I went down to the lab to see Claire, who proceeded to berate me on my condition even as she gave
me the shot of counteragent I had earned. How it could affect the monitor or the gland. Exactly not
what I needed. I tuned her out for a while, then went into some ranting diatribe about how life
sucks in general and mine in particular. That lasted several minutes.
All I got was an "Are you finished now? I have work to do," from her.
Great. I had just accomplished what I felt was the biggest screw-up in my life, and no one gave
damn. With a growl of irritation and a few curses, I left, in some ways with absolutely no
intention of ever coming back. I wish. I wished a lot of things then. Some I still do.
I ended up at Alyx's apartment. For the longest time I simply stood in her doorway, looking at the
space. I couldn't comprehend the idea that she would never be coming back to this place. When she
left there had at least been a chance, but now... Now it was over. And I had no one to blame but
myself. I'd been too slow. Too late to prevent her death. And I would have done anything to change
that fact. Anything.
Alyx
My first thought when the bullet hit me in the back was, 'what is this guy using, a cannon?' Then
the pain hit. Piotr held me when I arched back involuntarily. Everything I had been controlling
broke free and I felt myself fall.
"Ari?" Piotr said. The fear and pain in his voice saddened me. I didn't want to hurt him. Not any
more than necessary.
"Ow," was my brilliant comment as my legs collapsed beneath me.
I felt myself being lowered and the sky darkened as we were swarmed by bodyguards. As if from a
distance, I could hear people screaming. I tried to ignore everything. Piotr knelt beside me and
placed his folded jacket under my head. I took his hand and held on as if for dear life.
"Piotr..." All of a sudden it was hard to breathe, heck it was down right painful. "Sorry..."
"Ari, you'll be okay, help is on the way. Just hold on," he said, brushing hair from my face.
I couldn't wait any more, I'd screwed up and gotten hurt worse than I intended. I smiled up at him
for a moment and squeezed his hand. Then I closed my eyes and put myself into a deep trance state.
Before I went under completely I wondered if I would wake up from this. Because I wanted to. Not
that long ago, I wouldn't have bothered fighting it and would have just let myself go, but
now...now I wanted to live, wanted to see another sunrise, wanted to see Darien again.
I came partially out of it in the emergency room, when some idiot of a doctor kept trying to
defibrillate me. It wasn't a fun experience. All it did was bring me up out of the trance state
that was keeping me alive. When he came at me again with the stupid paddles, I fed the energy back
through the machine, frying it. After several colorful swears, I could hear the doctor screaming
for another machine.
Instead of compliance I heard, "She's dead doctor." It was the Official's voice.
I felt familiar hands on my arm. "Alyx, we're here. Fools brought you to the wrong hospital." It
was Claire, the Keeper.
I could hear the doctor arguing with the Official about my state of being. I managed to open my
eyes and saw the Keeper looking down at me in concern. With a bit of effort, I managed to convince
the heart monitor to deliver a flat line.
"See," the Official argued. "She's dead."
The doctor gave up and decided to do as the Official wished.
"Claire..." I tried to say, but I began to cough instead. I tasted blood in my mouth and knew this
was not good.
"Alyx. Don't talk, don't do anything. We've got to get you to surgery," she said.
I felt a needle enter my arm.
The drugs rushed through my system, dragging me down deep. "You'll be okay, Alyx. Just relax. Let
us take care of it." That was the last thing I heard for a long time.
"C'mon Alyx. Time to wake up," the voice said.
I didn't want to hear. Sleeping was such a nice change of pace. Floating on a puffy little cloud of
unreality, where nothing bad could ever happen to me. Where my life was my own. Where I was actually
happy for once in my life. I didn't want to leave.
"Maybe she's still not ready," a different voice said, deeper, masculine.
"I've been telling you she's not ready since you suggested this," the first voice said.
"I know, but we don't have choice. We have to move now. And the information we need is in her
head." That was the second voice.
My head...ached wasn't the right word...felt like it was stuffed with cotton, felt drugged. I tried
to push the drugged feeling away, clear my head.
Sudden shouts. "Damn it, she's doing it again!"
'Doing what?' I thought. I still was disconnected. I was there, but not there, still drifting
without a real connection to my sense of self.
"Drug her, damn it," the second voice said.
"No, let me try something else," the first voice said. "Pattern."
That cleared my mind; I recognized the voices as Claire and the Official. Realizing that my fogged
brain was playing havoc with everything in the room, I regained my control and put everything back
the way it should be.
