Part 3
The Official was frowning at the group both standing and sitting in the room before him. At least he wasn't shouting anymore, though Darien was beginning to wonder if it might have been better when he was. The icy silence was extremely uncomfortable and had been going on for several long minutes now.
"Sir..." Eberts tried, only to be silenced.
"Shut up, Eberts," the Official barked. Then he turned on Michele, who had been leaning against the wall near the door. "What is it you want from me?"
"From you, from the Agency? Nothing. I won't even explain why I was here before, or why I'm back now, if you don't want to hear it. The information is highly volatile." Michele didn't bother moving. She'd already piled all the papers and disks on the conference table, without explaining what they were about. Darien had a pretty good idea. "You have to decide whether or not you're going to cave in to Corvan's threats and hand me and Cat over to him."
"That will depend on what you tell me." The Official had calmed himself a bit, the red flush retreating from his face and neck. "Begin with the QSX Project. What is it?"
"Me," she said matter-of-factly, which irritated the hell out of the Official. "Look, you know the history of quicksilver, the problems adapting it to living tissue, I was -- am -- the first success." She moved until she was leaning at the end of the conference table facing the Official. "The theory was simple: inject infants with a drug that the body would develop a counter for. In this case, the counter was quicksilver. Other effects were induced as well -- the heightened neurotransmitter function, the ESP-type abilities, though that effect was random. Out of two hundred original test subjects, five survived to puberty and only one was successfully brought to full functionality. Me." She tipped her head to the side. "If it wasn't for me, your QS9000 projects would never have happened. And you know it."
Claire got this really strange look on her face that Darien caught before she got it back under control. "Keep, what is she talking about?"
"You mean she never told you?" Michele turned to look at Claire, who pursed her lips and glared at the other woman. "Of course not. Wouldn't want to upset the dear boy, now would we?"
The Official cleared his throat. "That information is highly classified, Miss MacTierney."
"I just bet it is," she said in a sickly-sweet voice. "Most of what I'm going to tell you is highly classified. So what? You afraid of him knowing the truth?"
"That particular truth is unnecessary at this time. Wouldn't you agree?" Eberts tipped his head slightly as he looked at Michele, who gave him a small nod of acknowledgment.
The cogs had been spinning in Hobbes' head and he chose to toss in a question of his own. "Are you saying there's more like you out there?"
Michele shook her head. "Like I said, only five of us survived Phase I of the project. I was the only successful Phase II recipient. Two went insane with minimal abilities, one died outright, and the last survived, with an increase of abilities, but unable to quicksilver effectively." She turned to the Official. "Do you need name, rank, and serial number?"
He met her gaze without fear. "Later."
"So who is this other survivor of the process?" Claire asked, the anger in her tone warring with honest curiosity.
"My brother," Michele answered without turning.
"Jacob or Patrick?" Eberts asked.
Michele began to laugh. "Oh no. Not either of them. You didn't figure it out?" She pushed away from the table and circled it, heading back towards the door with all eyes following her. "You did all that work to find out who I was and you never figured it out? No wonder I was able to play you all so easily." She bent down for her backpack that she'd left on the floor and rummaged through it, coming up with a couple of pill bottles.
"So why don't you explain it to us," Alex growled, her look dark.
Darien kept his own face neutral. Alex had been very unhappy to know Michele was back, almost as upset as Claire, and he had to wonder why. Their... relationship, what there was to it, was convenience only, or so he had thought. Alex had been distant since Cat's arrival. Maybe this was inevitable. He was going to have to talk to her. Michele's return, permanent or not, couldn't change how they had relied on and helped each other for the last year. He didn't want it to change, but as she turned to look at him, he knew it had.
Michele opened the bottles with shaking hands and dry swallowed pills from each. "I have a twin brother who was also part of the project." She leaned back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor.
Alex groaned. "The weird birth certificates. One wasn't an error; your parents gave you near-identical names."
"Huh?" Hobbes asked for everyone else.
