Part 6

Walking in the front door of the Agency may have seemed to be one of the less brilliant things he'd done in his lifetime, considering both inside and out were members of the same agency that had tried to kill him the night before last, but it had to be done. He was met by Eberts almost immediately.

"Darien, you need to get out of here. This Corvan is trying to force the Official's hand and make him turn Katherine over to him."  Eberts had been trying to stop him the entire walk, but Darien just kept moving.

Just down the hall from the office, Darien paused. "And is he going to cave? Is he going to bargain away Cat to save his own pathetic ass?"  Less than a week ago the Official had proclaimed he'd get rid of the child in a heartbeat to avoid problems, and Darien had no idea if the Fat Man had changed his mind on the subject.

Eberts shook his head. "I don't know. This group, Changeling, is very dangerous. If Corvan can prove that he is the rightful... owner" -- the word came out as if it tasted bad to Eberts -- "the Official may have no choice."

"I'm her father," Darien snarled in a low voice.

"Yes, but technically she's part of an experiment, and Corvan can claim that takes precedence," Eberts explained with obvious discomfort.

Black anger roared through Darien. No matter how much truth there was to the words, there was no way in hell he'd allow any of his children to spend their lives as lab rats. He was about to push past Eberts, knock him to the floor if necessary, when a group of five men came through the double doors towards them.

The man in front he recognized from a year ago when, through seemingly sheer coincidence, Michele had entered their lives. This was the man she'd called Corvan, who Darien now knew to be her brother. He used this 'Corvan' persona to hide behind, the same way the Official rarely used what they thought to be his real name -- Charlie Borden. She admitted to having had a working name of her own, but refused to tell him what it was. After all, she'd pointed out, she would never be using it again.

Corvan paused next to Darien and, after a glance at Eberts that made him skitter away in fear, smiled and removed the dark glasses he wore. "Well, Mr. Fawkes, I'll give you credit for bravery; walking in while I'm here."

Darien stared at the man's eyes for a long moment. One was silver, just like 'Chele's, and the other was half blue and half green. An odd combination, and it was understandable that he wore dark glasses. Those eyes were not ones that would easily be forgotten once they had made contact with your own. Darien, however, had dealt with 'Chele and found himself able to resist the draw of those eyes. "I do work here, you know."

Corvan nodded slightly and then did ... something, causing the four goons to move away with swift precision, leaving the two of them alone. "I'm almost tempted to allow the two of you to remain together. Your genes are apparently well suited to Michele's. She caught quick and bred twins. A good beginning. However, her little rebellion has made this unfeasible."  He tipped his head slightly. "Perhaps I should make you an offer to join us. Then the two of you could happily breed us some more talented children. You would have just about anything you wanted."

Darien failed to keep his emotions in check or his face neutral; the anger, the beginnings of hate, found their way to the surface, showing in his eyes and stance, the way the muscles of his jaw clenched, how his fingers twitched, wanting to ball into fists. The man before him knew it, saw all of it.

"I guess not. You have a choice, Mr. Fawkes. Tell me where 'Chele is and turn Cat over to me, or I'll destroy everyone here."

"How?"  Darien rumbled out, his anger making his voice low and rough. "How could you give your nephew to those bastards?"

Corvan smiled. "So she told you; I'm surprised. How? Simple: she has the known breeding potential, unlike myself." At Darien's unavoidable look of comprehension, Corvan nodded. "There were some unfortunate side effects with the Phase II for me. 'Chele is the only possible source of more talented children. Without duplicating the entire QSX Project, that is."

"She'd rather die than go back after what you did to Kit," Darien said in a cold voice. Though Michele hadn't said anything of the sort to him, he still knew it to be true.

"Which will happen anyway if she doesn't come back."  Corvan took a step closer to Darien, looking him right in the eye. The man was only a couple inches shorter than Darien, with a slightly heavier build. If it wasn't for the fact that he 'knew' this man was Michele's twin, he would have never suspected they were related. "All you have to do is stay out of the way, out of our business. Those children will be nothing but trouble for you, an inconvenience in the long run. Seriously, what do you think you'll do when their abilities manifest? Do you think you can teach them how to handle hundreds of minds suddenly in their own? What happens the first time one of them blows up a television just by walking past it, or throws a bully into a wall, with a thought, out of self-defense?"  When he moved this time, Darien was forced back until he collided with the wall. "'Chele and I had no one to help us. We had to help ourselves. You cannot image how ... close two people can become when you are literally sharing your thoughts, emotions, dreams.... fantasies."

