***

Darien shifted and stretched out a hand to touch... nothing but the smooth pillowcase and crumpled covers. His eyes cracked open to find the bed missing the injured woman that should still be there. Panic sent an instant rush of adrenaline through his system that didn't ease up any when he noticed the IV line was draped over the little electronic box that monitored the flow, and that the power had obviously been turned off for the machine. "'Chele?" he called out hoping she had simply made her way into the bathroom to deal with a call of nature. When no response was forthcoming the panic ratcheted up another notch; he tossed off the covers, rushed for the door to the bedroom and flung it open.

He froze when he clearly heard 'Chele say around a laugh, "Out thou cretin, ruiner of perfectly innocent omelets."

Darien could see 'Chele in the kitchen, attempting to ward off a snickering Agent Kingsly with a spatula. "Ma'am, you're supposed to be resting." The ear to ear grin on the man's face spoiled the authoritative tone. "Doctor's orders."

"Well this doctor," she pointed at herself, "is ordering about 500 calories of real food and not the half-burned slop you've been making the other's eat." She grabbed up a whisk and waved it menacingly in Kingsly's direction. "I'm warning you, I know how to use this."

From the sofa, the voice of Agent Timmens broke through Darien's astonishment at the scene he was watching. "She's spunky as hell. Sore, of course, and limping a bit, but that's it." He got to he feet and moved over to Darien. "Hobbes tried to convince her to go back to bed, but she was having none of it. He'll be back in about an hour, had to take care of some things at the office."

Darien shook his head in disbelief as Kingsly relented and offered to help, only to be refused and shooed away. "She's crazy," Darien muttered, completely thrown by 'Chele's quick recovery. "She could barely move yesterday and now..." Darien ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Nah, few years ago my kid sister, who is in her 20's by the way, had her appendix out and she was up and walking couple of hours after the surgery. It wasn't fun and she hurt, but she could do it. The Doc's gunshot wound wasn't much worse from what I heard." Timmens spoke with a calm assurance that spilled over to Darien and let him relax a bit, the panic finally easing. "We're keeping a close eye on her just in case. You should probably go grab a shower, Hobbes said you two have a meeting later this morning."

Darien had groaned as he recalled exactly what had to be done at that meeting, it was going to be one of the most difficult tasks he'd faced since accepting a key from a young girl who no longer needed her invisible playmate. "Yeah, I'll do that."

Darien slipped back into the bedroom before 'Chele noticed him and headed for the bathroom to take the fastest shower in his life. After dinner the night before he and Hobbes had taken turns running to their respective homes to pack overnight bags, as they'd be staying at the apartment until 'Chele had been safely delivered to this Agent Corvan sometime tomorrow. He took a few minutes to get his hair to do what he wanted, but didn't bother shaving. His hands weren't quite steady enough to handle the razor and, besides, he knew 'Chele liked his "fuzz." He stepped out of the bathroom still pulling the plain white v-neck t-shirt over his head. Both Kingsly and Timmens were seated at the dining table enjoying monster omelets and fresh brewed coffee.

He gave them a quick nod, then headed straight to the kitchen and Michele. She was working on yet another creation, this one loaded with cheese, ham and onions, so he slipped in behind her, wrapped an arm about her neck and kissed the top of her head. "You shouldn't be up," he admonished.

"I'm fi.... doing okay. Dosed myself with painkiller and did my gimp impression until it kicked in," she countered even as she melted back against him. "You get enough sleep?"

"Uh, huh," Darien answered as she leaned into his gentle hold, making him sigh softly. Damn, he'd missed this, being able to hold her, to be near her. There were few people he was this comfortable with, this tactile with. Bobby might be like a brother to him, but there was still that line that was to never be crossed. They were friends, partners, but there were still secrets that lay between them, differences in opinion and worldview that kept them from being perfectly comfortable with each other. 'Chele had always just accepted him as who he was an no more, and considering all that had happened in the last couple of years he found himself needing that. Needing someone who saw Darien Fawkes the man and not the half-assed federal agent, the receptacle, the annoyance to be taken out by any means possible, or, and perhaps most of all, the invisible man.

