* * *
It took over an hour, with many questions by Hobbes to fill in information he simply didn't have, but eventually she got the story out. About eight weeks prior, Dr. Pierre LaSalle, the boss over at Hollow Brook who had had been in the process of finding a suitable candidate to take his place when he stepped down in six months, was unceremoniously replaced by a Geoffrey Laurence. The guy had set off Michele's "spidey-sense" from day one and the daily departmental meetings with the man left her feeling, in her words, slimy. Given her position within the company, she had demanded to know where Dr. LaSalle was only to be told he was "on vacation" followed by a list of projects that Laurence wanted detailed updates on. The fact that the majority of them were hers in one form or another did not up her confidence in the new director.
Within a week she knew something fishy was going on as she had tried to contact Pierre, only to be warned off by some of the new security that had been brought in with Laurence. It was then that she discovered someone had been attempting to gain access to her private files on the Hollow Brook mainframe... without success. Part of her deal from the beginning was to be able to use the company's high-powered computers during her down time for her private research. Research, she had made sure to point out, that was ancillary to the work she was doing for the company and would ultimately benefit them as well, as she improved the techniques. However, she actually stored nothing on the system, since she would bring in the necessary files and programs and use the mainframe to run the simulations, burn the results to disk and then wipe all the information from the main system. So, while she did indeed have personal files in the system, they were empty, nothing more than markers to differentiate them from the thousands on the computer.
Darien then had been forced to head off another potential argument between 'Chele and Hobbes, though, in truth, it was only Hobbes who was doing the arguing. 'Chele remained perfectly calm, handling the seasoned agent like some cantankerous scientist convinced that her latest theory or simulation couldn't be right simply because 'it had never been done that way'." She also knew that she was right about being able to wipe data and make it impossible to retrieve by any means, but since she was unable to really explain due to those pesky need to know issues, Hobbes was left unsatisfied. Darien had explained that Michele was not only a scientist, but a computer programmer that could easily give Eberts a run for his money, which was effective in negotiating a draw until she could get the rest of the story out.
Things just kept getting stranger for Michele: pressure from Laurence about her personal work, being dropped from some projects, constant attempts to interfere with her current lines of research and even threats to halt the long-term melanoma vaccine testing that was going on if she refused to comply. The most telling, to her, were the attempts to force her to work on government projects, which she could refuse as it was a condition in her contract dating back to after the CDC viral project she'd worked on in the mid-90s. No one knew what was going on and her co-workers were quickly discouraged when they inquired. It was the second attempt at someone trying to access her home computer, this time by breaking into her home and not just trying to hack their way in via the Internet that had confirmed her suspicions.
They were after her project, all her work on her parents' theories and all the success she'd had. They had to know that she'd solved the final trigger sequence problem and that it worked. She'd proceeded to wipe her home system after updating the files and burning them to disk. All her paper files she proceeded to destroy; piece by piece. Most weren't even the originals, and the few that were, she put in a fireproof lock box to move them. It took three days, but she wiped all traces of her experiments from her house, the files and disks hidden away for the time being. She somehow knew it wasn't time to run yet, but she began making plans.
Then two weeks ago, just after her lunch break, several men walked into the main lab area where she'd been running some simulations with five of her co-workers. 'Chele knew something was wrong and had her worst fears confirmed when she recognized the man calling the shots as Jess. She'd warned the people nearest to her to get out of the way and then... she became very vague at this point... made her planned escape.
She'd been on the run ever since then, trying to make contact with a ...friend, she knew could help, but getting the runaround as the person in question was on a business trip, and her little problem wasn't deemed important enough to pull him away from the work. She had been told her messages would be passed on, but that it might be a few weeks. She had managed to stay one step ahead of Jess and his cronies until she'd realized she was running out of medication. Then she was forced to take the risk of coming to San Diego and asking help from the one person who might actually be able to pull the right strings and get her in contact with her friend. The Official.
Hobbes had nearly pitched a fit when 'Chele explained she'd been driving about the lower half of the state for nearly two weeks, staying in random hotels or campgrounds. Until she explained she'd used cash only and had been in a vehicle few people knew she owned, in fact it was registered in her brother Jacob's name. She had been holding onto it for a while partially because of the convenient hidden compartment in the trunk. That had gotten Darien's attention and she confirmed that it had been her who had bought his 65 Dodge Dart back in 2000. Hobbes asked if Jess would know about her relationship with Darien and she admitted, yes, and that she knew it was risk coming here even after trying to muddy the trail first.
