Chapter Four – Viva Las Vegas

Chapter Four – Viva Las Vegas

A fellow jailbird and professional wit named Oscar Wilde once observed: ""There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." Well, after being sentenced to life in prison, having a gland implanted in my head and becoming a slave for the Agency, I'd had enough of the first option. Now, I was ready to try the second. Or as Mae West, another one-time jailbird, put it: "When choosing between two evils, I always like to pick the one I haven't tried yet." Believe me, I'm down with that, sister.

With his nest egg nicely filled out and their new identities in his hands, Darien was finally ready to make his break for freedom. Now all he had to do was to get Claire on board. He'd been stringing her along for the past few months, but even so, he'd known that reeling her into his life raft was not going to be easy.

He'd needed a carrot to entice her, to make her think it was her choice all along. And he'd come up with a big fat one – the one that any woman who thought she was in love wouldn't be able to resist. Sure, it would cost him, but in the end, he'd wind up the big winner. It had been the biggest scam he'd ever hoped to pull, but she'd be bound to him for life, and, as an extra, added bonus, no one would be able to make her testify against him, even if they were caught. It'd been a win-win for him, really.

It was supposed to have been their usual Friday night routine. Claire had left the Agency before him and gone home to start dinner. Darien had stopped to have a drink with Bobby to celebrate the weekend. Then he'd gone home, grabbed a couple of videos and headed for Claire's. But instead of bounding through her rear patio doors and sweeping her into an eager embrace, he'd simply stepped quietly into her house and put the Blockbuster bag on her countertop.

Claire'd turned to greet him with a warm smile, but that had faded as she'd looked at him standing there. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just … nothing."

"Don't do that, Darien. Don't shut me out. I thought we were beyond that now."

"We are," Darien had shaken his head for effect. "God, Claire, we are. It's just that … I don't know … are you happy like this?"

"What do you mean like this? With you? Here? Then yes, I'm happy. Aren't you?" He'd watched as she'd knitted her brows together with worry.

"Yeah. I mean, yes, I'm happy being with you, but don't you want more, Claire? Is this how we're supposed to live out the rest of our lives? With me sneaking into your place so we can steal a night together? Never going out in public? Never telling our friends?"

"Darien, we've been through this before. We need to keep this to ourselves or else the Official will separate us. Is that what you want, to be separated?"

"No, that's just my point. I don't want us to be separated. I hate the idea that that fat bastard could separate us on a whim." Darien had stalked the length of her small kitchen, stopping with his face turned to the glass of her patio doors. "Jesus, Claire, I'm a man. I should be free to live my life with the woman I love without having to worry that some frustrated old bureaucrat can take her away from me as punishment."

Claire had reached up and turned Darien's face to hers. "I understand your feelings, your frustration – really I do. Don't you think it's hard on me too? But that's just the way it's got to be. Unless of course you propose to somehow go about changing things at the Agency." She'd given him a wry smile to show just how likely a prospect she'd considered that to be.

He'd turned from her and begun pacing again. "That's it. That's the problem exactly. Things aren't going to change while we're at the Agency. And I do propose, Claire." He'd stopped at the opposite end of the kitchen and faced her. "God, don't you get it? I want to marry you. I want you to come away with me, now, tonight."

"We can't just leave. You don't know what you're saying, you haven't thought it through…."

"I have thought it through. We can rent a car and be in Vegas by morning. Think about it, Claire. By tomorrow we could be married. They'd never be able to trace us in time to stop us. We could be starting a new life together, one without the Official, without the Agency, without…"

"Counteragent? Yes, you've gotten your shot today, but what would we do next week, next month, next year? You see, you haven't thought it through, Darien."

"Yes, I have. It's all I've been thinking about. We can make counteragent. Given the raw materials and the equipment, you can make it, right?"

"But all of that takes money … and time."

"I've got the money. Well, at least enough to get us started. And then I know how we can get the rest. But none of that really matters. All that matters is that we'll be together. And as long as we're together, Claire, we'll have all the time in the world." He'd reached out and gathered her into his arms.