"Michele --- Michael. Fraternal twins," Alex explained. "Damn it."
"I wasn't expected," Michele commented. "And my parents never intended us to be part of the QSX Project. That was serendipity."
"'Chele?" Darien was afraid she was going to collapse again, like she had at Eberts' house. She claimed that it was nothing, but he suspected it was something, something serious.
She waved her hand, hanging her head between her knees until the drugs kicked in. "Look we, me and Mikey, both knew we were different, starting about the time we turned thirteen. If it wasn't for him, I might very well be either dead or locked in a nut-house somewhere. Somehow, together, we got through the ordeal of our abilities kicking in and gained control of them."
"Who? And how long have you been working for them?" The Official asked from behind his desk. It was obvious he didn't care what was wrong with her so long as he got the information he wanted.
"At one time, the group was known as Mirage," Michele answered without lifting her head. "Things have changed since its creation, goals have altered, plans made. They go by Changeling now, though you'll never find a record for it." She lifted her head and smiled slightly. "Much like this agency."
Hobbes snorted. "Mirage is a Cold War myth. Government urban legend."
"They become legends for a reason, Robert." Eberts sounded so very smug.
"Trust me, Robert, they exist. My parents were killed by them, to ensure I would be free to join their ranks. Hell, I was designed for them." She pushed herself to her feet. "Mikey got involved about the time we started college, months before I did. My parents found out and tried to stop them." She shrugged, almost as if she didn't care that her parents had died. "I officially joined the day I turned eighteen and was legally an adult. I finished college and they arranged for me to disappear."
"You could quicksilver back then?" Claire asked trying to find out what she could.
"No, they only solved the Phase II riddle about a decade ago. Between me and Mikey, we've accomplished a lot." They all looked at her as if waiting for the next shoe to drop. "Mikey is a very strong telepath and empath. We were very... close for a long time."
"That doesn't really explain why you are here now," Hobbes stated flatly.
"She's trying to get her -- our -- son back. Stark has him," Darien answered. He got to his feet and moved to Michele's side. "Sit, you're still not feeling well." With him supporting her, she settled into one of the chairs around the conference table. Claire looked over at her with the eye of a doctor, but said nothing. Her anger, her near-hatred of Michele, didn't allow any real sympathy. Darien grabbed the nearest chair and sat down next to Michele, offering what little support he could.
"Why would Stark be interested in your children?" Alex asked, her animosity for Stark and what he did to children warring with her intense dislike for Michele.
"For the same reason he was interested in acquiring me," Michele answered, without really explaining anything.
"Kid, just tell us. Cut the run-around bullshit. We get enough of that from the Fat Man over there," Hobbes snarled at her. No one was very happy with her return, or with learning the truth about her purpose here a year ago.
"You know about a gentleman named Arnaud de Fohn?" She didn't allow Hobbes' attitude phase her; it was a small price to pay.
"Yes, he made an alliance with Stark and Chrysalis just a few months before you originally arrived. The alliance has been uneasy at best and caused us some difficulties," Eberts recited in that steady voice of his. Out of all of them, Eberts was the only one besides Darien with some small amount of concern for Michele and her situation.
"Which is why I came." She paused, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. "Stark wanted the quicksilver tech for his breeding program, Arnaud wanted to be visible, and they both wanted Darien dead. Arnaud's quicksilver information was flawed, as his condition proved, so Changeling was asked to secure the information for them."
"Why? I mean, why didn't Stark just send some Chrysalis goons to steal the information?" Hobbes asked.
"Several reasons. Stark knew you were watching him and that if he attempted to break in and steal the data you'd come after him with guns blazing. Even though it might have gotten him Darien's head on a platter, that still would have caused far more trouble than it was worth." She rubbed her eyes before continuing. "Changeling and Chrysalis are... allies. Some of our goals overlap, so we have an exchange program of sorts. This was one of those occasions where we could get the information far more easily than they could, though we made sure that we were allowed to do it in our own way."
