On The Seventh Day of Christmas, my I-Man gave to me...
Hobbes squinted his eyes, the world before him was dark and blurry, but he couldn't tell if it was because it was still night or because he was loosing it. "Bobby Hobbes is not crazy!" He gritted out between chattering teeth.
The cold had set into his bones, gratefully numbing any semblance of pain, but unfortunately numbing everything else as well. It'd be fine if he'd just stop shaking, he bitterly thought to himself and tried shifting once again. His joints were so slow to respond he wasn't even sure if they were moving at all, but he assumed they had for a fresh jolt of pain surged up his side causing him to gasp sharply.
After that, Bobby just laid still, waiting for dawn to appear. He wasn't sure when he actually fell asleep, or if it could be even called sleep, but his thoughts had turned inward in any case. To the things he'd accomplished, the things he yet to do, and the people who mattered to him, his partner, Fawkes, Monroe...and Claire.
It was as if she was right there with him. He could just imagine the way she'd react, the look of concern on her face as she patched him up, took care of him. And he'd take care of her, too, it was a vow he'd made a long time ago even if he hadn't ever vocalized it. The vision played itself out, adding elements that Bobby could only dream about, but he didn't care, it was at least warming him.
A warmth that lasted longer that he'd thought possible, till at last, when his consciousness was on the edge of awareness he realized it was coming from in front of him as well as behind. "Claire?" He mumbled softly.
"No, sorry." This pulled Bobby stiffly from the dream as he instinctually tried now to pull away from the warmth. Firm hands easily held him down. "Hold still." Came the soft but naturally stern reply.
Opening his eyes, Bobby could now see the fire that had previously been a small twig piled attempt. It's heat soaking against his face as its flames curled up in greeting. The body pressed up against his chilled form was the other source of heat and slowly Bobby was able to fully return to consciousness. The throbbing through his leg and the growing knot in his side confirming for him that he was now indeed awake.
"Monroe. What happened?" He asked simply, realizing this was all out of place. It was still dark, she shouldn't have been back till morning. "Did you get to Fawkes?"
"They found my car, the engine was blown out." She told him quietly, then said, "Don't worry about it, we'll find him. Just sleep now."
Bobby wanted to protest, he wanted to get going, the need to find his partner driving his thoughts, but the ache of the cold and sheer exhaustion was enough to quiet them. In a short amount of time he'd slipped back to a more peaceful unconsciousness to wait for the sun to rise.
For Darien the dark had become his prison. With perhaps an animal instinct, he could tell when things were changing, feel the tensions rise, around him and in himself. He vaguely remembered Bobby being there for a while, but that presence was gone now. Currently, the presence he was aware of the most was Arnaud. And therefore a cold hatred had come to inhabit the darkness with him.
The hatred grew from time to time, sparking with something his mind kept telling him should hurt, that it wasn't really a part of him, but something else. It was the gland, it had it's own presence in his mind, accented now by the black of unconsciousness, leaving him susceptible to its influence as the presence grew, feeding off his cold hatred till at last they were all he was aware of.
The part of his mind he'd come to call his conscience observed that if he was awake his eyes would probably be red.
Then another awareness entered the darkness, coming quick with a bite that wasn't so unfamiliar to him either. The counteragent swept quickly through his veins, flooding his blood with its chemical toxins and pushing back the control of the gland, leaving Darien feeling lost and helpless in its wake. The powerful agent once again did its work, eradicating his blood of foreign elements, including a lot of the drug he'd been doused with for so long.
At last the darkness began to fade and groggily Darien opened his eyes. The first sight to greet him was the sun coming through an iced over window as it crested the line of trees outside. Then he turned his head and met the steady gaze of Arnaud. The man stood regarding him with a familiar half scowl etched on his face. It turned into a smug smirk in the next instant, although the way his eyes still flickered about the room, Darien knew Arnaud's guard hadn't come down one bit. "Good morning Darien."
Darien lunged for his enemy, or at least he tried to. It was more like a half roll out of the bed to land awkwardly on the floor as he realized his hands were tied and the rest of his limbs weren't in the most cooperative mood. In fact, he was amazed he'd been able to move even that much, all his muscles felt like lead.
