Title: Deleri
Author: BethCarielle
See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Details.
Chapter Two
Darien quietly walked up the stairs of his building, arriving at his door. Alex had promised to stay with Claire and Bobby at the hospital while he went home to shower and change. Just before he left Bobby had regained consciousness. Bobby, being Bobby, was more pissed at the tube in his throat impeding his ability to talk than at the fact he had been attacked and stabbed. Although being drugged up on morphine didn't really aid in clear thought.
Darien inserted his key into the deadbolt and twisted it open. Pushing open the door something told him dodge. Ducking to the left, Darien saw his would be attacker stumble through his doorway as he missed his mark. Using what fighting ability Bobby had instilled in him, Darien used the guy's forward momentum to get him to the floor, and pin him there.
Darien loomed over his attacker, who was a nondescript white male with dark hair and green eyes. He struggled against Darien's grip on his wrists and tried to kick his legs free.
"What do you want?" seethed Darien through clenched teeth.
"Go to hell!" spat the attacker.
"What do you want!?!" demanded Darien again, slamming the guy's head into the floor.
"And I told you to go to hell!" he hissed.
Darien released his grip only to punch the guy squarely across the face, knocking him out. Standing, he shook his hand, "Tell me to go to hell will you?" replied Darien disgustedly.
Leaning against the wall, Darien looked around the hallway, which was empty. He decided Mr. 'You can go to hell' could stay were he was for a moment and he entered his apartment. It looked like a proverbial tornado had gone through. Books, clothes, cushions, bedclothes, and dishes were strewn everywhere. This was seemingly out of context with the other attacks. In both Bobby and Claire's cases only they were attacked, their homes had been left basically untouched.
Groaning in response to the mess that was left for him, he picked up his phone from the corner of the room. Trying the on button he was greeted with a green light and dial tone. Apparently this model of phone was pretty resilient. Kudos to the company thought Darien.
He was about to try Alex's cell phone when he remembered that in the ICU where she was with Bobby and Claire, she couldn't have it on. Instead he tried The Official.
"Him!" stated a firm voice.
"Hey Chief. Want to tell me what's going on?"
"Fawkes? What are you talking about?" replied Charles Borden.
"Well I just came home to the lovely surprise of some guy who was intent on kicking the shit out of me."
"Damn it Fawkes! Why did you go home alone?"
"I'm sorry this isn't going as you planned Sir! But my best friend is in ICU recovering from a punctured lung and Claire looks like someone took a baseball bat to her face," replied Darien forcefully.
"Look, Fawkes, as soon as I learn anything, I'll inform you. Where's Monroe?"
"She's at the hospital with Claire and Bobby."
"Ok, I want you to keep Agent Crena with you. Understand!?"
"Sure boss," replied Darien disgustedly as he hung up the phone. Digging through the mess on his floor he gathered some clean clothes and a few things from the bathroom, tossing them into a duffel bag that he unearthed from the kitchen no less.
"Now what about the mook in the hall?" he muttered to himself. Leaving his apartment he was greeted with an empty hallway. "God damn it!" cursed Darien. Whoever it was must have recovered. Keeping his guard up, he went back to his car and climbed in.
Claire had spent a better part of her day at Bobby's side. He drifted in and out, more from the morphine than the trauma. Darien had returned, reporting that someone had been waiting for him at his apartment when he had gone home to change. They were definitely targeting Agency personnel. Darien complained about having to be baby-sat by Agent Crena, but both Claire and Alex agreed with The Official on that score.
Checking the time, Claire realized that she had been sitting there for almost three hours. Checking Bobby she found him asleep. She stood and stretched gently, ribs still sore. Giving Bobby's hand a squeeze she left the room. She found Darien, Alex, and Crena in the hall, camped out on the floor.
"Everything all right?" asked Alex, jumping to her feet.
"Everything's fine. I just need to stretch," replied Claire. Alex nodded, and Darien stood up as well.
"Agent Crena, stay with Bobby. We'll be right back," instructed Alex. Crena nodded and took a guard position outside Bobby's door. Darien and Alex led Claire down the hall.
"Where're we going?" asked Claire.
"Cafeteria. You need to eat something. Even if it's hospital food," replied Alex, ulterior motive directing her reply. She and Darien had been discussing the possibilities as to who could possibly be after Claire, and they decided a little question and answer with The Keeper was in order.
