***
When Darien left the Harding building he'd been followed, much to his surprise. After spending 10 minutes trying to lose them in the downtown maze Darien decided just to ignore them as he had no plans beyond running a few errands. He did call Hobbes to warn him about his friends and was reminded to avoid the safe house until certain he'd shaken them. Darien just rolled his eyes; he damn well knew what to do by now. He made sure to take his followers on a fun adventure that involved picking up his weekly hair care supplies, perusing clothes at his favorite second hand stores and a trip by a particular pawn shop, the owner of which handled certain transactions on the side.
Darien had to admit the guys were stubborn, but by the time he left the shop with the guarantee the requested work would be done in record time, they were nowhere to be found. Still, he killed another hour as a precaution, and spotted neither the black sedan that had been tailing him, nor anyone else; so, by the most roundabout route he could think of, he headed to the apartment.
The afternoon agents were Franklin and Henderson, who still had his arm in a sling, but had insisted on working according to the rumors floating about the office water cooler. Considering the way he'd refused to leave 'Chele the day before it wasn't all that surprising he was willing to be back onto the job even though injured. Well, that and the fact that the sick leave pay, even for injuries incurred in the line of duty, sucked.
Franklin was standing duty outside the apartment door, everyone on a higher state of alert thanks to Darien's visit by those that were assumed to be in Jess' employ, while Henderson was in the office filling out some paperwork. Hobbes was in the kitchen, slicing a stick of pepperoni and sautéing some ground beef on the stove.
"Calzones?" Darien asked as he ducked into the fridge and came up with a bottle of water.
"You know it. She ain't eaten nearly enough to satisfy the Keep so I'm gonna see if this entices her," Hobbes answered as he stopped slicing and shifted to stir the meat. "You shook your tail?"
"Yeah," Darien assured him. "Ran some errands and must've bored them 'cause they just vanished while I was doing some shopping."
"They followed Jacob's car as well. We put some watchers on the watchers and warned him about it. He's staying at a local hotel while he makes arrangements." Hobbes moved over to an open section of counter and sprinkled flour on it, and then retrieved a towel-covered bowl that proved to have dough in it. "You handled that real well, Fawkes."
The praise was far from faint, as Hobbes had a fair idea of how difficult facing Jake had been for Darien. "Thanks," Darien said with a nod. "Is she still sleeping?"
"Nah, she's on the sofa channel surfing," Hobbes told him. "Keep said if she took it easy she could get up."
"Cool." Darien grinned. "I'm gonna..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Want you outta my kitchen anyway. Don't need you messing things up," Hobbes mock complained.
"Right, Mr. Cordon Bleu." Darien dodged the flour flung in his direction and headed for the living room. He was expecting her to be watching Discovery or maybe Oprah or some dry science channel, and so was quite shocked to hear, 'Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?' when he stopped behind the sofa. "You watch SpongeBob?"
"Hey, D. Ummm, don't tell anyone, it would spoil my carefully cultivated image of scientific genius," 'Chele responded with a smile, her eyes never actually leaving the TV screen.
"Wassa matter? You afraid of being human?" Darien shifted around the end of the sofa, carefully lifted her feet and sat down with her toes curling contentedly in his lap. He ran his thumb down her insole and watched as her foot twitched in response. She was wearing a comfortable pair of yoga pants and the matching hooded top as she lay on her left side, back supported by the sofa to keep pressure off her wound.
"Some days I'm all too human, Dare," she stated softly. "How... how was Jake?" She still didn't turn to face him; her hands curled up under her head as she stared in seeming rapt fascination at the cartoon.
Darien sighed, he should have known she was going to ask. "About as expected."
'Chele turned her head slightly to look at him. "This sucks," she growled emphatically.
"Yeah, it does," Darien agreed, wishing she hadn't been forced into this position, but knowing how she felt. He'd been backed into sucky situations more times than he could count in recent years. "Maybe... maybe if things go well you'll be able to contact them in a few months. Let 'em know the truth."
"Maybe," she mumbled. "This is gonna be such a mess." The volume of the TV suddenly lowered, even though the remote lay on the coffee table.