Darien shook his head at what the man -- her brother -- was implying.

"You have no idea at the level of intimacy that is achieved by two telepaths. She was mine. In all things."  The man's voice rolled over Darien, somehow making him know everything that was being implied but not directly said. "Have you forgotten how sweet she is? How willing? How talented?"  Darien knew he was giving away too much, but couldn't hide the feelings of confusion, anger, and disgust running through him. "Who better to teach her than someone who knew everything she wanted, everything she needed, everything she was capable of? Someone who could feel -- know -- exactly what her nubile young body craved? At least until she met you. Somehow, you managed to do what I could not."  Corvan backed away from Darien, allowing him to release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I'll give you till this time tomorrow to say your good-byes to Katherine. Seeing as you are her father."  At some unseen, unheard signal the goons reappeared and Corvan slid the glasses back over his eyes. As he turned his back on Darien and walked away, he spoke again. "Any chance she persuaded you into breeding another set of twins for me?"

Darien found himself unable to say anything. He was stunned, horrified, sickened beyond measure.

"No? Oh, well. Hope this... news didn't cool your ardor too much."  Corvan broke out into laughter as he walked through the doors at the end of the hall and out of sight.

Darien just stood there, staring about sightlessly for long minutes before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, trying to absorb the information and failing utterly, when Eberts poked his head around the corner to check if the coast was clear. He vanished and returned a moment later with Hobbes.

"Fawkes, I thought we had a plan?"  Hobbes said as he approached. It wasn't until he was standing directly in front of  Darien that he realized something was wrong.

It seemed to take an insurmountable effort to lift his head, but Darien managed it, meeting the concerned eyes of his partner. "Fawkes, did the SOB hurt you? Eberts, get the Keep."

For all that Hobbes was his friend, his partner, there was no way he could talk to him about this. He could barely wrap his own mind about it, found the potentially frightening reality of what he'd been told mind-numbing. "No Keep. Cat. Is Cat okay?"

"Yes, Darien. Cat is just fine, for now," Eberts answered with concern in his voice. He and Hobbes glanced at each other, but neither knew what had been done to Darien.

Darien forced himself to his feet. "Keep her that way. I... I'll  be back for her."  He attempted to move away, to leave the building and go somewhere, do something to deal with the roiling confusion in his mind and heart.

"Fawkes, the plan. Have you forgotten the plan?"  Hobbes stepped in front of Darien to stop him. "They'll follow you back to Michele. I got everything set up."

It took Darien a long moment to change the tight circle of thoughts running through his mind. Cat and Kit had to come first, and to protect them, to save Kit, they needed Michele. "Right. The plan."  He laughed a bit harshly, mentally cursing himself for being a fool. For allowing himself to be sucked back into her little game, to let himself be used by her again. Like she hadn't gotten what she wanted from him the first time, now she was trying to do it all over again. Drawing him in with a pitiful tale that he'd willingly believed.

He pulled himself together, a plan of his own coming to his mind.

"Fawkes?"  Hobbes must have sensed the change of mood, but Darien wasn't about to explain it.

Darien turned to Eberts. "I'm trusting you."

Eberts nodded. "I'll do my best."

His attention swung back to Hobbes. "Let's do this."

It was astonishingly simple, their plan. Even with the comments that Corvan had made about giving Darien the time to say good-bye to Cat, it wasn't very likely they'd turn down the opportunity to follow Darien back to Michele. She was obviously good enough to have hidden from them with both Cat and a tracker implanted in her arm. Without the tracker, the only connection they had to Michele was Darien. It was inevitable that he'd be followed, or so Hobbes had hoped.

"Well, Fawkes, they're right behind us. Looks like at least three teams."  He glanced over at Darien. "They want her back bad, at a guess."

Darien didn't comment aloud, just a slight grunt of agreement so that Hobbes wouldn't start repeating himself until Darien had acknowledged the fact that he'd spoken.

