Claire
waits until one-thirty to call Darien to get the gossip. She left a sweet message on Bobby's machine
inviting him to dinner at her place. Then, she dialed Darien's number.
"Hello?" A groggy
voice answers.
"Darien?" Claire
asks, smiling at the sleep in his voice.
"Yeah? Who wants
to know?"
"It's Claire. I
wanted to find out how your date went," She says.
"Oh. Hey,
Claire." She listens as he struggles to
get awake with a yawn and a few smacks of his lips. "You won't believe the night that I had."
"Ooh, tell me," Claire grins.
"Hold on." Darien
says. He calls, "Who's there?" His voice returns to the phone. "Claire, I'll call you back, Bobby's at the
door."
Claire hangs up the phone, slightly disappointed. She can't get Darien out of her mind. The date he went on the night before is
taunting her. She has never known him
to go out with women, despite his attractiveness; he has been a relative loner
since he was implanted with the gland. She doesn't want to consider the fact that she might be jealous.
~!@#$%^&*()
"Morning, Bobby," Darien yawns, opening the door for his
partner. "You look down in the
mouth. What's going on?"
Bobby sets a bag of take-out on Darien's counter and
sighs. He wants to tell Darien about
his relationship with Claire, just to get a friendly opinion on it, but he
knows that he can't. Especially since Bobby
thinks that Claire has feelings for Darien. He is torn. Bobby looks up at
his friend.
Darien is rubbing his head. He has a black eye and a busted lip. He looks exhausted.
"Damn, man, what happened to you?" Bobby asks.
"I remember why I hate dating," Darien replies.
"A girl did that to you?" Bobby stifles a laugh, his mood improving after seeing his
friend's plight.
"No, a girl's ex-boyfriend did this. A girl did this," Darien says, pulling down
his nightshirt and revealing a huge hickey on his neck.
Bobby laughs.
"I'm so hung over, Bobby. Oh god." Darien sits down
at the counter and puts his head on the counter.
"Tell me what happened," Bobby smiles. "This has got to be one for the books."
"Get me a morning beer and I'll tell you
everything." Darien accepts a Corona
from Bobby and sits up.
"So I'm meeting this girl at her place. She's real cute, real sweet and she likes
me, even after she sees my car, right?" Bobby smiles, thinking of Darien's car. Darien continues. "So I tell her
that I made reservations at this upscale Thai restaurant and she says that it's
fine with her, so we go. Her
ex-boyfriend is the waiter. Of course,
I didn't know this until after she had been making out with me for about thirty
minutes and the waiter dumped an entire plate of steaming unidentifiable food
from Thailand on my head." Darien stops
to allow Bobby to recover from his laughing fit. He takes a swallow of beer.
"I'm sorry. Go
on," Bobby snickers.
Darien glares at him. "Anyway. The guy dumps this shit
on me then starts punching me, screaming about how I'm messing with his
girl. So, we all get thrown out of the
restaurant. The girl goes home with her
ex and I go home with my black eye. I
couldn't sit here all alone so I changed clothes and went to the bar. Bobby, why did I even try?"
Bobby pats him on the back. "Poor kid. Nothing works
out for you, does it?" He feels a pang
of sympathy for him.
"I'm just doomed to live life alone. Me and my gland. Sounds like a sitcom," Darien snorts. He finishes the beer. "I
need aspirin."
"I brought some take out. I was bored, thought you might like some company," Bobby says.
"Cool. Is there a
game on?" Darien opens a cabinet and
pulls out a bottle of aspirin. Bobby
checks the t.v.
"Claire just called right before you walked in. I asked her for advice yesterday about my
date. This is all her fault," Darien
says.
"Really?" Bobby
raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, she's the one that recommended the Thai
place. Now my gorgeous face is
disfigured and my favorite shirt is ruined," Darien pouts.
"You can wash the shirt, Darien," Bobby says. "And your gorgeous face wasn't all that
gorgeous before."
Darien sticks out his tongue at Bobby. "I can wash it but it'll still be
stained. I don't know how to do
laundry, Bobby, I just put the clothes in the machine, dump a scoop of whatever
stuff I find nearby into the machine and turn it on. I'd have to get a 'stain stick' or something to clean that shirt." He sighs, dramatically.
