~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darien waited near the phone booth that he used for his more
clandestine calls. Not that there had been a lot of those lately, but old habits died hard. The
time he'd given to Dr. Rendell had come and gone without a ring, so either she hadn't spoken to
Arnaud -- maybe she had been serious about not wanting to kill him -- or Arnaud still hadn't made a
decision.
Glancing at his watch again, he noted there were still five minutes until Stark was due to contact
him. Turning his wrist over, he noted the three segments gone red. His time limit on sanity. He
tried not to think about what he would do if Stark failed to call as well. Not that there weren't
enough enemies still to choose from -- the Chinese, for example, would be more than happy to get a
hold of their own gland. Hell, if he got truly desperate enough, there was always Eddie the
Mammoth. He'd be more than happy to sell his various organs to people far more worthy.
He was jerked out of his reverie by the ringing of the pay phone. Lifting the handset, he said
without preamble, "Stark, have you made a decision?"
"We need to speak in more detail. Get in the car please."
Darien watched as a black sedan pulled up nearby and the rear door opened. "Right. I'm not that
insane yet."
"Fawkes, I will personally guarantee your safety. We will discuss a few things and then you will be
free to go. I promise, and I do keep my promises, remember?" Stark kept his voice carefully
controlled.
Darien thought for a moment, and then decided what the hell. What, really, did he have to lose?
Hanging up the phone, he made his way over to the car and slid in. As soon as the door shut, the
car drove off.
It was fifteen minutes later when the car stopped. Darien was politely escorted into a nondescript
building, and eventually into an office where Stark was standing looking out a window. The tableau
was eerily familiar, and Darien was not sure he liked it.
"Well, I'm here. Talk."
"What if I agreed to your...offer, with a few modifications?" Stark said, without turning to look
at him.
Darien sighed. Like he was at all surprised. "What kind of
'modifications'?"
"We will remove the gland, if you agree to come work for us in return. For say five years, or a
certain number of jobs equal to that value." Stark still looked out the window. He knew he would
have to play Fawkes very carefully, to draw him in with a deft touch, but that was why he was in
charge here and not someone else.
"That would be assuming I survived as something other than an oversized eggplant," Darien commented
sarcastically. "I know my chances of survival with the current techniques; the highest percentage
currently is about three percent. So your counteroffer, while interesting, is pointless."
Now Stark turned to face him. "Really? And how do you think we created Allianora, or the nano-tech,
or the cryo-pods? You must have realized by now we have techniques and skills far beyond what even
most secret government projects have access to." He moved to within a couple of feet of Darien.
"What you've seen is just the tip of the iceberg. You really have no idea who you are dealing with."
Darien watched the man carefully, and he had to admit Stark had a valid point. He'd seen more weird
things since encountering Chrysalis than he'd read in those comic books he was so fond of. Deciding
to call Stark's bluff, he asked, "What would you need?"
"That's simple. The quicksilver files. Everything up to date, including the counteragent
information." Stark knew this would create a reaction, but the one he received wasn't the one he
was expecting.
"Gee, big surprise. Then you'll just kill me and build your own. Not much of a deal." Darien moved
to look out the window himself.
"Mr. Fawkes...Darien...though we know quite a bit about the gland, we also realize we do not have
all the information." At Darien's lack of reaction, Stark decided to up the ante a bit, something
he had been prepared to do. "With what we currently know, you would have a fifty/fifty chance of
surviving the removal. With the full
information, we could probably give you a ninety percent chance or better."
Darien managed to keep the surprise and the sudden burst of hope off his face. "And I should
believe you, why?"
"You came to me with the knowledge that it would kill you, and I'm telling you it most likely
won't. Do you really have anything to lose?" Stark watched as Darien slowly turned to face him.
"You obviously had no one else to turn to if you are talking to me. What's your next option?
Stepping in front of a bus?"
Darien kept his poker face intact. No need to let Stark know how right he was. Getting the
quicksilver files was not something he could do alone, and he didn't really think Claire or Bobby
would be willing to help if they knew Stark was involved. But there might be someone who would, for
the right price. "The files are worth a lot more than my glandless services for a few years. I'd
need something more."
Stark raised one eyebrow surprised that Darien had enough life left in him to even think about
bargaining. "Ask, and I'll see what can be done."
"Oh, it's not much, and I doubt you'll even miss it," Darien said in a sly voice. He was beginning
to think this just might work.
Darien knocked on the door to the townhouse and waited as patiently as he could for it to be
answered. He heard the grumbling before the door was actually opened. "Fawkes. To what do I owe
this pleasure? Come to case the place?"
"Monroe, can I come in? I need to talk to you." Darien tried to keep his voice sincere, but it was
blatantly obvious that she was anything but thrilled to find him on her doorstep.