Darien leaned forward and set his water bottle down. "Why do you say that?"
"Was it tough on you when you took care of Kevin's stuff?" 'Chele asked.
"You know it," Darien admitted. That had been one of the few things he had detailed in his letters to her, since it had nothing to do with work and everything to do with family. "Though I can't see your brothers putting it off for almost two years."
'Chele chuckled. "No, not them. And me being little miss prepare for everything put my estate through probate already. You will be finding yourself in the possession of several items, including the Dart. She's yours."
"Michele..." Darien hadn't even thought that far ahead. Lawyers, and papers to sign and all the other crap that went with death. He sure as hell had no idea how he was going to make it through her memorial service never mind everything else.
"And though the apartment goes to Patrick, you have free use of it and first option to buy if he chooses to sell." 'Chele sounded as if this was no big deal, as if she were doing nothing more than making plans for their yearly get together instead of discussing the disbursement of all her worldly belongings. "Good thing I set up that rainy day fund of mine. I won't be broke even though I'm dead. How's yours doing?"
Darien snorted. "Rainy day fund? That's long gone, kitten. I don't still live in that one room studio 'cause I like it." He might have a regular paycheck, plus some extra cash due to blackmailing the 'Fish with that whole rental space thing, but he'd not yet built up any real savings. There would be no way in hell he could afford to pay for that apartment of hers, no matter how tempting it might be.
"Long gone, what..." she trailed off, obviously thinking about something, though he had no idea what.
Hobbes appeared then, holding a glass out for her. "Your refill, Doc."
"Bobby," she whined even as she took possession of the glass of what looked like milkshake.
"The Keep said..."
"I know, I know. Sheesh, you'd think I was a child or something," 'Chele complained with a grumble.
"Just drink it," Hobbes ordered. "I'll be in the office if you need anything. Give you two a chance to catch up."
"Thanks Hobbes," Darien said and meaning it.
With a slow deliberation and a groan of pain, 'Chele pushed herself upright, ending up in the center of the sofa looking pale and tired. She took a moment to gather herself and then downed half the drink with her eyes shut, looking for all the world like a truculent six-year-old forced to take medicine she really didn't like. He half expected her to hold her nose shut while drinking it. "Okay, I am never gonna touch one of those again," she grouched as she set the glass on the coffee table.
"What is that?" Darien asked, picking it up and sniffing it. It seemed harmless, smelling of bananas and pineapple juice if he were any judge. Then he tried it. "Oh, one of Hobbesy's protein shakes. I always thought these were pretty good."
"The first three were, but since Claire has decided I'm almost 20 pounds underweight he's been making me drink one every hour. If he'd just add some tequila or rum I wouldn't complain as much." 'Chele sniped, as Darien surreptitiously checked for Hobbes and then chugged the remains of the drink.
"There, now you're free for another hour." He set the glass back down, and as he leaned back into the sofa 'Chele reached out to grasp his right wrist and drew his hand into her lap. She slid the watchband out of the way and traced her fingers over the emerald green scales of the snake imprinted there.
"So, care to tell me what this was really for? I doubt it's just a bio-monitor like you mentioned in your letters to me." 'Chele lifted her head to look him right in the eyes.
"How much do you know about Kevin's research?" Darien questioned, wanting an idea of where to start.
"Well, as you've guessed by now, I've known about Quicksilver for some time," 'Chele began. "I knew Kev and Pete had this idea for an artificial gland, and that it involved Quicksilver, though from what source, I had no idea. I also know that Kevin didn't really work on it until coming to the Agency. Not that I knew it was the Agency. Kev was..."
"Secretive?" Darien supplied, and Michele nodded in agreement. "You knew more than I did, that's for sure."
"Only because he was willing to discuss some aspects of his work with me. It's weird thinking about it now, but we'd occasionally bounce ideas off one another at conferences and such." She shook her head. "He did it though, he pulled it off. You're living proof."
"Living, that's debatable," Darien muttered. "He didn't exactly have a plan for getting it back out."
'Chele rolled her eyes. "Sounds just like him. Jump right in with both feet and worry about other things, like reversing it, later. One of the traits you two had in common." Her fingers continued to follow the path of the coiled snake, light strokes going around and around while her other hand curled underneath his, tiny in comparison, but more than large enough to hold his.