It was then, with the wheels in Hobbes' mind grinding on the problem of how to protect her from this supposed group called Mirage when Eberts showed up to let them know the temporary safe house was ready. He also supplied files on Jess, Mirage and Michele so Hobbes would have some idea of what he was really dealing with. Mostly, anyway.
The conversation had continued as the three of them headed down to the garage where her -- Darien's former -- car was currently parked so she could retrieve the trio of duffel bags she'd been living out of and her laptop. Darien spent a few minutes admiring the car parked alongside of Hobbes' van while 'Chele watched with a slight smile on her face. They then climbed into nondescript Agency vehicles to transport her to the safe house. Hobbes even left Golda behind on the off chance the Mirage goons would recognize it as his preferred vehicle. Darien sat in back with Timmens driving, and 'Chele ducked down below line of sight while Hobbes followed in a second vehicle with Grant in the passenger seat. They stayed in constant radio communication for the entire drive, which began to annoy Darien, who did his best to distract 'Chele from the whole thing. She kept giggling at Hobbes' comments and handles for the pair of cars until even Timmens was having a hard time keeping a straight face by the time they arrived.
This time the safe house was an apartment complex smack in the middle of downtown. The NBC building was a stones throw distance away, but between traffic and the intentionally roundabout route used to throw off possible followers it had taken nearly and hour to arrive. 'Chele sighed in relief when they pulled into the underground parking garage for the building, but it was another 15 minutes before it was deemed clear and she was allowed to leave the vehicle.
Ubiquitous cartons from a nearby Chinese place littered the small apartment that was their current location. One bedroom with a king-sized bed and a single bureau, both in surprisingly good condition and clearly purchased within recent memory. The living and dining areas were part of one large room that were demarcated by a change in the flooring, rug covering the wood in the living area. Supposedly the sofa could be transformed into a bed, but no one had actually investigated the veracity of that yet. The galley style kitchen had come barely furnished with settings for four and a couple pans; the cupboards and refrigerator, however, were bare, which caused Darien to spontaneously make a few "Old Mother Hubbard" comments in a wasted attempt to ease the tension.
"How've you two been hooking up without the Fat Man catching wind of it?" Hobbes questioned, the drilling having become polite and reminiscent of far more normal conversation than the obvious interrogation that both Darien and Michele knew it was.
'Chele settled back into the cushions with her prize of vegetarian lo mein clutched in one hand, the chopsticks stabbing in Hobbes' direction as she responded. "Darien and I haven't seen each other since before he joined the Agency. In fact the last time was before his sentencing." She turned to glance at Darien. "I even forgot to drop by with that copy of Crime and Punishment for you to read."
Darien snorted in amusement. "Woman, you are cruel," he observed around a mouthful of General Tso's. He nearly died when he realized he'd bitten into one of those tiny firecrackers they called hot peppers and hurriedly reached for his bottle of water to gulp at it, 'Chele snickering quietly at his antics.
Hobbes simply shook his head and opened a second bottle for Darien when the first vanished. "I caught that, you know. You been keeping an eye on him, ain'tcha?"
Darien guzzled the second bottle, the inferno his tongue had become finally easing when he'd emptied half of it. "Crap," Darien muttered when he could breathe again. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat that had appeared in response to the pepper.
"Bit spicy there, D?" 'Chele asked around a giggle.
"That's the way he likes it, and no getting out of answering." Hobbes wagged a finger at her in admonishment and Darien sighed softly, thankful they had seemed to find some middle ground for dealing with each other.
"Yeah, I've kept an eye on him. Wanted to make sure he was okay, is all," 'Chele admitted with a slight rise of color to her cheeks. "Wasn't hard, I know most of the places he likes to hang out, I just stayed in the background."
Darien somehow wasn't surprised that she'd been there for him all along, probably more than willing to step forward and chance exposing herself if she determined that his need outweighed any risk of being discovered by the Agency and the Official. In fact he was amazed that she'd stayed on the periphery of his life for this long. She had always made a point for being there when he needed help and had offered many times over the last couple of years to be there in person, citing he was more than worth the danger. Deep down Darien felt he was generally far more trouble than it could ever be worth, but knew, with a certainty that bordered on the fervor of a zealot, that she saw it differently and would gladly face the danger head on if he asked.
