Wedding Song 4---- One More Day With You....
One bad word In this piece.
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4:05 A.M.
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"Hello?"
"Agent Hobbes? Agent Waters. I have your last two possible locations."
"Yeah? Great. Give 'em to me." Bobby responded, fully awake now. He listened for a few additional minutes, scribbling quickly on the pad by the bedside phone, then hung up and turned over to rouse Darien, only to find his partner already awake.
"We on?" Fawkes asked him wearily, his voice cracked and worn, making Bobby think of leather abandoned in the sun for too long.
"Yeah. I've got the last two places here. He only said they were possibles this time, though, so we could be doin' this for nothin'. You sure you're up for this? You don't look so good."
"Four an' a half hours of sleep don't turn you into Carmen Electra either, buddy."
"I had four. You just had the half. If I tried to make you stay home...."
"Don't think so. I'll go make some nuclear powered coffee."
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6:35 A.M.
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Darien sat on the floor of the decrepit house, legs tucked under him, cradling and rocking a beautiful, sweet-faced little girl; one of two children they had not been in time to save. Every few seconds he bent to breathe for her, mumbling fractured prayers under his breath. Hobbes stood close, one hand on his partner's shoulder as he fought for words.
"Fawkes... you can stop now. She's gone."
"No! She has to breathe.... quit pullin' on me! I know CPR! I... I remember that class they made me take.... I can do this...."
Kneeling beside his stricken friend, Bobby stroked his hair and spoke softly, knowing the truth he was trying to make Darien see was harsh and cruel and desiring more than anything to soften the blow however he could.
"Darien.... CPR won't help her.... she's dead. She took a .45 slug right in the ticker. You can't bring her back from that, no matter what you do...."
"I told you to drive faster! I told you I felt like somethin' was wrong! Five minutes sooner.... five damn, lousy minutes...."
"I know, baby. You tried to tell me. I shoulda listened. Lemme see her, okay? I'll take good care of her, I promise....."
"No! Give her back!"
Finally wresting the dead child's body away from Darien, Bobby stood and gazed down into her face, tears welling in his eyes. Before he could lose control himself, he moved to lay her in the corner beside a little boy, also shot in the heart, and gently stretched the tarp that covered him over her as well. Fighting to remain in control, he moved to the front door of the house.
"Claire? Can you.... we need you."
"What is it? Are you alright? Is Darien?"
"None of the above. Two of the kids.... a boy an' a girl. We were just that much too late. I just found him in there holdin' her.... tryin' to make her breathe again.... he's really upset."
"You should be with him."
"I can't. I had to tell him she was gone, take her away from him. He'd never let me...."
"I see. Stay out here and try to calm down, okay? I'll talk to him."
As Claire slipped inside to comfort Darien, Bobby leaned against the house, closed his eyes and drew deep, slow shuddery breaths, trying to pull himself together. It was a long time before he managed it.
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8:30 A.M.
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"Fawkes, cut it out. You're makin' me nuts.."
"Bobby... take this with a grain of salt, but.... shut up."
"Look, you can either chill out, or end up a forty-seven on this an' I'll send you home right now. You get my drift, pal?"
"You wouldn't dare."
"If you were standin' here, lookin' at yourself, you'd know I could an' would dare."
"You need me."
"I need the partner I depend on to watch my back, not the basket-case you're lettin' yourself turn into. You're shiverin' all over, your eyes are flickin' back an' forth like you're watchin' tennis, you can't stand still.... If I didn't know better, I'd think you were gettin' ready to go QSM on somebody."
"Yeah, well, I would.... but he's not here."
"I want Stark as bad as you do, but these kids ain't him. Unless you show me some improvement in the next five minutes, you're out."
"I have to do this, Bobby. You can't make me stay back here... I won't lose another one of these kids. No freakin *way* am I losin' even *one* more!" Darien snarled, slamming one hand down onto the hood of a nearby car with enough force to dent it and walking away from his partner.
Bobby stalked after Darien, hauled him around by one arm then shoved him into a sitting position on the damaged car. Grasping Darien's face with both hands, Hobbes forced his manic friend to look directly into his eyes.
"Stop, okay? You have to stop. I'm here, baby. I'm right here. Are you seein' me. Darien? Are you listenin' to me?"
"Bobby.... let go."
"Not until I finish. I gotta know you understand. What happened at the first house this mornin' was not your fault. Those two kids dyin' ain't what any of us wanted, but noone, not you, not me, an' not any of the other guys coulda stopped it from happenin'. We were just a couple minutes too late. I know it hurts. I get that. You feel like shit an' so do I.... but right now your eyes tell me you're standin' with one foot already off the edge of the cliff. I really need you to come back to me, here, Fawkes."