Though still angry with Kevin for so many things, Darien nodded in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I guess that's true enough."
"So what went wrong?"
"Aside from Kev getting himself killed?" That came out far sharper than he intended, the guilt of surviving still eating at him to this day. And based on the pained look on Michele's face, she knew what he was thinking about, but chose not to say anything. "Turned out one of the scientists on the project was a terrorist. He made some genetic changes to the gland, which caused a nasty side effect." He tapped the computer chip buried under the skin of his wrist. "This monitored the toxin that was released so I could be given the counteragent before things got ugly."
"A terrorist? Shit, how he'd manage to infiltrate the project? Security was monster on it." 'Chele sounded genuinely shocked at the thought.
"Easily, he apparently knew Kevin. Met at some conference in Geneva or something." Darien shook his head chuckling ruefully. "Swiss Doogie Howser, Kev called him."
'Chele got this look of total shock on her face. "De... de... Damn it, what was his name?"
"De Theil?" Darien supplied, feeling stunned.
"That's it," she snapped her fingers, "Arnaud de Theil."
"You know the son of a bitch?"
'Chele shook her head. "No, never met him, but I've heard about him. Bit of a megalomaniac from what I understand. Went rogue a few years back..." her voice slowed to a halt. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh'." he agreed. Deciding a topic change was in order, he tapped her on the nose. "So you wanna hear the whole sordid tale of mystery and intrigue?"
"Everything," 'Chele told him, scooting closer and curling both hands about his.
It took nearly three hours for Darien to give 'Chele the quick version of everything that had happened over the last two and half years, with only the occasional question tossed in by her. Hobbes had served them dinner where they sat, cleaned up when they had finished and added in commentary here and there as he wandered about the apartment checking to make sure things were secure. Typically, he would attempt to correct Darien's interpretation of a particular incident, which would often create a short-lived, but lively debate much to Michele's amusement.
He finally wound down after telling her about the latest fiasco involving Adam. She already knew about him getting back with Casey and how well that had worked out. It was surprising how much that still stung. He'd tried, really tried, been as honest as he could, cleared the air and tried to start over, but that spark, that fire that used to burn between him and Casey had been sadly missing, though he'd done his best to reignite it.
'Chele grabbed the bottle of water off the coffee table and took a slow drink before saying anything. "I... A cerebral disinhibitor, counteragent. Damn, it's like your worst nightmare come to life." She shook her head gently, the loose curls bouncing about her face. "I want to say I'd wish I'd been there or something equally sappy, but I know it won't change a thing."
"Nope, not a goddamn thing. I do appreciate the thought, though." He took the bottle from her and sipped at it. "You understand why I didn't want you there for it?"
"Yes. Still..."
"Still nothing. I got through it, with your help, whether or not you want to believe it. No more madness," He lifted his hand and flashed the snake that had been all green for nearly a year now, "no more counteragent, and... things are going pretty good."
"So there's nothing you want?" 'Chele asked softly, an odd undertone to her voice that Darien couldn't quite figure out.
"Crap, babe, there's a long list of things I want. Up to and including getting Kev's precious project out of my head. However," Here he paused until she had met his eyes, "I can wait."
'Chele took a moment to contemplate his bold statement, his words surprisingly honest. While not precisely happy or completely satisfied with is life, he was more than willing to see where this path led so long as there were good friends by his side.
"Your turn now. I take it that letter from about 18 months ago was you finding the trigger sequence?" That particular letter had been short and to the point. Something along the lines of 'Holy shit, D, I did it' and then nothing for six long weeks.
"Yep, that I did. That first Quicksilver was the weirdest experience in my life, even with some idea of what was going to happen. However, much like with you there were some unexpected side effects." Michele raised her arms over her head and stretched slowly, wincing slightly as she pulled at the stitches he presumed were still in her side. With a groan, she flopped back on the couch to stare at the ceiling for a long moment.
"You all right? Not gonna start bleeding all over the place again, are you?" Darien kept his tone light, and lifted her feet up to rest along his thighs as he turned to sit half cross-legged at the far end.