Hobbes nodded, satisfied for the moment with her answer. "So if you ain't been meeting in person, how've you been staying in contact? Passing notes in study hall?" His tone was becoming insistent and Darien knew he'd have to tell the truth or his partner would just keep at it.
"The old fashioned way, Hobbes, the US mail," Darien answered with a hint of a smirk.
"Fawkes, I knew you were nuts, but this just proves you're stupid too," Hobbes complained, plainly not thrilled.
"Mail drops, Agent Hobbes, false names and everything. We also exchanged e-mails fairly regularly," 'Chele explained as she poked at the food with the chopsticks for a moment before setting it down on the coffee table.
"E-mail? He don't own a computer." Hobbes scratched the top of his head absently, trying to understand what had been going on under his nose all these long months.
"The library does, my friend, and 'Chele has assured me her end is secure," Darien told him. He watched as a barely noticeable frown crossed Bobby's features and knew his partner was getting ticked off again.
'Chele either didn't care or figured in for a penny in for a pound, and get the whole thing out on the table. Plus, although most of the afternoon had been quiet and she'd been able to rest a bit, she was looking very tired again, so maybe she just wasn't thinking quite as clearly as she usually did. "Phone calls were even more rare; only 3 or 4 times a year." She must have caught the stiffening of Hobbes' posture for she quickly added, "Secure at both ends. D has access to my apartment and used the phone there."
Darien groaned to himself when he saw the gleam in Hobbes eyes. "So that's where you take off to when you decide to sulk by yourself." He eyed Darien warily. "Cough it up, partner."
'Chele interceded before Darien could even begin to come up with something that would get Hobbes off this track. "No. That is one of the few places Darien can go to get away from this," She waved a hand about making sure the gesture included Timmens who sat at the dining room table with the radio, "And you are not going to take it away from him." Her eyes narrowed slightly, and Darien had to wonder if maybe she was reading Hobbes to get an idea of what he was thinking. "Don't bother trying to find the place either; I may be a science geek, but I know all about holding companies and dummy corporations. I like my privacy as much as the next person and made sure my name is in no way directly associated with the place."
Hobbes glared at her, preparing to argue the point, but she again didn't give him the chance.
"Darien has had use of the place for nearly a decade, I'm not about to change that." She stopped and took a deep breath to calm down. "Haven't you ever needed a place to go to? One where you knew you'd be safe and could just be... yourself for a while?"
"I get the point," Hobbes practically barked in response. "But it ain't safe for Fawkes here to be outta sight for long. He's... he's made a few enemies over the last couple of years and him having a hidey hole... It's just too dangerous."
Michele didn't react as Darien had expected, but took a moment to contemplate Hobbes' words. Darien had told her only the barest hints of what had happened the last two and a half years, but she still would understand that Hobbes was not exaggerating the potential threat even if she truly didn't understand the why.
"Agent Hobbes, unless I'm mistaken, much like a determined thief, if the bad guys want Darien they are going to find him. Its not like where he currently lives is any great mystery, yet he's not been dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night by some masked assailants." 'Chele made sure to keep any hint of triumph off her face when it became obvious she had scored with that statement. "Besides, last I knew he carried a cell phone with him. I imagine he'd call if he needed you."
Darien was hard pressed not to chuckle. "She's got you there, Hobbes."
"Fawkes, you're not helping any," Hobbes grouched. "The boss would pitch a fit if he knew you were sneaking about and taking advantage of the kid's generosity and all." Hobbes shifted forward to rest his elbows on his knees and I slight frown crossed Darien's features and for a moment he began to question the way he and 'Chele had been keeping in contact.
"And what makes you think the Official doesn't know?" 'Chele asked in a soft voice. The words were effective though, as both men snapped their heads about to look at her. She then heaved a sigh and stood up. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower."
"Sure, sweets, take your time," Darien said with a nod, wondering why she was suddenly backing out of the discussion. "You all right?" he asked before she'd made it more than a couple of steps towards the bedroom.
"Huh? Oh yeah. Just fine, Dare." She rubbed the side of her head and then walked into the bedroom, kicking the door most of the way shut with one foot.