"You pretending to be running from them. An impressive act," Alex sneered.
"My job. You've done similar work in your career. Don't get all pissy just because I was good enough to fool you," Michele snapped right back. "Look, this is getting me nowhere..." she started to get to her feet, but the Official stopped her.
"You are not finished. Why does Chrysalis have your son?"
"To put it simply, with his DNA they have access to quicksilver tech that doesn't require an artificial gland with flaws." Michele told them. She gave them a minute to absorb the information. "When I was here, I did that one job with the guys. That's when Chrysalis learned about me. They put two and two together, figured out I worked for Changeling, and asked for access to my genes. Corvan refused. When Stark found out I could quicksilver, without the side effects of either Arnaud or Darien, he became rather insistent. Then we confirmed I was not only pregnant, but carrying twins."
"And this Corvan bargained one of the children away to keep you," Alex summed it up succinctly with a frown.
Michele nodded. "I found out about it and tried to quit."
"Kid, you don't 'quit' a place like that," Hobbes commented, in a tone that implied she must be a complete idiot.
"Robert, I'm no fool. I wasn't gonna just hand in my typed resignation in triplicate and be all polite about it. I was planning on blasting my way out if necessary, but Corvan had a plan to keep me in place without risking harm to the babies. It worked. I didn't escape until just after Kit was taken, and I stole everything I could before I did."
"Wow, this sounds familiar." Alex glared over at Darien. "Remember Eleanor Stark?"
Darien nodded. "And so does 'Chele. She didn't steal the stuff to buy her way back in. She stole it to hopefully break Changeling."
"Why?" Eberts asked.
"Because they need complete secrecy to function. Once that's gone, they'll be forced to dismantle and start over. Which means I and my children will be safe." She shrugged. "I only went to Darien for help because I couldn't break into the place Kit is at with a baby in my arms, and I didn't want to tip off Stark that I was here yet."
"What else is there?" Claire asked as she examined the handwritten notes on a case containing several disks.
"The alterations we made to your gene therapy treatment for Darien, as well as the counter for the side effects. As you can see, it's quite effective." Michele looked over at Darien and Claire did the same. She suddenly realized that he was looking better than he had in months.
"Darien, are you a complete fool? How can you trust her after everything she did?" Claire didn't even bother hiding her disgust, and Darien didn't bother making any comment. She wouldn't listen to a word he said anyway.
The Official cleared his throat to get their attention and head off the cat fight even Darien could see coming. The trouble was, he was pretty sure Michele would win.
"There is one other issue to be dealt with: Kevin Fawkes." The Official leaned forward against his desk to watch her reaction.
Michele kept her look bland. "We wanted to clone him and needed the samples for that."
"Clone Kevin?" Claire repeated. "Not possible."
Michele snorted. "Try again. Both Changeling and Chrysalis have working cloning techniques. But without the memory RNA, the other samples would be useless anyway."
Darien closed his eyes, not wanting to remember that fiasco of a plan. It would have worked if Kevin hadn't been such a selfish bastard. "Why Kevin? And why did you need the memory RNA?"
"Kevin was the designer for the quicksilver gland. We have some similar theoretical ideas, but need someone with his expertise to see if they are feasible. With the mRNA, we could have created an exact copy of Kevin, with his own memories. He could have been working five years after conception." Michele answered in a soft tone of voice.
"Not possible. You cannot create an adult in so short a time," Claire countered.
"Who said anything about an adult?" Michele looked Claire in the eye, and Claire paled as she realized what that meant.
"No wonder you wanted the mRNA. No need to retrain, no need to try and duplicate life patterns, just inject it and wake him up once he's old enough to be coherent." She shook her head. "And you say this works?"
Michele didn't answer her, but instead turned to Alex. "Have you figured out why Chrysalis uses the fertility clinics yet?"
"Because they're too damn lazy to take the time to do it themselves," Alex snapped out quickly.