Yeah, there had been times in his life where remaining unseen had been his goal, but now... Well, he might be resigned to the fact that he was the invisible man, but that didn't mean he wanted to be unseen. Getting people to see him for who he was instead of what he could do was a challenge he had yet to meet since coming to the Agency.

After a few minutes she wiggled free to deal with the omelet before it overcooked. With a delicate touch she flipped one side over, slid it out of the pan and onto a waiting plate. "Here," she offered.

"You eat, I'll fix my own in a bit." Darien fetched a mug from one of the cabinets and poured himself a cup of coffee while 'Chele turned off the burner. She slid the plate down the counter to the spot she had plainly staked out and stabbed at it with the fork she wielded. "Truth, how are you really feeling?"

"I'm fine, really," she said around a mouthful of egg and filling. Reaching out she grabbed his cup of coffee and took a sip before handing it back to him. "You know me, tougher than I look."

As he watched, one hand slipped up towards her throat to wander about aimlessly for a moment, then fell away; it was then that Darien realized something was missing. "Where's your necklace?"

"Gone." 'Chele met his eyes for an instant, before finding her breakfast far more interesting. "A sacrifice piece." She lifted a hand and wiggled the fingers so that Darien noticed that her usual collection of rings were gone as well. A quick sweep and he realized she currently wore no jewelry, not even earrings, which he knew she had quite a few of given the multiple holes in each ear. "Needed to leave the pretties behind so my ... remains could be identified. Everyone who knows me knows about that ruby." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Sorry, 'bout that."

Darien shook his head. "Don't be. Hell, maybe I'll steal you another one." That at least earned a chuckle from her, though he could tell she was still upset.

"Oh..." 'Chele reached across the counter to retrieve a manila envelope and dug her hand inside. "I did save this one. It was in with my stuff at the hospital and Hobbes fetched it back for me." She handed it to him and he took it with an odd reluctance, their fingers meeting and brushing along each other for a long moment. The contact wanted by both of them.

"'Chele, I wasn't worried about the watch." He slipped it over his right hand and into place, his poor attempt at disguising the snake tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

"I know, but... it was yours and I forgot to give it back before we headed out yesterday." She poked at the omelet, managing another bite before she spoke again. "It's kinda weird thinking that to the world I'm dead."

"But you're not," Darien pointed out, moving to lean against the counter near her. "Things worked out, Jess is off your tail for now, your... friend is on his way to help and...." He stopped when a frown crossed her features. "What?"

"I was just wondering... who... which of my brothers is coming out to... to..." It was obvious she couldn't say the words aloud.

Darien hadn't wanted to bring this part up, hadn't wanted to burden her with the worry or pain, but here it was, her asking who was coming out to identify her remains, the little bits of bone and personal effects that had survived the explosion. He hadn't even bothered to ask Claire how she was going to alter the DNA of the few pitiful pieces that would be returned to the family enough so that they wouldn't catch the fake. Darien knew that if it were him, he'd stop at nothing to prove it wasn't 'Chele, but not only Claire, but Hobbes had assured Darien the fix was in. "Jake," he finally answered.

'Chele nodded, set down the fork and pushed the plate away, plainly no longer interested in eating. "Makes sense, he was at that conference in L. A. Dare..." her voice broke and he stepped forward to wrap his arms about her.

"It's all right, baby. I understand," he soothed, knowing that his words would do little good.

"I hate hurting them. Hate hurting all my friends at Hollow Brook, hate this whole damn mess I've made." 'Chele sniffled against his chest, her voice unavoidably muffled. "I shoulda just left well enough alone. Shoulda known Jess..."

"Stop it," Darien ordered softly as he pushed her away. "'Don't start second guessing the past, it's over with. We need to save your future'." Darien quoted, knowing exactly how she would react to those words.

One fist came up to hit him without any real force on the shoulder. "Not fair, using my own words against me."

Darien shrugged. "All's fair in love and war, kitten."