With a sigh she stepped aside and waved him in. He walked down the short hall and stepped into the
simply furnished living room. He turned around to say something, and found Alex standing with her
gun drawn and aimed at him.
"On your knees, Fawkes," she said, gesturing with the gun. "Seriously, what did you think I would
do if I saw you? Every agent is under orders to bring you in."
Darien sank to his knees and placed his hands on the back of his head with the fingers interlaced.
He'd been through this more than enough times to know the routine by heart. Moving around behind
him Alex holstered her gun and pulled out her cuffs. Grabbing one wrist she proceeded to handcuff
him.
"What if I said I could get you your son?" Darien said quietly.
Alex froze before she finished attaching the cuff to his second wrist. "What are you talking about?"
"I've made a deal with Stark, but I need help fulfilling my end of it," Darien answered, hoping
she'd ease up soon, as his shoulder was beginning to cramp.
"Why would you help me?" Alex asked in a hushed voice. She relaxed her hold on his arm, allowing
him to shift to look at her.
He shrugged. "Why not? You don't give a damn about the gland, me, or the Agency. You want your son,
and maybe Chrysalis destroyed, and nothing else. If you help me, I can help you fulfill one of your
goals."
Alex was truly taken aback. She undid the cuff and gestured for him to sit. "Explain."
"Does it matter, if you get what you want?" Darien didn't need or really want to explain things. He
just wanted this over with.
"Assume it does. You seem to want to make some Faustian deal with Stark, to my benefit I might add.
I'd like to know why." Alex tossed the cuffs on a nearby table and sat down across from him. Even
she had noticed he hadn't been his usual annoying and childish self of late. She might not have
done anything to try and help, or even find out why, but she had noticed.
Darien sighed and decided to give her the short version. "Stark says he can remove the gland with a
good chance of me actually surviving, but he needs the quicksilver files. I haggled. The files in
exchange for your son."
"And he agreed to that?" Alex said in disbelief.
"No, but he offered to give you location where he's being raised. You would still have to identify
him and prove he's your son, but that is a far from impossible task." He knew that where her son
was concerned she would do just about anything. The incident with Adam Reese proved that beyond a
doubt.
"And you trusted him? Are you a complete fool?" Alex sneered.
"Of course not, but I believe he'll do his best to keep a promise. The quicksilver files in
exchange for the opportunity for you to retrieve your son." Alex still looked at him with a frown
on her face. "You were willing to sacrifice Adam to protect your son, and he was innocent. I'm
volunteering. Let me do this."
Alex shook her head. "Adam...Adam was a different situation. Millions would have died. It was far
more than just my son I was trying to save." She would defend what she'd tried to do until the day
she died. She would have hated herself for her entire life, but she would never have regretted
doing it. She would also never let Darien know how happy and relieved she had been to discover a
solution that kept the boy alive. At least now there was a chance. "I can't let you throw your life
away for me, or for my son."
Darien laughed. "I have no life, Monroe. If you don't want to help, fine. I offered, but I will do
what I have to. I want the gland removed." She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with
a snarl. "Don't bother. I've heard all the arguments and I don't care anymore. This, what I live
with, this is not *living.* This is controlled suffering, torture for the benefit of the State.
I'm sick of it." He pushed himself to his feet, intending to leave. He had made it to the doorway
of the room when she spoke.
"What do you need?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby swore in frustration. Fawkes had gone to ground, and he had spent the entire day checking
every place he could think of that the kid might possibly go to. There had been watchers posted at
several places that Fawkes frequented the most often: Kevin's grave, Kensington beach -- where
Fawkes used to go with Leila Bach -- and his apartment. Then, about an hour ago, the Official
called off all the extra surveillance without any explanation whatsoever.
Hobbes had contacted Claire, but she knew nothing more than he did. About the only thing that was
the same was that if Fawkes were spotted, he was to be brought in alive -- not necessarily
unharmed, but alive. None of the big guns had been brought in yet to track him down, and Hobbes had
to wonder just what the hell the Fat Man was thinking by calling off the search. So Hobbes did the
circuit. Keeping in mind the time of day, he hit the places Fawkes would commonly go to. His
favorite take-out places, the few bars he sometimes hung out at. The liquor store two blocks over
from his place that he hit at least once a week.
He had contacted the pair that were keeping watch on Dr. Rendell -- in hopes she would lead them to
Arnaud -- and was told nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Stark, on the other hand, was a
slippery bastard. He had slipped the tails placed on him, so they had no idea what he'd been up to
for the last day and a half. Fawkes had shut off his cell phone, so they couldn't triangulate on
the signal, and he'd apparently found their latest tracker and flushed it along with all the rest.