Michele tipped her head slightly. "Maybe it's because the changes they've made to sustain their youth cause a high and consistent tendency towards miscarriage." The words, once spoken, made an eerie sense. "Their genetic structure is sound, but they need to use surrogates to carry to term. They have a very interesting breeding program."
Claire shook her head in disbelief.
"We will need proof of that," Eberts said. One of the boxes of disks moved from the pile and slid to the end of the conference table.
"That is all the data I found on Chrysalis' breeding program. Changeling uses some similar techniques, and they exchange information on improvements. This information is dangerous. Either group would wipe you off the face of the planet to keep this secret. You've been warned."
"And you have no copies stashed away? I find that hard to believe," Hobbes said to her with a glare.
Michele tapped the side of her head. "I have a very good memory, Robert." She turned to the Official. "Anything else right now? I want to check on Cat." When the Official shook his head she pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her backpack, and quietly left the room.
Once she was gone all eyes turned to focus on Darien, who sighed. "She didn't have to come in, you know."
"We know, Fawkes, we're just wondering where your loyalties lie. With us, or with her." Hobbes was watching Darien very carefully.
"Hobbes, my loyalties lie the same place they always have -- with myself." Darien pushed himself to his feet, intending to walk away from all of them before this turned into some sort of battle, before they began asking questions he did not yet have the answers to.
"Darien, I want you down in the Keep, now." Claire was holding a set of disks and was giving him the look that said if she didn't get her way, it was going to turn out very badly for him.
"Do what she says, Fawkes," the Official added, making it an order from on high. "Let me know the results as soon as you have them, Doctor."
Claire nodded and directed Darien out the door. Once in the hallway, he could hear the voices start up, discussing the revelations Michele had placed before them and probably damning him for being a fool. Claire's back was stiff before him and he wanted to say something, anything to lessen the anger she had towards him. "Claire, will you look at the information?"
They were in front of the Keep door, but instead of opening it she turned around to face him. "I have little choice, now do I?" She waved at him. "She's convinced you and drugged you into some semblance of normality. It's my responsibility."
"Damn it, Claire, what the hell do you expect from me? She saved my life this morning..."
"Which would have been unnecessary if she hadn't dumped that... that child on you," Claire interjected.
"My child, Claire. You seem to like forgetting that part. My child. At this point, I'm not sure what to think. 'Chele is tired, ill, and doing her damnedest to rescue our son. I'm willing to grant her a little leeway." Darien stepped forward, backing Claire into the door and forcing her to listen to him. "I've apologized a thousand times for what happened between us, but it was a mistake and you know it. You've spent most of the last year getting even in one subtle way or another. Don't you think it's time to move on?"
She gulped for air, his words having an impact, perhaps causing more pain than he wanted to inflict, but it had to be said. The situation was different now. Michele was back, with information that could help him, could save him finally, if only he could get Claire back on his side, willing to help him instead of simply maintaining the current status quo.
"I'll... Let me run some tests and look at the data first," she got out through the near-tears he could see in her eyes.
"That's all I ask." Darien reached around her and unlocked the door so that they could enter. He headed straight to the chair and slipped off his jacket so she could take a blood sample. Once she had completed that task, he showed her the patch Michele had placed on his upper arm.
"You've got to be kidding me. That's how the drug is distributed?" Claire sneered. "There is no way the painkiller could be strong enough released in that form."
Shifting, Darien reached into his back pocket and pulled out another one and handed it to her. "'Chele says it's not a painkiller. It's... it's like the counteragent for the madness. Designed specifically to counter the effects of the flaw." She took it from him with a look of disdain. "I'm sorry, Claire. It was not your fault. They changed everything, made you think their changes were your own. 'Chele said they even went back and altered the test results on the rats so you wouldn't notice. What you had come up with would have worked. I've been blaming you for screwing up, even though I never said anything, and I'm sorry."