They arrived at the cafeteria and Claire picked up a bagel, pear and some orange juice; Darien and Alex both grabbed coffee. They paid for their food and converged on a table in the back of the room. The cafeteria itself was pretty empty this time of day.
"How are you feeling Claire?" asked Darien.
"Sore. The Vicodin helps, but my face is throbbing," she replied, picking her bagel into small pieces.
"Is there anything you need?" asked Alex.
"No, no. I think I'm fine right now," replied Claire, growing suspicious. These questions seemed to be leading somewhere. Looking from one co-worker to the other, Claire took a deep breath. "What do you guys want?" she asked finally.
"Why is there no record of you in the DOD database?" asked Alex bluntly.
"Because I was working on a highly secretive, eyes only project. They don't put that stuff in the computer," replied Claire coolly.
"So you have no idea as to why these attacks happened?" pressed Darien gently.
"I have no inkling of an idea Dahrien," answered Claire, taking a bite of bagel to distract herself from her lie.
"Hmm, ok, we'll figure it out Claire," said Alex. Claire nodded and gathered up her food, heading back towards the elevator. Bobby was going to be extubated in an hour.
Darien and Alex watched her for a moment, and then followed. They were far enough behind her to be out of earshot and Alex whispered to Darien, "She's lying." Darien nodded in agreement and the two joined Claire on the elevator.
They made it back to Bobby's room, where they relieved Crena of his immediate duty, and went to check on their co-worker themselves. Bobby was awake again, obviously frustrated with the intubation.
"Can't they take it out now?" asked Darien.
"Probably. Let me find his doctor," replied Claire, who left the room. Alex gestured that she was going to go with her and also left.
"I know you can't talk Hobbes, but how you doing partner?"
Bobby nodded his head a bit, giving an affirmative answer.
"Good, good."
Just then Dr. Garr entered the room with Claire and Alex in tow. "So, I'm told you're ready to be extubated," the doctor said with a little humor. Bobby nodded again. He hated not being able to speak. "Ok, we can do that. Your lung function is good, and everything else is positive," replied the doctor, who gestured to the nurse who followed the three in. "Keep in mind that you won't be able to talk immediately, your throat's going to be sore. We'll get you some ice chips," Bobby nodded again.
The nurse disconnected the ventilator, which wasn't even breathing for Bobby anymore, he was breathing completely on his own at this point. She untaped the mouthpiece and cleared away the tubing.
"Ok, deep breath and blow on three," said the doctor. Bobby took a deep breath as the doctor counted. On three Dr. Garr gently pulled at the tube, sliding it from Bobby's throat. Bobby collapsed in a coughing fit that aggravated his wound.
"Slow and easy there Mr. Hobbes," said the doctor as Bobby's coughing subsided. Bobby nodded, his throat was on fire. The nurse returned with a cup of ice chips and Bobby gratefully accepted them. Letting the melting ice soothe his throat, Bobby tried to breathe normally. He had hated not being able to talk.
"Fawkes," croaked Bobby wincing as he tried to talk.
"It's going to be about on hour before you can talk fluently Mr. Hobbes," replied the doctor. Bobby nodded and lay back, closing his eyes.
****
Alex was sitting in the hall outside Bobby's room again. Agent Crena was there too. She was trying to make sense of the recent attacks. Bobby had only been able to describe a white male, about 5'7", as his attacker. He had been jumped in the same manner as Darien had; only he hadn't been as lucky.
She hadn't been able to get anything more out of Claire, who was now sleeping on a cot in Bobby's room. Something was wrong, something didn't make sense. What could Claire be hiding?
Alex looked up as Darien came out of Bobby's room and dropped to the floor next to her. He sighed and stared blankly at the wall. She knew he was upset that Bobby couldn't identify his attacker any better.
"How's he doing Fawkes?" she asked.
"He's good. Asleep. Both of them are asleep," he reported quietly.
Alex nodded, the silence punctuated by the small squeak of shoes on the hallway floor.
Claire watched Darien leave under her lashes, she had been feigning sleep. Once Darien slipped around the privacy curtain she sat up, looking at Bobby. He was truly asleep. He had been able to only partially describe his attacker, but it was the modus operandi she was interested in. That was the problem with terrorists, they didn't change their MO.
She had thought she was safe. That she couldn't be traced or found. If only she had known then what she did now. She didn't care so much about her own injuries, but the fact that they had gone after her friends and co-workers was infuriating.