Darien turned back to meet the hooded eyes of his partner. "What?"
"What's with all the cutsie nicknames?" Hobbes asked with a hint of a grin. "You two ever..." The grin swiftly over took his face. "You know," he pressed, not about to let go of this particular bone.
Darien shook his head, but failed to keep himself from smiling. "Not in years, man. And no making fun of the nicks there, little tiger," he countered and was pleased with the mock anger that Hobbes used to wag a finger. "Its just... part of us, that's all."
"'Us,' interesting choice of words there, my friend." Hobbes paused, plainly waiting for Darien to rise to the bait, but was disappointed, as he wasn't about to bite that hook today. "Not gonna give me anything, are ya?"
"Not a chance. She's got enough to worry about without you riding her ass even harder." Darien had to force himself to not laugh at the very intentional leer that crossed Hobbes' features. Maybe it was the eyebrows waggling up and down that kept Darien from wanting to get all protective of 'Chele.
"She as smart as the file says?" Hobbes asked, smoothly changing the subject for the moment.
Darien shrugged. "Piece of paper only says so much, ya know?" Hobbes nodded in agreement. "You heard her earlier, she went to Cal-Tech with both Kev and the Keep. DOD has been pestering her for years to come work for them, but she's happy where she is. Hollow Brook treats her right and she feels she's making a real difference."
"And you're not?" Hobbes' question seemed to come from left field and Darien took his time before he answered.
"Not the same. You and me, the Agency, we deal in the now. Always two steps behind the bad guys and hoping like hell we catch up in time. 'Chele... she's making our future," Darien explained in a quiet voice. It wasn't that he felt what he did was unimportant or unrewarding, but it was a stopgap and nothing more to his way of thinking.
"Fawkes, without people like us, there won't be no future. Don't knock what we do, what you've done, 'cause its just as important as some lab geek discovering the cure to cancer. And you know it." Hobbes' impassioned reply made little impact until a soft voice added,
"He's right." 'Chele pushed away from the doorframe where she must have been listening in on their conversation, stumbled over to the sofa and plopped down next to Darien. With complete unconcern she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before reaching for her bottle of water and settling back onto the center cushion. "I may have my issues with working for the government, but don't you ever belittle what you've done here." She faced Hobbes directly. "Or the friends you've made. You're the happiest you've been in a long time, D, even with all the recent pain, and it will get better." Her prophetic announcement was swallowed up by a yawn towards the end. "Sorry, guys, been going short on sleep for a while now."
"So go crash," Hobbes suggested in what sounded like real concern to Darien's ears. "The bed looks half-way decent, for a change."
'Chele shook her head. "You're gonna think I'm being all girly or something, but I'd rather not be alone right now. I feel safer out here with you guys."
"Well, then come here, you." Darien set an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close, ignoring the dampness of her loosely braided hair. "Took some meds, didn't you?" The glassy look in her eyes was more than just exhaustion at this point.
'Chele leaned against him with a sigh and swallowed down some of the water. "Yeah, I risked going to my apartment to get the pills I had there. They'll help with the worst of the pain until the inhibitor is ready."
Hobbes' gaze wandered across her and Darien could tell he was looking for something. "How often do you need these meds?"
"Every three or four days, it varies, why?" Her eyes were still open, but her words were slurred, showing that she wouldn't last for much longer.
"Yeah, Hobbes, why?" Darien asked in curiosity.
"No track marks," Hobbes commented, waving at her bare arms revealed by the t-shirt she had changed into.
'Chele shifted and slid the leg of the loose fitting sweats up past her knee, revealing a series of bruises in varying shades from that deep purple of full bloom to that sickly yellow-green of the nearly healed on the inside of her thigh. "I do a lot of interviews for Hollow Brook and need to look my best." She slid the pant leg back into proper position. "I can do the shots intramuscular." She patted her rear to show where that most often occurred. "It's simply more effective when injected directly into the vein. Any other questions?"
Darien plucked the water from her hands and encouraged her to actually lie down, his thigh acting as her pillow as it had many times over the years. She grumbled, but didn't argue, it was sleep she was fighting and not him. Hobbes simply sat there thinking, with Darien switching his focus between his two friends. 'Chele grasped his right hand and slid the watch up and off his wrist, slipping it onto her own before she began to trace the snake tattoo with her fingers.