"I can't. You don't know what I saw...."
"Later. Tell me what forty-seven means."
"You're the senior agent. You recite the stupid rules...."
"I'm orderin' you to tell me. You do it, or I'll put it in play. You know I don't bluff."
"Forty-seven.... is the code for an agent who's temporarily unfit for duty.... because of severe mental or emotional disturbance."
"Good boy. You really *wanna* get cuffed to the armrest of the car for the next three hours? Maybe get forced into a MAN-EV when we get back? The fat man'd laugh himself sick while he signed that order. I've been through a hundred Mandatory Evaluations, Fawkes. They suck to take an' they never come out in favor of the one under the microscope. It'd kill me to see you have to go through that. Can you pull yourself together?"
"I can try.... I'm sorry. I just can't stop seein' it...."
"I know." Bobby reassured him, embracing him tightly. "We'll do the Serious Discussion thing when we get home, okay? For now we got kids to...."
Somewhere in the abandoned building behind them a shot rang out, shocking Bobby into abandoning his thought. "Ah crap... not again...."
Between one second and the next, Darien Quicksilvered and was gone from Bobby's arms. "Fawkes! God, no.... Damn it, Darien, stop!"
"I heard the shot. What happened?" Claire asked as she ran up.
"Fawkes went see-through an' took off for the warehouse! Stupid idiot.... if he gets his head blown off I'm never speakin' to him again!" Hobbes growled as he ripped his walkie-talkie off his waist. As he ran, he began screaming orders into the small device. " Blue and Red squads, this is X-wing leader! Go, go, go! Do it now! This should be hostage retrieval only. I repeat, should be, so cover your asses! Agent Fawkes is already inside. Watch your line of fire! Talk before you shoot! Gold squad, hang back to assist with extraction."
Once inside the building, Bobby tried to raise Darien on the radio, but could get no response. When another shot reached his ears, he began to alternate between brief periods of feeling as if his heart had stopped beating and strings of seconds when it beat so furiously he was sure it would burst from his chest. After his next message, Darien finally responded.
"Darien! Damn it, if you're not dead already, I swear I'm gonna strangle you...."
"Nice sentiment. Think they'd take us on 'Celebrity Death Match' ?"
"You stupid son of a.... don't you move, you hear me? I'm on my way..."
Three long minutes later, Bobby finally came upon Darien propped against a wall, left hand clasped over his bleeding right bicep. A few feet beyond where he sat, agents carried struggling children away and two dark gray tarps covered a pair of small, still shapes. Tearing his gaze away from the evidence of another Chrysalis victory, Bobby focused, instead, on his fiancée. "I knew it... how bad is it?" he groaned, rushing to Darien's side.
"I'm okay. It's just a little graze."
"Yeah, little grazes hurt like hell. Lemme see." he ordered, carefully peeling Darien's fingers away from the wound. "You're right. Not too nasty."
Raising his radio again, he called for help, the relief in his voice clear, even through the static. "Claire? G.I. Oh No needs a little help if you got a minute?"
"Should I have expected any less? What happened?"
"The shooter winged him. It's not serious, but it'll need cleanin' and a bandage. We'll meet you downstairs, okay?"
"Right."
Replacing his radio, Bobby gently tore the rest of the ruined sleeve from Darien's shirt, folded it and used it to apply pressure to the weeping scrape, determinedly not looking at the shrouded bodies against the far wall.
"So... what was this, huh? Revenge for what I pulled in Vegas?" he asked solemnly, gazing up into Darien's dark eyes.
"Everything has to be about you?"
"I didn't say that..."
"Lets just go, okay? I can't stand to be so close to them...."
"Yeah. Good idea." he agreed, guiding his partner down the hall, a hand on his good arm.
"Just so you know.... you don't have to put me in for a MAN-EV. I'll... take care of it myself."
"Don't do that. Like I said, it isn't worth it..."
"I didn't mean that exactly. I meant... I know I need to do somethin' about the way I reacted today. I scared myself... really bad. Your shrink..... What was her name?"
"Cheryl Mason."
"Maybe.... maybe I could... talk to her. Just once.... or twice. Until I work through this. I don't wanna be goin' off my nut every time a case involves a kid..." Darien lied smoothly, hoping the edge of pain in his voice would cover the tell-tale signs of deception that Bobby usually picked up on without fail.
"Sure. Sure, I'll call her when we get home. See when she's got free time."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
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TBC.......