"Nah, have to do something real stupid to manage that again. Claire didn't even replace the torn stitch, just a butterfly bandage and a lecture," 'Chele answered, sighing as he pressed his thumbs firmly into the arch of her right foot. He was pleasantly surprised to find only a minimal amount of tension in her.
"She's pretty good at those," Darien acknowledged. "We can talk more later if you want. Let you get some rest."
"What? No, I'm fine, just a bit stiff right now. Turned out the trigger for the Quicksilver acted like an additional trigger for my other abilities. They got kicked up in a major way," 'Chele told him with a sigh. "Remember how my neurotransmitter function used to spike and give me monster headaches?"
"Yeah, you've been doing that since we were kids. What does that have to due with... this?" Darien asked as he noted the bright pink of the nail polish on her toes.
"Everything. It's...complicated." She closed her eyes, one hand coming up to rub her forehead. "It used to be I would be able sense all the electronics in this room and not much more. Well, now I can sense everything on the block. Electronics, people, cars, you name it, and I can tell you where it is with a little concentration."
"Damn," Darien muttered. "How do you...sort out all the incoming information?"
"Practice, lots and lots of practice. The energy sensing I'm used to and have been dealing with since I was in my teens. That I can handle for the most part. It's the rest that's been the problem." She laughed lightly and then spoke with irony heavy in her voice. "In some ways the Quicksilver is the easiest of my abilities, and yet it was the most difficult to make functional."
Darien's eyes widened in surprise. "You find Quicksilvering easy? I mean, I'm good, but learning that control was a stone cold bitch. Keying the adrenaline response and then figuring out how to work around it..." He stopped when 'Chele opened her eyes to look at him. "What?"
"Darien, I'm not tied to adrenal response. Well, maybe as a fight or flight reaction, but I just... do it." She held up one hand and as he watched, Quicksilver crawled across her skin, coated it, and once the saturation point was reached, fade from sight. "Much like semi-involuntary muscle movement I don't specifically control what happens."
Darien blinked. "Huh?"
'Chele snickered. "Need to get you back into a bio class there, bub. Its like when you walk; you initiate the sequence, but your brain handles the rest without you needing to send all the individual pieces of data to the nerves, which make the muscles expand and contract, the joints bend and flex. All those tiny movements required to do something as simple as crooking a finger." The Quicksilver fell away from her hand revealing a finger in that very position.
"Well, that's not fair," Darien complained with a hint of a grin.
Michele shrugged. "Depends how you look at it. You stand a chance of having the gland removed. My entire body has been reprogrammed to do this. Even if I hadn't found the trigger sequence, I would still carry the potential for it. I'm a genetic freak."
Darien reacted to her choice of words with a soft gasp and his hands tightening about her foot. "Michele, you're not a freak."
She snorted in derision. "Like hell I'm not." She punctuated this by poking him in the gut with her toes. "You haven't seen my genetic structure. Trust me, the word normal will never be associated with it." When Darien tried to protest she shook her head. "Darien, I accepted the truth a long, long time ago, else I would have spent all these years trying to 'cure' myself instead of seeing if I could tap that unknown potential that was designed into me. But that doesn't make me any less a freak."
Darien knew he would lose this argument, but found himself unable to keep his mouth shut. "Then what does that make me?" he snarled softly.
"A miracle," 'Chele stated with conviction. "Kevin grafted a bio-synthetic gland into your cerebral cortex that secretes an artificial hormone into your system, and not only did you not reject the wetware, you adapted and thrived. Miracle is putting it mildly." She levered herself up onto her elbows. "Do you have any idea of the potential uses for an artificial gland?"
Darien shook his head, not having a clue what she was talking about. For him, the Quicksilver gland had been the end all be all of his existence, that it could be of use to anyone else, for anything else, had never crossed his mind.
"Think, D. A biosynthetic gland that releases insulin into the system for people with diabetes, thyroid gland replacement, hormone replacement therapy for any of a dozen conditions or illnesses. Damn, toss in a few things I've learned over the years and..."