To his further surprise, Arnaud bent down and grabbing Darien under the arm helped pull him up to sit on the bed. "You don't think, do you?" He stated drolly. "Your brother was impulsive, too, it's what made him so great you know."
"Don't talk about my brother," Darien growled out, but his voice was ruff and dry from ill-use. Fighting to regain control of his muscles he demanded. "What did you do to me?"
"You've been asleep for over a day. It was easier than trying to keep you controlled, I don't exactly have a padded room here to throw you in, much as I'd love to," Arnaud gripped looking about the stark and currently otherwise unoccupied cabin station.
"Then why haven't you just drugged me again?" Darien asked sourly. He was twisting his wrists trying to loosen the knot but even that little movement was quickly sapping any strength he'd gained upon waking. He was conscious now yet exhaustion lay heavy on his bones.
Arnaud was watching what Darien was obviously attempting to do with a look of distaste, but still answered with a shrug, "I ran out."
"Big mistake," Darien murmured, hatred filling his eyes as he stared up at his mortal enemy. Energy or not, he still had the drive to kill the man before him. Quicksilvering his wrists he froze and broke the confining bands with some effort and pushed himself speedily to his feet, letting the momentum of his forced movements to carry him to his foe.
Arnaud did little to stop Darien but practically let the angered man push him against the closest wall, only a deepening look of annoyance conveying his feelings. "You know Darien," Arnaud gritted out as Darien's hands found residence around his throat. At lest he wasn't hanging from the wall as usual, Arnaud thought ironically. "You really don't have the strength for this." He stated.
"Watch me!" Darien pushed even harder, angry passion fueling his adrenaline to continue, but in the next instant he felt a knee ram sharply up into his chest, and whatever false strength had been carrying him fled. He hit the floor like a piece of putty, breath coming back intermixed coughs and gasps. That hurt a lot worse than he thought it would.
Arnaud shook his head in disapproval, rubbing his throat as he moved to an open case sitting atop a nearby table fishing out a needle and bottle with a clear liquid inside.
Watching wearily, Darien weakly pulled himself up to sit leaning against the wall. "I thought you ran out," he mumbled, feeling dread replace the wasted adrenaline in his veins.
Arnaud walked up and crouched down beside him with the filled needle. "I said I ran out of the sleep agent. This won't knock you out, but it'll at least keep you otherwise occupied in something other than myself." He reached out to give Darien the shot but Darien grabbed his wrist, stubbornly fighting the inevitable. Arnaud simply pulled it away with his free hand and plunged the syringe into Darien's neck before any further fighting ensued.
Hissing from the little but painful prick, Darien squeezed his eyes shut against the toxin as it raced through his body faster than the counteragent had. A few moments later the world turned a pleasant soft hue.
Hobbes grunted softly as his foot snagged yet another hidden branch beneath the snow.
"You okay?" Alex automatically asked for what was probably the hundredth time that morning.
"Yes," Bobby replied drawing it out dripping with sarcasm.
"Alight, alight," Alex snapped back, but her face soften immediately after when Bobby snagged his foot once again and would have fallen it he wasn't already being half carried to begin with.
"You should just leave me and get going," Bobby told her between clenched teeth. They'd been walking all morning with the speed of molasses.
Alex gave him a reproachful look then stopped, forcing him to stop as well. "We can rest here for a minute."
"I'm serious, Alex."
Monroe's head turned sharply to look at him, her face lined with serious doubt. Then she pulled her backpack off, forcing a grin as she stated in a half joking manor, "I thought Bobby Hobbes never bailed on his partner?"
"Bobby Hobbes 'doesn't' bail on his partner!" Hobbes emphatically told her, adding, "That's why you need to get going. Before Arnaud does something screwy with Fawkes, or he goes red eyed, or whatever, I don't know. But I can't get there in time, and you can!"
"We don't know that," Alex quietly replied, that said point of fact, "We go together." It was end of discussion.