Claire sighed. "I've been blaming myself. I thought I was so smart, and instead I made matters worse. It was like Gloria all over again. You had every right to blame me." She turned away with her samples and headed to one of the lab benches. "I'll get started on this. Let me know if there are any changes in your condition."
Darien slid off the chair and tossed his jacket over his arm. Her voice stopped him as the door to the Keep slid open. "Be careful, Darien. There is no reason to believe a word she says, even if every piece of data checks out."
Darien dropped his head slightly. "I know. Thanks, Claire."
When he walked into the guarded room that had been set up for Cat, he found Michele sitting on the small bed the overnight nurse slept on when Darien had to work, with Cat laying down before her. There was a huge grin on the infant's face as several toys hovered in the air over her head. Michele's fingers were tightly gripped in the chubby fists of the infant. The items wobbled for a moment before settling back into a dancing pattern of movement.
"Darien, is everything okay?"
"I guess. Claire is going to check over the data. Run some tests. That's a good thing." He stepped further into the room, walking softly until he was standing behind her. "What do you expect of me?"
"Nothing. I... I won't be staying once I have Kit back. I can't. We'll need to disappear." She didn't even turn to look at him while she spoke.
"So you think you can just waltz back into my life, tell me I'm father, and then take off again?" His voice was harsh, he couldn't help it. There was almost too much information to absorb. She was the enemy, yet not. Had betrayed them, played all of them, for Stark, yet had also been betrayed by her own people for Stark. She'd come to him for help, trusted him to help -- actually trusted him -- and then wanted to run away. "How do I know you're not just playing all of us again?"
"This is why." She turned about, and suddenly all he could feel was sympathy for her, the urge, the need to protect her, wanted to do anything to help her, to make her safe. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone and he took several steps back in shock. "I'm a very strong projective empath. The entire time I was here before, I was projecting that at all of you, encouraging you to help me, to take me into the fold, to give me a place to feel safe. It was part of the secondary programming, so I wasn't aware of it till after, but it was very effective."
She lowered the floating toys. One hovered within reach of small hands, which let go of the tightly clutched fingers to grab at and then grasp the toy with astonishing coordination for one so young. After a few moments of happy cooing, a huge yawn issued from the tiny mouth and her eyes turned glassy as sleep invaded. Within moments, Cat was asleep.
Michele ran a hand across the sleeping infant's cheek and then up through the soft, down-like hair. "You saw everyone's reaction today; did it look like I was trying to play any of them? I could have them all bowing down at my feet if I wanted them to be there, but I don't. I deserve their anger, but I will not apologize for what I did. It was my job and, at the time, I believed what we were doing would better the world in the end."
"The ends justify the means? Is that your vaunted logic?" Darien hissed, not wanting to wake Cat.
"Damn it, Darien, have you forgotten everything that has happened in the last year, for the country, for the world?" When he gave her a blank look she continued. "The attacks last year on New York and DC were just the tip of a very large iceberg. Changeling has been planning for that very scenario for years. I'll give you a small piece of information that is not in the intel I stole: if not for the work of Changeling, the damage would have been far more widespread. In the weeks before the initial attack we... removed hundreds of collaborators. Almost every major city in the US was supposed to be hit that day. We saved thousands of lives and sacrificed many of our own people to do it. So yes, there are indeed times the ends justify the means.
"I've done some despicable things over the years. I've killed people to make sure they would never do the evil they were potentially capable of. I've ruined reputations to keep people from getting more power than we wanted them to have." She shook her head, laughing. "Why do you think the Clinton administration was such a mess? How do you think files suddenly went missing, or reappeared in odd places? How information leaked to the press? We wanted the controversy, needed the controversy, because it focused attention away from what we were really doing."
Darien just looked stunned. "And there's a difference between Changeling and Chrysalis where exactly?"
She tipped her head to the side in acknowledgment of his insult. "The difference is who wins."