Her excitement was obvious, but he had to stop her before she was overheard and someone mentioned her ideas to the Official, because he would take full advantage of that enthusiasm and use it to his own ends. He glanced about warily, and then leaned forward to set fingers over her mouth. "'Chele, don't. It was following this path that got Kevin killed. I don't... won't let that happen to you."
"Let? Excuse me, but last I checked you did not run my life," 'Chele snapped, yanking her feet away and sitting up quickly. Too quickly based on the grimace of pain and hand shifting to her side. "Damn it," she hissed, and the TV suddenly decided to flip through the channels at a rate far faster than it was designed to.
"Michele," he whispered, freezing in place to keep from causing more trouble.
"What?" She turned her head to see what he was staring at and grumbled, "Bloody hell." She closed her eyes, took a few deep steady breaths, forced herself to relax and release her unintentional hold on the television.
"Side effects, huh?" Darien tried, in hopes of getting the subject back on track.
Michele opened her eyes and tipped her head down to stare at the floor. "Yeah. The inhibitor dulls the signals of my overactive neurotransmitters, but I can override it when necessary or when upset, obviously."
"I'm still not sure I understand why you need it at all." Darien could tell she hadn't forgotten his comment, but was willing to let it slide for now.
"D, I've always needed it. It was part of what I used to relieve the headaches; you know that. Only now I have some idea of what was causing them," 'Chele explained, and Darien waited in silence for her to continue. "My 'spiking' was my empathic ability getting over-enthusiastic. Basically, once I used the Quicksilver trigger I was in a permanent state of high level neurotransmitter activity, and I had no way of controlling it."
"So, what? Instead of picking up emotions of people you knew well, you were picking up everyone nearby?" Darien scratched his head, trying to wrap his mind around what she was telling him.
"Yesterday, what was it you felt?" Her answering a question with a question routine was annoying, but effective.
"I felt pain, but I heard noise. Like static, only incredibly loud." 'Chele was nodding slowly in approval of his poor description. "Wait, you're telling me all of that was other people's emotions? So many that you can't ... hear them any more?"
"Got it in one. You go to the head of the class." She gave him a wan smile. "Near as I've been able to estimate, I pick up everyone and everything within a mile radius. Now, out at my house in Escondido that's not so bad, but here in the middle of downtown San Diego, we're talking thousands of minds and... I can get lost. Very lost."
"What would happen if you didn't get the inhibitor?" Darien asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.
"Catatonia. I'd get lost in my own mind, and if it goes on for too long I'd probably never find my way back," she responded in a cool voice, as if she'd made her peace with that happening to her at some point in time. "I do have the option of becoming a hermit, moving so far away from anyone that I won't ever hear them. Though I do pick up animals, so it would still be tricky. Hmm, South Pole could work. A few crazy scientists and several thousand penguins, that should keep it from getting too bad."
"'Chele, that's not even close to being amusing. You wouldn't enjoy being alone, you're far too much an extrovert," Darien pointed out, hoping she wasn't being serious about running off to become some lonely mountain woman who eschewed all contact with humanity. It would kill her.
"Which is why I created the neural inhibitor. It provides the control factor I need to function." She shifted forward a bit and reached out to set a hand on his knee.
"So you're dependent on this inhibitor for your sanity the same way I was on the counteragent," Darien astutely observed. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen when she began to build up an immunity to the inhibitor, and how long she would have to correct the problem, if it could be. "'Chele..."
Almost as if she knew what he was going to ask, she deflected the not yet formed question and altered the subject. "All right, we've fulfilled the tell portion of tonight's topic, now it's time for the show."
"Show?" He leaned forward slightly so their heads were just a few inches apart.
"Yeah, show. I know you were Quicksilvered yesterday, but my memory is a bit fuzzy. I'd like to see you," She paused and snickered, "or, rather, not see you again."
"Uh, sure." Darien wasn't sure what she had in mind beyond satisfying her curiosity, but he let the Quicksilver flow and watched as she eyed him critically... as if this was some test of great importance. Once he was gone from sight she reached out and found his arm.