"No, without money and without the Agency, all we'll ever have is six days." She'd pulled away from him to stand on her own. "I may be in love with you, but I'm not blind. You think I can't guess how you came by whatever money you do have … or how you think you're going to get more? Oh, Darien, haven't you learned by now that your bloody, thieving plans never work?"

"Actually, they do. I've had quite a successful run recently, if I do say so myself." He'd halfway grinned at her. "But the point is that I've only done it so we'd have enough to get away, to make a fresh start. After that, you won't have to worry about me coming up with any harebrained schemes. I plan on taking a page out of the master's book. We're going to run the casino scam, Claire. We're going to out-Official the Official."

He'd really smiled at her then, but his smile had been met by her crossed arms and set jaw. "I see. So you expect me to give up my life, my work, my reputation to join you in a life of crime?"

Darien had sighed, cocked his head and simply looked at Claire. He'd known he'd have to convince her to come, that she wouldn't abandon her life at the Agency willingly. But he had hoped that it wouldn't come to this. He was no stranger to emotional blackmail. In fact, he'd fallen victim to it too many times to count … when Kevin convinced him to leave the gland in for a few weeks of testing … when Liz roped him into helping Johnny Castagnacci. Yeah, he'd been taught how to play this game by some of the best. He'd known all too well how to use it and just exactly what he'd need to say to break Claire. After all, the best lies always had some truth to them, right?

"Your life. Your work. Your reputation. You don't really love me, not truly. Oh sure, you like me well enough and hell, the sex is great, but what you really love is the gland. What you really love is Kevin's dream, not me, not Darien, the man. I'm just the receptacle."

He couldn't have been any more brutal if he had slapped her. He'd watched Claire's face crumble as his words had hit home, just close enough to the truth as to make her gasp an automatic denial.

"That's not true! You know that's not true, Darien." He'd backed away as she'd tried to reach out and grab his hands.

"How, Claire? How do I know?" He'd scrubbed his hands through his hair, then suddenly grabbed her up by her shoulders and shaken her. "God, I've been a fool not to see it sooner. You've got the best of both worlds right now, don't you? You've got your own private boy toy at your beck and call and you've still got your lab rat to carry on Kevin's work," he'd growled. "Why should you want anything to change? But you can't have it both ways, Claire. You can be my Keeper or you can be my wife. The choice is yours."

Slowly he'd lowered her off her toes and let go of her. He'd stood before her, hands at his sides, head bowed, and given her that forlorn look that had caused females as far back as his mother to cave into him.

Claire had sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. "Alright, Darien," she'd said softly. She'd reached out and caressed his cheek, giving him a small smile. "If it's what you want, then we'll leave."

"It's all I've ever wanted, Claire. Just to be free."

And so they'd run. First to Las Vegas, where Claire had indeed made a beautiful bride. They'd stopped at The Little White Chapel and tied the knot before they'd even gotten a hotel room. From there they'd taken the bridal suite at the MGM Grand. Claire had been disappointed to find that Darien had planned to spend their wedding night ripping off the casinos instead of making love to her in their king-size bed. As an apology, Darien had bought her the biggest, most perfect diamond ring they could find.

They hadn't stayed long in Las Vegas, though. It was too close to the Agency's home base for comfort. Instead, a day and a half later, they'd taken a red-eye out to New York. From there they'd driven to Atlantic City. It had been a good temporary base of operations. They could scam some more casinos and they'd been close to some of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world. It hadn't been cheap, but they'd managed to bribe their way into one of the companies' labs after hours. There Claire'd found what she'd needed to brew up some counteragent.

After that they'd made their way to the Caribbean islands, which offered more casinos and a chance to set up a more permanent facility for Claire's work. Whenever they'd needed additional funds, they'd hop scotched across the gambling globe – Mexico, Monaco, Nice, even back to Vegas once or twice. They'd been careful never to take too much, too often, and they'd rotated their appearances. Claire had been a brunette, redhead, long hair, short hair. Darien, thankfully, hadn't had to change as often since he'd spent most of his time in the casinos invisible. It really had been the perfect scam – perfect that is until Monte Carlo. Perfect until Bobby Hobbes had come knocking.