One bad word In this piece.
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4:05 A.M.
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"Hello?"
"Agent Hobbes? Agent Waters. I have your last two possible locations."
"Yeah? Great. Give 'em to me." Bobby responded, fully awake now. He listened for a few additional minutes, scribbling quickly on the pad by the bedside phone, then hung up and turned over to rouse Darien, only to find his partner already awake.
"We on?" Fawkes asked him wearily, his voice cracked and worn, making Bobby think of leather abandoned in the sun for too long.
"Yeah. I've got the last two places here. He only said they were possibles this time, though, so we could be doin' this for nothin'. You sure you're up for this? You don't look so good."
"Four an' a half hours of sleep don't turn you into Carmen Electra either, buddy."
"I had four. You just had the half. If I tried to make you stay home...."
"Don't think so. I'll go make some nuclear powered coffee."
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6:35 A.M.
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
Darien sat on the floor of the decrepit house, legs tucked under him, cradling and rocking a beautiful, sweet-faced little girl; one of two children they had not been in time to save. Every few seconds he bent to breathe for her, mumbling fractured prayers under his breath. Hobbes stood close, one hand on his partner's shoulder as he fought for words.
"Fawkes... you can stop now. She's gone."
"No! She has to breathe.... quit pullin' on me! I know CPR! I... I remember that class they made me take.... I can do this...."
Kneeling beside his stricken friend, Bobby stroked his hair and spoke softly, knowing the truth he was trying to make Darien see was harsh and cruel and desiring more than anything to soften the blow however he could.
"Darien.... CPR won't help her.... she's dead. She took a .45 slug right in the ticker. You can't bring her back from that, no matter what you do...."
"I told you to drive faster! I told you I felt like somethin' was wrong! Five minutes sooner.... five damn, lousy minutes...."
"I know, baby. You tried to tell me. I shoulda listened. Lemme see her, okay? I'll take good care of her, I promise....."
"No! Give her back!"
Finally wresting the dead child's body away from Darien, Bobby stood and gazed down into her face, tears welling in his eyes. Before he could lose control himself, he moved to lay her in the corner beside a little boy, also shot in the heart, and gently stretched the tarp that covered him over her as well. Fighting to remain in control, he moved to the front door of the house.
"Claire? Can you.... we need you."
"What is it? Are you alright? Is Darien?"
"None of the above. Two of the kids.... a boy an' a girl. We were just that much too late. I just found him in there holdin' her.... tryin' to make her breathe again.... he's really upset."
"You should be with him."
"I can't. I had to tell him she was gone, take her away from him. He'd never let me...."
"I see. Stay out here and try to calm down, okay? I'll talk to him."
As Claire slipped inside to comfort Darien, Bobby leaned against the house, closed his eyes and drew deep, slow shuddery breaths, trying to pull himself together. It was a long time before he managed it.
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8:30 A.M.
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"Fawkes, cut it out. You're makin' me nuts.."
"Bobby... take this with a grain of salt, but.... shut up."
"Look, you can either chill out, or end up a forty-seven on this an' I'll send you home right now. You get my drift, pal?"
"You wouldn't dare."
"If you were standin' here, lookin' at yourself, you'd know I could an' would dare."
"You need me."
"I need the partner I depend on to watch my back, not the basket-case you're lettin' yourself turn into. You're shiverin' all over, your eyes are flickin' back an' forth like you're watchin' tennis, you can't stand still.... If I didn't know better, I'd think you were gettin' ready to go QSM on somebody."
"Yeah, well, I would.... but he's not here."
"I want Stark as bad as you do, but these kids ain't him. Unless you show me some improvement in the next five minutes, you're out."
"I have to do this, Bobby. You can't make me stay back here... I won't lose another one of these kids. No freakin *way* am I losin' even *one* more!" Darien snarled, slamming one hand down onto the hood of a nearby car with enough force to dent it and walking away from his partner.
Bobby stalked after Darien, hauled him around by one arm then shoved him into a sitting position on the damaged car. Grasping Darien's face with both hands, Hobbes forced his manic friend to look directly into his eyes.
"Stop, okay? You have to stop. I'm here, baby. I'm right here. Are you seein' me. Darien? Are you listenin' to me?"
"Bobby.... let go."
"Not until I finish. I gotta know you understand. What happened at the first house this mornin' was not your fault. Those two kids dyin' ain't what any of us wanted, but noone, not you, not me, an' not any of the other guys coulda stopped it from happenin'. We were just a couple minutes too late. I know it hurts. I get that. You feel like shit an' so do I.... but right now your eyes tell me you're standin' with one foot already off the edge of the cliff. I really need you to come back to me, here, Fawkes."