She had been young, only 25 with a double doctorate, she had started college at 15 after all, and eager to please her knew employers. It had never occurred to her that maybe what she was doing was wrong, even illegal. She just worked on what she was assigned. Biological weapons weren't even a public thought at the time.
She assumed she was mapping the genome of anthrax, Marburg, and hanta virus to aid in working towards a vaccine, or cure. It never occurred to her that maybe what she coded and recorded would be used to make the bacteria and viruses incurable, to be used to wipe out populations.
Claire wiped tears from her eyes with her left hand. She hated living with the fact that her research may have killed thousands. She was a doctor; she was supposed to preserve life. And the bastards she had been working for were Americans. She had just acquired her citizenship, and was proud to be an American, and then she got wrapped up with the Stratagen Company.
She was never going to forget the day the place was raided by FBI, DEA and even CIA agents. The three agencies had been working together to track, expose and shut down the Stratagen company, which had been selling its super bugs to countries who were against the US for the right price.
Everyone had been arrested, held in federal prison on charges of treason and constructing biological weapons with the intent of use. She had never been so scared in her life. The members of the inner circle that controlled the company were all tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death or life in prison. Claire and the others in her position were mostly pawns, innocents used by the Stratagen Company, although it didn't make them any less guilty. She and the other scientists were all tried, found guilty and sentenced to varying amounts of time in prison. Claire had been looking at 50 years for being a direct member of the team that was designing the incurable viruses.
She had just arrived at the women's holding facility when she was told she had a visitor. Completely stunned she was escorted to a small room where a middle-aged man was waiting. She entered and he told her to please take a seat. He then dismissed the guard.
"Ellen Grace Parker," he addressed her and that was the last time her true name was spoken.
"You have been…selected," he continued after a pause. "As we speak your past is being erased. Work for us or spend the next 50 years of your life here," he said, gesturing to the area around them.
Claire had been frightened out of her mind. Who was this? Work for them? Who were 'they'? "Erased?" she murmured.
"Yes. Everything. Records of your family, birth, schooling, and work at Stratagen are all being destroyed. We want you."
"Who are you?"
"The good guys. Look, we need you, but you're not safe. Rather than place you in protective custody for the rest of your life, we're changing your past Claire."
"Claire?"
"Your name. We know we didn't get the people at the very top of the Stratagen Company; they're almost as good as we are. This is your new past," he said, handing her a file. "It contains every reference you'll need. But, tell people as little as you have to."
"What's my last name?"
"You don't have one. Another safety measure. There are hundreds of Claires, you'll blend in."
"But people will want to know."
"Yes, but you are also to receive this," he said holding up a small black wallet. He flipped it open to show a government seal on a small card and a photo id with her new life on it. "This will give you clearance anywhere and everywhere. You could walk into the Oval Office with this."
"Why me?"
"Because you have a brilliant mind, thus the name Claire, that only comes around every so often, but don't think its trust. You'll be watched 24 hours a day. One slip and you'll be right back here," he finished severely.
Claire nodded. What was she getting herself into? What happens now?
"Your first assignment," he said, handing her another file. "You are going back to school. You're going to be a Keeper."
"A what?"
"Kevin Fawkes. Genius, molecular biology and genetics. We need you to keep tabs on him, until we can get him too."
"Get him?"
"Yes. Like I said, he's a genius, not on your level, but close. Once he finishes his work at the university, we're going to bring him into our organization. So back to school you go. You're enrolled in the same classes he is, they're all independent study, but you have the same supervisor. Work you're way into his life, his project. We need to know how he ticks. You're going to become The Keeper of his actions, thoughts, feelings, life."
Claire didn't like a word of what the guy had said, but she was willing to go along if it got her away from the prison. She flipped through the papers on Kevin Fawkes, he seemed fascinating. That actually intrigued her. Sighing she looked up at the man.
"So you agree to work for us?"
"Yes," she stated simply.
"Good," he said reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a key to the cuffs she was restrained with. He unlocked them, and picked up a small black travel bag that she hadn't seen on the floor till now. "Change," he said placing the bag on the table before Claire, and standing to leave. Curious, Claire unzipped the bag and found a set of clothing in her exact size.
"How do you know what size I wear?"
"We know everything. We're The Agency," he stated and left the room.