"Hmm, still active. Precautionary?" she asked at a mumble. Darien caught the look of concern that crossed Hobbes' features and was about to reassure him that 'Chele knew only that it existed, but not what for when she spoke up, "No, I don't know what it's for, but it'll be needed again."
"Go to sleep, you," Darien ordered, not wanting to risk her giving away any more of her little talents that Hobbes wasn't supposed to know about.
"Yes, master," she quipped, her eyes drifting shut for a moment before they lifted slowly open again to answer a question that had never been spoken aloud. "I trust you because Dare does. I don't need to know anything else."
"'Chele," Darien warned, trying to ignore the sudden stillness of his partner who was now staring wide-eyed at Michele.
"Bossy thing, aint'cha," she groused, but her eyes slid shut and stayed that way, her grip on Darien's wrist loosening after a few minutes as her breathing became slow and regular.
"She's... she's..." Hobbes waved a hand at the now sleeping woman.
"Damned important to me," Darien interjected, one hand finding a stray curl to twirl about, just like always.
"I think I'm beginning to understand why," Hobbes said with what sounded like hushed awe in his voice.
The small form huddled on the bed moaned softly in her restless slumber and Darien frowned from where he was watching her. He leaned against the doorframe; hands stuffed deep into his pockets as she shifted uneasily in her sleep. Once she'd been unconscious for an hour lying with him on the sofa, blissfully unaware of the conversation that was going on about her and unhearing of the phone calls back and forth concerning her, Darien, with Hobbes' assistance, moved her to the bedroom. Her sleep had been anything but peaceful since then.
Hobbes stepped back into the apartment then, still in the process of snapping his cell phone shut. That had been the fourth... no fifth call of the night concerning 'Chele. The previous one had been from Eberts and included the message that contact had been made with an Agent Corvan of the CIA, who had agreed to help with the situation and that plans were in the initial stages of being arranged. Eberts would probably be getting very little sleep, especially since he was supposed to be arriving at the safe house at 0700 with a change of clothes for both Darien and Hobbes and breakfast for everyone.
"How's she doing, Fawkes?" Hobbes asked quietly, placing the phone in the inner pocket of his sport coat.
Darien shrugged. "What's the latest?"
"I'd offer you one a'those good news/bad news choices, 'cept I ain't got none that's good," Hobbes said, leaning his back against the wall next to the doorway.
"Crap," Darien muttered. "What now?"
"Her Jess has been spotted in the area, and word has trickled down that he suspects that she ran to you," Hobbes filled in.
"And therefore the Agency. Damn it. She doesn't need this shit, Hobbes." Darien slumped down, trying to think of a way out of this mess that would allow 'Chele to keep her hard earned freedom and get Jess and whoever he worked for off her back forever.
"You love her, don't you?" Hobbes asked in a soft voice.
"Yeah, what of it? We've been friends for 25 years." Darien turned his head to watch his partner, who seemed to be disconcerted by his casual response.
"No, you mook, you love her," Hobbes reiterated, as if Darien had been unable to get his meaning the first time around.
"Nah, just friends." Darien turned back to 'Chele who shifted uneasily again, trying to ignore the fact that this sounded ominously like that conversation he'd had with his uncle Peter all those years ago.
Hobbes rotated so that he could also see Michele in the dimly lit bedroom. "You in love with Doc Casey then?"
Darien sighed heavily. "I was once, was even screwing up the courage to ask her to marry me, but... vitae interruptus." He shrugged. "Shit happens, man."
"That it does," Hobbes agreed. "So your picture perfect family plans fell apart. Did you ever consider asking her?" He nodded towards the restlessly sleeping woman on the bed.
"Asked her more than once. Turned me down every time." Darien tipped his head down to stare at the scuffed toes of his shoes. "Michele wanted to make sure I had the chance at a family, an irony which is not lost on me at this point."
Hobbes mumbled something Darien didn't quite catch then spoke up. "Fawkes, you're telling me that what you felt for the Doc was the real thing and what you have with her," Hobbes pointed at Michele. "Is just friendship?" At Darien's confused look Hobbes shook his head in dismay. "When you're having a crappy week who do you talk to?"