"It doesn't work anymore, you know," I said, my voice sounding strange. I cracked open my eyes.
"Alyx, good, you're awake finally," Claire said. "What doesn't work anymore?"
"The programming. I purged that right after the last incident." I coughed, my throat dry.
"Here, drink," Claire said, handing me a glass.
I tried to sit up, but she shook her head and helped me from a prone position. My brain was still
not functioning up to standard, but I remembered what had gotten me into this situation. I forced
myself up into a seated position, trying not to wince at the pain that shot through me.
"Piotr?" I asked. I hoped like hell he was all right. That things had worked the way I planned.
"So far, so good, but we need to know about the hit," the Official said. "Based on your info and
some of our own, we think we know who was behind the whole thing, but we have no proof."
"And I do," I answered. "Where is the bastard?" I was going to have his head on a platter, one way
or another.
"D.C. But not for much longer. We have to move now," the Official said.
"Get me there," I growled, trying to get out of bed. I was shocked at just how weak I was.
"Alyx you can't, you need time to finish recovering. You won't be able to walk," Claire said,
trying to restrain me.
"I don't need to walk. I just need to get there," I stated. "You're going to need him admitting to
it. I think seeing a dead woman might get him to cough up the info. If not, I have other ways to
make him talk." I was shockingly weak and my back was a joyous bounty of pain, but I managed to
swing my legs off the side of the bed and groan, "How long was I out?"
"Alyx, you've been unconscious for almost a month," Claire said.
"A month?" I squeaked, surprised. "It couldn't have been that bad." I had lost an entire month?
What must Darien be thinking? And Piotr, how much did he know?
"No, it was worse. And frankly, I'm surprised you survived at all," Claire said seriously. "You
shouldn't do this, not now. Give it a few days. At least get some strength back first."
"Can we afford to wait?" I asked the Official, even though I already knew the answer.
"Not really. Every day we wait is one more for him to consolidate his power, and he leaves at the
end of the week for Kanvia," he answered.
"He'll try again." It was not a question. I had been inside James' head just enough to know that
very little would stop him as long as his goal was still within reach. And with me gone...
"Yes. We believe he will," he answered unnecessarily.
"Get me on a plane and get me there. I don't care how, but do it." I stood up, much to Claire's
surprise.
"You'll both go," the Official said, ending any argument the Keeper might have had.
So that's how I found myself flying to D.C. after taking the biggest nap of my life. The Keep
wasn't kidding about me barely making it. The collapsed lung was bad enough, but then there was the
fun fact that they had no compatible blood donors -- well, I had been lucky to make it through the
first twenty-four hours. Never mind returning to consciousness.
Well, I was awake now, and ready to kick some butt. Okay, whap it viciously with my cane. My show
of bravado earlier hadn't lasted very long. I felt like jello on a hot summers day. Weak and
wobbly. I was dead pale and god, I hurt. It's amazing what a bullet from a high powered rifle will
do to a person. I had almost no use of my right arm, the muscles in my back were so stiff.
Life was just so fun. Right. I wondered how much more damage I could do before my body decided to
kick my sorry ass. Claire kept telling me to rest, to sleep. Isn't that what I'd been doing for the
last month? I tried not to think, but didn't succeed nearly as well. Top of my mind was concern for
Piotr. I didn't go through this whole mess just to let James and whoever he was working for get a
second chance. I assumed that Piotr knew I was actually all right. That had been part of the plan I
had set up with the Official. Piotr was to know the truth, after the fact, so that wouldn't worry
needlessly. We couldn't tell him before because his reactions needed to be real. He had to believe
I was dead.
Agent James did believe I was dead, which was going to make this so much fun. Darien, I didn't
know. I hoped the Official or at least Claire would have filled him in, but I was unsure. If they
hadn't, I wanted to weep at the thought of the pain it must have caused him.
The next morning I stood outside Agent James' office, praying my temper and strength would hold.
Claire stood down the hall, waiting. It's amazing where a shiny badge and a few well-placed phone
calls can get you. I checked the hall out of habit, even though I had already jammed both the audio
and video surveillance, and then quicksilvered myself into invisibility.
I knocked on his door and he called enter. I just stood there waiting for him to open it, which he
eventually did. Being small can have its advantages. He was somewhat miffed to find no one outside
the door and swung it shut in irritation, but I managed to slip in before it closed. He settled
back behind his desk and continued with his work. Using my mind, I turned on the inter-office
communication system and then let the quicksilver fall.