Claire stood and removed the clothing, doing as she was told on autopilot. She changed into the clothing, folding the prison jumpsuit and leaving it on the table. What was she supposed to do now? Leave the room? Wait? Just as she was trying to decide there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," she called. The door was opened by a woman, probably a few years older than herself. She gave Claire a once over and nodded.
"There's a car waiting for you. Don't try to contact us. Remember, tell people as little as possible. The lower your profile the safer you are."
Claire nodded and followed the woman out side. Where was she being taken? What about her stuff at home? Deciding against asking questions she climbed into a black sedan and was whisked away.
Claire startled when the privacy curtain blocking the view into the hallway from Bobby's room was suddenly jerked aside. She had been lost in the events of 14 years ago. She saw a panicked Darien in the room, with an edgy Alex behind him.
"What's wrong?" Claire asked.
"Agent Greene is dead," replied Darien softly, Alex nodding behind him.
"What happened?" asked Claire, shocked.
"He was downstairs, watching the lobby and parking lot as he was assigned. One shot, silenced sniper rifle, couldn't triangulate from where," reported Alex.
Claire sat where she was, shaking her head. Why were they doing this? Why can't they leave The Agency alone? She was supposed to be safe.
"We're going to have Bobby transferred back to The Keep. We can protect him better there, and you Claire," said Darien. Claire nodded, it was worth a try. She watched Bobby's doctor enter the room with some nurses and prepare Bobby for transfer. Was his care falling to her now she wondered? Bobby was loaded into a waiting ambulance. Claire and Darien rode in the ambulance as well, and Alex followed point behind them in her car.
They drove sedately towards the Harding building. Sirens sounded behind them and the ambulance driver slowed and pulled over letting a fire truck scream past. Claire looked out her window, seeing the orange glow of flames reflecting up from behind the buildings lining the street they were on.
"Oh my God…" whispered Claire shocked. The ambulance turned the corner and was greeted by the site of the Harding Building in flames; fire trucks, ambulances, and emergency personnel swarming over the area.
"Claire? What's going on?" asked Darien from the rear of the vehicle where he was sitting with Bobby. Claire remained silent, causing Darien to squeeze his way up into the cab. He paled and gasped when the panorama was displayed for him.
The driver stopped and Claire jumped out of the cab and Darien followed her. Alex pulled up beside the ambulance and scrambled out of her car.
"What the hell?" she murmured, as she stood with the others, shock painting all their faces.
"Where's The Official? Eberts?" asked Darien scanning the persons standing across the street. Alex trudged up to the fire chief and flashed her badge. After a quick exchange of words she came back.
"The Official has been taken to the hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation," she reported.
"And Albert?" asked Claire tentatively.
"No word," murmured Alex as she chewed on her bottom lip.
"Well…God…what do we do now?" asked Darien.
"Report to Delta Eight I suppose," replied Alex.
"Probably best," agreed Claire.
"Huh? Delta Eight? Someone translate please?" said Darien confused.
"Delta Eight, our back-up and emergency meeting place," answered Claire.
"And I didn't know this because?"
"Need to know," replied Alex. Darien rolled his eyes and walked away from the women. He climbed back into the ambulance and sat down next to Bobby, who was resting.
"So we go to Delta Eight?" asked Bobby softly with his eyes still closed. Darien startled, he had though Bobby was asleep.
"Yeah partner, I guess we do. How are you feeling?"
"Like I was run over by a truck," replied Bobby wincing as he shifted on the gurney. Darien chuckled and got up to see what the girls were up too. Claire and Alex were assaulting the fire chief with a barrage of questions. The chief seemed to be answering them as best as he could. Claire turned suddenly and in the murky darkness Darien saw fear, hatred, and what appeared to be understanding cross her features. She knew something.
Claire came back to the ambulance and climbed in, joining Darien in the rear. She smiled at Bobby who returned the gesture weakly. This wasn't right, but it made too much sense. It was eerily similar to what happened during her second year as Kevin's Keeper.
She had done as told, working her way into Kevin's life and project. She reported her information every couple of months when the same woman who she had first encountered in the prison would appear in her apartment. She never questioned the woman, just handed her the disks she was storing her reports and actions on. The only thing she didn't report was her growing personal relationship with Kevin. She assumed they knew and probably didn't mind The Keeper sleeping with the Kept as long as they got what they wanted.
But the relationship had grown and ponderings of marriage had entered her brain. That was when she found out how much of her life they really controlled. One night she and Kevin were returning from dinner to find the building where his research lab was engulfed in flames. She and Kevin had become separated in the fray and when she arrived at home that night she was startled to find her handler in her apartment.
