1 Title: Shiver

Author: Anna Maxwell

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Story idea is mine (if they'd like it I'll share ^_^) but the characters belong to Stu Segall.

Darien groaned as the alarm clock came alive next to his unsuspecting ear. He reached an arm over and hit at it. He missed the first two times but nailed it on the third swipe. He watched through one cracked eyelid as the offending object teetered on the edge of his dresser; then smirked in victory as it crashed to the floor.

"Look who's beeping now." He mumbled. Darien thought about going back to sleep, but decided not to deal with his partner's complaints later. With a sigh he heaved the covers off. He instantly regretted the act as the cold rushed in.

He stood, slowly moving towards his thermostat. It was freezing in the apartment. Well, to Darien at least. The rat looked comfortable. Darien frowned at the mechanical device. It certainly felt a lot colder than sixty- nine. Now that he thought about it, he'd been chilly since he had gotten home from dinner with Hobbes.

Darien shivered and rubbed his arms. It was probably the winter season coming on, or something to do with the gland. He'd have to remember to mention it to Claire later. With a final frown at the thermostat, he moved off to the shower.

Bobby Hobbes had woken up cold. It was more than cold; it was downright arctic. He was always awake before his alarm and today was no exception. Only it was the climate change and not instinct that had roused him at four thirty. He had forced himself to stay in bed attempting not to watch the minutes tick by.

"This is getting ridiculous, even for you my friend." He muttered to himself. Nevertheless, it was four fifty when he got into the shower, and five forty when he left his apartment.

The most irritating thing was the fact that he could not get warm. He had Golda's heater blasting as high as it would go, to no avail. And now he sat, at six in the morning, in front of Fawkes' apartment.

"Kid's probably still sleeping." He sighed. Vaguely, he wondered if this was a side effect from one of his plethora of pills. He made a mental note to check his prescriptions when he got home.

By six thirty he was so bored he was ready to pull out what little hair he had left. Bobby holstered his gun and abandoned the van temporarily. He checked out the lobby of his partner's building and he observed it from the vantage-point of the heater before heading toward the stairs.

He kept his guard up and fought off the shivers going up the deserted stairwell. He slowed his pace as he neared Darien's floor and reached out for the door handle. He did a double take and frowned at his hand. It wasn't that cold in the building, and yet his hand was shaking. He set his jaw and gripped the handle, throwing the door open with more force than was necessary. There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing.

Bobby casually strolled down the hall, keeping his eyes and ears open. He eased to a stop in front of Darien's door. His knuckles had barely brushed against the wood when the door swung open and the grinning form of his partner greeted him.

"Morning. Fancy seeing you here." Darien quipped.

Bobby stared at him, his hand still in mid-air. "How did you…?"

Darien ushered him in, still grinning. "I saw you in the parking lot, and waited by the peep hole."

Bobby shook his head. "You could get in trouble, spying on people like that."

The taller man shrugged. "Hey, it could be worse." He quicksilvered his eyes. "I could have a camera in your apartment."

Hobbes swatted at him. "You better not. Quit that, I don't want you going crazy on me in the van."

Darien complied and shed the quicksilver. "You want to go grab a coffee before we go in? I don't have anything here."

"Sure, partner. I've been a little cold this morning." Hobbes agreed.

"I bet you're cold every morning. And night." Darien teased. He watched with amusement as his partner turned red and glared at him.

"My private life is none of your business." He said, shooing him towards the door.

"If you had one for me to butt into." Fawkes countered, locking his door behind him.

Bobby rolled his eyes as they headed downstairs. "By the way, Fawkes, you don't have a camera in my apartment, do you?"

Darien sat on the dental-like chair, waiting for Claire to finish the counteragent. He was drumming his fingers on the metal and had gotten a nice beat for himself. He looked up to see Bobby watching him and shaking his head. Fawkes grinned.

"Come on, man, pick it up!" he encouraged.

Hobbes looked around and joined Fawkes' music by tapping on the mice cage. After he got evenly matched to Fawkes' rhythm, he started hitting other things for effect. Claire rolled her eyes.

"You two, honestly…" she murmured.

"Come on, Keep, give it a whirl." Bobby grinned.

"No thanks. If I don't finish this Darien will be making music by bashing our skulls together." She said.

"Aw, come on, Claire. I think my more violent self could create something a little more original." Darien protested.

"That's what we're afraid of." Bobby said.

By now, all the tapping and banging was getting to Claire. "Gentlemen…"

However, Darien was having fun. "His name is Bobby Hobbes, they call him Lithium B, and he's the coolest secret agent that you always can see…"

"Darien!" Claire shouted.

Bobby was laughing so hard the mouse cage was rattling, and Darien put on his best pout face. Claire heaved a patient sigh and swabbed his arm.

"How you made it past Junior High I'll never know." She said.

"Easy." Bobby said. "He charmed all the lady teachers and stole from the men."

Fawkes glared at them. "I'll have you know I passed on my own accord. With A's."

"I'm sure you did, my friend." Hobbes grinned. Without warning, he stiffened, and bent forward slightly.

"You okay, buddy?" Darien called. The last of the blue liquid slid into his system and he hopped off the table. "Hobbes?"

Darien had almost reached him when he stood up straight again and blinked. Darien eyed him carefully.

"You okay?" he asked again.

"Bobby, what's wrong?" Claire called.

He glanced at her, then looked back at his partner. "Nothing, I'm fine. It just got real cold, all of a sudden. It's fine now."

