Fragile Lives (4/?)

By Carol M.

See first part for details

Note: Nearly lost my muse yesterday when I read the Eberts file. Poor Vinny. I feel for him. He's such a sweetheart. Anyway, here's the next part. Sorry it took so long, but college sux! Enjoy kiddies. Woo hoo, only two hours til Mere Mortals!!!

"Darien, you need to stop. You're barely holding on," said Claire with concern as she leaned Darien against a wall.

Darien gave her an annoyed glare. "We've only gotten up one flight. We've got another to go."

Claire put her hands on her hips. "Fine. But you're sitting down and resting for a few minutes," said Claire. She reached for his arms and helped him down to a sitting position on the debris-covered floor.

Darien leaned his head against his wall, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy and labored. She noticed that his face was becoming flushed. She placed a hand against his forehead despite his attempts to shrug her off. "You're running a fever."

"I'll live," he said dryly.

"Not if you keep this up," said Claire. "Look, just rest here for awhile. I'll get up to the second floor and see where everyone is."

Darien tried to stand on his own in protest, but instead toppled back down to the ground with a muffled groan. "Fine," he said in defeat.

Claire gave him a soft caress under his jaw and then stood up. "I'll be right back," she said as she carefully made her way up the next flight, doing her best to avoid the bits of ceiling and bricks that littered the stairs. Ten minutes later, she made it up the flight, coming to stand outside the second floor door in frustration. "We've got a problem," she shouted down the stairs.

"What is it?" she heard Darien call back.

"Oh basically every material used to construct the Agency is resting against the door," said Claire as she tried to clear away some of the debris with no luck.

"Sounds like a man's job," Darien shouted back.

"Well if you find one, send him up," Claire shouted.

"Real nice, Keep, just kick me while I'm down," said Darien sarcastically. "Come back down and help me up."

"Darien…" he heard her whine.

"You need my help, Claire. What's another couple of bruises or torn muscles gonna matter?" he shouted back.

"Okay," she said with hesitation. She clamored back down the stairs, which was much easier on the way down, and reached Darien several minutes later. She grabbed one hand and put an arm around his back, slowly easing him to a standing position.

"You're pretty strong there, Claire. You been hitting the gym?" he asked as they started up the first stair.

Claire smiled and rolled her eyes. "Don't let appearances deceive you, Darien. I can kick some ass," she said as she pushed him up another stair.

Darien's foot twisted on a brick and he came to rest hard against the stairs. "Owwww," he yelped.

"Bloody hell," said Claire as she helped him up. She noticed he had scraped his knee up pretty good, blood trickling onto the leg of his pants. "That's going to get infected," she said as she pushed him up another stair.

"Oh goody," said Darien.

Another ten minutes and two more spills later, they had reached the second floor door. "Crap, you weren't kidding," said Darien as he eyed the pile of debris in front of the door. He leaned down, with Claire supporting his every movement and began picking up some of the heavier objects. Claire did her best to keep a steady hand on Darien and assist with the cleanup, but it wasn't easy to do the two tasks at once. In the end, Darien cleared most of the debris off himself, leaving him even shakier than before.

"If we get out of this thing alive, I'm donating all my salary to rebuilding an earthquake proof Agency," said Darien as he pulled the second floor door open. What greeted them was another pile of debris, this one standing nearly halfway up Darien's chest. What also greeted them was the rather concerned face of Eberts.

"Darien? Claire?" he said.

"Ebes, man are you guys okay?" asked Darien.

"I'm okay. The Official's hurt pretty bad. He's got a bad bump on his head," he responded.

"Is Bobby with you?" asked Darien.

"No, no the Official and I got off the elevator right before the quake hit. He stayed in to go up to his office," said Eberts as he bent down and began clearing debris. Claire bent down and also helped, motioning Darien to stay away with a wave of her hand.

"Wait, so Bobby's in the elevator?" asked Darien.

"I don't know. Maybe he made it up to the floor in time, but I doubt it," said Eberts grimly.

Darien sank down to the ground, feeling nauseous and generally pretty miserable. Claire was at his side immediately. "Are you okay?" she asked with concern.

"I feel sick," he whispered, his face growing pale and sweaty. He put his head down to try to combat the urge to throw up, but it wasn't helping. He leaned to the side and threw up all over the floor.

Claire placed her hand on his back and rubbed it in comforting circles as he started to dry heave. When he was finally finished, he brought his head back up, looking completely wiped out.

While Darien had been sick, Eberts had managed to clear away enough of the debris to get through the doorway. He stepped through the door and looked down at Darien, who wasn't looking good at all. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

Claire looked up and shook her head. "He's pushing himself too hard."

Darien shook his head and folded his arms against his legs, resting his head them and taking deep breaths to try and make himself feel better.