"He's gone," the woman reported simply.
"He's what?" murmured Claire, tears springing to her eyes.
"Oh, he's safe; he's in our hands now. You've done well. Your next assignment," she said standing and handing Claire another nondescript file.
So that was it? Play Keeper for two years, fall in love, lose him and move on? All within a few hours? Claire took the file and watched the woman leave with tears burning down her cheeks.
She tossed the file on the table and threw herself on her bed, crying into the pillow Kevin had used, trying to absorb his lingering scent. She cried until she fell asleep, only to be woken by the telephone six hours later.
"You have 24 hours to respond to your new assignment," reported a male voice followed by a dial tone. Claire broke into tears again. Her life was no longer her own. In the last two years she had managed to forget at times what she was really doing, but the reality had just come crashing back down onto her.
"Claire?" Darien's voice penetrated her memories.
"Hm?" she responded looking up.
"Everything alright? You were shaking," he said concern in his eyes.
"Fine, fine, it's just…" she trailed off, hand gesturing to the destruction. Darien nodded and watched Alex climb into the back of the ambulance.
"Claire?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"Can you direct the driver to Delta Eight? I'll follow point again," said Alex.
"Of course," replied Claire moving towards the forward compartment. She settled in the passenger seat and began explaining where they needed to go to the driver. Darien looked back down at Bobby who had drifted off again and shook his head in disbelief, grunting at the pain that knocked at the back of his head.
"Aw crap," he mumbled looking at his wrist, six segments were red. He was due for a shot soon, and the lab was gone. "Uh Claire?" he called forward.
"Yes Dahrien?" she said, turning in her seat. Darien held up his wrist, showing her the tattoo. She inhaled, drawing her brows and chewing on her lower lip. "Alex?"
"Yeah?" replied Alex.
"We can't leave yet. Dahrien's going to need Counteragent. Soon."
"But the building is destroyed," said Alex.
"Yes. But the safe should be intact."
"But the Counteragent has to be refrigerated."
"Yes, it does," replied Claire enigmatically.
"You have a refrigerated safe?" questioned Darien, wondering where in The Keep that had been.
"Not all the supply closets were closets Darien."
"So we need to get to that safe," said Alex.
"Yes, the sooner the better."
"Ok. I'll talk to the chief, get some help and find that safe," replied Alex matter of factly.
"I'm coming with you," said Claire.
"Claire, I think you shouldn't," interjected Darien, indicating her cast.
"I'm fine, Dahrien," replied Claire stubbornly.
Darien sighed and conceded. No use trying to change The Keeper's mind.
"Ok then," stated Alex and she hopped out of the ambulance.
"Be right back," said Claire, squeezing Darien's hand. Darien nodded and settled back into his seat, watching Bobby sleep.
Alex and Claire made their way to the fire chief, who was directing groups of firefighters to certain areas for clean up.
"Ms. Monroe you're back, Doctor," said the chief, nodding to each in turn. "What can I do for you?"
"We need to search a certain part of this building. There was important research kept here."
"I'm afraid I can't let you in there. Too dangerous."
"It's a matter of life or death," argued Alex.
"You're the Fish and Game Department. What could possibly be so important?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that."
"Sir, please, it's very important." added Claire.
"Sorry doctor."
"Sir, please," said Claire again, stressing the words.
The chief sighed and looked at the pair. "Ok. But Ball and Feris are going with you."
"Thank you sir," replied Claire. The chief radioed the firefighters and out of the destruction two figures headed towards them.
Darien watched as Alex and Claire acquired escorts and headed off into the wet, charred mess that had been the Harding Building. He sighed. Claire knew something and wouldn't confess, Alex was frustrated, Bobby was recovering, and he himself was bordering on useless. He jumped when his cell phone rang in his pocket; he had forgotten it was there.
"Fawkes," he answered.
"Give her back or it only gets worse," responded the voice followed by a dial tone.
"Who are you?" Darien screamed into the phone, causing Bobby to stir. He flipped the phone shut and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Sorry partner," he murmured.
Claire followed Alex through the muck, the smell of burnt plastic and wood filling her mouth and nose. She had to get to the safe first. It not only held Counteragent but her history files, ID, and the information she had been gathering for the last two years. Things no one at The Agency could ever know.