He looked up at me in surprise. For several minutes we just watched one another. Then I smiled.
"Good to see you too, Agent James."
He actually went for his gun. Idiot. It left his hand to find its way through the glass of the door
I had just come through.
"You're dead. I saw it. And nothing could have survived those bullets," he sputtered.
"Oh, really? Looks like I did." I was going have to ask Claire about this later. I took a step
towards him and he went for his desk.
"Go ahead, go for your other gun." I smiled. My body might have been tired and in pain, but my
mind was well rested and fully capable of handling just about anything.
So he did and started to fire almost before it cleared the edge of the desk. One shot went past my
head, missing me all on its own. The rest I stopped as they neared me so they hung in the air.
"Bitch. I won't have you screwing things up for me."
"You did that all by yourself, Dylan," a male voice said from the doorway. "Drop the gun, now."
I turned and saw the biggest black man I had ever seen in my life entering the room. He looked like
he could be the defensive line for a national football team. The entire line. By himself.
I looked up and up as he stood next to me. "You're a big one now, ain't ya."
He chuckled. "So I've been told." Several other men had entered behind him and took custody of
James. "I'd ask if you were all right, but I would guess you are since the bullets he tried to hit
you with are floating in the air in front of you."
I held out my hands and let them go, catching them. I poured them onto the desk top. "I think I
need to sit down about now," I said, as my knees folded without my permission.
He moved amazingly fast and caught me, steering me to a nearby chair. "Maybe I should have asked
anyway?"
"I'll be okay. Agent..." I said.
"Montgomery. Internal Affairs. Cute trick with the intercom. I was wondering how we would get the
bastard," he said. "And you are...?"
"Agent Silver, Department of Fish and Game," I replied with a smile. The title sounded odd after
all these months.
"Excuse me?" came from the doorway. We both turned to see Claire standing there. "Alyx, you overdid
it, didn't you," she said coming to my side.
"No, I did it just right. They got him. That's what matters," I said. "Piotr should be safe now, I
hope."
Agent Montgomery looked confused for a moment, then recognition flashed across his face. At that
time I didn't know about all the coverage of my/Ariana's death. Heck, I slept through the whole
thing, blissfully unaware. But it turned out that first my murder and then my state funeral had
made international news. I became the expected martyr for Piotr, and his position was as secure as
it could be in these tumultuous times. At least now that James was under arrest.
We spent the next two days in D.C. while I answered questions for Agent Montgomery. It was an
interesting time, as I had to not tell him about my abilities while still giving him information he
needed to dig a really deep hole to bury James in. When we had finished, he asked me one last
question. He wanted to know why none of the video or audio surveillance in the building picked me
up. Especially the one outside James' office. I couldn't tell the truth and I wouldn't lie so I
fell back to that old standby of "Sorry, classified." Doesn't that just describe my life to a T?
All he did was nod and offer me a job. I told him I'd have to think about it. And I will admit it
was tempting. No more Official, no more Hobbes, no more Darien...okay, there were some
disadvantages to the offer, but then again Darien thought I was dead, didn't he? So would it make a
difference?
Hell yes!
Maybe I could get a raise out of the Official. Or a vacation for all of us. Agent Montgomery
escorted us to the airport and assured us that Mr. Dylan James would be giving no one any problems
ever again. I did ask a favor of him. To assure Piotr that I was okay. He said he would be glad to.
Nice guy. Made the job offer real tempting.
Back in San Diego, I spent the rest of the week back in Lab Three, much to my dismay. Claire wanted
to make sure I was actually fine. I started physical therapy, trying to get my strength back. Not a
large person to begin with, the extra ten pounds I had lost concerned her quite a bit. Course, I
first had to get used to solid food again. Can you say 'protein shakes' by the gallon? Ugh.
I kept asking about Darien and Hobbes and kept getting the professional run-around. So, after five
days, I told Claire I was fine and leaving. I wanted to be home. My first stop, however, was a hair
salon. I wanted my color back. I wanted to look in a mirror and see me, not some stranger with dark
brown hair that was turning red on top. It took three hours, but when it was done I was my
brilliant red again with the exception a half-inch wide section of pure silver by my right temple.
It refused to take the color. I guess I only had eight lives left.