After several minutes of uneasy silence and odd turns to try and shake their pursuers without actually losing them, Hobbes cleared his throat. "It was Monroe that called them. She figured if 'Chele and Cat were gone, you'd swing right back to her."

Darien's hands balled into fists. Right now he could care less about Michele, but Cat... Cat deserved better. How could Alex do this to a child -- his child -- after losing her own? He'd known that she was broken inside and done what he could to help, to hold her together, but obviously it wasn't enough, could never be enough. "Damn," he muttered.

"Claire had to sedate her once the tranq wore off. She's arranging for a psych consult. At a guess, Michele showing up and presenting you the perfect happy family on a platter was a bit too much after everything else."

Darien snorted. "Perfect? Happy? Where? My son is owned by Stark. My daughter is about to be kidnapped by her uncle, and Michele..." He had to stop as the anger returned, making damn near see everything through a haze of red. "Michele is not the person we thought she was," he finished coldly.

"Fawkes, I don't know what that guy Corvan did to you, but ..."  Hobbes began, only to stop at the near-hysterical laughter that came from his partner.

"It wasn't me he did," Darien commented mysteriously through the laughter. "That I could have dealt with."  He sat up straighter in the seat as he recognized where they were. "Let the fun begin."

Hobbes searched for a parking spot on this block and found one just being vacated by some surfer dude's muscle truck -- a pair of surfboards in the bed rack and everything. "Remember to watch the red. I have the blue stuff, but we don't want any innocents getting bumped around 'cause you got a case of the red-eye."

Darien opened the passenger door and slid out. "Oh, no. Definitely wouldn't want any 'innocents' to get hurt."  He didn't even glance at the tattoo to see how much time he had. It didn't matter. He swung the door shut and walked off in the direction of where the car he'd be using was parked. He caught sight of one of the follower's cars as it cruised past him at about half the posted speed limit. Almost as if they wanted him to know they were there. Not that he really cared at this point. Once he'd had his turn, they could have her. He'd fight to keep Cat, would fight to get Kit back, but Michele.... Right now he wanted nothing to do with her. In fact, he was tempted to hand her over himself once they'd had a little 'chat.'

Darien walked into one of the shops along the street at random and began to peruse the place, looking for the route to the rear of the store. It was a good bet there was a back door to the alleyway that ran behind this row of shops. It wasn't difficult to find, a doorway with long strings of wooden beads hanging down instead of a door. He made his way around the displays, looking for a reasonably quiet and hidden spot to perform his little trick without being seen.

"Fawkes, where the hell are you?"  Hobbes all but shouted in his ear.

Darien pulled off the headset and dropped it to the floor, even as he let the quicksilver flow. "Sorry, Bobby-boy. Change of plans."  He made his way through the shop, drawing the confused attention of the owner as he passed through the hanging beads, making them rattle and sway. He moved through the shelves of merchandise in rear before finding the back door. It was only dead-bolted against outside entry; it took no effort for him to unlock it and be outside in the late afternoon sunshine.

From there he made his way over another street, by walking down a tiny alley between two stores, where he let the quicksilver harden and flake away to hail a cab that would take him to the meeting place. The drive there gave him more than enough time to go over what Corvan -- what her brother -- had said to him. Gave him more than enough time to have both his anger and disgust cranked up to a level where he might very well not need the madness to do some real damage. Only Arnaud had ever made him this angry, this spiteful, this eager to do serious harm to someone before. Even bringing up the images of what she had shown him last night, the scenes of her playing with Cat, of her ill and burning up with fever, did nothing to lessen the anger; in fact, it made it burn all that much brighter.

He paid the driver and waited till the man had driven away before glancing down at his wrist. Only one segment remained green. Perfect, three minutes or less till his reality would be turned inside-out. He should remember to thank her for changing the make-up of the gland. No more preliminary headaches as the toxins built up in his system, no more warning seizures that would drive him to his knees with blinding pain, no more blood-shot eyes warning everyone his evil twin was about to come out to play. Just one burst of pain that would make him black out for a few seconds and then... then when he reopened his eyes he would be of a whole new frame of mind. Today he was looking forward to it.

