Out of Time Part 2
By Carol M.
See prologue for disclaimers and stuff…
Note: Hopefully this little scenario that I cooked up won't sound like too much crap. If it does, well hey, it's science fiction, and I made it all up, so sue me: ) Enjoy folks!
"You sure you're okay, partner?" Bobby asked Darien for the hundredth time as they made their way up the stairs to Darien's apartment.
Darien rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Hobbes, stop worrying."
Bobby shook his head. "See what happens. I leave you alone for a week and you become somebody's science experiment. I should never have left you," muttered Bobby.
Darien stopped Bobby and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Hobbesy, it's not your job to watch over me, okay. None of this is your fault," said Darien firmly.
"If something bad happens to you, I'll never forgive myself," said Bobby as he continued up the stairs.
"Yeah well hopefully we won't have to worry about a funeral anytime soon. But you can cross your fingers for me anyway," said Darien as he followed Bobby up the stairs.
They reached the second floor and walked over to Darien's apartment. Darien took out his key and stuck it in the lock, but found that the door was already open. "That can't be good," he said as he entered his apartment. "Aw crap," he sighed in anger as he got his first glimpse of his apartment.
The whole place was a mess. His books and CDs had been tossed around the room and all his clothes lay strewn about the floor. One of the windows was broken, leaving glass to litter the carpet. All in all, everything was a wreck.
"Looks like you're gonna have to call the maid when all of this is over, pal," said Bobby as he looked around the room for clues.
"Yeah, no kidding," said Darien as he kneeled down and picked up a few of his beloved quote books. "Is nothing sacred anymore?" he said.
Bobby ignored him and looked around the kitchen. "Where did they get you?"
"The doorway, I think," replied Darien, trying desperately to remember something.
Bobby stepped near the doorway and scanned the area with his expertly trained eyes. He noticed a small piece of blue striped fabric with a dot of blood on it. "You got any tweezers or tongs or something?" he asked.
Darien nodded and walked into his kitchen. He rooted in a door and pulled out a pair of tongs, handing them to Bobby. Bobby used the tongs to pick up the scrap of fabric. "I don't think even you own a shirt this ugly," said Bobby as he held the fabric up in the air.
Darien took the tongs from Bobby and looked at the fabric. He pointed to the blood stain. "Well at least it looks like I put up a fight. I got that going for me, right."
A sudden bump behind the door caused them both to step back. Bobby pulled out his gun and motioned Darien to stay behind him.
The door swung open and a short, stocky man dressed in a suit entered the apartment.
"Freeze!" yelled Bobby as he aimed his gun at the intruder. The man reacted by kicking the gun out of Bobby's hand. "Oh, you want to play rough, huh?" said Bobby as he brought his leg up and kicked the perp in the chest. The guy fell back into the hallway and took off running.
"Nobody runs from Bobby Hobbes!" said Bobby as he picked up his gun and ran after the intruder.
Darien followed close behind. "I'll cut him off in the alley," said Darien as he ran down another hallway.
Bobby nodded and continued to run after the man. They got down a flight of stairs and wound up in the lobby of the apartment building. The perp made a mad dash for the side door leading out to the alley. Bobby was hot on his heels.
Darien cut through the building from the fire escape and ended up in the middle of the alleyway. He saw the intruder running in his direction and decided to go invisible to surprise him. He sped up his heartbeat and felt the quicksilver spread over his skin. What he also felt was intense pain and nausea. He fell to the ground as a dizzy spell slammed through his body. The perp ran by just as Darien shed the quicksilver.
Darien lay on the ground, in pain and unable to move. Bobby reached him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Fawkes?"
Darien shook his head in misery. "Don't let him get away, Bobby," muttered Darien.
Bobby nodded. "I'll be right back, partner," said Bobby as he took off running again. He reached the end of the alleyway and caught a glimpse of the intruder screeching off in an old car. He could faintly make out the driver, but didn't recognize the face. Bobby shot off his gun at the car, but it was too late, the car was too far away for it to do any good. With a muttered curse, he committed the license plate number to memory and then dashed back down the alley towards his fallen partner.
He reached Darien and noticed that his partner was dry heaving uncontrollably. He kneeled down next to his partner and began rubbing his back for comfort. "It's okay, Fawkes, it's okay," he murmured softly.
Darien felt like his entire stomach was about to explode. No matter how many times his body lurched to throw up, nothing would come up. Finally after a few minutes, the convulsive need to vomit stopped and he lay down on the pavement in exhaustion.
"Talk to me, Fawkes, wants going on?" asked Bobby with worry. He rolled Darien over and saw sweat and tears pouring down his partner's face. He set his hand against Darien's forehead and frowned when he felt heat radiating off of it. "Okay, easy buddy, I'm going to get you some help," said Bobby.
Darien nodded in fear and tried to pick himself off the ground, but found he was too weak. Bobby reached under his arms and pulled him off the ground. "I got you, Fawkes, I got you," said Bobby as he hoisted Darien's arm over his shoulder and started to drag him back out of the alleyway towards the van.
******
An hour later, Darien was once again lying in the counteragent chair, feeling only slightly better. Bobby was pacing around the room in a panic and Claire was analyzing yet another blood sample from Darien.
The Official entered the Keep with a glum expression on his face. "Did you find anything?" he asked as he stepped next to Claire.
Claire sighed and looked up. "Unfortunately, yes," she said grimly.
Darien sat up in the counteragent chair with dread. "What is it?" he asked.