"And you're so sure it should be people like you?" Darien sneered, wondering if anything he'd done while here at the Agency had any purpose at all, with both Changeling and Chrysalis out there trying to remake the world in their own image.
"Maybe? I'm not sure anymore. I've been involved with Changeling one way or another for over two decades. The reasons I left were personal, not dogmatic." She got to her feet and lifted Cat, moving her to the crib to finish her nap. Once the side of the crib was locked in place, Michele collapsed.
"Crap." Darien knelt down beside her as she lay on her side on the cool floor. Brushing the hair off her face, he found her noticeably warm to the touch. "Michele, you have to tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing," she slurred as she tried to pull away from him. "Just get me my bag."
"Nothing? Bullshit." But he got to his feet and retrieved her bag for her. She was sitting up when he got back. She grabbed the bag from him and began to search through it, setting several pill bottles on the floor as she went. Then she went through them one by one. "'Chele..."
"Found it." She opened the bottle in her hand and shook out two small pills, frowning at the few that remained within. She swallowed them down, grimacing at the taste they left on the back of her tongue. Closing her eyes for a long moment, several emotions flickered across her face. "Maybe if we'd met under different circumstances..." She opened her eyes. "If wishes were fishes..."
"We'd all eat like kings. Yeah, I know that one. We have to deal with this, together, no matter how much it hurts. I don't want our son in Stark's hands any longer than necessary. Once we have him back, we can figure out what's next. But right now you are going to see Claire, pill collection and all." He crouched down and began to put the bottles back in her bag then, ignoring her protests, lifted both her and the bag and carried them from the room.
She weighed next to nothing, couldn't have topped a hundred pounds, and was all skin and bones. She'd given up arguing with him rather quickly and leaned against him, her forehead warming the side of his neck as he rushed to the Keep. He got the door open with a moment's struggle and carried her in. "Claire, some help here."
Claire's look was dark for an instant, but she shook it off when she realized Michele was well and truly ill. "The exam chair."
It was an unnecessary command, as Darien was already on his way over there. He set Michele down and backed away, to stand near the glass divider and give Claire enough room to work.
As Claire was taking her blood pressure, Michele roused enough to push her away. "Don't bother, you can't help me." She tried to sit up, but Claire pushed her back against the seat.
"And when did you get you're doctorate?" Claire snapped. "Sit, or I'll have you restrained."
Michele ground her teeth, but submitted to being examined. "Eighty-eight," she mumbled. Claire lifted her head. "I got my doctorate in eighty-eight."
Darien chuckled, and Claire shot a glare at him. "Michele, how long has this been going on?"
She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. I'll be okay in a few hours, after the fever breaks." She turned to look over at Darien. "Could you give us a minute, please?"
Darien looked from one woman to the other; Claire was carefully neutral, but Michele was pleading with just her eyes. "All right, but try not to kill each other." He wasn't entirely sure about leaving the two of them alone. While he didn't really think Claire would hurt her, he also knew Claire was very angry and could only hope she would be able to set it aside for now. He waited outside the Keep for a while and then wandered down to check on Cat, who was happily splashing her bath water all over the nurse hired to watch her when she was here.
Darien spent some time playing with her once she was dressed, half expecting Claire to walk in any moment to get him, but, after almost two hours since he'd left the Keep, he began to get more than a little worried. He handed over Cat to the nurse with his thanks before heading back. He opened the door with a touch of fear in his heart, but relaxed when he saw Claire working at one of the computer stations. She switched off the monitor and turned around to look at him.
"Sorry, Darien. It took a bit longer than we thought." She got to her feet and walked over to him, lowering her voice. "She'll be okay in a couple hours, but she's a mess at the moment."
"What's wrong with her, Claire?" Darien tried to edge forward, wanting to see Michele for himself, but Claire blocked his way.
"A virus. It runs in cycles and she peaks with an extremely high fever." Claire failed to keep herself completely impartial; there was actual concern in her eyes that he couldn't miss. And that scared him.