"Damn it." Hobbes hit the steering wheel and yelped as he nailed the bruise he'd given himself
earlier when he'd punched a wall out of frustration. Making a decision, he started the van and
headed back to Fawkes' place. He'd have to pick up clothes some time. Hobbes knew from Eberts that
Fawkes had pretty much cleaned out his bank accounts before they'd had had a chance to put a freeze
on them. Fawkes could be anywhere by now, though Hobbes suspected he was still in town. Everything
he needed was still here. At least, so Bobby hoped. Maybe he'd read the entire situation wrong.
Maybe Fawkes would want to make peace with what family he had left. Damn, his aunt up in Cold
Springs. Could Fawkes have headed there?
Slowing at a stoplight, Bobby pulled out a bottle of pills and quickly opened and swallowed one.
Without Fawkes around to constantly pester him about them, he tended to forget. He hated taking the
damn things anyway.
Nothing was going right today. At least the Fat Man hadn't called him back in. He parked down the
street from Fawkes' place and settled in to wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darien opened the door to his apartment with a bit of trepidation. He knew the place was being
watched, had spotted the watchers there earlier, but now they were either hiding better or had been
sent away. Shutting the door quietly, he surveyed the place. It looked like Bobby, or someone
anyway, had been here looking through his stuff, but that was about it.
"Well, Darien. You're looking quite good."
He just barely managed to keep from going quicksilver. Twice now he'd walked into his own apartment
and had the dickens scared out of him by a woman, though this time he was even more surprised than
the last. "Casey?"
He watched as she got to her feet. She'd let her hair grow since the last time he'd seen her, but
she looked wonderful. "Angela, now." She walked over to him and slapped him as hard as she could
across the face. "That's for lying to me."
He turned away and went to his kitchen. "I deserved that, I suppose. You can leave now."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," she said, rotating to follow his movements. "Thanks to my getting
mixed up in that mess, my life is owned by the government."
Darien snorted. "Sounds familiar." He opened his fridge and pulled out a beer. It was looking like
his plan to come in, grab a few things, and get out wasn't going to happen. "What do you want? More
revenge? I lied. You left. After saying you would help. Is there really anything else?"
"What do I want? I want my life back." She sounded nearly as bitter as he felt. "Why did you do
it? Why did you attack that old man?"
Darien slammed his beer down on the counter hard enough to make it foam and bubble out all over
the place. "Why are you even bothering? You didn't care then. Wouldn't listen to me then. Didn't
believe me until you saw for yourself what they'd done to me." He stalked over to her and she
backed up until she hit the wall. "Do you really want to know what happened?"
She nodded, trying to keep her composure. He was scaring her.
"Yeah, I broke in to rob the guy. But I didn't molest anyone. The damn fool had a heart attack when
the explosives I set went off." He slammed a fist into the wall next to her head. "Not all my fault;
somehow I doubt I had anything to do with his waiting for the oxygen guy. More likely a lifetime of
smoking." He turned away. "Did I do the smart thing and grab the goods and run? No. I had to try
and save the fool's life."
He slumped down on his bed.
"You saved his life?" She was suitably stunned. "I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't know. You didn't listen to thing I tried to say. Wouldn't let me explain." He
rubbed one hand across his face. "Since you wouldn't listen..." He shook his head and stared at the
floor. "You. I thought you loved me, and you wouldn't even let me try to explain. So I gave up. I
didn't even bother trying to convince anyone else. What was the point, after all?"
She didn't know what to say. Wasn't sure there was anything she could say.
"So I got the joy of being sent to prison for the rest of my life because I saved that old fart."
The anger was back. His head snapped up to look at her. "And you want to know the real irony?"
She just watched him.
"I would be better off if I was still in there." He pushed himself to his feet. "Feel better now?
Is your conscience eased? 'Cause right now I don't want company. I have things to do."
"Darien, I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry." She watched as he grabbed a duffle from
under his bed and began to fill it with clothes and other items she didn't recognize. "You want to
grab some dinner?"
Darien froze, suddenly suspicious. "Who sent you?" he snarled. "The Fat Man? Figuring if some of my
past came back and made nice, I'd fall back into the fold?" He stuffed a few more items in and then
shut the bag. "Tell him he was wrong. I'm not buying any today."
Casey bit her lip. It hadn't taken him long at all to figure out what was going on. "No, Darien.
Let me help you. Just dinner. Talk and nothing else." She was still a doctor, and it wasn't hard to
see that it was more than just some dissatisfaction with work that was bothering him. "I haven't
seen you in over a year. I...I'd like to hear what happened, after...after..."
"After you left? Again?" He walked over and glared down at her. "After I saved your life from
Arnaud, and you walked away again?"
She nodded. "Yes, please."
He realized she wasn't going to back down. That she would keep going after him until he gave in. He
still had a decision to make, and he didn't want any complications. "Fine, but we do this my way,
and when it's over you leave and never come back."
"All right." She knew better than to argue. She'd gotten her foot in the door. Now she had to keep
it there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~