She was right where she was supposed to be, sitting on the hood of the Jeep, looking out over the city. It was almost ironic that the view included the former location of Cerberus Corporation, one of Chrysalis' front companies. Darien could still remember that day clearly. Standing in Stark's office and allowing himself to be persuaded to join, to agreeing to kill Allianora -- even if he did suspect it was nothing more than a test. Things had changed so much. His views of what was real, what was possible, of what atrocities could be committed in the name of the 'greater good' had been altered dramatically. There were times he found it all just too much to deal with.

Settling his mind -- no point in tipping her off to what was coming -- he put a smile on his face and approached her.

She turned while he was still more than ten steps away. "Dare, thank god." Then her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Where's Cat? What happened?"

Darien stepped up to her, holding out his hand which she took and slid off the Jeep to stand before him. "Shhh. Everything is fine, just a slight change in plans. We need to talk."  Tugging on her hand, he began to walk away from the vehicle and towards the nearby woods. This section of the park had several trails through the more wooded areas, leading downhill to the small lake below. Tossing an arm around her shoulders she leaned against him as they slowly made their way out of sight of any potential watchers. "So 'Chele, exactly what kind of relationship did you have with... Corvan?"

She stiffened. "He was my brother, my partner on occasion. Why?"  She froze then and pulled out of his hold, which had begun to tighten at her far-too-vague-for-his-liking answer. "You spoke to him. I can smell him on you. Fool."

"Fool is right," he snarled and let the quicksilver flow, flooding his system the last little bit necessary to drive him over the edge. "Your pitiful tale of running for your life was a good one, I must admit."  Even as she attempted to back away from his position, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, sliding up the shirt sleeve to reveal the bandage there. Claire had been kind enough to check her arm and patch her up after Darien had torn open the still-healing, self-inflicted wound the other night. He tore off the bandage. "This was such a nice touch. Went perfectly with the 'I was locked in a cage' story. How long 'Chele? How many years did you sleep with him?"  He spat out the last word in total disgust.

She laughed, a harsh, pain-filled sound. "Way to go, Mikey. Same old bastard self."  She yanked her arm from Darien's hold. She surprised him by meeting his eyes, even though she should not have been able to know where he was. Even as he moved, circling around her like a predator toying with its prey, she tracked him. "Dare, he got to you. He's done this; made you so angry, so disgusted, so hurt. It's what he does. He's perfected the art of mind games."

Darien paused, considering her words, but his chance to think was short as the gland finally did its job and, with a sharp excruciating burst of pain, sent him into darkness. When he opened his eyes some unmeasured amount of time later, it was to see Michele's face above his own. His head was cradled in her lap, her fingers running gently through his hair, her voice a soft, soothing tone that eased the last of the lingering pain. With a swift movement, his hand came up to grasp her by the throat. That must have been when she noticed his eyes, realized that the Darien she knew, had so well played, was gone, leaving a borderline psychopath in his place.

"Thanks for your help. I'm feeling much better now."  He sat up without releasing her. Shifting slowly, he drew Michele to her feet as he stood. "You know, you never mentioned the dangers of me going quicksilver mad with you. Wonder why that was? Did you think your pretty smile and oh-so-tempting body would be enough to stop me?"  He licked his lips and drew her closer. Her hands were wrapped about his wrist, though they were doing nothing more than resting there, just making contact. She wasn't struggling and she didn't look afraid.

"No," she ground out, finding it difficult to speak past his hold. "Not stop you. Join you, perhaps, but not stop you."

Her comment annoyed him and he lashed out with his other hand, hitting her across the face, driving her to the ground as he released his grip on her throat.

She got her feet and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "What's the matter, Dare, afraid of the competition?" she purred, her look almost feral. Her entire body posture tugged at him, taunted him, making the anger drain away, and a dawning desire to be drawn to the surface.

"Competition? Oh no, there is no competition. You are mine," he growled, his voice low, rough with need. Then he went after her. It turned into a flat-out chase through the trees. By some unspoken agreement, the quicksilver failed to flow, her extra talents never came into play to block or stop him. The hunt changed as the minutes wore on, though never once with the goal of escape, the mood became charged as she would let him get near before finding yet another way to stay just out of his reach. At one point they both stopped, nearly doubled over, drawing in huge gulps of air just feet from each other.