"Spill. What's the problem?" Darien was not in the mood for the run-around. It had been one thing after another for the last week and it wasn't looking to end anytime soon.
"Claire, just let him by. I'm not contagious." Michele sounded weak as hell. Claire stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
She was curled up on the exam chair, shivering under a blanket, an ice pack against her forehead and what looked like another on the back of her neck. She was flushed pink and sweating as well. "'Chele, you should have said something." He reached out, but hesitated, afraid to touch her. A hand snaked out from beneath the dark green blanket to hold his in a weak grip. Her hand wasn't just warm, it was downright hot. Her eyes were shining with that glassy feverish light only a very high body temperature could cause. He looked at Claire who had walked over to the glass fronted fridge and retrieved a bottle of water which she brought to Michele.
"Hell Claire, she's burning up."
Claire placed the water in Michele's other hand and motioned for her to drink. "I know, an impressive one hundred and eight. Very impressive considering hitting one hundred and seven typically causes a coma and death."
Darien paled, part of him realizing that, even after everything, he didn't want to lose Michele. At least not until they had a chance to work things out, to see if there was ever a chance for him, for them. "Can't you do anything?"
"Dare," Michele whispered, her voice was faint and uneven. "It won't hurt me. My system is very different. I can handle the higher body temp. I've peaked at a hundred ten with no ill effects." She closed her eyes and shook harder, nearly dropping the water bottle. "It's just not very fun."
"You went through this with Cat? How?" Darien was realizing her weeks since escaping, since beginning her search for Kit, had been for more harrowing than he'd ever imagined.
"Luck," she mumbled. "The pills can hold it off sometimes, and I usually hit this stage when she was asleep." Her eyes opened and looked blankly about the room. "Claire, can you get me access to a computer, a laptop? There's more information you need."
"And give you access to Agency information? I think not," Claire replied with a dry laugh.
"Don't need Agency crap. Just a word processor and space, lots of space. Those disks were what I had time to download. The rest I wrote from memory. But there's more." Her hold on Darien's hand weakened and she lost the grip on the water bottle entirely. Darien caught it before it spilled.
Something in Michele's tone must have convinced Claire. "All right, but later. You can't do anything right now. Rest. I'll make some arrangements." She motioned Darien aside for a moment and, after reassuring Michele he'd be right back, he followed Claire to the other half of the Keep. "Can I assume you'll want to stay with her and... and the baby?"
Darien nodded, not having any idea what she was talking about.
"Like you'd do anything else," she snarled quietly. Taking a deep breath she composed herself. "If she loses consciousness, call me. I have to speak to the Official." Claire began to move away, but stopped when he gripped her arm.
"What's going on?"
She shook her head. "I still have more tests to run, but she can't stay here and neither can the child. It's too dangerous. I'm going to convince the Official that, based on a preliminary review of the data she's brought, it is worth the trouble of helping her." She freed her arm from his hold. "What's frightening is that it's true. Watch her, Darien." Claire successfully escaped then, the Keep door sliding shut behind her.
"Dare?" Michele called softly.
He walked back to her side, dragging a stool with him to sit on. "I'm here. What do you need?"
"You'll keep them safe, won't you? Kit and Cat? You won't abandon them, will you?" She was barely able to speak, unable to see the room about her based on the blank look in her eyes, and he couldn't comprehend why she was asking this. "Dare?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll keep them safe." He said it just to ease the obvious worry and fear, that was emanating from her. Not that he didn't mean the words -- he fully planned on taking responsibility for their children -- but he planned on doing it with her at his side. They might be nothing to each other, but they would work it out, somehow, and raise them together.
"Thank you," she said, relaxing a bit, which made her shiver even harder.
"Rest, we'll talk later." He ran a hand along her face and she gave him a weak smile before closing her eyes. He watched her for a while until her breathing had evened out and the shivering eased. Her seemingly absolute trust in him made him feel awkward and unsure of what he was going to do next. "Well... damn."
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