Bobby held his breath and waited for the searing pain as the bullet ripped through his body. But there was nothing... nothing but the thud of a body hitting the floor. A body that definitely wasn't his.
Utterly confused, Bobby opened his eyes. Allianora's body lay crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a hole in her chest. He stared at her, his brain unable to come up with a logical explanation for how what he was seeing had come to pass.
Darien sat up, glanced past Bobby to the door and said, "It's about time you showed up."
Bobby turned around. Sophie stood in the doorway, her gun raised. He heaved a sigh of relief as he finally understood what had happened. Before Allianora had had the chance to shoot him, Sophie had shot Allianora.
Sophie nodded toward Allianora. "What are we going to do with the body?"
Darien stood to his feet, wincing from the collection of bruises he was beginning to develop. "We call in back-up." He turned his attention to Sampson, who was no longer in bed but standing close to the door, probably calculating the best time to make a run for it. "And as for you...." He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "You're coming with us."
Sampson began to protest indignantly, but Darien paid him no mind. Bobby followed Darien and Sampson out of the room, still in a state of shock, milder though it might be. He found himself wondering if Sophie's aim was really as bad as Darien had claimed.
**********
Darien sat in a chair opposite the Official's desk and wondered just how many more headaches he would be able to take before he was driven back to drink. All the Official had done for the past 30 minutes was yell; Darien had drowned out the sound of his voice long ago. For some reason Bobby still appeared to be listening, as was proven by his somber expression and his tendency to flinch whenever the Official let loose a particularly vehement outburst.
The Official seemed to have toned down his ranting a bit, which indicated he was finally finishing up, so Darien tuned back in.
"...and because of your severe incompetence, coupled with the fact that you managed to kill the very thing I had sent you to retrieve, I am docking both of your pay."
Darien winced. His pay was already low enough that he was barely able to scrape up enough money for rent as it was.
And then Bobby did one of the worst possible things he could have done. He spoke. "Uh, sir? We weren't the ones who shot Miss Blaque. And she wasn't a thing, she was a woman." Bobby's expression darkened as he finished speaking. Apparently, he had taken the Official's comment very seriously.
Oh, well. As long as the Official was going to yell again, Darien might as well spread it out a bit. He knew for a fact that it wasn't pleasant to be the sole beneficiary of one of the Official's rampages. The Official had never seemed to think he was anything more than a reckless drunk who wasn't worth the bed he slept in, despite the fact that Darien hadn't touched anything that even vaguely smacked of alcohol within the last five years. As such, Darien had been on the receiving end of many such speeches over the years, and had quite aptly mastered his own personal way of dealing with them.
"He does have a point, sir. We weren't the ones who shot her," Darien said, leaning back in his chair and forcing a casual smirk on his face. Time to play the grinning idiot, the reckless agent who couldn't care less whether his job was at stake. In all honesty, he cared a great deal. But he wasn't about to inform anyone of that fact.
"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know I won't be partnering either of you up with Agent MacCleary, or anyone else, for quite some time," the Official said testily. "The two of you deserve each other," he said, glaring at Bobby, then letting his gaze focus on Darien. "One more screw-up like this, Fawkes, and your employment here will be terminated."
It figured. Now that Kevin was dead, the Official had no reason to keep Darien on as an employee. Darien would have to be extra careful, because from now on it wasn't just his pay that was on the line. "I understand, sir," Darien said, managing to keep his temper in check. He had no intention of kissing up to the boss, but he would watch his words more carefully for a while.
"Good." The Official gave Darien a nasty smile.
Bobby cleared his throat. "Sir, I need to get my shot...."
"And I need to have the Keeper check up on my hand," Darien added, glad that he now had a possible way out.
The Official looked displeased, but said, "Very well. Dismissed." He gave Darien a pointed look. "I trust you will come in bright and early in the morning?"
Darien had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning. He was not a morning person, and as such was habitually late. "Eight A.M., sir."
The Official nodded and then returned to his paperwork.
Darien and Bobby stood, then walked out into the hall. As soon as they were out of hearing range Bobby hissed, "I don't like that fat bastard."
"I don't know anyone who does," Darien replied.