The look in her eyes spoke volumes to him. Challenging him to prove he was worthy of backing up that claim, of putting his mark on her, of making her his. Any thoughts of hurting her or turning her over to Corvan had fled during the chase, the hunt. He would have her, he decided then and there, and shot forward to grasp her before she'd fully recovered. She succeeded in maneuvering past him and danced away with a sly laugh even as he spun about and went for her again.

The flat out run had been forgotten, now it was a teasing game of keep away through the trees, her always one short step out of his reach. She seemed to find the whole thing amusing, she kept throwing heated glances over her shoulder, leading him on, driving him to try harder and harder to catch her.

When he finally did catch her, part of him realized that it was only because she had allowed him to, because she had decided to end one game and begin the next, because she had decided he was indeed worthy of her. The rest of him didn't care. He managed to get close enough to grab and handful of hair and pulled, throwing her off balance. Somehow the two of them ended up tangled together and rolled down the slight incline until they came to a rest at the bottom with her on top.

Michele lifted herself up slightly to look down at him, her eyes questioning him as to his next move. Would it be pain? Perhaps a small -- or not so small -- beating to get even for what he saw as a betrayal, or perhaps he'd make that claim upon her, make her his own the way his obvious arousal wanted him to.

He came to a decision and rolled so that she lay beneath him, both her hands held tightly in one fist over her head. He didn't say a word; there was nothing to say. To him, her allowing him to catch her after a teasing, torturous, tormenting chase, told him all he needed to know. He proceeded to remove the clothing that interfered with his goal and took her there on the grass and leaf-covered hillside. His maddened body seeking some kind of release only she seemed to be able to give him. He lost himself in the sensation, enjoying the almost animalistic way they came together, the oddly thrilling flow of quicksilver across their united flesh, the sounds of orgasmic pleasure that escaped from her as he drove them towards that mutually desired goal.

As he came he bit her, hard, on the tight rope of muscle where neck met shoulder. Tasted the blood in his mouth even as she arched beneath him and cried out in response. Not in pain, but release. He'd almost forgotten how their emotions became entwined when they were together like this. He could feel her surge of inordinate pleasure at his act, her surge of joy and relief that they were performing this little dance again. As she relaxed beneath him, her hands, which he didn't remember releasing, drew him closer, caressing the muscles of his back and neck. He shuddered as some part of him reacted to the violence of what he had done, but she whispered quiet words he could not quite understand but which were still effective in easing his sudden return of conscience.

He removed his teeth from her flesh and lightly licked at the wound, tasting the saltiness of her blood, the sweet tang of quicksilver mixed in, making her moan in reaction. He felt drained, tired from the chase and its inevitable climax. Michele moved her hands to his head and pulled at his hair so that he lifted his head and found himself looking down at her. She kissed him, her tongue running across his lips tasting her blood upon them, making him groan and unconsciously thrust into her again in reaction even though he'd not fully recovered from their first act.

Her tongue had made its way into his mouth, teasing him with a delicate touch that was electrifying. *Forgive me,* rolled through his mind. Before he could lift his head away, look at her, ask her what she meant, he felt the sharp sting of a tranq dart hitting him in his lower back causing him to try and jerk away. She held him tight, a calming, soothing feeling running through his mind from hers, countering the anger that tried to build. With a moan that was part anger at her traitorous behavior and part thankfulness at her comforting hold upon him, he slipped into the darkness.

As he slowly returned to consciousness, he heard voices, familiar voices arguing softly nearby. His head ached in that annoying 'I've been tranqed yet again' way that had become all too common in the last eight months or so. Bringing one hand up to his head, he ran a hand through his hair and encountered... leaves? Opening his eyes, he looked at the evidence in his hand and tried to remember what the hell he'd done this time. "What the hell?" he muttered, trying to convince his memory to function within the realm of normality.

Claire came around the glass divider then, a look of concern on her face. "How are you feeling, Darien?"

"Like I've been tranqed."  His memory was slowly returning, and the dull ache in the crook of his elbow gave him another piece to the puzzle. "Shit. 'Chele, Cat, are they okay? I didn't... do anything to them did I?"

Hobbes appeared then, holding Cat in his arms. "Given your tendency towards Swiss cheese for brains post-nutso lately, I figured you'd ask."  He handed Darien the baby and was surprised at his reluctance to take her.