"You are pathetic," Bobby laughs. "You could stub your toe and have people
write news stories about your 'tragedy'."
"So, what's up with you?" Darien asks. "You look
like someone just kicked your puppy."
Bobby gets a flash of Pavlov and looks at Darien,
curiously.
"Bobby?" Darien
asks, seeing his partner lost in thought startles him.
Bobby's cell phone starts to ring and both men jump.
"Bobby Hobbes," He answers. "Okay. Yes sir. Right there." He flips the phone closed. "That was Eberts…"
Darien's phone rings. "Man, not on Saturday, please," Darien groans, answering the phone. "Hello?" Darien listens silently and hangs up.
"Emergency, partner. We've got to go," Bobby shrugs, secretly grateful for the distraction.
"Easy for you to say. You aren't hung over as hell and sporting a black eye," Darien
replies.
"Get dressed, man, and stop complaining," Bobby says, but
he is glad that he came over. His
friend's wit is exactly what he needs to take his mind off Claire.
~!@#$%^&*()
At the Agency, Eberts and The Official are waiting for
them when they walk in.
"Boys. We have an
emergency," The Official says, looking constipated, as usual.
"It's Saturday, can't they just call 9-1-1?" Darien asks.
The Official smiles, slightly. "If you didn't have that huge black eye, I would probably
reprimand you for that."
"Boss, what's the emergency?" Bobby intervenes.
"We just got wind of some Chrysalis activity in the
area. It seems that they are clearing
out one of their warehouses in a hurry. We want you two to get down there and see what you can find. Find out what they're in such a rush to move
and why. Find out anything and
everything that you can. Here's the
address." Eberts hands them each a card.
"No questions. Just go." The Official is stern.
"Damn," Darien mutters. "I am not in the mood for this today." He flashes his tattoo at Bobby. "What do you think, should I call the Keeper and put her on
standby?"
Bobby glances at Fawkes' three-quarters red tattoo. "Call her from the van. I don't want you going all red-eyed on me
today. Its enough I have to deal with
you hung over, god forbid your mood gets any worse."
"Shut up," Darien laughs, punching him playfully.
~!@#$%^&*()
Claire agrees to meet the two agents at their stakeout
point. She parks her SUV across the
street and walks over to the tan van. She hops in the passenger seat beside Bobby.
"Hey, Claire. Fawkes is doing a little recon, he'll probably need a shot when he gets
back." Bobby doesn't look at her. He is peering through his binoculars at the
building down the street where a number of black trucks are parked. A walkie-talkie sets on his lap.
"Bobby?" Claire
says. "Did you get my message?"
"Claire. We're
working." Bobby picks up the
walkie-talkie. "Fawkes? You see anything in there?"
"You wouldn't believe what I'm seeing in here. I'm videoing it." Darien replies, his voice whispering from the black rectangle.
"Be careful, partner. Claire's here with the blue stuff. If you have to, take a break and get recharged," Bobby says, trying to
focus on his partner and not Claire.
"Sweet," Darien replies.
"How many segments were red?" Claire asks, sensing the frost from Bobby.
"He was about three-quarters red. He's watching it," Hobbes says. He looks at Claire for the first time. "You look nice."
She blushes. "Thank you."
"Aw crap," Darien says on the handset.
"What is it, partner?" Bobby asks, alert.
"Open up the back of the van for me…I cut it too
close…"
Claire climbs behind her seat and opens the sliding door
to the van. Several moments later,
Darien sheds his quicksilver and sprawls on the floor of the van, grimacing
with pain. He moans. She pulls out the long needle and injects
him in the neck.
"Why do you always have to shoot him in the neck?" Bobby asks, wincing as he watches her remove
the needle.
"It's the easiest place for me to find a vein in a
hurry," Claire replies as Darien slowly recovers from his short blackout. "Darien, you need to stop…" Claire pauses
when she sees his bruised face.
"I know, I know, I need to pay better attention so I
don't get all red-eyed, I'm sorry." Darien rubs his neck where she gave him the injection. He turns to Bobby. "Man, you should see all the crap they've got in there." He absentmindedly de-silvers a video camera
beside his hand.
"What happened to you?" Claire asks. She glances
accusingly at Bobby.