Looking in the mirror, I was pleased to see myself again for the first time in months. Red hair and
silver eyes. Maybe things could get back to normal now. Wishful thinking -- I think I'd forgotten
just how my life tended to go these days.
My next goal was to find Darien. This turned out to be harder than expected. I knew he wasn't at
the office, so I tried his apartment first, to no avail, then hit all of his usual haunts,
including a few he didn't know I knew about. It was getting dark, I was tired, my back hurt, and I
had started limping again, so I decided to give up for now. Getting out of the borrowed car at my
apartment, I actually pulled out the cane Claire had insisted I use, but which I had been ignoring
for most of the day. Now I needed it.
Expecting to have to break into my apartment, since the guy I was looking for had my keys, I was
surprised to find the door wide open. I entered to find Darien standing by my desk, beer in hand,
looking at a photograph.
"You are a hard man to find, Darien Fawkes. I've been looking all over this damn city for you," I
said quietly. Gods, it was good to see him.
This might have not been the best thing to do. Darien looked at me, shock being the simplest of
expressions on his face, and dropped the bottle.
Darien
The next month or so was a blur of pain and misery. I was forced to endure the worldwide coverage
of the state funeral for Ariana Goranov. Alyx. If I heard one more comment about how tragic it was
or how peaceful she looked, I was going to do something very painful to someone. When not doing
some piddling job or sitting on my ass waiting for one, I was at Alyx's place. Hobbes had been a
sympathetic ear for the first week, but he was more interested in finding the offending party and
displaying his remains in small pieces. Admittedly, he had a point, but all of the trails led to
dead ends.
The actual shooter died in his guarded jail cell only two days after we caught him. He never had a
chance to talk.
Once again I was going to her place, after doing nothing most of the day with Hobbes. At least we
get paid for it. A box had been delivered recently. I put it on her desk and went to get a beer out
of the fridge. Today was a better day than most. It was finally sinking in that she was gone. I
still missed her, but every day it hurt a little less. Maybe it was a good thing I had never really
had a chance to get close to Allianora. Her death had hurt, but nothing like this. This hurt the way
Kevin's had, and I was just starting to feel normal again.
I went over to the desk and opened the box out of curiosity. Moving the packing material aside, I
found things that had been hers. Some jewelry I'd seen her wear on occasion. The pictures of her
kids that I had given to her. That bothered me for some reason. Yeah, they thought she was already
dead, but shouldn't they know the truth? That she had done some really important things, saved
lives, helped a lot of people? I wasn't sure if I should do something about it. Maybe I'd talk to
Claire; she might have and idea or two on the subject.
I returned to the items in the box. More jewelry, this stuff real and very expensive. It was the
silver framed photo that made me stop and stare. It was of Alyx and him, Piotr. Obviously taken
when they were together. She looked happy and alive. I took a large drink from the beer, hoping to
chase away the envy I had for the man. He had photos, he had months of nights together with her.
Hell, he'd had her for better or worse. I had to be honest with myself though -- I'd rather have
her alive and married to him than have her be dead.
"You are a hard man to find, Darien Fawkes. I've been looking all over this damn city for you,"
said a quiet voice.
I turned to see who had spoken and saw...a ghost. The bottle slipped from my fingers as I simply
stared in astonishment at her. At Alyx.
"To quote Mark Twain, 'The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,'" she said, walking
towards me. I couldn't help but notice that she limped, even while leaning on a cane. I couldn't
think, didn't know what to say. As she moved closer, I noticed how tired and thin she was. Her hair
was red again and it looked so vibrant and alive. Her eyes were missing the annoying blue contacts,
but looked dull instead of bright.
"Darien, are you okay?" she asked.
'Okay?' I thought. Yesterday I would have answered no, but today, until a few moments ago, maybe.
Now -- no, I was not okay. I spoke, my voice deathly quiet. "Alyx. You were alive. All this time."
"That's debatable," she said. "I've been conscious all of a week and I had to spend part of that in
D.C." She took another step towards me as I stood there frozen. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I
got here as soon as I could."
Then she walked past me, leaning on the cane for support. "Sorry, I'd go, but this is my
apartment." She collapsed onto her bed.
"Alyx..." I began, still irritated and not feeling very sympathetic.
"No, dammit," she snarled, much to my surprise. "I've spent the last several months living for
someone else and now, when I finally get to be me again, the one person I've been wanting to be
with the entire time gets angry at me for god knows what..." She stopped and took a deep breath,
releasing it as a sob. "If you didn't give a damn, why are you here?"