"Miss? Is this it?" asked Feris who was standing next to a narrow metal structure.
Claire smiled. "Yes, thank you," she replied. She picked her way across the rubble and stood in front of the safe. She worked the dials, entering three sets of four numbers and gripped the handle.
"Well?" asked Alex impatiently, the stress of all these events was getting to her. "Sorry Claire," she added quietly.
Claire nodded and pulled at the handle, opening the safe. She quickly applied her attention to the chilled section withdrawing the three vials of Counteragent; from beside the chilled compartment she grabbed a syringe in its protective black casing. She handed these to Alex. Turning back to the safe she quickly withdrew her files, the little black wallet that had caused her so much grief, and a set of CDs that held everything she knew, discovered, or had learned about Darien and the QS-9300 Project.
"Coming Claire?" asked Alex, who was already across the room.
"Yes, yes," she replied, stuffing the files and wallet under her jacket. "Just had to grab these," she said, holding up the case for Alex to see.
Alex nodded; she wasn't going to ask about the files she saw. Now was not the time. They made their way out of the remains of the building and across the street to the still waiting ambulance. Claire climbed back in the back and took a seat next to Darien.
"Let me see," she said holding out her left hand. Darien placed his right hand in hers and pulled up his sleeve since Claire couldn't with her casted right hand. She examined the tattoo, seeing the six red segments and the seventh starting to change. "How do you feel?" she asked picking up a penlight from the ambulance supplies and checking his pupils.
"Ok. Headache," replied Darien. "Why?" he asked, he had picked up on the tone in her voice.
"This is all we have until I can make more in Delta Eight's lab. I have to stretch it out."
"So how close are you going to let me get to becoming a homicidal maniac?"
"Well play it by ear as it were," replied Claire, with a sympathetic smile. Darien sighed and nodded. Claire moved up into the cab and once again took the passenger seat. Alex was still on the ground at the back of the ambulance. She caught Darien's eye and beckoned him to the door.
"She took some other things besides the Counteragent and syringe," Alex reported.
"What others things?"
"Looked like some files and some disks, which she showed me. But the files she hid under her jacket."
Darien pursed his lips. This was getting more and more strange. He was about to reply to Alex's related information when a shrill alarm sounded. Darien whipped around to face Bobby and saw an array of red lights blinking back at him.
"Claire!" he yelled unnecessarily since she was already in the back of the ambulance checking monitors and vital signs. Bobby coughed, spattering his lips with blood.
"Shit!" Claire cursed as she listened to Bobby's lungs. "He's bleeding internally."
"What! How?" demanded Darien.
"Torn sutures, something that was missed. He's only been out of surgery for not even 24 hours," she explained as she turned on the oxygen and placed the mask over Bobby's mouth and nose. "He needs to get back into the OR."
"So let's get him back to the hospital."
"It's not safe," shouted Alex gesturing to what was left of the Harding Building.
"She's right. It isn't safe," agreed Claire. "Delta Eight has medical facilities," she said as she climbed back up to the cab and started giving the driver instructions. He started the ambulance and Alex jumped out of the back and hurriedly closed the doors, giving them a 'good to go' thump. The driver did a U-turn, flipped on the lights and took off towards where Claire had told him to go.
Claire moved back into the rear and began examining the surgical incision. There was no external bleeding so whatever it was it was definitely internal. She adjusted the oxygen, even if she should need to re-intubate him, it would only do so much good if his lung was filling with blood.
Darien watched, feeling rather useless and fighting the demon that was starting to invade his brain. He glanced at his wrist, noting the seventh segment was full red. Crap, this was going to get worse before it got better. "How far is it to this Delta Eight?"
"We should be there in about ten minutes," murmured Claire.
"Is he going to make it ten minutes?!" Darien almost screamed. Claire flinched and looked up at him; he could see the contrast between paleness and her bruises. It was not going to end this way. "Do something," he pleaded.
"There is nothing I can do," she said her voice trembling. She was going to lose a best friend to this insanity. She pressed her lips together, fighting back tears. No. Bobby was going to make it and be fine she decided right then and there. "Cell phone," she demanded holding out her good hand.
Darien handed her his cell phone and she punched in what sounded like 12 digits. She held the phone to her ear, all the while keeping an eye on the monitors surrounding Bobby.
"Yes. I have a post-op agent in distress. Immediate OR facilities and surgical team waiting," she ordered into the phone.