Hobbes' question seemed odd, but Darien answered truthfully. "'Chele, usually. No details, but she's someone I can rant at and hears me. If that makes any sense at all. You and Claire are usually involved in the mess one way or another."
Hobbes scratched the side of his neck while thinking. "And your good days?"
"'Chele, why... Oh, I get it. So she helps me work out some stuff when you guys can't, no big deal." Darien could hear the borderline snarkiness in his tone. This line of questions seemed to be leading nowhere, as he had already established the fact that he and 'Chele had been in contact all along.
"She's kept you balanced, Fawkes. Probably talked you outta pulling some really stupid shit along the way." Hobbes shook his head. "I think you got your definitions of love mixed up, my friend."
Darien groaned as he realized where in the discussion the topic had circled back to. "Don't matter. Even if... if she were 'the one,' she doesn't feel the same way about me," he explained at a near whisper.
Hobbes smacked him, albeit gently, on the arm. "You better get your eyes checked, 'cause you're going blind."
"Wha... What?" Darien was completely lost. What could Hobbes have possibly noticed in the last few hours that Darien had missed?
"Fawkes, she's crazy about you. Anyone with a bit of common sense can see that." Hobbes rubbed the top of his head with one hand. "Not that you have any of that. Look, partner, why'd you tell her to stay away? I bet it wasn't just the 'Fish or making sure bastards like Arnaud or Stark couldn't use her against you. I get the feeling she could handle them on her own."
Darien shifted about so his spine was against the doorframe, dragged one hand out of a pocket and through his hair. "You'd be right, she's managed to handle me just fine all these years. All those reasons are true, but... I didn't want to risk her becoming like Kev, another martyr to the cause. And I know her, that's exactly what she'd do." In his mind, Michele replaced the image of a bullet-riddled and bloody Kevin in his arms and he shivered lightly, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in response to the stimuli.
"'Cause you're involved," Hobbes stated, but Darien nodded anyway to confirm it. "And you think she doesn't care."
"I never said she didn't care, just that she wasn't in love with me," Darien corrected hastily.
Hobbes remained silent as the sounds from the bedroom increased. On the bed 'Chele raised one arm as if to ward off an assailant and cried out loud enough to be heard, "No Jess..."
"Crap, no wonder she hasn't been sleeping," Darien muttered, the worry heavy in his voice.
"Nightmares?" Hobbes asked softly.
"Yeah, she's had them ever since..." Darien shrugged. "It's not something you ever really get over, ya know, and with him showing up like this... I'm not all that surprised the dreams have returned." He pushed away from the doorframe and strode over to the bed. He Reached out and ran the knuckles of one hand across 'Chele's cheek. "Shhh, its all right, kitten, you're safe."
'Chele muttered a few more unintelligible phrases before sighing and settling back down for the moment.
"Get some sleep, Fawkes," Hobbes ordered from the doorway; his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the pair.
"You take the sofa bed, I'm probably too damn tall for it anyway," Darien pointed out, barely louder than a whisper, not wanting to risk waking her. "I'll grab some spare blankets and sleep on the floor."
"No, Fawkes. Its obvious she ain't gonna get the sleep she needs without you nearby, and that bed is more than big enough for the two of ya," Hobbes explained, much to Darien's surprise.
"Hobbes, you sure?" Darien stood up straight and faced his friend.
"Yeah, just no ... gettin' happy. Some of us need the sleep and you can't afford to be showing off your extra talents," Hobbes warned around a grin. "Company pier..."
Darien raised a hand and interrupted the mini-lecture. "Does not apply to 'Chele, got me?"
One eyebrow rose in an attempt to meet Hobbes' former hairline. "Got it. Now go to sleep." Hobbes closed the door partway, the light from the living room falling across the foot of the bed.
Darien chuckled softly at Hobbes' insistence at playing chaperone. He stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto the bureau, then toed off his shoes and settled onto the bed. He rearranged the free pillows and lay back, sitting partially upright and waited. Within seconds 'Chele began to move and eventually shifted until her face was pressed against his side, her oft-preferred position when they slept in the same bed. She whimpered in her sleep and Darien set a hand on her back, quieting her instantly.
"Sleep, 'Chele, I'll be here," Darien spoke quietly, but knew he'd been heard as she sighed deeply and snuggled in even closer. He tucked his other hand behind his head and stared at the far wall, mulling over the comments Hobbes had made.