"Didn't give a..." My anger evaporated and I went and sat next her. "I'm here because it helped me
to remember you."
"I realize it must have been a surprise to see me, but to get angry at me? Why?" she asked, shaking
her head.
Not five minutes ago I had finally felt the pain of her loss easing, and now here she was and she
wanted to know why I was angry. "I was finally letting it sink in that you were gone, then I find
that box of your stuff, and then you walk in the door...it was a bit much," I said. That was
putting it mildly. I still wasn't sure it had sunk in yet. I could just be having a really vivid
hallucination. For a moment I wondered if that would be all that bad. Did I really want a reality
without her?
She brightened and I had to stop myself from smiling. "Stuff, what stuff?"
I stood and got the box that I had been going through. I set it on the bed next to her and backed
away a couple of steps.
"Hey, my things. I wondered how I was going to get them back," she said as she began to go through
the box.
I just watched as she looked at each item and set it aside. She looked at the photos of her kids
with such a sad smile on her face it made my heart ache. The jewelry she set aside with barely a
glance, as if it was of no importance. The picture of her and Piotr she lingered over, obviously
remembering the time the picture had been taken. I knew that I had never garnered such a look or
reflection of memories from her, and damn if that didn't hurt. She then pulled a note out of the
box, which she slipped behind the framed photo after reading it. It was then I realized she must
have been in love with him, with Piotr.
"So when do you leave?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Better alive with him than dead, I
had to remind myself.
"Leave? What are you talking about?" she asked, looking up at me.
"Back to him." Then I said with a sneer, "You are his wife." It was amazing how difficult those
words were for me to say. I wanted my chance and it looked like I wasn't going to get it.
"No, Ariana Goranov was his wife and I can assure you she is quite dead," she replied.
I stared at her, my mind spinning. She wasn't going back? What was going on? I couldn't believe
this was real. My mind could not seem to grasp what she was saying.
"Darien, why would I set this whole damn thing up with the Official if I was just going to go
back?" she said, sounding frustrated.
"What are you talking about?" I said, confused. I was still stuck on that 'not going back' concept.
"Didn't the Official tell you...? No of course not. Close-mouthed bastard." She stood up and
limped over to me. "Darien, I took advantage of the assassination attempt to come back home. The
Official helped me set it up." She took my hand and squeezed it. "I came home because I wanted to
be with you."
I just stood there, frozen. I couldn't wrap my mind around what she was saying. She wasn't leaving.
She was staying. Because of me. It had been such a long road to get here that I just couldn't
believe what I was hearing. Her next words broke me out of my aimless mental circling.
"Apparently that was a mistake," she said, releasing my hand and going back to her bed, where she
leaned her head against one of the bedposts.
The absolute despair in her voice brought me back to reality. She was here because of me, and I was
hurting her with my silence. Isn't this what I had wished for, prayed for, dreamed of for the last
month? Here she was in front of me, and I was being a idiot. Not like that was a new experience or
anything.
I walked up behind her and put my hands on her bare shoulders. "Getting yourself shot was a
mistake. Coming home never is," I said quietly.
"It was the best plan I could come up with. The month of unconsciousness..." she said turning
around to face me. "That was not part of the plan."
"Next time you'll have to do better," I said softly as I leaned in to kiss her.
This I had missed. The stolen moments when she would let her guard down and let me touch her, feel
her, be with her. No masks, no pretenses. Nothing compared to it. Nothing ever would. And then she
folded. Her legs giving way beneath her. I caught her and helped her to sit on the edge of her bed.
"Alyx...?" I said, worried. She looked pale and exhausted. Was pale and exhausted.
She laughed lightly, embarrassed by her sudden weakness. "Sorry. Like I said, I've only been up and
about for a week. And it's been a long day."
Her weakness frightened me. Her ordeal had taken her body from slender to painfully thin, and she
had already gone to D.C. and back when she probably should have been in a hospital. The Official
had, in all likelihood, had her doing work the rest of the time as well. Even injured she kept on,
doing all she could and more.
"I should go," I said. "You need to rest."
I heard her door slam shut and lock across the room.
"What I need is you," she stated simply.
"You don't know what you're saying," I said, convinced that I should leave so that she could have
some peace. I was trying to be noble. No matter how much I wanted to stay I knew I should go.
Because if I stayed rest would not be something she would get. At least not for several hours.
"Darien, give me a break," she said her voice gone faint. "You want me on my knees begging? I'll do
it."
