Out of Time (Prologue)

Out of Time (Prologue)

By Carol M.

Summary: Darien is mysteriously kidnapped and then returned to the Agency. It's race against time to find out what was done to him.

Spoilers: small one for Father Figure

Rating: PG-13 for violence and graphic images

Timeline: sometime after F2B

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd treat them with a hell of a lot more respect than their former owners did. That's okay, when it goes to a new network, everything will be peachy keen again.

Note: This story has nothing to do with the Devil's Silver series, so forget any character deaths, connections or partnerships featured in those stories. Also, I have next to no knowledge when it comes to medicine so please excuse any mistakes on my part. After watching ER for eight years, all I've managed to learn is that a UTI is a Urinary Tract Infection and a GSW is a gunshot wound. Other than that, take some time out from writing letters and sending postcards, and enjoy the story : )

Darien quivered as he took in the sight before him. He was in the San Diego Credit Union, sent in under the radar to try and get some intel on some psychotic bank robbers who had decided to hold up the place. About fifty billion police eagerly awaited outside, ready to storm in on a moments notice and take out whoever they had to, innocent or not. Darien had been in the bank for about ten minutes when he realized that the robbers weren't going down without a fight. He had just witnessed the rather graphic execution of the bank's president, and was struggling to keep his wavering heartbeat under control so he would stay invisible. Something told him that if he suddenly appeared, he would be gone in a matter of seconds, and they probably wouldn't be so kind as to aim for the chest and not the head. They didn't know he was walking around with a 17 million dollar gland in his head after all.

Darien reached for his mike and put it near his mouth. "Hobbes, come in, man," he whispered.

"What the hell is going on in there, Fawkes," he heard Bobby respond.

"Um, well, you ever seen Scarface?" said Darien.

"Yeah, why?" he heard Bobby reply in a curious tone.

"Well, I think I'm about to get a live reenactment of the ending here, man. What do you say I get the hell out here and leave this job to trained professionals," whispered Darien as he eyed one of the robbers caressing his gun.

"They're sending in a squad as we speak. Just hang tight, buddy," said Bobby.

"Hobbes, Hobbes, no man, you send those guys in and half these people aren't getting out alive. Call them off!" said Darien harshly.

The sound of breaking glass told Darien that his warning had come too late. Twenty men dressed in black and armed with heavy artillery entered the bank, coming from the doors, the windows and the roof. Screams and gunshots filled the air.

Darien moved towards one of the walls in a panic, not sure if he should reveal himself or not. He saw robbers and SWAT team members dropping like flies and innocent bank patrons scattering towards the exits. It was complete pandemonium and Darien was terrified.

He looked towards his left saw one of the bank robbers rapidly returning fire on the SWAT members. He decided to put his fear aside and take him out. He lunged towards the robber, and they both went crashing to the floor. Darien landed heavily on his side, forcing the quicksilver off of his body. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with the barrel of a shotgun.

"That wasn't very nice," said a voice from behind the gun.

Darien was paralyzed. He'd only had a gun in his face once before and that had been with his father at the helm with no threat of death. This was different. Any second this guy could pull the trigger and Darien Fawkes would be a memory. He absently thought about what they would put on his tombstone. He had great hair, maybe. Or his pants were always a little too short. Whatever it was, he realized one thing: the idea of dying scared the crap out of him.

He swallowed hard and tried to beg for his life with his eyes, not trusting his voice to work. He saw the gun move a little and realized the robber was about to pull the trigger. I love you, Claire and Bobby, he thought to himself.

He closed his eyes and waited for the bright light. What he got was a heavy body suddenly knocking him flat on his back. After a few heart stopping seconds, he opened one eye curiously and saw the very dead face of his almost killer only inches away from his own face. He felt sticky warmth and realized to his horror that he was covered in blood.

His body started to shiver and he tried to fight the queasy feeling building in his stomach. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and he felt his body being pulled out from the stifling grip of the dead robber's body. "Fawkes, Fawkes, you okay, partner?" he heard the concerned voice of Bobby Hobbes ask.

Darien looked up at Bobby and then surveyed the scene around him. It was all over, he realized. Bodies lay strewn about the floor, blood leaking out from random parts of their anatomies. SWAT team members milled about, checking pulses and calling for ambulances. Random people were screaming out in pain or crying out in sympathy. Amongst all the carnage sat Darien Fawkes, living and breathing, not dead or even in any pain. But it had been so close, so damn close. No, Darien Fawkes was definitely not okay.

****************

"Vacation, did you just say vacation?" said the Official gruffly in the direction of Claire.

