Hobbes signed and dumped the partially eaten meal into the trash can. The eight hours of waiting during the surgery was merely a drop of water compared to the lake that had followed. The chemical dependency had proved more difficult to break than the test results had shown. The possibly side effects of the removal were temporarily forgotten during the month post-operative. It did not really matter if his partner might potentially be blind when he was sitting by his bedside afraid to take a nap because Darien might not still be alive when he woke up.
Hobbes did not pretend to understand even a fourth of what had gone on in Darien's body during this time. He understood the seizures and the tremors and the cold sweats. He'd gone through some of that once a long time ago when he'd decided to go cold turkey on his medications. He had not understood the colorful CAT scans that the Keeper kept trying to explain which part of Darien's brain that was supposed to be working was not or even more confusing the parts that were not supposed to work but were.
Some of the problems had been fixed but the chemicals in Darien's head were still out of whack. Hobbes could definitely understand this. There was still hope that The Keeper and the new scientists at the Agency could figure out a way to fix these imbalances. Maybe then Darien's hypothalamus would start working right and he would not keep trying to starve himself. Who would have thought that he, Bobby Hobbes, would be spending his time at home alone thinking about hypothalamuses. Hypothalamusi. Whatever the plural for that stupid thing is. Depressing. Truly depressing.
Hobbes wandered into his bedroom and slipped on pair of black, silk, pajama bottoms. Coming back into the living room, he fixed himself a scotch and tried to relax. He cut on the TV and began flipping through the channels but nothing could keep his attention and he felt his mind pulling inexorably towards the past. The surgery and the month that followed had been hell but nothing had compared to when he had to tell Darien what went wrong.
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"Good Morning, Bobby," said Claire as he entered the hospital room that had been set up at the Agency when Darien had been transferred.
"We are going to wake Darien up today. Do you want to be there?" Hobbes stared at Claire.
"He's my partner," he replied as though that answered everything. Claire merely nodded having expected that answer. She finished filling the latest vial with blood and left to analyze it. Hobbes glanced at his watch and saw that he had another half an hour before he had to report to the Official. Scooting a chair over beside Darien's bed he sat down and regarded his partner. Darien was too pale from illness and being indoors but his head was no longer bald. He was painfully thin from having to depend on outside nourishment but the bags were gone from beneath his eyes and his face was peaceful. He looked much better than he had even a week ago. Darien twitched and shifted in his sleep. The drugs keeping him comatose were beginning to wear off as the Keeper allowed him to inch closer to consciousness. Hobbes glanced at his watch again and sighed. His scrutiny of his partner had taken longer than he thought and he now had to report to the Official. Grasping Darien's limp hand, he leaned over and spoke quietly to the sleeping man.
"Darien, I have to go see the Fatman but I'm going to be back soon. I'll be here for you when you wake up I promise." Hobbes stood and walked out of the labs. He stopped for a moment in his office to pick up his last report before making his way to the Official's office. He entered confidently not at all bothered by the fact that he was late. Eberts looked up from a report he was reading as Hobbes slid into his chair. The Official glared at him for his tardiness but did not reprimand him knowing not only where he had been but also that any reprimand would do no good.
"Do you have your report?"
"Here," replied Hobbes holding it out for Eberts to give to the Official. The room was silent as the Official read over the report. Eberts stood slightly behind him so that he too could read.
"Very well," said the Official as he finished. "You have the rest of the day off."
"Excuse me?"
"We are well aware that the Keeper is waking Fawkes today. You would be unable to accomplish much at work even if you did not insist on being present so I am giving you the day off. You won't be paid, of course. We do not have the funds to be giving free paid vacation days."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it." Hobbes could not hide his surprise at the unlikely act of kindness. He knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth though and he hurried back down to the labs before anyone changed their minds.
He settled back into the chair that he had just vacated. His partner was stirring restlessly as he came closer and closer to waking. Hobbes gently began rubbing his shoulder hoping to soothe him. Fawkes sighed softly and stilled. He hoped that when Fawkes woke up this whole nightmare would be done. Between working without a partner for the first time in years and having no one around to share his burden, Hobbes had grown very lonely. Talking to Claire could have helped but she had been in doctor mode since the surgery and had completely blocked off all of her emotions in order to accomplish what needed to be done. Breaking the silence, Fawkes suddenly twisted and let out a groan.
"Claire! Keeper, I think he's waking up!," yelled Hobbes staring fixedly at his partner. Darien groaned again and scrunched his face into a grimace.
"Bobby?" he croaked questioningly barely loud enough to be heard.
"Hey, Fawkes, how do you feel?" asked Hobbes gently taking his partner's hand.
"Crappy."
"That's good to hear." He grinned in relief.
"Bobby?" asked Fawkes turning his head to face Hobbes. Silence met his question as Hobbes found himself staring into Darien's eyes. Darien's dead, empty eyes.
"Bobby, why can't I open my eyes?"
"Oh God. Fawkes, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Hobbes ignored the tears that began to fall. "There was a problem with the removal. Some kind of brain damage. You're blind. I'm so sorry. You're blind."
"That's OK," answered Darien not sounding at all upset. "Claire will fix me."
"I don't think this can be fixed partner."
"Oh," came the reply. A long silence followed during which Hobbes thought Fawkes had fallen asleep. Finally Fawkes hesitantly asked, "Bobby, why can't I open my eyes?"
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