Claire put her hands on her hips. "Darien's blood is showing signs of some kind of toxin that I've never seen before. It's bonding to the quicksilver, which means the more quicksilver that builds up in his system, the more toxin that will be released."
"Is there some kind of antidote?" asked the Official.
"There's got to be. I'm trying to identify the individual components of the toxin right now. Once that's done, I can try to come up with some kind of remedy," she said.
"Is it going to kill me?" Darien asked softly.
Claire looked over at Darien with a sympathetic look on her face. "If the toxins continue to build in your system, then by the time you reach the levels necessary to go into quicksilver madness, you'll die," she said softly.
All the blood drained from Darien's face and he slumped back into the counteragent chair.
Bobby quickly walked over to the chair. "Nobody's dying, partner. We're going to find whoever did this and make them give up the antidote," said Bobby matter of factly.
Darien only nodded sadly.
Bobby hit him on the shoulder. "Come on, D, this isn't you. Darien Fawkes is one of the most stubborn, irritating guys that I know. I'm not letting you give up that easily, my friend."
"Bobby's right, Darien. This is some kind of man made toxin, which means there's got to be some kind of antitoxin. I won't stop until I find it, I promise," she said as she stepped next to Bobby.
"Thanks guys," said Darien softly.
"Why didn't this toxin show up in his blood tests from before?" asked the Official.
Claire shook her head. "I'm not sure, sir. It might be some sort of time release formula or something like that. I'm still studying the blood. I should know more in a few hours."
Bobby nodded and looked over at the Official. "Did you get any info on that plate I gave you?"
"The car is registered to a Jerry Blair. It was reported stolen three days ago," replied the Official.
"What about the fabric, did you get anything off of that?" asked Bobby.
The Official cleared his throat. "The forensics boys found traces of a chemical used in the production of tennis balls, plastic bottles and inner tubes."
"We got any local manufacturers that would use that kind of thing?" asked Bobby.
"Eberts is looking into that as we speak. We should know within a few minutes," said the Official. "I want Darien locked down here. He doesn't leave the building for anything, you hear me."
"No," said Darien.
"Excuse me?" said the Official.
"I said no, sir," said Darien firmly. "I'm not going to sit around here staring at my tattoo waiting to die. Please sir, if I'm going to die, let it be on my own terms," he pleaded.
"You're not going to die, Darien," said Claire.
"Well if I do, I would rather it be outside than in this hellhole," said Darien. "No offense," he added as he looked over at Claire.
"I can't clear that Fawkes," said the Official.
"What's the matter? Afraid I'm going to run off and die before you can harvest the gland," said Darien sarcastically.
"Fawkes," said Bobby sharply.
The Official shook his head. "That's not true, Darien. I only want to keep you safe until Claire can find a remedy for this thing," he said.
Darien stared intensely at the Official. "Look, you owe me, sir. I've served this Agency the best way I know how. I know I'm not the greatest agent you've ever had, but I've tried my best to do the right thing most of the time," said Darien softly. "Let me do this."
The Official stared at Darien long and hard, not seeing any possible way that Darien would obey his order. "All right," he finally said. "But Hobbes is to accompany you at all times."
"With pleasure chief," said Bobby.
They all turned eagerly when Eberts entered the Keep.
"What did you find?" Bobby asked anxiously.
"There are three companies that use the chemical found on the fabric you gave us. Two are warehouses right here downtown and the other is located out near Miramar," said Eberts as he handed a piece of paper containing the addresses to Bobby.
"If this information gets us our cure, than I'm buying you a steak dinner, Ebes," said Bobby.
Eberts smiled shyly.
Darien stood up from the chair and walked towards Bobby.
"How you doing? You feeling any better?" asked Bobby with concern as he eyed his partner.
"I'm okay," said Darien. He snatched the paper out of Bobby's hand and scanned the addresses.
"Anything there ringing a bell, Darien?" asked Claire.
"Not yet, but I think if I see them up close, it might jog my memory," said Darien as he looked at Bobby. "Come on, man, let's hit it."
"Right behind you, big guy," said Bobby.
"Darien, wait!" said Claire urgently. "You are under no circumstances to quicksilver. The more quicksilver that builds up, the less time we have."
"You mean the less time I have," said Darien pointedly.
Claire looked down with a hurt expression on her face.
Darien shook his head. "I'm sorry, Keep. My brave face is running on empty here."
"I know, I'm sorry too. I will find a way to stop this, Darien," she said.
"I'm counting on it, Keep," said Darien with a small smile. He looked over at Bobby. "Well it looks like we're doing this job the old fashioned way, buddy. No invisible sneak and peak for us."
"That's okay. Bobby Hobbes will show you the subtle art of entering an establishment undetected," said Bobby.
"Can't wait," said Darien under his breath as he walked out the door. Bobby followed behind.
The Official looked over Claire. "How much time does he have?" he asked.
"Five days if he doesn't use any quicksilver, maybe less," replied Claire.
"Help him. Anything you need, and I'll get it for you. Just don't let him die," said the Official sharply.
"I won't, sir," said Claire softly.
The Official glanced at Claire with a look of heavy emotion in his eyes. Just as quickly he shook the expression off his face and looked over at Eberts. "Eberts, we have work to do."
"Yes, sir," said Eberts.
The Official walked out of the Keep, followed by Eberts, leaving Claire behind to find the right combination of chemicals that would save Darien's life.
TBC