She sighed and tipped her head to the side. "Which one is this, I wonder?"

"Well, Jess is definitely war," Darien responded, choosing to stick with what in his opinion was the safer of the two topics. "I may just have to enact some sort of medieval vengeance upon him, provided that's okay with you this time."

'Chele snorted and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. "Have at him, my champion." She suddenly blushed a bright crimson that rivaled the color of her hair and ducked her head down as if totally mortified by what she'd just said. Not that she should be, at least not as far as Darien was concerned.

He tipped her chin up to look her in the eyes, those glorious pools of molten silver, and felt his heart lurch in reaction, thudding painfully hard in his chest. Damn, it had been a very long time since he'd fallen like this, and for once he found himself hoping that there would be no end to it, that he could continue this slow, languorous downward drifting forever. "Chele..."

"Don't," she whispered hoarsely. "Not now." She backed away quickly and, being unfamiliar with the room, smacked her right side into curve of the counter with a hastily stifled yelp of pain. "Crap," she whimpered, her hands balling into fists in an attempt to keep from shouting her obvious discomfort loud enough for the entire building to hear. Seconds later it became obvious she'd managed to do some serious damage, as blood began seeping through the cloth of the shirt she wore.

"Kitten..." Darien didn't want to freak her out or anything so he stayed in place and kept his voice perfectly calm.

"What?" she hissed, her face going pale as the fluorescent lights in the kitchen began to flicker wildly, and Darien knew it wasn't because one of the bulbs was giving up the ghost.

Timmens and Kingsly reacted as if there were an immediate threat, getting to their feet, hands going to their weapons and glancing about warily. "Doc, Fawkes, everything okay in there?"

"Good question," Darien muttered, watching Michele carefully. "Yeah, I think so, just... give us a sec."

But Kingsly was not so easily deterred. "Doc?"

"I..." She gulped for air, her eyes rolling wildly in her obvious fight to regain control. "I'm fine," she finally snapped. The light bulb exploded, causing Darien to flinch from the expected spray of sharp glass shards, but the cheap plastic cover was sturdier than it looked and contained the shrapnel.

Darien rushed to 'Chele as she sagged, just barely catching herself with one hand on the countertop. He couldn't help but notice the corresponding increase of blood flow. "Easy, Michele, you... you're bleeding."

"Marvy," she muttered, her head coming forward to rest against his shoulder.

Even through the cotton of his shirt he could feel this crazy tingling sensation that was just like what you felt when you grabbed a low voltage wire. It didn't really hurt, but he knew it meant that even with the inhibitor in her system that her powers were very nearly out of control. The refrigerator began to give off an ominous hum that suggested it had become the next target of Michele's wayward abilities. Looking about, he grabbed a dishtowel that was lying on the counter, wadded it up and pressed it against her side.

He wished he knew what had set her off, wanted to tell her about the startling revelation he'd just had, wanted to apologize for whatever he'd done to cause her to run from him with this painful result. "Chele..."

Her head snapped up, and even though already pressed against the counter she managed to pull completely away from him, only his hand pressing the towel to her side remained in place. "Damn it," she snarled. "I'm screwing everything up. I knew I shouldn't have come here. Should have just holed up and held out 'til Mikey could get to me." She whimpered aloud. "I shoulda just stayed away like you tol' me to."

The hysteria in her voice was easily audible, that hum swiftly became a buzz and the nearby electronic coffeemaker began to do things that he was pretty damn sure were not part of the original design. She was shaking with the effort of trying to keep things under control, trying too hard, as every moment just a bit more slipped out of her grasp.

Darien didn't like the fact she was still second-guessing herself about coming here for help. Hated to hear the pain in her voice that he was certain had nothing to do with the whack she'd given her side and everything to do with him and the life he'd built here without her. Which was something he'd never truly wanted. He'd dealt with life the best he could, kept her involved as much as he dared, and wished damn near daily that he could talk to her face to face for just five minutes. Now, however, was not the time to say any of this. "'Chele, baby, relax," he suggested in a soft voice.