**********
Bobby's claim that he needed a shot had been true, but he didn't need it that badly, not yet. So when Claire insisted on taking care of Darien's hand first, he had no problem with waiting. He was still trying to figure out the odd bond that seemed to have been formed between them, but with no more success than before.
"Seems to be coming along nicely," Claire said. "You should be fine, but let me know if anything unusual happens."
Darien nodded. "Will do." He stood up, stretching, and said, "OK, I've got a mountain of paperwork calling my name." He pointed toward Bobby. "You've got one calling yours too, so get up there fast. I'm not gonna do this all by myself."
"Yeah, sure," Bobby said noncommittally. He had no intention of going anywhere near paperwork if he could help it. Darien walked out the door, and Bobby sat down in the counteragent chair. He looked over at Claire as he rolled up his sleeve. "So, uh, how long have you known Fawkes?"
Claire tensed, but forced a casual smile on her face as she began to prep the needle for the counteragent. "What makes you ask that?"
Bobby shrugged. "The two of you act like you know each other. Very well." He realized what it sounded like he was implying as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take back his words now.
"No!" Claire exclaimed, with a vehemence that surprised Bobby. He'd been expecting a reaction, but not one of that ferocity. "No, we, he and I... no." Claire cleared her throat. "We met each other six years ago. We've kept in touch since then."
"I woulda thought you'd done a little more than kept in touch, judgin' by the fact that you're working in the same building," Bobby said, his suspicions still not completely erased.
"We're friends, Bobby. We could never be more than that."
Bobby stuck his tongue in his cheek for a moment, pondering Claire's statement. Then he nodded slowly. "OK."
Claire raised an eyebrow. "Just a moment ago you were insinuating that Darien and I were involved in intimate relations, and now you're OK?"
Bobby leaned back in the counteragent chair nonchalantly. "Sure, why not?"
"Judging from your medical history, you have a very difficult time letting go of something once you become suspicious about it. I would hardly think your reaction right now would be a simple 'OK'." Claire looked properly flustered.
"Yeah, well, guess there's a few things my medical history don't cover, huh?" Bobby said, both teasingly and as a challenge. "Like maybe the fact that I accept stuff easier from people I trust."
Claire's lips twitched up into the beginnings of an enigmatic smile. "So, does this mean you trust me?"
Bobby shrugged. "I trust Fawkes and Fawkes trusts you, so I figure I might as well take a shot at it too."
Claire's smile bloomed in full. "That's sweet, Bobby."
Bobby blushed and rapidly decided that he needed to change the tone of the conversation. "Besides, you've got a great ass."
Claire's jaw dropped, which was exactly the reaction he had been looking for. "Alright, that's it, this is going in your neck," she said, holding up the now full needle of counteragent and giving Bobby a dangerous look.
"But, but, but – ahh!" Bobby yelped, as Claire made good on her word. Not quite the reaction he had been hoping for after all....
**********
Darien stood in a darkened corner of Lab 101, his figure enshrouded in shadow. Claire sat across the room looking through her microscope at one of Bobby's blood samples that she had taken earlier; only the rigidity of her posture betrayed her tension. She knew exactly why Darien had decided to pay her this after-hours visit, but she wasn't going to be the one to initiate the conversation she dreaded so much.
"Well?" Darien spoke quietly, his dark-clad form betraying no visible emotion.
"He trusts me," Claire said, resisting the temptation to cast more than a casual glance Darien's way. "Or at least, he's willing to try."
Darien brought a hand up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a flicker of... something briefly appearing on his features. It was difficult to tell whether it was anger or guilt. "I should never have gotten him involved in this, Claire. I didn't think when I told Kevin that this... any of this would happen." He sighed. "I just wanted to do the right thing, Claire."
"I know, Darien." Claire stood up from her research, giving Darien a half-hearted smile. "I promise you, I'll take care of him to the best of my abilities."
"Yeah, but you'll take care of the gland to your best abilities too, won't you?" Darien said harshly. "You'll take extra-special care of Kevin's little brain-child."
Claire took in a sharp breath. "Do you think I want any more people to die over this?"