Claire looked up at Eberts and pointed at Darien. "Stay with him, okay. I'm going to check on the Official," she said as she let go of Darien and stood up. She squeezed through the door and ran down the hall, spotting the Official immediately.

She saw the makeshift bandage pressed against his head and muttered a curse when she saw all the blood. She carefully removed the bandage and examined the wound, determining that he had at least a concussion, if not a fracture skull. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?" she yelled near his ear.

A low moan greeted her, but nothing else. She brushed her hand down his shoulder and then got up, running back to Darien and Eberts. "He's got a possible skull fracture. We need to get him out of here soon," she said.

"Tell us something we don't already know," said Darien in a muffled tone, his head still leaned down into his arms. "We have to get to Hobbesy."

"No, Darien, it's too dangerous, you could kill yourself," said Claire. "Let me and Albert go."

"Claire, you've got to stay with the boss. He needs you right now more than I do. Me and Eberts can do it, right Ebes?" he said, looking up at Eberts.

Eberts nodded nervously. He looked over at Claire with a scared expression. "Is the Official going to be okay?"

Claire gave him a sympathetic smile. "He's got a hard head, Eberts. I'm sure he'll be okay," she said.

"Yeah Ebes, you think the Official's going let a little thing like a head injury stop him. In a week, he'll be good as new," said Darien reassuringly. He struggled to stand up and after a few seconds Eberts had stepped forward to help him. "Thanks man," said Darien in appreciation.

Claire eyed Eberts. "If he starts hurting, I want you to bring him back down. Promise me, Albert."

Eberts nodded. "Don't worry, doctor."

Darien slapped Eberts on the shoulder. "Let's go," he said as he made his way to the stairs and nearly fell over.

Eberts stepped behind him and put a supportive hand on his back and shoulder. Slowly and carefully, they made their way up the stairs to the third floor and then to the fourth floor. By the time they reached the landing to the stairs that would take them to the fifth floor, Darien was exhausted. "I have to stop for a second," he murmured as he practically collapsed on the floor.

"Maybe I should take you back down stairs," said Eberts.

Darien shook his head harshly. "No way. Darien Fawkes doesn't bail on his partner." Darien started with surprise. "Wow, did I really just say that?"

"Yes, I believe you did," said Eberts as he joined Darien on the floor. "You know, I get jealous sometimes," he said softly.

Darien raised an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Eberts nodded. "I don't really have any kind of friendship like you and Robert do. I guess the person I'm closest too is the Official, but sometimes I feel like even he can't stand me."

"Aw, hey man, you're a pretty cool guy. You know me and Hobbes just tease you cause it's what we do right. I mean we harass the crap out of each other. We do it out of love. Believe me, if we didn't love you, we wouldn't bother," said Darien.

Eberts gave him a strange glance. "Thanks. I think."

"Not a problem, buddy," said Darien. "Okay, let's go get Hobbesy. Help me up."

Eberts stood up and then pulled Darien to his feet. He helped him up the stairs to the fifth floor and both were pleasantly surprised when they discovered that the fifth floor door wasn't covered in a mound of rubble like the other doors had been. They easily scooted the debris away and opened the door.

"Hobbes? You up here, buddy?" shouted Darien.

"Robert?" yelled Eberts.

They could both hear a faint shouting.

Darien gave Eberts a confused glance. "Where's it coming from?"

They heard another shout.

"Elevator," said Eberts.

Eberts dragged Darien to the elevator, both eyeing the elevator door with uncertainty. "How are we going to open it?" asked Darien.

"I guess push it," said Eberts. "Do you think you can do it?"

Darien nodded. "I'll try my best," he said as he grabbed at one end of the door and Eberts grasped the other. Together they managed to pull open the door to a five feet space in the middle.

"Aw crap," moaned Darien as his back protested the exertion and he leaned against the unopened part of the door. "Hobbes?" he shouted out in a pain-filled gasp.

"Down here, Fawkes," he heard Bobby's voice respond.

"Are you okay, Robert?" shouted Eberts.

"Eberts?" shouted Bobby.

"Yeah, Robert it's me," said Eberts.

"Are you hurt, man?" asked Darien.

"My legs a little iffy and I got a whack on the head, but other than that nothing," responded Bobby.

Darien mustered the strength to bend down and look at Bobby's location. He could see the top of the elevator about 10 feet below. He could even make out Bobby sitting in the car. The elevator looked like it was sitting at an odd angle. "Ah, Hobbes, the elevators gonna collapse isn't it?"

"Yeah, that would be my guess," said Bobby.

"Right," said Darien. He glanced at Eberts. "Yeah, we got to get him out of there now."

"How?" asked Eberts.

"That's a good question," whispered Darien to himself.

TBC