Fawkes threw a look over his shoulder at the Keeper. She looked as confused as she did. Darien grabbed Hobbes' arm and felt his wrist.

"Jeez, Hobbes, your skin is like ice!" he exclaimed.

All of this was starting to agitate Bobby. What was wrong with being cold? Everyone got cold sometimes. There was not something else wrong with him. He was fine. He wrenched his wrist out of Darien's grasp.

"It's fine." He growled. "Let's go. Fat Man's waiting." He walked to the door and watched it slide open. "Later, Keep. You coming or not, partner?"

Darien shared a helpless shrug with Claire. Something was definitely up. Maybe it was those pills, but Fawkes wasn't about to risk either one of their lives because of Hobbes's pride. He followed his partner up to the Official's office.

Fawkes and Hobbes flopped into the familiar chairs and crossed their legs at the same time. Eberts handed a thick manila envelope to the Official who dropped it on the desk in front of the two men.

"Gentlemen, this is your assignment." He announced.

Fawkes and Hobbes exchanged a glance, and Hobbes reached for it. Bobby steeled the nerves in his hand and pulled the folder to him.

"Auto theft, Sir?" Hobbes asked.

"Yes. High tech auto theft." The Official replied.

"How high tech? We talking James Bond?" Fawkes asked.

Eberts shook his head. "Think French, not British."

Fawkes and Hobbes stared at him.

Eberts sighed. "One thing is linked to all five stolen vehicles."

"What's that?" Bobby questioned.

"All witnesses say that there was no one driving the cars." Eberts explained.

All eyes swiveled to Darien. "Uh, hey," he protested tapping his wrist.

"French, huh?" Bobby repeated. He looked at Fawkes.

"Arnaud." They said together.

"Exactly. That's why the two of you are on this." The Official said.

"So we finally bring the Swiss Miss down." Fawkes grinned.

"No." the Official said, shaking his head.

Both Fawkes and Hobbes frowned. "No?" they said together.

"No." the Official repeated firmly. "You are simply to recover the five cars. They belong to some… influential people. It could mean recovery rewards which would give us a financial boost."

Darien sat forward in his chair. "Why can't we go after Arnaud, too?"

"Budget. Besides, what good would it do? We can't do anything with him." The Official shrugged.

Darien was out of his chair in a shot. "Budget? It's his fault I need the counteragent!"

Bobby grabbed his sleeve. "Sit, Kid. We'll fight one thing at a time."

"Don't sit, gentlemen. Go. I want the first car by dinner."

"How do we get the cars from Arnaud?" Darien snapped.

"You're a thief, Mr. Fawkes, you figure it out." The Official grinned.

Darien glared at him and then stormed out. Hobbes shut the folder and met the Official's gaze.

"Keep him in line, Mr. Hobbes. It could be Arnaud's life or his."

"Yes, sir." Hobbes said quietly. Outside the office, he again thumbed through the file memorizing what each car looked like. He glanced up at his partner, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Hobbes shook his head and kept walking. Ten seconds later Darien fell in step next to him.

"Way to keep your cool, Slick." Hobbes remarked.

"Well you wouldn't be Mr. Joe Agent twenty-four seven if it was your head people were screwing with." Fawkes grumbled.

"Kid, people have been screwing with my head since I can remember. Join the club."

"Yours won't eventually kill you." Fawkes sighed softly.

Hobbes stopped and they faced each other. They simply stood there for a minute, until Fawkes looked at his feet.

Hobbes gave a small grin. "It might."

Fawkes looked up and grinned back. "Yeah."

Hobbes clapped his partner on the arm and began walking again. He held the folder out to the side. "Here. You pick the first car." A tremor ran through him, and he doubled over.

Darien automatically shot his hand out, saving the folder from meeting the floor. His other hand reached out to his partner's shoulder. "Hobbes?"

"Give me a second," he gasped.

"I'll get Claire." Fawkes said.

Hobbes snagged his arms and slowly stood back up. "Don't bother, Fawkes. Just a cramp."

Fawkes eyed him. "You've never had cramps before."

"Must have been the Chinese last night." Hobbes forced a smile.

Fawkes watched him, not quite believing him. "Okay," he said uneasily.

"You worry to much, Fawkesy. Now which car?"

Fawkes reluctantly glanced at the pictures in the file. "Oh, hey, got to go for the red corvette."

"Just what I was thinking." Hobbes agreed.

"Hey, maybe they'll let us keep one in place of that junk-trap van of yours." Fawkes grinned.

"Dependability is key, my friend. Golda's old, but never bails." Hobbes said confidently.

"Kind of like you." Fawkes teased.

"Who you calling' old, Slick?"

"Golda."

"Sure."

Darien hopped into the van and looked over the information on Arnaud. "I don't get it."

Bobby turned the key in the ignition. "Get what?"

"What does Arnaud want with cars? And why is he doing all that hard work himself?" Darien asked.

Bobby shrugged. "Good questions, my friend. If we run into him we'll ask."

"Are we going to run into him?" Darien asked.

Hobbes again shrugged. "Eventually. You think he'll just let us take back all five cars without a fight?"

Darien smirked. "No."

"Well, then," Bobby said.

"Thanks, man."

'Yeah. Just remember, if it comes down to you or him, we'll take a rain check." Bobby said. "What direction?"

"To talk to the owner of the red corvette, take a right." Fawkes answered. Unconsciously, he turned down the heater as Bobby turned into traffic.

A/N: Apologies if I am spelling Arnaud wrong! Let me know how you like it so far, and if I should continue. Thanks!!!