"This?" Darien
motions to his face. "This is a direct
result of Thai food." Bobby laughs,
ignoring Claire's glance. "My date last
night neglected to tell me about her ex-boyfriend's right hook. Needless to say, I didn't have a very good
night."
"Fawkes is a little hung over as well. But he's getting into the spirit, I guess,"
Bobby remarks.
"I'm going back in." Darien smiles at Claire. "You
wouldn't have happened to bring another batch of counteragent would you?"
Claire looks at him as if he is an alien.
"I want Bobby to come in with me and you know how much quicksilver
that takes. Come on, Claire, I know you
have a spare," Darien begs. "You can
sit here and be home base on the microphone or whatever and we'll be a few
minutes, tops. Claire?"
Claire sighs. She
pulls a syringe of counteragent from her bag and Darien grins widely. "Okay, partner, you ready?"
Bobby hops out of the van in reply.
"Be careful, boys," Claire says, watching them
disappear. She has a strange feeling in
her gut but she chalks it up to the fact that the two men she cares about most
are walking away from her.
"Testing. Claire,
do you know how to work one of these mikes?" Darien says into the walkie-talkie, teasingly.
"Just hurry," Claire replies. "It is Saturday and I might have things to do."
The walkie goes silent and Claire sits, anxiously waiting
for them to return.
"Claire?" She
drops the handset in surprise.
"Here."
"Um, Can you start the van up and meet us by the garbage
can up the street…now?" Claire can hear
the anxiety in Bobby's voice. He sounds
scared. Claire sees the two men,
staggering drunkenly down the street. She cranks the van and pulls up alongside them. Bobby slides open the door and heaves an
unconscious Darien into the van. Claire
glances back just long enough to see blood.
"Go Claire. Now. Just drive," Bobby says, his voice
menacingly calm. Claire can sense how
worried he is.
"What happened?" She asks, speeding toward the lab.
Bobby lets out a long sigh. "I walked away from him, just a little and I bumped into
something. The quicksilver fell off me
and I got spotted. Fawkes…he jumped in
front of me…He got tagged in the upper thigh…Dammit…"
"Its not your fault, Bobby, you would have done the same
for him," Claire says, running a red light.
"He told me not to walk away…the dumb bastard even
quicksilvered us both so we could get out of there. He passed out right when you pulled up…god, Claire…" She glances back and sees how distraught
Bobby is. He is holding Darien's jacket
against his bleeding leg desperately.
"I am having a really bad day," Darien moans, with a
cough.
"Fawkes, how're you doing?" Bobby asks, showing slight relief over his partner's
consciousness.
"I'm bleeding. My
head hurts. I'm working on a
Saturday. I'm not doing too well,"
Darien replies.
Claire takes a hard right.
"Damn, what's the rush?" Darien asks, his head bumping into the side of the van as he slides
around.
"Man, why'd you have to jump in front of me?" Bobby asks, his guilt leaking into his
words.
Darien smirks at him. "Well, I figured with my luck the last few days that the bullet was
going to hit me regardless. Besides,
you're so short this bullet would have maimed you…" His eyes glaze.
"Fawkes? Fawkes,
keep talking to me…" Bobby looks to
Claire. "He's bleeding a lot, Keep."
"I never knew getting shot hurt this bad…" Darien mutters, his eyes rolling back in his
head as Claire parks the van outside the Agency.
"Help me get him to the lab," Claire pants, running
around the van to help Bobby carry Fawkes inside.
"Wait," Darien says, holding up his hands in protest as
Claire and Bobby start to grab him. They stop. "I wish I had a
picture. You guys are so scared," He
laughs, weakly.
They start to grab him again. "Wait. I'm not an
invalid. Help, don't hurt," He says,
his pride overtaking his pain. Instead
of letting them grab him by his armpits, he takes their hands in his and pulls
himself up on his good leg.
He puts his arms around Bobby's neck and then
Claire's. "And I'm not sure if this is a
good time to say anything but…" Darien hops slowly between them. "But…I
think I need a shot soon…"
"Just hold on, Darien, until we get you in the lab,
okay?" Claire knows she is asking a lot
of Darien to try to fight the madness, but she is worried about Darien's pale
color and his slurred speech.
Bobby and Claire feel Darien as a convulsion quakes
through his body for the need of the counteragent. He doesn't cry out. His
body becomes dead weight between Claire and Bobby as he falls unconscious.