"I'm trying," she growled between clenched teeth even as the garbage disposal came on, the grinding blades sounding menacing in the increasingly tense atmosphere of the kitchen.

Darien knew that she'd been practicing biofeedback and meditation for years. They had even exchanged ideas and techniques on occasion since he'd come to work for the Agency. He dredged through his memory and came up with one of her earliest methods of gaining a relaxed state. "Let's hear the Periodic Table."

She stared at him in astonishment for a second and then nodded tightly, plainly willing to try anything at this point. With a quaver she began, "Helium, atomic number 1. Mass 1.00794 amu. Melting point: 4.009985° Kelvin. Boiling point: 20.280005° Kelvin. Proton and electrons: 1. Neutrons: 0..."

'Chele kept up the litany, going through the elements in order, her eyes closed and hands still fisted. Darien saw Kingsly stick his head into the room and warned him off, concerned that it wouldn't take much to set her off again and worried it could cause something far worse than just making the nearby electronic items do a Linda Blair impression. Careful not to directly touch her, Darien went to his knees, moved the hand towel and lifted her shirt to get a look at the damage only to find it hidden beneath the blood soaked bandage. Instead of removing the bandage, he folded the towel as neatly as he could and pressed it against the wound. Her voice became faint for a few seconds, but she kept going. Still it took until, ironically enough, she reached Mercury before the garbage disposal wound down and the buzzing fridge silenced. When it kicked on, all on its own, an instant later he twitched, half-expecting it to suddenly be walking across the room at him.

"Melting point: 234.28° Kelvin. Boiling point: 629.73° Kelvin. Protons..."

"Michele," Darien tried in a gentle voice.

"Neut... Uh, huh," she responded, her eyes slowly opening.

"Things back under control?" he hesitantly asked, not wanting to set her off again with the question, but needing to know so he could move her.

"I think so," she told him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Sorry about that, bub, sometimes when I'm upset it gets away from me."

He wanted to assume that she'd been upset about Jake, but knew that wasn't what had caused her meltdown. Given that she had always been sensitive to his feelings, he was willing to bet she'd picked up on what was going through his mind at the time. He wasn't quite sure how to take that considering exactly what he'd been thinking about. Darien got slowly to his feet as 'Chele took over holding the makeshift pressure bandage to her side, her other hand drifting from his cheek to his shoulder. She refused to meet his eyes, focusing instead one some random spot to his right. "'Chele..."

The front door came open with a rush of air and the bellow of his partner. "Fawkes, what the hell is going on here?"

"Crap," Darien muttered as Hobbes barreled into the kitchen with the Keeper trailing along behind him. "Just a small accident," he looked down at 'Chele who was gazing up at him pleadingly. "She's fine."

Michele gave him a quick smile when he backed away to make room for Claire who was fully intent on getting to her patient. "You call bleeding all over the place fine?" she snarked, the tone sounding very odd with her accent.

"Yes, I do," 'Chele stated, the corner of her mouth lifting up as if she was trying not to laugh.

"Bedroom, now," Claire ordered, one hand pointing the way just in case Michele couldn't remember how to get there.

'Chele sighed dramatically, but did as ordered. Darien noted the limp was fairly slight considering the amount of damage she had probably done. Once they were gone, he turned to meet the thunderous expression on Hobbes' face. "Hobbes..."

"You don't have a single functioning brain cell under that hair, do you?" Hobbes didn't shout, but it was obvious he was holding onto his temper by a very thin thread.

"And what makes you think I did this?" Darien snapped, throwing his hands up only to realize he had blood on them. "Damn it." He stepped over to the sink, turned the hot water on and proceeded to wash 'Chele's blood off for the second time in as many days.

"You're supposed to be protecting her, Fawkes, not doing... whatever it was you were doing and getting her hurt," Hobbes explained as if Darien was completely incapable of intelligent thought.

"Hobbes, stop right there," Darien warned, and he was amazed when it worked. "We were talking, nothing else. She backed up wrong and whacked her side. That's it." While it may have actually been a lot more than that, it was enough of an explanation for Hobbes.