"Hmm, same thermal effect." As he watched, her hand went from grayscale to a blue outline, which meant she'd Quicksilvered it. Lifting his head, he realized she had done her entire body as well. "Interesting," she noted.
"What? What's interesting?" Darien suddenly had the feeling he was about to undergo a series of lab rat like tests from her.
"Oh, this." She picked up his hand and set hers against it so they were palm to palm. "Where our hands meet the Quicksilver merges. I can feel skin, can't you?"
"Well, yeah, but isn't that normal?" Darien let the Quicksilver flake away from all but his hand and forearm, maintaining the contact she seemed to find so unusual. "Every other time I've touched someone who is Quicksilvered it does this."
"And how many times did that involve someone with their own Quicksilver?" she asked as she attempted to drop the Quicksilver the same as he had. Her lack of proficiency was plain, as she was unable to maintain the Quicksilver over her hand the way he'd been able to. It took mere seconds for just her hand to vanish from sight again, the icy chill from his encouraging her to hurry.
"Uhh..." Darien had to think about that for a minute. His few dealings with Arnaud when permanently Quicksilvered had been short and rather violent, one of which Darien been quite Quicksilvermad, so he was unsure as to whether or not he had experienced a situation like right now. Also there was the fact that Arnaud's gland apparently had not functioned the same way as Darien's.
There had also been Mei-Lin who had her own supply of Quicksilver for that backpack of hers, at least at first, as he could remember her glowing pink even after he had refilled the backpack's tank. Which meant... he wasn't quite sure, other than color seemed to have something to do with who was doing the Quicksilvering. Their one close contact moment that didn't involve a running for their lives situation had used Darien's Quicksilver alone.
"Not nearly enough to judge?" he finally answered. "'Fraid most of the time I was too busy trying not to get killed to take notes. Can you Quicksilver other objects?"
"Yep," 'Chele told him, folding her fingers about his hand. "This is so cool."
"Huh? Why?" Darien leaned in a bit closer, amazed by her utter fascination with this discovery.
"Come on, D, the Quicksilver is being produced by two different sources and by two different means, yet must have the same basic structure in order to merge this way." She brightened dramatically, absolutely loving this new aspect to the Quicksilver. "Do you know the odds of that?"
"Lemme guess, a million to one?" Darien guessed with a grin.
"Hey," 'Chele griped, with a matching smile. "Seriously, Dare, it's sharing cohesion like water droplets, that means the two versions of Quicksilver are nearly identical. If they were too dissimilar they would slide across one another like oil and water." She got this serious look on her face. "Let me try something."
She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers more firmly about his, her face a mask of deep concentration. "Try wha... What the hell?" The shock in his voice was real, as the Quicksilver about both their hands suddenly flaked away, and he had most certainly not told it to do so.
"Yes, it worked," she crowed as she opened her eyes. After a second Darien's hand vanished again and she pulled hers away to escape the chill. "I did it," she explained. "I was able to use my... 'off switch' to turn yours off temporarily."
"I didn't know you could do that," Darien said in wonder as he let the Quicksilver fall away on his own this time. "Would the reverse work?"
"Probable," 'Chele answered. "Oh, I'm gonna need a sample, run it through some tests, compare the molecular structure. I wonder if Charlie would give me access to Kevin's notes. Or get me a base sample. What serotype adjustments were made to adapt it for human tissue?"
When it looked like Michele wasn't going to run down anytime in the near future Darien reached out and cupped her chin and said one word, "Oreo."
'Chele stopped her random list of tests and thoughts for what she'd like to do with the Quicksilver instantly, and began to laugh. "Sorry, bub, but it is fascinating to think about."
"Yes, I suppose it is for you, but can we save the tests for another day, please?" Darien pleaded. "Come on can't you think of doing anything besides running tests?"
She contemplated his words seriously for a moment then nodded. "Go to a mall and Quicksilver the pants on cute guys."
Darien goggled, totally thrown by her reply.
"What? So I like to admire a tight ass now and then." Michele grinned irrepressibly and Darien found himself laughing silently.
"A girl after my own heart. Though I'd be admiring females, if that's okay with you?" Darien hooked his hand behind her neck and pulled her closer.