Hobbes sighed, boy was that woman stubborn! But he took the oatmeal cookie she offered him anyway and they ate in silence. There hadn't been much at her car that she hadn't already had with her, except another small bag of the baked goodies she'd originally brought as a snack. She'd forced him to eat four this morning, the breakfast of champions! They each finished the single one now, and Hobbes asked, trying not to sound so hopeful, "Any more?"
Distractedly shaking her head, Alex continued her minute observation of their surroundings. A look of perplexity was currently inhabiting her face and Hobbes turned to see what had disturbed her. There, in the not so far distance was a flock of pigeons. Seven of them, all lined up on the stronger branches of a tree. Seeing pigeons in a forest was odd on its own, Bobby was used to them rummaging at his feet in the city, but they way they all seemed to be watching them was giving Bobby the willies!
Alex must have felt the same way, for in the next minute she had taken out her gun and aimed it at the cluster of birds. They took wing almost immediately, flying out and into the other trees for cover. Monroe didn't even have to pull the trigger.
This time Hobbes did shiver. "Uh! It's like The Birds, or something."
"What?"
"You know, Hitchcock." He shivered again just for good measure. "Creepy."
"Ya," She replied still distracted by the pigeon's watching gazes, now coming through the cover of winter leaves and pine needles. "Let's go."
"No complaint here." But he did complain, if just softly as he shifted his leg back into a semblance of motion. A couple hours later, after at least some progress, Hobbes suddenly felt the hairs of instinct rise on the back of his neck. He told Alex to stop and twisted around. Behind them was the same flock of pigeons, all seven of them, he was sure of it. They hadn't been obviously following them, but there they were, no doubt about it. "Now that really is creepy! Like they're waiting for me to keel over so they peck all the flesh from my bones!"
"Hobbes!" Monroe instantly complained.
Bobby yelled back to the birds. "It's never going to happen, do you hear?! You can't have Bobby Hobbes!" The he added in a much quieter voice, grumbling out, "Dirty scavengers, they al-"
"Shhh!" Alex suddenly said, but Bobby just kept going.
"-way think they have the upper hand, always-"
"Quiet!" She hissed. Hobbes stopped, straining his ears. Off in the distance was the unmistakable sound of a motor, a snowmobile or two, most likely, and it was getting closer.
"Ah, crap!" They both whispered, and Bobby's instincts flared to life. "Monroe, get going, I'll delay them as much as possible so you can make your getaway."
"What? I don't think so. You're not thinking straight," she simply stated then propelled him over to one of the larger trees. "I still have my gun remember? We're not completely helpless here." She softly chastened. "They're coming fast enough that they just might come right through this path without noticing our trail. You hide here and when they do you can beam them with snowballs. That should distract them enough for me to shoot them if need be."
Hobbes was admitably impressed with her plan. "How do you know I'll hit them?"
Monroe smirked. "You hit me, didn't you?" She left him then and hurried across the snow packed ground, making sure Hobbes knew where she was hidden.
It turned out the snowmobiles weren't so far off and had in fact been heading straight for them. Hobbes could see them now as they came around the bend in the path, it was Rena and Pierre, but they were also slowing which meant that the two spies knew they were there. Grabbing up the handful of snowballs he's quickly assembled, Hobbes waited as long as he dared before he sent a fist full of snow after each rider.
The wet smack resounded off the quiet trees as the balls hit home and the two snowmobiles quickly skidding to a halt as their rider's strove to clear their eyes. Yet either these spies weren't as dumb as they usually come or they had some unseen advantage. Instead of turning towards their immediate attacker, they both slid off their machines, using them as covered as they quickly yanked their guns out and faced the opposite direction, exactly where Monroe was hiding.
Hobbes tried again, throwing another two balls of snow in their direction, but he didn't have the line of sight he did before and it only gained him a single stray bullet in his direction. Alex took the opportunity to open fire on the two spies. Sounds of clanging metal reverberated intermixed by the returning fire, neither gaining any ground.