In astonishment I watched as she shifted on her bed, getting to her knees.
"You want me to say I've been a fool? I'll say it."
I walked over to her and looked down into her eyes.
"You want me to say that you've been half of my heart, my soul, my life since the first time we
met?" She bowed her head down and whispered, "Just please stay."
For a moment I couldn't comprehend what she was saying. Then it hit. Since the first time we met?
Hell, thanks to the Official, I had tried to rape and kill her that first time. Only with her help
controlling the madness did I manage to fail. All these months. All the antagonism. All the
fighting. All the resistance. No wonder she came over before she left -- she thought she was never
going to see me again. She had finally made her decision. I took her in my arms and she buried her
face in my chest with a sigh of relief.
Breathing in her scent, I said, "Damn it, woman. I thought I'd lost you."
She pulled back slightly. "Ha, not a chance. You're stuck with me."
That's when I noticed her hair. She had a thin swath of pure silver hair running back from her
right temple. "Hey, what did you do to your hair?"
"I didn't do anything to it. I guess it wanted a change, maybe rebelling against the brown," she
said, chuckling lightly.
I brushed the hair back away from her face and leaned in to trail kisses from her temple back to
her ear. Wrapping an arm about her I shifted us until I was lying above her on the bed and my mouth
was buried against her throat. She groaned and I lifted my head to look at her.
"What?" I asked softly, but I was unable to wait for a response; her lips tempted me far too much.
I was kissing and teasing her with my tongue as I felt her hands make their way through my hair.
With a gentle pull she lifted my head away and rained kisses and wet licks across my throat. Her
hands let go of my hair and one slid down my back. I pulled away slightly and looked down at her,
my hand coming up to unbutton her shirt. I can't say I was complaining much to find she wore
nothing underneath. I brushed my hand across her ribs and slowly made my way upwards. I lowered my
head and my tongue found the hollow of her throat.
I could feel her heartbeat under my hands as I slowly kissed my way across her shoulder and then
further down. The groan of pleasure was expected as she arched beneath me in reaction. The yelp of
pain and quite colorful curse, however, weren't.
I lifted my head and looked at her in amusement and said, "I thought that's what we were working
on."
Shoving me off of her she said. "Mook. Idge. Dweeb. It's my back, ya big oaf."
"Let me see," I said, helping her to sit and remove the shirt. Then she lay back down on her
stomach, her head resting on her hands facing away from me.
"Jeeze. What did they do to you?" I asked in complete shock. Seeing the scar, I could understand
why she was in pain. It was as large as my palm and shaped amazingly like dragon with wings spread.
It was obvious that they had had to go back in several times. There were several different sets of
surgical scars all on top of each other. It was just barely healed and still raw looking.
"Got me. I'm just psychic, I don't have eyes in the back of my head. All I know is that it hurts,"
she said.
"I'm not surprised," I said as I gently traced the outlines of the scar with my fingers.
Generating a small amount of quicksilver, I ran my fingers across her back, causing her to yelp in
reaction to the intense cold. I then kissed the spot where the quicksilver had been, warming the
area with my breath and tongue.
"Not fair," she moaned. "So not fair."
I chuckled and moved to kiss her lightly on the mouth before sitting up to remove my shirt. She
rolled onto her side, raising herself up onto her elbow. She did that dangerous little smile she
sometimes does and said, "Hmmm. Nice view."
I watched her, drinking her in. Starting at her hip I dragged a hand up her side, only to have her
collapse onto her face, laughing hysterically.
"Gods, Darien, don't do that," she said when she could breathe again.
I rolled onto my back, trying not to laugh at her. I loved to hear her really laugh.
"Alyx, what am I going to do with you?"
I don't know what she was thinking, but it must have been amusing based on the expressions that
chased each other across her face. Finally, she crawled over and lay her head on my chest. "How
about, hold me and don't let go."
I did so gladly and kissed the top of her head. "Is that all?"
"Well no, but considering everything else it's a start," she replied.
I held her tighter, not planning on ever letting go.
"If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss,
then our lives will be empty, our loss greater."
My life had been filled with emptiness and pain for a long, long, time. So much, almost too much,
had changed, including myself.
"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you
yourself have altered." Nelson Mandela said that in "A Long Walk To Freedom."
You know, in a strange way, I was finally free. Free to be the person I had become, without fear,
without repercussions, without heartache.
I had finally come home. -- A.S.