Claire nodded and looked over at Darien from her position next to the Official's desk. "Sir, I think it's only fair. This last case proved rather traumatic for Bobby and especially Darien. I think a little recovery time is in order, don't you think?"

The Official shook his head. "No, absolutely not. There are too many important cases pending."

Bobby cleared his throat from the chair he was sitting in. "Ah, sir, Keep's got a point. You've been promising me a vacation since my first day at this dump and I feel that…"

"Enough Hobbes," interrupted the Official. He looked at Darien. "Fawkes, what are your thoughts on this?"

Darien looked towards Bobby and then back at the Official. "Well as my senior just said, sir, you have been promising him a vacation for quite some time. And if he gets a vacation, then I think I should get a vacation too. Batman never worked without Robin after all."

The Official sighed in frustration. Claire stepped forward with a serious expression on her face. "Sir, you have been working them both to the breaking point. As Darien's doctor, I think that he especially needs a break from the stresses of work. Otherwise he might be susceptible to something unpleasant like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Whoa, Keep, you don't have to go getting all scientific on us, now," said Darien, using the sarcasm to deflect the fact that he was still freaked out by the events of the previous day.

Claire rolled her eyes and looked at the Official. "Sir, Darien needs some recovery time from what happened to him. Facing death can be a very trying thing and in Darien's case, I just think that it would be best if he dealt with all of this off the clock."

Darien whistled and stuck his hand up in the air. "Excuse me, I am here you know."

"Oh, so the chosen one gets a vacation and I don't, is that what you're saying?" said Bobby with irritation.

The Official thought for a moment and then spoke suddenly. "No. Fawkes, Hobbes, you're both on vacation for one week," he said as he looked over at Claire. "Satisfied?"

Claire smiled. "Yes, sir."

Bobby looked over at Darien and beamed. "Did you hear that Fawkes, a vacation! Bahamas, here I come!"

Darien smiled and the partners slapped hands.

"What do you say Fawkesy? Want to tickle your toes in the sand and seduce some gorgeous natives with me?" asked Bobby.

Darien smiled and shook his head. "Naw Hobbes, I'll leave the tickling and seducing to you, buddy."

"Yeah, okay. Just don't go getting all jealous when Bobby Hobbes comes back with a golden tan and pockets filled with phone numbers of amazing…"

"Bobby," said Claire sharply, rolling her eyes.

Bobby cupped his hand over his mouth. "She's just jealous," he said in the direction of Darien.

Darien nodded knowingly.

Bobby looked around the room. "What am I still doing here? I need to get packed," he said as he stood up. "I'll buy you all a souvenir," said Bobby before he walked out the door. He popped his head back in the door several seconds later. "Thanks, chief."

"Get out of here," grumbled the Official.

Bobby's head disappeared.

"Well I supposed I should leave too," said Darien as he slowly stood up. "This vacation wouldn't happen to be paid, would it?"

"Don't push it, Fawkes," said the Official.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," replied Darien. "I'll catch ya next week then, kids," he said as he stepped into the hall.

The Official waved him off in disgust. Claire leaned towards him and whispered "Thank you, sir." Then she quickly walked out of the office to catch up to Darien. "Darien, hold on a second," yelled Claire.

Darien turned around. "Yeah, Keep?"

"I just want you to know that if you need to talk about anything, I'm here for you. Not just as your doctor but as your friend," she said as she reached him and grabbed his hand for a moment.

Darien smiled. "I know that. I'm fine Keep, really. I just need to get out of here for a few days and clear my head. I'm thinking bowling and the arcade might be instrumental in my recovery," he said as he gave her hand a squeeze.

"Okay, well if you change your mind, you know where I am," said Claire, letting go of Darien's hand.

"How could I forget?" said Darien as he started for the elevators. "I'll see you in a week, Claire."

Claire smiled. "Have a good vacation, Darien."

"Oh don't worry, I will," said Darien as he disappeared into an elevator.

****************

Unknown Time and Location

There were no faces or voices anymore, just blurry images and fuzzy sounds. All Darien could feel was pain. He was strapped painfully tight to a lab table, the binds so tight they left bloody marks on his arms and legs and bruises on his chest and stomach. He had no idea how long he had been strapped to the table and at this point, he didn't really care.

He saw one of the blurry blobs come closer to him and felt the prick of a needle between his toes. Fire coursed through his body and he could feel himself convulsing against the restraints, adding more aches to his tortured frame. A few moments later, he felt a second prick, this one in his arm, and all his senses seemed to go on vacation, leaving him feeling distant and lightheaded. Just before he lost consciousness, Darien wondered how his week of rest and relaxation had turned into a week of hell.

TBC