Darien
thanks Alex and locks his door behind him. He realized halfway home that he probably shouldn't have left the
lab. He is exhausted and wishes for
some painkillers but he forgot to ask before leaving. Something funny is going on between his Keeper and Hobbes but he
missed the juicy tidbits of their argument. He only heard Bobby say that he was always unconscious or
nuts. His feelings are hurt partially
because his friends were talking about him while he was out and partially because
Bobby is right. He can't seem to get
through a mission without getting hurt or going insane. He scratches his wrist and collapses on his
unmade bed.
His Keeper is an enigma. He faded into a conversation that seemed entirely too personal for his
partner and his doctor and then he saw her 'caressing' his hand. Darien is no stranger to feminine affections
and she was definitely touching his hand in a less than professional way. She's always been sort of cold to him,
indifferent to any of his charm and flirtations, always focused on the science. Lately, he's sensed a slight tenderness in
her touch.
Darien feels his aching head reaching overload. He limps painfully to his retro refrigerator
and grabs a Corona. He knows that he
shouldn't drink with the sedatives in his bloodstream but he hopes that the
addition of alcohol will trigger the part of his brain that affects sleep.
He sits on the edge of his bed sipping the beer,
thinking. He has never thought of the
Keeper in a sexual way before. He is
unsure of how comfortable he is with the idea of her attraction. She is a very attractive woman, but she
isn't his type. She is what Kevin would
call "out of his league". She would
have been the perfect woman for Kevin, but Darien would never satisfy her.
"Fawkes?"
Darien didn't hear the knock, but he glances up, hearing
his partner's voice.
"Fawkes, I know you're not sleeping, open up," Hobbes
calls. "Don't make me use the key."
Darien sighs, but limps painfully to the door. "Dammit, Hobbes," He says, swinging open the
door. "I'm really not in the mood for
some long, demanding conversation."
"I need to talk to you, Fawkes," Hobbes says, waiting to
be allowed inside.
"Tomorrow."
"Now," Hobbes says.
Darien's energy drains from him in a rush and he needs a
bed. "Tomorrow. I'm frelling tired, Hobbes."
Bobby seems to see how pale Darien is in the dim light of
his apartment. "You okay?"
"I'm tired. Go
home," Darien sighs, closing the door and locking it on his partner. He isn't really angry with Bobby, just tired
of the drama that this weekend has brought.
Darien lies on his bed in the torn clothes he came home
in. He has finished his beer and sleep
is creeping into his closed eyes.
He groans when he hears the knock.
"Bobby," He says, irritated. He swings open the door and finds Claire, holding an overnight
bag.
~!@#$%^&*()
Darien is sleeping peacefully an hour later. She tucked him into bed with a sedative and
a fresh bandage on his oozing leg. He
seemed preoccupied but she was too nervous to inquire before he fell
asleep.
Claire likes to watch the ex-thief sleep. A look of angelic grace comes over his face
and he seems content. She always
expects him to put his thumb in his mouth to complete the sleeping child ambiance.
She paces around his apartment in her bare feet. Philosophy magazines lie side by side with
comic books. She absently flips through
a catalogue for security equipment and wonders how Darien's off-duty activities
involve safes and security cameras. She
picks up a small picture off a shelf.
Darien has his arm around Kevin. Darien's the same height as Kevin in the
picture so she guesses that it must be quite old. Darien's hair is down to his neck like it must have been popular
during his youth. Claire wishes once
again that she had grown up in America with a family instead of the British
boarding school with nuns. Kevin has a
disgusted look on his face but he looks exactly as she remembers him. Clean cut and serious with an impatient expression,
Kevin was looking at the camera. Darien's eyes were off to the side, his brown pupils bright with
something more interesting than his brother and the cameraman.
Claire sits down on Darien's couch with the picture. She has never found a picture of the Fawkes
brothers before. She wonders what it
was like for Darien growing up in the shadow of Kevin. She knew Kevin, god, she loved Kevin but she
couldn't imagine the two of them together. They are so alike, their caring natures, their intelligence, their
childlike enthusiasm. But, Darien has something that Kevin didn't have. Something inside him seems to need
nurturing, but of course, that could be in her biased opinion. Darien oozes vitality, he is alive and
searching for happiness in a way that she envies. She doesn't consider him a thrill seeker, but he needs to be free.
She puts the picture down as she hears him start to stir.
At his bedside, she sees his angelic face twisted in a
grimace of pain. She runs her
fingertips down his cheek and he calms. His eyes are closed but he takes her hand and squeezes it. Claire sits down on the edge of the bed and
he gently pulls her hand until she curls up in his arms. He doesn't wake up as she smells his shampoo
and the beer on his breath. She falls
asleep with her arms around him.
~!@#$%^&*()
Darien rolls over and mumbles to himself as his hand
contacts another person. He has been in
this situation too many times to recall but he recognizes the feeling of
another person's skin. He tries to remember
what he did the night before but the pain in his leg distracts him.
He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Claire. He's lying in bed with Claire.
Darien suddenly becomes very tired. His life has suddenly become a lot more
complicated. She rolls over while he is
watching her and kisses him on the mouth. Darien responds, surprised. As
she starts to caress him with her lips, he wonders how he gets into these
situations. Then he forgets the
situation and concentrates on her wandering hands.
~!@#$%^&*()