"What happened?" The Official asks, following them into the Keep.
"Chrysalis took a shot at me and Fawkes got in the
way. He took one in the leg, boss,"
Bobby explains, breathless from the rush and the load of hauling Fawkes down
the hall.
Claire tunes Hobbes and Charlie's argument out as she
focuses on Darien's unconscious body. She cuts his too-short pants all the way to his waistline, but she
doesn't damage his boxers, knowing about his shyness, and she doesn't damage
his belt, knowing about his craving for fashion. There is a small entry wound on the front of his leg and a bigger
exit wound on the backside. She
inspects the bleeding wound closer and finds that his bone is intact, the
bullet having only damaged flesh and muscle. She covers the wound tightly and grabs a bottle of antiseptic. Bobby and The Official are yelling now but
she concentrates on Darien. She swabs
the wound with antiseptic and Darien cries out, the pain bringing him back to
consciousness.
"Keeper, you have to do something," Darien says
quietly. Bobby turns around in
mid-sentence hearing his friend's voice laced with pain.
"Just hold on, Darien, I'm going to take care of you,"
Claire replies, trying to ignore the crimson eyes of her patient.
"I'm trying," Darien replies. He closes his eyes as Claire tightly binds his leg with gauze to
stop the bleeding. "Did you have to
ruin my pants, Claire?" He asks, vainly
trying for humor.
Bobby and the Official stare at Darien.
"Please stop staring at me. You're not making this any easier," Darien says, looking back at
them with his devil eyes.
"Darien should not have taken you inside with him. It is an unacceptable accident. He should be capable enough by now to do his
own reconnaissance without you by his side," the Official resumes his argument.
Claire continues to work on Darien's leg.
"Here it comes," Darien murmurs, suddenly and when Claire
turns to look at him, he grabs her head and pulls her lips against his roughly.
Claire cries out, his violence frightening her, but her
scream is muffled by Darien's kiss. The
Official and Bobby are yelling, unaware of the danger behind them.
Claire, her fear turning to anger, bites Darien's lip,
the cut lip, causing him to jerk away with a hiss.
The Official and Bobby turn around, startled. Claire is looking at Darien angrily and
Darien is licking the blood from his lip.
"Bobby can you give me a hand?" Claire asks, breathless.
Bobby goes to her, concerned by her expression.
"Didn't know you were so rough," Darien sneers.
Bobby looks at Claire, confusion knotting his face.
"Get me the counteragent, Bobby, and then you and the
Official can go outside and have your argument." Claire closes her emotions off. She doesn't want the monster inside Darien to see her upset and she
doesn't want Bobby going all protective of her in front of the Official.
Bobby obeys in silence. He hands her the syringe. Darien
growls at them. Bobby holds him against
the chair as Claire pierces his arm with the needle. Darien loses consciousness as the counteragent takes effect.
"Is he going to be all right?" Bobby asks, quietly.
"He should be. I'm going to give him a pint of blood." Claire keeps a special supply of blood in the lab for emergencies such
as this. "I want you out of here if
you're going to be arguing," Claire says quietly, so the Official won't
overhear. "I can't work with the
distraction and I need to keep Darien calm."
Hobbes nods and pulls his boss into the hallway.
"Darien?" Claire
says, several minutes later. His blood
pressure is low, but not dangerous but his pulse rate is too high. She needs him to calm down and wake up.
He moves his head.
"Darien? Wake up
for me," She says.
"I'm awake, but I'm not happy about it," He says,
finally. Claire exhales.
"I gave you something for the pain."
Darien looks at Claire and then touches his lip
thoughtfully. "Wow. Sorry." His pale face blushes with regret.
"It wasn't you," Claire says. She knows that it wasn't the real Darien because she would have
enjoyed it. She desperately wants to
lean over and kiss the brown-eyed man before her but right now she is satisfied that he is simply alive.
Darien looks away. "That's never happened before."
"Darien, its okay." Claire sighs. "You didn't hurt
me and I know that it wasn't you." She
thinks back to the only other time that she's kissed Darien and realizes that
then she was kissing his brother. She
has no idea of what a kiss from Darien Fawkes would be like.
~!@#$%^&*()