Claire
comes into the hallway several minutes later. Bobby is pacing nervously. "How
is he?"
"Oh, he's fine. He lost some blood but not enough to kill him. I decided against giving him an infusion yet. The bout of quicksilver madness just made
his body a little difficult to judge. He'll be fine. I gave him
something for the pain and he wants to talk to you before he…" She smiles a
little, "Goes to la-la land."
Bobby darts by her, headed for Darien's bedside. Claire follows him and sees his
disappointment finding Darien sleeping.
"He's exhausted. He used the gland too much today and with the additional stress of the
gunshot…" Claire starts.
Bobby glares at her. "I know he's tired, Claire. I'm
just worried about him. I'm also
worried about you worrying about him so much," He says, softer.
Claire absently puts her hand on Darien's cheek. "I'm his Keeper. He's the reason I have a job here and…"
"That's not the only reason and you know it. You care about him. More than a patient, more than a
friend. You care about him more than
Kevin Fawkes and more than me," Bobby interrupts. "And I'm sorry if that's okay with you but I can't do this
anymore."
"Do what Bobby?" Claire asks, defensively. "What
are we doing? We're comforting each
other because we're lonely. That's all
either of us need right now."
Bobby shakes his head. "I need more and so do you. The
only problem is that you need a relationship with someone besides me. I can't be with you and keep my heart
intact. I need more from you."
"Bobby, don't say that…I'm sorry," Claire flounders,
seeing Bobby's resolve. She glances at
Darien's unconscious face.
"You can't even look away from him when he's asleep,"
Bobby whispers. "I can't compete with
Fawkes, Claire and I can't believe you'd make me try," He says, turning away.
"Bobby, wait, we need to talk about this…" Claire says,
watching him walk away.
"I'm tired of talking," Bobby says, stopping.
"I don't want to talk here, not in front of Darien,"
Claire explains, regretting her excuse, seeing the hurt on Bobby's face.
"Damn, Claire, Fawkes is always either unconscious or
nuts, he doesn't give a damn what we say about him," Bobby snaps, looking over
at Darien's face.
Darien stares at him with half open eyes.
"Aw crap," Hobbes remarks to himself. Darien closes his eyes again. "Fawkes?"
Claire looks down at Darien. "He's sleeping, Bobby, but he still can hear on some subconscious
level and it's not a good idea to know that you and I are sleeping together,"
She whispers, taking Bobby to the edge of the Keep by the door, away from
Darien.
"Claire, I've said too much already. I care about you. More that I should and a lot more than you care for me. I can't have a no strings relationship with
you, I need more. I need love and
companionship along with sex. You can't
give me that and I can't take any less from you." Bobby tries to hide the extent of his pain.
"Oh, Bobby, don't do this to me. I'm not ready to go to a new level with you,
but its not because I don't care about you," Claire says. "I'm a top secret government employee and I
signed my right to outside life away. I
can't have a boyfriend because I don't know when I'm going to get transferred
to Antarctica or something. You know
how it works."
Bobby shakes his head. "I know you love Fawkes, or you think you do. He's got you swooning over his brown eyes every time he walks
in."
"Bobby Hobbes, that is not true. What has gotten into you?" Claire gasps, flushing.
"I'm leaving. Will you come get me when Fawkes wakes up?" Bobby disappears through the sliding door.
Claire crosses her arms in frustration and returns to
Darien's bedside.
~!@#$%^&*()
"Claire?" Darien
yawns, several hours later.
"I'm here, Darien. Good morning," She smiles, glad to see him awake and lucid.
"Is it morning?" He asks, wincing as he glances around.
"No, more like early evening. How do you feel?"
Darien sighs. "Well, my face hurts from the punch at the Thai restaurant, my head
hurts from the hangover, my leg hurts from the bullet and my brain hurts from
the quicksilver madness. I feel like
dancing."
Claire smiles. "Good. I want to watch you
overnight, though, for your own good."
"Can you watch me at home? I really don't want to spend the night on this back-killing table
chair thing again. Please?" He pleads, his brown eyes pathetic.
"Darien, you really should stay here in case something
happens," Claire sighs. She takes his
hand to check his pulse but finds herself staring at the contours of his skin.
"Keepie?" Darien
asks, quietly, watching her.
"Sorry. Thought I
saw something…" Claire blushes. Darien
watches her, curiously.
"Come on, Claire, I'm not going to die, I just want to go
home and sleep in my nice big soft bed, where my feet don't hang off the
edge. Please?" Darien asks again, quieter.
Claire cannot take his brown eyes drilling into
hers. She turns away, sighs, and
finally nods.
"Thank you. Thank
you so much, Claire," Darien says, relieved. He starts to get off the bed when Bobby walks in.
"I'm heading home, Claire, is Fawkes…" Bobby starts,
freezing when he sees Darien's eyes on him. "Hey, buddy."
"Hey," Darien grunts. He looks at Bobby, suspiciously.
"What's that look for? You mad that I got you shot?" Bobby asks, trying to break the tension that he feels building around
him.
"Nah," Darien shrugs. He slowly finishes sitting up as Bobby comes beside him.
"What's up then? Did I interrupt something?" Bobby asks, disturbed and still reeling from his earlier conversation
with the Keeper.
"The Keeper says I can go home," Darien says,
flatly. "With supervision."
Bobby raises one eyebrow and turns toward Claire.
"But I guess since I'm always either unconscious or nuts,
it might be for the best, you know?" Darien gingerly balances himself on one leg and looks at the Keeper,
expectantly. "Are we going?"
"Fawkes," Hobbes gasps, realizing that Darien heard his
comment.
"No, it's fine, Hobbesy. I have no idea what you guys were talking about but at least I know a
little more about how you feel," Darien says, a mask of indifference on his
face.
"Darien," Hobbes starts.
"He didn't mean it like that," Claire defends, sensing
the hurt in Darien's eyes.
"Don't defend me," Hobbes retorts.
"What is going on in here? I had no idea Saturdays were so exciting," Alex Monroe says,
standing in the doorway.
"Alex. You want
to do me a favor?" Darien asks. She walks over to him and he throws his arm
around her shoulders. "Give me a ride
home."
Alex looks at Claire, curiously. "Is this okay?"
"Say its fine, Claire. You know you want to," Darien sighs. "I'm fine for the night and you know it. I'm going home."
Claire nods and Bobby disappears from the room.
"Did I miss something?" Alex asks.
"Nah, nothing important," Darien says, limping away from
Claire into the hallway.
"What happened to your face?" Monroe asks, thin smile on her face.
"That's a story for the car," Darien starts.
Claire watches Darien and Alex disappear and feels her
body slump. Bobby doesn't want to see
her, Darien is walking away with Alex Monroe who has a body like a Barbie doll,
and she is left standing alone in her lab.
She starts to cry, softly to herself, not realizing that
Bobby Hobbes stands outside the room, listening to her sobs. After several minutes, he walks away,
needing to talk to his partner.
~!@#$%^&*()