"I can't. You don't know what I saw...."
"Later. Tell me what forty-seven means."
"You're the senior agent. You recite the stupid rules...."
"I'm orderin' you to tell me. You do it, or I'll put it in play. You know I don't bluff."
"Forty-seven.... is the code for an agent who's temporarily unfit for duty.... because of severe mental or emotional disturbance."
"Good boy. You really *wanna* get cuffed to the armrest of the car for the next three hours? Maybe get forced into a MAN-EV when we get back? The fat man'd laugh himself sick while he signed that order. I've been through a hundred Mandatory Evaluations, Fawkes. They suck to take an' they never come out in favor of the one under the microscope. It'd kill me to see you have to go through that. Can you pull yourself together?"
"I can try.... I'm sorry. I just can't stop seein' it...."
"I know." Bobby reassured him, embracing him tightly. "We'll do the Serious Discussion thing when we get home, okay? For now we got kids to...."
Somewhere in the abandoned building behind them a shot rang out, shocking Bobby into abandoning his thought. "Ah crap... not again...."
Between one second and the next, Darien Quicksilvered and was gone from Bobby's arms. "Fawkes! God, no.... Damn it, Darien, stop!"
"I heard the shot. What happened?" Claire asked as she ran up.
"Fawkes went see-through an' took off for the warehouse! Stupid idiot.... if he gets his head blown off I'm never speakin' to him again!" Hobbes growled as he ripped his walkie-talkie off his waist. As he ran, he began screaming orders into the small device. " Blue and Red squads, this is X-wing leader! Go, go, go! Do it now! This should be hostage retrieval only. I repeat, should be, so cover your asses! Agent Fawkes is already inside. Watch your line of fire! Talk before you shoot! Gold squad, hang back to assist with extraction."
Once inside the building, Bobby tried to raise Darien on the radio, but could get no response. When another shot reached his ears, he began to alternate between brief periods of feeling as if his heart had stopped beating and strings of seconds when it beat so furiously he was sure it would burst from his chest. After his next message, Darien finally responded.
"Darien! Damn it, if you're not dead already, I swear I'm gonna strangle you...."
"Nice sentiment. Think they'd take us on 'Celebrity Death Match' ?"
"You stupid son of a.... don't you move, you hear me? I'm on my way..."
Three long minutes later, Bobby finally came upon Darien propped against a wall, left hand clasped over his bleeding right bicep. A few feet beyond where he sat, agents carried struggling children away and two dark gray tarps covered a pair of small, still shapes. Tearing his gaze away from the evidence of another Chrysalis victory, Bobby focused, instead, on his fiancée. "I knew it... how bad is it?" he groaned, rushing to Darien's side.
"I'm okay. It's just a little graze."
"Yeah, little grazes hurt like hell. Lemme see." he ordered, carefully peeling Darien's fingers away from the wound. "You're right. Not too nasty."
Raising his radio again, he called for help, the relief in his voice clear, even through the static. "Claire? G.I. Oh No needs a little help if you got a minute?"
"Should I have expected any less? What happened?"
"The shooter winged him. It's not serious, but it'll need cleanin' and a bandage. We'll meet you downstairs, okay?"
"Right."
Replacing his radio, Bobby gently tore the rest of the ruined sleeve from Darien's shirt, folded it and used it to apply pressure to the weeping scrape, determinedly not looking at the shrouded bodies against the far wall.
"So... what was this, huh? Revenge for what I pulled in Vegas?" he asked solemnly, gazing up into Darien's dark eyes.
"Everything has to be about you?"
"I didn't say that..."
"Lets just go, okay? I can't stand to be so close to them...."
"Yeah. Good idea." he agreed, guiding his partner down the hall, a hand on his good arm.
"Just so you know.... you don't have to put me in for a MAN-EV. I'll... take care of it myself."
"Don't do that. Like I said, it isn't worth it..."
"I didn't mean that exactly. I meant... I know I need to do somethin' about the way I reacted today. I scared myself... really bad. Your shrink..... What was her name?"
"Cheryl Mason."
"Maybe.... maybe I could... talk to her. Just once.... or twice. Until I work through this. I don't wanna be goin' off my nut every time a case involves a kid..." Darien lied smoothly, hoping the edge of pain in his voice would cover the tell-tale signs of deception that Bobby usually picked up on without fail.
"Sure. Sure, I'll call her when we get home. See when she's got free time."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
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TBC.......