"882045083556." She rattled off automatically. That wasn't her Agency ID number Darien realized, it was too long, but whatever number it was it got results since she nodded subconsciously in agreement with the person on the other end of the line. She snapped the phone shut. "They're waiting for us," she said, and fiddled with a set of buttons on a monitor.
Darien watched his partner breathe, each breath becoming more and more of a struggle. They had better reach this Delta Eight place quick, even he could tell Bobby was in trouble. Suddenly, the ambulance was slammed into, flinging Claire down onto Bobby and Darien into a cabinet.
"What the hell was that?" yelled Claire to the driver.
"Some maniac is trying to run us off the road!" the driver shouted back.
"What?" screamed Claire in disbelief.
The sound of scraping metal was punctuated by gun fire and the sound of a shattering window. Alex! Alex had been following point remembered Claire. Claire pushed herself off of Bobby to find blood splattered across the cast on her right hand. She quickly examined Bobby and found no blood. Where had it come from? She looked up to see Darien still hunched over from where the first jar had flung him.
"Dahrien? Dahrien!?" she shouted over the noise. He looked up, she could see the redness creeping into his eyes, and the blood from what appeared to be a through and through gun shot wound to his left shoulder. She followed what would have been the trajectory of the bullet and saw that it was lodged in the mattress under Bobby, just missing his leg.
"Apparently our Ms. Monroe is a bad aim while driving," he replied his voice calm with impending Quicksilver madness. Claire focused on his eyes and saw the redness overtake them, the adrenaline his body released in response to the pain of the gun shot wound must have pushed him into full Quicksilver madness.
Darien began to advance on Claire in his irrational state and was momentarily distracted by another shrieking alarm. Claire looked at the monitor and pushed the off button, she knew Bobby's respiration rate was falling.
"Dahrien, I need you to be calm," said Claire soothingly.
"I'm calm," replied Darien, a dangerous edge to his voice as he crept towards Claire only to be brought to his knees with the first seizures.
More gunfire punctuated the cacophony followed by the sound of crunching and scraping metal and a triumphant shout from the driver. Apparently Alex had hit her mark.
"Claire?" Darien whispered in a small voice, sanity breaking through the silver demon.
"Hold on Dahrien," she said, removing the syringe from its protective casing and retrieving a vial of Counteragent from the drawer she had stashed them in earlier. She drew up the vial's contents, tapped the syringe for bubbles and scooted over to Darien. Half crouching, trying to keep her balance in the moving vehicle, Claire slipped the needle into the vein running along the inside of his arm with her good hand, trying to steady his arm with her casted hand. She injected the blue liquid and Darien went rigid as the Counteragent hit his system. Claire helped Darien's now limp form into a slouch in the small space he occupied.
She replaced the glass syringe into its case and turned back to Bobby. She inhaled sharply seeing the numbers that indicated his falling O2 sat and respiratory rate.
"Where are we?!" she shouted forward.
"We're 10 miles out!" the driver called back.
Claire moved back over to Darien, fishing his cell phone from his pocket. Darien groaned at the touch.
"Claire?" he whispered again, wincing as he tried to straighten up, and settled for holding his head in his hand. "My arm?" he winced again.
"I'm here Dahrien, I'm here," she said, rubbing his back and then turning her attention to the phone, dialing Delta Eight.
"ETA two minutes, I want them scrubbed and prepped! Also, second agent, simple GSW," she yelled into the phone, clapping it shut.
She moved back to Bobby and placed the stethoscope against his left side, grimacing at the rales she heard, blood was filling his left lung, leaving very little room for air movement.
Claire felt the ambulance slow and heard shouts from outside. The doors were flung open and doctors and nurses grabbed Darien and the stretcher with Bobby rushing the men inside. As requested, the surgical team was waiting and Bobby was immediately taken to the OR. Darien was moved to a private ER bay and his shoulder examined.
"It passed through clean, you were lucky Agent Fawkes," reported the doctor as he treated and bandaged the wound. Darien nodded and laid back on the stretcher, he was still recovering from the Quicksilver madness attack.
"Dr. Keeply?"
"Hmm, yes?" asked Claire turning to face the doctor.
"Are you alright?" he asked indicating the bruises and cast.
"Yes, fine. This happened yesterday," she said shrugging. The doctor nodded and left the treatment bay. Claire settled on a chair and closed her eyes. Her life, as much as it was hers, was falling apart, and her friends where paying the price.