Hobbes shook his head. "Timmens said things were going crazy in here, lights exploding and stuff. Said she sounded upset."

"That's cause she was... is upset. 'Chele asked and I told her Jacob was coming in to identify her remains." Darien shut off the water, scrounged up another hand towel and dried his hands off. "Yeah, I'd say she has every reason to be upset."

Darien's half-truth worked better than he hoped and Hobbes looked appropriately chastised. "Oh, well then... You know this Jacob?"

"Pretty good, why?" Darien ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the counter.

"Course you do," Hobbes grumbled. "I better do this one alone, then. Can't have you screwing it up by not playing the part right."

Darien was going to protest that he could handle this just fine, but realized Hobbes might be right, that Jake might know him well enough to catch on that he wasn't nearly as upset as he should be. "All right, but he might ask to see me. I'm pretty sure Michele told him I work for Fish and Game."

Hobbes grunted. "We'll deal with that if it happens. You stay outta sight while he's there, got me?" He made it plain he knew Darien intended to eavesdrop on the conversation in order to fill in 'Chele later and Darien didn't bother to argue the point.

Darien nodded, not about to push his luck with his irritated partner. "When's he getting in?"

"About an hour, Eberts arranged transport," Hobbes answered, glancing at his watch. "Too bad Monroe is outta town, I don't like leaving the Doc here without one'a us."

"Hobbes, if Jess has figured out she's alive and here we would not be the reason he didn't try and grab her. And you know it," Darien pointed out in a flat tone.

"No shit, my friend." Hobbes nodded in agreement. "Get your shoes, twinkle-toes, and let's get this over with."

***

That wonder of cynicism, Woody Allen, once understated the obvious with, "It is impossible to experience one's death objectively and still carry a tune."

Yeah, it's pretty safe to say that when it's your own death, objectivity takes a flying leap right out the window.

The plain wood door with a tarnished bronze plaque proclaiming it to be room 115 was wide open, revealing the interior of the starkly impersonal office. A couple of desks, several chairs of comfort levels varying from barely to none, and a computer that had been outdated in the Reagan administration with a Catbert doll sitting boldly atop it in defiance of the mandatory sterility of third hand government issue office furniture. Darien wasn't even certain whose office it was, but suspected it belonged to someone from either accounting or data retrieval, as none of the field agents would be likely to recognize the slightly more obscure comic character.

Darien was watching from across the hall, his Quicksilver coated body unseen by the men within the room, though it was a fair bet that his partner knew exactly where he was since Hobbes had been the one to deliberately leave the door open. Hobbes, who had his game face on; all business, but at the same time conveying that he was not unaware of the full tragic import for the taller man standing before him.

"Dr. MacTierney, I want you to know you have my sincerest condolences," Hobbes stated, his voice filled with sympathy that rang true to even Darien's Quicksilver muffled hearing. "The explosion was rather violent, and I'm afraid..."

The audible gasp plainly came from Jacob when he laid eyes on the miniscule container that held the little that remained of his younger sister.

"There wasn't much to recover," Hobbes finished, his voice oddly mournful.

Darien sighed deeply, a painful constriction in his chest as it began to sink in and he understood why just the thought of this had so upset Michele. He found himself surprised at how damn much it bothered him to be hurting Jake like this, that in some ways 'Chele's family had become important to him as more than just her family, but as his own friends. Over the years he'd accepted invites to parties and get-togethers by all three of her brothers regardless of 'Chele being there. Jake and Pat were out on the West Coast several times a year and went out of their way to keep in touch with him. Though Darien had assumed it was only out of politeness, because he was Michele's friend and no more, but now... now he was reevaluating the situation.

"How..." Jake had to stop and clear his throat several times before he could continue. "How can you be certain it... it was Michele?" he asked, a hint of desperate hope still buried in his tone.

"Dr. Keeply ran a DNA test on the... remains." There was the sound of papers being shuffled about. "It came back as a match based on data supplied to us from Hollow Brook."