"Hey, I've been known to appreciate the female form now and then," she reminded him, her voice dropping towards the end and her eyes drifting shut as his fingers began to make slow circles on the back of her neck.
Darien didn't even try to fight the sudden urge to kiss her and moved in to brush his lips gently across hers. She stiffened for an instant then relaxed into it and he deepened the kiss, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek, fingers tangling in the loose hairs near her temple. He didn't take it any further, but was inordinately pleased when her mouth opened and she ran her tongue along his lips. With a soft groan he responded in kind and let himself fall, not wanting to ever stop, to freeze this moment, this second, this now and savor it forever.
He felt a sudden rush of desperate longing wash over him and knew it was from Michele, but it was an emotion they shared in common. He couldn't believe he'd been such a fool as to not realize that what he'd felt for her all these years involved a lot more than just friendship, and fully intended to correct that.
"Fawkes... Oh crap,"
'Chele pulled away at the sound of Hobbes' voice and blanched as she stared at Darien in shock.
"Uh, sorry about that, I just..." Hobbes trailed off looking embarrassed, which surprised Darien as he had half expected his partner to play chaperone no matter what he may say to the contrary.
"No prob, we were just... talking," Darien dissembled. "Whatcha need?"
'Chele got slowly to her feet. "I think I better to go lie down for a bit."
As she attempted to slip past Darien he reached out and grasped her wrist lightly. "Kitten, you don't have to," He rubbed the side of her wrist with his thumb. "I want to talk to you about some things."
She shivered and paled a bit more. "D, I'm overdue for my meds and, frankly, I need a nap." She refused to meet his eyes yet again. "Please?" she pleaded softly.
"'Chele... Yeah, I... I'll check on you in a bit, okay?" Darien released her and watched as she nervously pulled her hand out of his reach.
"You want me to call the Keep?" Hobbes asked, concern for her easily evident.
"No need, I can handle this myself," 'Chele assured him, then walked away, closing the bedroom door tightly behind her.
"Shit," Darien grumbled, mostly at himself.
"Sorry about that, pal. I had no idea you would be putting the moves on her..." Hobbes was grinning when Darien cut him off.
"I was not 'putting the moves on her.' It was just a kiss." Darien tried, but his partner was buying none of it.
Hobbes snorted. "Right, she still have her tonsils?"
Darien wanted to be shocked at Hobbes' blatant display of crassness, but, after all this time, Darien was used to it. "Man, you just don't stop do you?" Hobbes continued to smile, completely unrepentant. "No lectures?"
"Nope, you said company pier don't apply and I agree. You two have some unfinished business to deal with," Hobbes stated matter-of-factly.
"Uh, cool. Thanks, I think. Now, what news did you have?" Darien wanted a swift change of subject if at all possible.
"I was gonna see if you two wanted any dessert. I guess neither of you heard me banging about the kitchen for the last half hour." Hobbes circled the sofa and sat down at the far end.
Darien rolled his eyes. "No, safe to say we didn't hear you skulking around and spying on us."
"Skulking? Spying? Me?" Hobbes asked in perfect innocence. "Not for a second there, lover-boy."
"Oh crap, you are never gonna drop this are you?" Darien complained, trying not to laugh. He was glad Bobby knew just the right way to distract him from worrying over why 'Chele had been in such a hurry to get away from him. He glanced down at his watch and shifted it back into its proper position. "Can you hold the fort for a bit, I got something I need to do."
Hobbes frowned. "Now?"
"Yeah, shouldn't take more than an hour though," Darien tried in his best innocent voice.
"All right, but only if you pick up a couple things I want just in case." Hobbes poked a finger in Darien's direction.
"Sure, fine, anything," Darien hastily agreed, relieved he'd be able to get out this easily.
Hobbes got to his feet. "I'll get the list."
Darien groaned, knowing a 'list' meant he'd probably be making a trip to the Agency for items his paranoid partner seemed to think they couldn't do without. He stood and walked over to the bedroom door to check on Michele. She was already curled up and didn't move as he sat down on the edge of the bed. To all appearances she was out like a light. "Sleep, Truth," he murmured as he leaned over to kiss her lightly on the cheek.