Darien shifted to sit almost cross-legged on the chair with Cat in his arms, realizing sadly that Michele had a point about the risks if they were to run off. Maybe.... maybe until he had this thing licked, it would be better if she and the twins were on their own. Maybe they could work out a way for him to visit without risking exposure of their hiding place. He looked at Hobbes. "Where's 'Chele? They... Corvan didn't get her, did he?"

Hobbes shook his head. "Nah, you shook 'em but good. Shook me pretty good, too. By the time I caught up with you, you already had a major case of red-eye, my friend. Tranqing you was the only real option."

There was something in Bobby's voice that got his attention, that scared him. "What did I do, Bobby? Did I...."  He swallowed hard as he remembered his unreasoning anger, his near hatred of her, his urge, his wanton need to get even for her betrayal, though he couldn't yet remember the cause. "Did I hurt her?"  It wasn't what he wanted to ask, but it was as close as his fears would let him come.

"Nah, she's okay. In fact, she's how I found you. Girl's got one hell of a range with that mind of hers."  Hobbes stretched out a hand and tickled Cat, who giggled in glee. "A few bruises, nothing she couldn't handle. She said your memory, including what Corvan did to you, would return in a little while. She also said she's sorry about everything."  Hobbes shook his head. "I hope you know what she's talking about, 'cause I've no fricking idea."

Darien sighed, not too sure himself. Things were still vague from the time he'd walked into the Agency till he'd woken up on the exam chair here in the Keep. "Where is she? I have the oddest feeling we need to talk."

"Don't know."  At Darien's frown, he added, "She helped me get you to the van and then took off. She quicksilvered the whole damn Jeep, so I couldn't even guess which direction she headed in."

Words of Corvan's returned then, the not-so-subtle hints of the more than familial relationship between the two of them and of the subtle impingement on Darien's own mind by the man. 'Chele must have done something to him to allow this memory, this intrusion, this expert manipulation of how he should think, feel, react to be recalled by him. The truth, the knowledge that they had had a relationship beyond friends, beyond brother and sister, did bother him, but not to the degree that he wanted to hurt her. He simply wanted an explanation, before he made any judgments. What with prison and all, he'd seen a lot. Hell he'd ... done a lot and he was willing to bet there were reasons, real reasons behind the... the relationship.

"Hobbes, how long has it been?"

"Little over an hour. Just a light tranq. Why?"  Hobbes moved around the chair as Cat's nurse appeared. Darien, after a last look at the tiny person in his arms, handed her over.

"She's going after Kit. On her own."  He knew this. If Corvan was here, then he would have to know she'd try and rescue Kit. She wouldn't have come all this way, fought so hard to not try. "Damn it, what the hell did I do?"

"It's not important right now," Claire said, resting a hand on his forearm. "I have some... news for you."

"Good or bad?" Darien asked, not liking the signals she was sending with her posture.

"That would depend. When we went ahead with the gene therapy treatment, we assumed that the change in the madness symptoms was a direct side effect of that, and I'd been trying to find a way to fix it on that basis."  She stepped away, turning her back to him before continuing. "That was an error. The altered therapy treatment didn't affect the madness sequence at all."

Darien was numb. This week was just getting better and better. "Then what, Keeper? What changed?"

"You did."  When it was obvious that answer wouldn't be nearly enough, she continued. "I went back and checked my lab records; for several months before the therapy, your pre-madness cycles had been shortening. It's possible the faulty gene therapy triggered the final result early, but it was going to happen anyway."  She came back over to him. "It's a form of tolerance to the counteragent. While it still cleans out your system, it's now also blocking the effects of the toxins until you reach saturation point, and when you do..."  She snapped her fingers.

"Instant id," Darien said, and she nodded in agreement. "How long before it's not instant red-eye, but silver-eye? How long before I go permanently sociopathic?"

Claire shook her head. "Never, I hope. Michele has given me everything I need and more to reverse the false gene therapy, and possibly even the madness. I can't promise that I'll ever be able to remove the gland, but in six months, if testing goes well, you may never need a shot of counteragent again."

There was no expression his face, but hope, real hope burned through him. He turned to Hobbes. "Bobby?"

"Yeah, partner. Things are looking up."

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