"It could still be wrong," Jake insisted, not quite yet ready to believe, which made Darien's heart ache for him.

He shifted a bit to get a better view of the two men in the room. Bobby and Jake stood before the desk where a manila envelope and the metal container that held all that was left of Michele sat, looking lost. Jacob was holding the file, slowly flipping through it one page at a time. Not that there were many pages. They'd come up with a cover story that had nothing to do with the Agency trying to help her flee via a helicopter and instead turned it into an attempted rescue by an old friend who happened to work for Fish and Game. A failed attempt, obviously.

Darien could see that stubbornness on Jake's features, a trait all the MacTierney kids seemed to share.

Hobbes reached down, picked up the envelope and handed it to Jacob. "These were also found."

Jacob opened it, looked at the contents and groaned, a heart-wrenching sound of pure agony. One hand shakily slid inside and removed some of the items from within, a few rings, a random assortment of earrings, the rest irrevocably lost in the explosion, and a necklace: a simple, rough cut ruby pendant.

"Sir?" Hobbes asked worriedly as Jacob paled noticeably even to Darien's silvery vision.

"This was 'Chele's favorite," Jake whispered hoarsely as he held it up. "She wore it all the time."

Hobbes was silent for several minutes to give the obviously grieving man a chance to absorb the awful truth, but eventually he was forced to break the silence. "Doctor, I know this is difficult, but..."

"Yes, these are Michele's," Jake stated, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Hobbes nodded. "I wish we could have done more," he admitted, perfectly feigned guilt in his voice. "If she'd asked for help sooner things might have turned out differently. We will do everything we can to catch those that did this."

Much to Darien's, and Hobbes', surprise Jacob snorted derisively. "Good luck. Jess is a sneaky bastard and'll probably get away with this too."

Hobbes shook off his surprise at Jake's comment quickly. "Not if I have anything to say about it," he asserted, and Darien could hear in his partner's tone that he meant it. That he was going to catch Jess come hell or high water, and Darien found himself touched that Hobbes would do that for him.

Jake's eyes locked with Hobbes' for several seconds, as if searching the shorter man's soul for the truth. Jake eventually broke eye contact and nodded. "Perhaps you will." He placed the items back in the envelope and set it on the desk. Pulling a pen from his coat pocket he signed the release form that would allow him to take 'Chele's things with him and stated that the remains were indeed hers. He set the pages aside and closed the file, intending to take it with him, which had been expected. "Thank you, Agent Hobbes. I know what a thankless task this can be..."

"No need. I only wish we could've done more," Hobbes responded.

"There is one thing..."

"Anything within reason," Hobbes said.

"I understand Darien Fawkes works here; would it be possible for me to speak with him for a moment?" Jacob may have phrased it as a question, but it sounded far more like a demand. Looked like Jake wasn't going to be leaving until he had a little chat with Darien.

Hobbes contemplated the request, and then picked up the phone that sat on the desk. "Let me just check to see if he's free."

"Of course," Jacob agreed amicably enough.

Darien stepped back around the corner and hurried to pull out his cell phone, thankful he'd remembered to set it to vibrate only before this meeting since the musical chime would be easily heard in the office had it still been active. When it buzzed, he answered it with a whispered, "Hobbes?"

Hobbes went into his planned spiel that had little to do with reality, but during the phony one-sided conversation informed Darien to wait five minutes before making his appearance in the office, and to make sure he was doing a damn good imitation of mourning. Darien put the phone back into his jacket pocket and backed down the hallway into the stairwell where he dropped the Quicksilver and did his best to work on attaining a state of numb disbelief that would probably be the best choice for fooling Jacob. It was a fair bet that 'Chele's eldest brother knew that she had been out of direct contact with Darien for the last couple of years, though not why.

He kept an eye on his watch and waited for seven minutes to pass before pushing through the double doors and heading for the office. There was no point, especially in this situation, for messing up his track record at being late. He stopped in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his hair adjusted to droop down over his forehead, his unshaved chin just adding to the air of sadness he was cultivating. It might have worked just a touch too well as Hobbes' eyes widened in surprise when he caught sight of his partner.