Darien stepped out of the shadows, his lips pressed into a tight line, looking down at her with that stern expression that both Fawkes brothers had mastered so well. "No, but if the fat man orders you to rip that thing out of Hobbes' head, I know you're gonna be the one who lays him out on the operating table."
Claire stared at Darien in astonishment. But, for all her outrage at Darien's accusations, she found herself unable to refute them. "Get out of here," she snapped. "You have no right to torment me like this."
But Darien showed no signs of leaving. "You think you're being tormented? Hobbes may not be free of this place for the rest of his life. At least I'll have an early retirement to look forward to. And you can walk out any time you want, if you'll just stop trying to live in the past."
"I am not living in the past!" Claire yelled. "I am helping to preserve the future!"
"And you're doing an excellent job," Darien said bitterly. "I'm warning you, Claire, if something happens to him...."
Claire turned away coldly, sitting down and continuing her experiments. "Stop trying to ease your conscience by making idle threats. I am going to do everything I can to ensure Bobby's safety."
"Yeah, well, I just hope his trust in you hasn't been misplaced." Darien turned and walked out the door. Claire made no attempt to stop him.
**********
The sky was dark and clouds poured over the heavens, making the Francine Jefferson Memorial Cemetery even more foreboding than it usually was at that late hour. A chill wind blew through the area, in stark contrast to the warm breezes that had wafted through mere hours before.
In the most remote corner of the cemetery, a lone man hovered over a grave. The marble slab that served as the grave's parker was simple and inexpensive; the man standing over it appeared ordinary and unimposing. Yet, there was a cold arrogance to his demeanor that suggested it was dangerous to ignore him.
A thick, beefy hand stretched out to trace the name that had been carved into the marble: 'Arnaud De Föhn'.
"So, I leave you alone for a few weeks and this is what happens?" the man reprimanded. "You go and get yourself killed." Hand moved up to face, fingers rubbed idly against beard. "But... it is probably for the best, you know. I probably would have killed you anyway." The man straightened, his face breaking out into a wry grin. "Don't worry, I'll avenge your death soon enough. After all... no man can do enough for his brother."
The End
I know, suspense and more suspense, with no ending in sight.... Told you this was turning into a series. Hopefully, the next story will come soon.
Utterly confused, Bobby opened his eyes. Allianora's body lay crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a hole in her chest. He stared at her, his brain unable to come up with a logical explanation for how what he was seeing had come to pass.
Darien sat up, glanced past Bobby to the door and said, "It's about time you showed up."
Bobby turned around. Sophie stood in the doorway, her gun raised. He heaved a sigh of relief as he finally understood what had happened. Before Allianora had had the chance to shoot him, Sophie had shot Allianora.
Sophie nodded toward Allianora. "What are we going to do with the body?"
Darien stood to his feet, wincing from the collection of bruises he was beginning to develop. "We call in back-up." He turned his attention to Sampson, who was no longer in bed but standing close to the door, probably calculating the best time to make a run for it. "And as for you...." He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "You're coming with us."
Sampson began to protest indignantly, but Darien paid him no mind. Bobby followed Darien and Sampson out of the room, still in a state of shock, milder though it might be. He found himself wondering if Sophie's aim was really as bad as Darien had claimed.
**********
Darien sat in a chair opposite the Official's desk and wondered just how many more headaches he would be able to take before he was driven back to drink. All the Official had done for the past 30 minutes was yell; Darien had drowned out the sound of his voice long ago. For some reason Bobby still appeared to be listening, as was proven by his somber expression and his tendency to flinch whenever the Official let loose a particularly vehement outburst.
The Official seemed to have toned down his ranting a bit, which indicated he was finally finishing up, so Darien tuned back in.
"...and because of your severe incompetence, coupled with the fact that you managed to kill the very thing I had sent you to retrieve, I am docking both of your pay."
Darien winced. His pay was already low enough that he was barely able to scrape up enough money for rent as it was.
And then Bobby did one of the worst possible things he could have done. He spoke. "Uh, sir? We weren't the ones who shot Miss Blaque. And she wasn't a thing, she was a woman." Bobby's expression darkened as he finished speaking. Apparently, he had taken the Official's comment very seriously.