It was a draw, and Monroe only had the one extra clip. Then he could see Pierre motioning to Rena and she started up her snowmobile, using it for mobile cover to get around to a position where she could see behind Monroe's protective tree. She was pinned and soon she'd be in clear sight.
Clenching his jaw in determination, Hobbes pushed himself off his own tree. Snowballs weren't enough anymore. Pierre's attention and gun was trained on Alex's tree so that he didn't even notice as Hobbes came running at an uneven trot behind him.
As time would have it, Hobbes just wasn't quite quick enough. He heard the spray of gunshots from every direction even as he leaped out at his offender, hoping to give Alex the advantage to get away with. But, like a slow motion film, he saw Pierre's gun go off right before he bowled them to the ground.
Agonizing pain shot straight up his leg which had protested as much to the fall as to the short sprint. Unable to hold back the cry from his lips, he squeezed his eyes closed against the fears that raked his mind. He'd seen the gun go off, saw the flash of color out of the corner of his eye that he'd swear had been Alex. And now there was only silence.
"Damn, it wasn't suppose to go down like this!" It was Rena's voice that first pierced the blackness.
Then Pierre spoke, "Whatever. They asked for him, not her." Bobby didn't know who 'they' were, a thousand possibilities coming instantly to mind while he felt his hands being tied with a plastic peace bond. All he could do right now was breath, just focus your breathing, Bobby thought numbly to himself, the physical pain amplifying the emotional pain ten fold.
He finally opened his eyes as the two foreign spies picked him up, carefully helping him onto the back of one of the snowmobiles, Pierre sitting in front of him. The young Frenchman looked back at him and drolly smirked. "It's a wonder you've made it as far as you have."
"Bobby Hobbes is full of wonders," Hobbes exclaimed in reaction, but his voice was dull, monotone, his eyes were locked on the huddled form laying face down in the snow a ways off. Pierre didn't reply and soon the two snowmobiles came to life, quickly leaving the scene.
Darien stared calmly out across the snow-covered driveway. To an outside observer, Darien looked serene and content standing there in the snow, his hands hanging loosely in his pockets. A doctor might notice his eyes were a bit glassy, and rarely was he blinking against the dryness of his eyes, but the doctor would have to be looking for it to really see it.
Inside, life was good, sweet, he was completely at peace. Idly he turned his gaze to Arnaud who was currently inside the phone booth talking to someone. Somewhere in Darien's awareness his mind told him he hated that man, that he wanted to kill him. At some point, he thought calmly, but right now he felt more content to just stand there and watch.
Arnaud stepped out of the booth right as the five Chrysali strode out of the trees, One in the lead. Turning to them Arnaud questioned, "Well?"
"There's no way in, even for you. They have thermal surveillance, it'd take an army to get in. I'd say they were prepared." One replied, then added, "There was no sign of the owner of the vehicle down the street, but we saw them bring in Agent Hobbes."
Lips thinning, Arnaud sarcastically returned, "Hurray for them."
One ignored the comment and stated, "I don't think Chrysalis would be inclined to invade a base of the FQM at this time."
"No, of coarse not," Arnaud agreed sourly, but added, "I just talked to Stark, he's started negotiations with them. We have to wait at least till tomorrow for a reply."
One nodded and motioned to his men to check the perimeter while headed for the cabin, Arnaud a step behind. Then One turned around and frowned over at Darien who was still just standing there, watching. "What's with him?"
Arnaud looked back having almost left his charge outside. He frowned. "I was experimenting with an alternative to counteragent to combat QSM. It doesn't quite work the way I want it to." Then Arnaud motioned directly to Darien and said, "Darien, come here!"
Darien didn't move, a look adjacent to open curiosity plastered on his face. Arnaud sighed with exasperation and repeated his order with more emphasis on each word as if he were talking to a stubborn child. "Darien. I said, come, here!" At last Darien moved towards him, but it was more like an automatic reaction that any conscious thought of his own.
To Darien, the world continued to simply be there.
...Seven Pigeon's Watching
Six Oatmeal Cookies
Five Chrysali
Four Balls of Snow
Three Missing Disks
Two Foreign Spies
And Arnaud in a Telephone Booth.