"Hobbes, what's up? I wanna get that paperwork done and get outta here," Darien stumbled over the words, sounding as if he were in utter despair.

"Darien." Jacob's voice was steady and his look perfectly in control.

"Jake," Darien said, stepping forward to shake the man's hand. "I'm so sorry."

Hobbes gave Darien a nod and patted him on the shoulder. "I'll give you two a minute." Then left them alone in the office, seemingly confident for the moment in Darien's acting ability.

Once Hobbes was gone Jake shook his head. "Don't be. You tried to help her and I am quite certain you did everything you could. Jess..." He trailed off as if uncertain what exactly to say about the man who had been causing his sister no end of headaches for years.

"You know about Jess?" Darien asked, not sure how much Michele had told her brothers about Jessup and what he had done to her.

"Enough. She warned us about a month ago that something was going down and that it concerned her personal research. She suspected Jess was involved." Jake sagged and took a couple steps back to lean against the desk. "Looks like he won after all," he whispered hoarsely.

"No man, in this one we all lost," Darien stated, one hand running through his hair.

Jacob sighed heavily and actually looked every one of his 42 years; much like all the rest of his family, he usually looked a good decade younger than his true age. Those good genes at work. He picked up the envelope and reached inside it to retrieve something. Once he'd set the envelope aside he held the item out to Darien. "I want you to have this."

Darien froze in place when he saw what lay in Jacob's palm. "I can't take that," Darien argued, his throat tight.

Jake grabbed one of Darien's hands and set the necklace in it. "You can, and you will. I know you gave it to her, it's only right that you keep it."

"Jake," Darien tried, but the older man was having none of it.

"Michele is... was a fool," Jacob stated, much to Darien's surprise. "She should have married you years ago."

"No, she had her reasons..." Darien was cut off, again.

"Yes, she did. I know her reasons for not wanting children, but it shouldn't have kept her from finding some happiness." Jacob's hands balled into momentary fists. "You made her happy, Darien, and I believe the two of you could have worked it out somehow." He tipped his head down to stare at the floor. "What a waste."

"Jake..." Darien was shocked when his voice actually broke on the word. He had no idea that her brothers knew he'd asked her to marry him or that they would have approved of said marriage.

"Far as we are concerned you're family, Darien. If you need anything, and I do mean anything, you let us know." Jake began gathering up the items on the desk. "I'll contact you with the information for the memorial service." He lifted the small box. "You know, it's ironic..."

"What? What's ironic?" Darien asked, his hand wrapped tightly about the ruby.

Jake laughed bitterly. "She wanted to be cremated."

Darien was saved the need to respond to that by the return of his partner, who had most likely been listening in the entire time and deemed this the best moment to make his reappearance.

"Dr. MacTierney, we've made arrangements for a car whenever you're ready to leave," Hobbes informed him, his voice appropriately subdued.

"Thank you, Agent Hobbes," Jacob responded, then turned back to Darien. "Take care of yourself, Darien."

"I will, Jake." There was this moment of perfect understanding between them that simply reaffirmed everything that Jacob had said, and it was oddly comforting to know that he'd found people who considered him family even with knowing who and what he was. To them, his past, his choices didn't matter, they liked him, just as 'Chele always had.

Then Jake was gone and Darien was left standing in the office alone. He opened his hand and stared down at the bit of jewelry that lay within it. The chain and setting were a total loss, half melted into itself, some sections nothing but blobs of white gold that had flowed and cooled at some point. A closer examination revealed that the stone itself, though blackened, was undamaged and could easily be polished back to its former glory. After the events of this morning Darien was struck by a sudden idea and suddenly knew the perfect use for the ruby.

Timing, however, was going to be an issue, but Jacob's comments decided him. He'd waited too damn long already; it was time to do this. His decision made Darien hurried from the office; he had some phone calls to make and some favors to call in.