Oh, well. As long as the Official was going to yell again, Darien might as well spread it out a bit. He knew for a fact that it wasn't pleasant to be the sole beneficiary of one of the Official's rampages. The Official had never seemed to think he was anything more than a reckless drunk who wasn't worth the bed he slept in, despite the fact that Darien hadn't touched anything that even vaguely smacked of alcohol within the last five years. As such, Darien had been on the receiving end of many such speeches over the years, and had quite aptly mastered his own personal way of dealing with them.
"He does have a point, sir. We weren't the ones who shot her," Darien said, leaning back in his chair and forcing a casual smirk on his face. Time to play the grinning idiot, the reckless agent who couldn't care less whether his job was at stake. In all honesty, he cared a great deal. But he wasn't about to inform anyone of that fact.
"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know I won't be partnering either of you up with Agent MacCleary, or anyone else, for quite some time," the Official said testily. "The two of you deserve each other," he said, glaring at Bobby, then letting his gaze focus on Darien. "One more screw-up like this, Fawkes, and your employment here will be terminated."
It figured. Now that Kevin was dead, the Official had no reason to keep Darien on as an employee. Darien would have to be extra careful, because from now on it wasn't just his pay that was on the line. "I understand, sir," Darien said, managing to keep his temper in check. He had no intention of kissing up to the boss, but he would watch his words more carefully for a while.
"Good." The Official gave Darien a nasty smile.
Bobby cleared his throat. "Sir, I need to get my shot...."
"And I need to have the Keeper check up on my hand," Darien added, glad that he now had a possible way out.
The Official looked displeased, but said, "Very well. Dismissed." He gave Darien a pointed look. "I trust you will come in bright and early in the morning?"
Darien had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning. He was not a morning person, and as such was habitually late. "Eight A.M., sir."
The Official nodded and then returned to his paperwork.
Darien and Bobby stood, then walked out into the hall. As soon as they were out of hearing range Bobby hissed, "I don't like that fat bastard."
"I don't know anyone who does," Darien replied.
**********
Bobby's claim that he needed a shot had been true, but he didn't need it that badly, not yet. So when Claire insisted on taking care of Darien's hand first, he had no problem with waiting. He was still trying to figure out the odd bond that seemed to have been formed between them, but with no more success than before.
"Seems to be coming along nicely," Claire said. "You should be fine, but let me know if anything unusual happens."
Darien nodded. "Will do." He stood up, stretching, and said, "OK, I've got a mountain of paperwork calling my name." He pointed toward Bobby. "You've got one calling yours too, so get up there fast. I'm not gonna do this all by myself."
"Yeah, sure," Bobby said noncommittally. He had no intention of going anywhere near paperwork if he could help it. Darien walked out the door, and Bobby sat down in the counteragent chair. He looked over at Claire as he rolled up his sleeve. "So, uh, how long have you known Fawkes?"
Claire tensed, but forced a casual smile on her face as she began to prep the needle for the counteragent. "What makes you ask that?"
Bobby shrugged. "The two of you act like you know each other. Very well." He realized what it sounded like he was implying as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take back his words now.
"No!" Claire exclaimed, with a vehemence that surprised Bobby. He'd been expecting a reaction, but not one of that ferocity. "No, we, he and I... no." Claire cleared her throat. "We met each other six years ago. We've kept in touch since then."
"I woulda thought you'd done a little more than kept in touch, judgin' by the fact that you're working in the same building," Bobby said, his suspicions still not completely erased.
"We're friends, Bobby. We could never be more than that."
Bobby stuck his tongue in his cheek for a moment, pondering Claire's statement. Then he nodded slowly. "OK."
Claire raised an eyebrow. "Just a moment ago you were insinuating that Darien and I were involved in intimate relations, and now you're OK?"
Bobby leaned back in the counteragent chair nonchalantly. "Sure, why not?"
"Judging from your medical history, you have a very difficult time letting go of something once you become suspicious about it. I would hardly think your reaction right now would be a simple 'OK'." Claire looked properly flustered.
"Yeah, well, guess there's a few things my medical history don't cover, huh?" Bobby said, both teasingly and as a challenge. "Like maybe the fact that I accept stuff easier from people I trust."
Claire's lips twitched up into the beginnings of an enigmatic smile. "So, does this mean you trust me?"
Bobby shrugged. "I trust Fawkes and Fawkes trusts you, so I figure I might as well take a shot at it too."
Claire's smile bloomed in full. "That's sweet, Bobby."
Bobby blushed and rapidly decided that he needed to change the tone of the conversation. "Besides, you've got a great ass."
Claire's jaw dropped, which was exactly the reaction he had been looking for. "Alright, that's it, this is going in your neck," she said, holding up the now full needle of counteragent and giving Bobby a dangerous look.
"But, but, but – ahh!" Bobby yelped, as Claire made good on her word. Not quite the reaction he had been hoping for after all....
**********
Darien stood in a darkened corner of Lab 101, his figure enshrouded in shadow. Claire sat across the room looking through her microscope at one of Bobby's blood samples that she had taken earlier; only the rigidity of her posture betrayed her tension. She knew exactly why Darien had decided to pay her this after-hours visit, but she wasn't going to be the one to initiate the conversation she dreaded so much.
"Well?" Darien spoke quietly, his dark-clad form betraying no visible emotion.
"He trusts me," Claire said, resisting the temptation to cast more than a casual glance Darien's way. "Or at least, he's willing to try."
Darien brought a hand up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a flicker of... something briefly appearing on his features. It was difficult to tell whether it was anger or guilt. "I should never have gotten him involved in this, Claire. I didn't think when I told Kevin that this... any of this would happen." He sighed. "I just wanted to do the right thing, Claire."
"I know, Darien." Claire stood up from her research, giving Darien a half-hearted smile. "I promise you, I'll take care of him to the best of my abilities."
"Yeah, but you'll take care of the gland to your best abilities too, won't you?" Darien said harshly. "You'll take extra-special care of Kevin's little brain-child."
Claire took in a sharp breath. "Do you think I want any more people to die over this?"
Darien stepped out of the shadows, his lips pressed into a tight line, looking down at her with that stern expression that both Fawkes brothers had mastered so well. "No, but if the fat man orders you to rip that thing out of Hobbes' head, I know you're gonna be the one who lays him out on the operating table."
Claire stared at Darien in astonishment. But, for all her outrage at Darien's accusations, she found herself unable to refute them. "Get out of here," she snapped. "You have no right to torment me like this."
But Darien showed no signs of leaving. "You think you're being tormented? Hobbes may not be free of this place for the rest of his life. At least I'll have an early retirement to look forward to. And you can walk out any time you want, if you'll just stop trying to live in the past."
"I am not living in the past!" Claire yelled. "I am helping to preserve the future!"
"And you're doing an excellent job," Darien said bitterly. "I'm warning you, Claire, if something happens to him...."
Claire turned away coldly, sitting down and continuing her experiments. "Stop trying to ease your conscience by making idle threats. I am going to do everything I can to ensure Bobby's safety."
"Yeah, well, I just hope his trust in you hasn't been misplaced." Darien turned and walked out the door. Claire made no attempt to stop him.
**********
The sky was dark and clouds poured over the heavens, making the Francine Jefferson Memorial Cemetery even more foreboding than it usually was at that late hour. A chill wind blew through the area, in stark contrast to the warm breezes that had wafted through mere hours before.
In the most remote corner of the cemetery, a lone man hovered over a grave. The marble slab that served as the grave's parker was simple and inexpensive; the man standing over it appeared ordinary and unimposing. Yet, there was a cold arrogance to his demeanor that suggested it was dangerous to ignore him.
A thick, beefy hand stretched out to trace the name that had been carved into the marble: 'Arnaud De Föhn'.
"So, I leave you alone for a few weeks and this is what happens?" the man reprimanded. "You go and get yourself killed." Hand moved up to face, fingers rubbed idly against beard. "But... it is probably for the best, you know. I probably would have killed you anyway." The man straightened, his face breaking out into a wry grin. "Don't worry, I'll avenge your death soon enough. After all... no man can do enough for his brother."
The End
I know, suspense and more suspense, with no ending in sight.... Told you this was turning into a series. Hopefully, the next story will come soon.