Author: A. X. Zanier

Series: Requiem Arc

Title: Twilight

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: The Invisible Man

Pairing: Darien/OFC, Bobby/Claire

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or basic story ideas to The Invisible Man. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine to do with as I please.

Timeline: N/A

Comments: #3 in the Requiem Arc.

Music: Twilight by Vanessa Carlton

Twilight

"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." -- Crowfoot's last words (1890) (Blackfoot warrior and orator)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He said he wanted to watch the sunset. It was a little after 10 am, we had just walked out on our jobs, our friends, hell, our lives as we knew them and he wanted to watch the sunset. But considering he - we - just had our worst fears confirmed, I wasn't going to argue with him. I simply asked if he had a preference where and then drove him there.

We unavoidably stood out among all the others gathered to enjoy the perennial warmth of southern California, though not due to our attire, which was about middle of the road for beach wear on this particular day. No, it was far more the air of...hopelessness we were surely broadcasting to all who came near. Admittedly, it was far more me than he, but I didn't want put in the extra effort to lock down the emotional spray I was tossing off like horse-head waves created by a high wind.

I found myself unable to say a word as he shuffled through the sand, heading for the rocky outcropping at the far end of the beach, could only manage to glance over at him now and then. His head tipped down, shoulders slumped, hands stuffed into his pants pockets - one fore and the other aft.

When he finally settled down on the damp rock, the crashing waves of the ebbing tide darkening the ancient stone, he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it into wild disarray and lifted his head to look out over the deep blue waters of the Pacific.

"I'm sorry," he said, and it took me a long moment to figure out he was talking to me. Apologizing to me.

I stood several feet behind him, not sure he wanted me near, yet unwilling to just walk away and leave him alone with his thoughts. "Darien, I..." He shook his head, silencing my words. In truth, I had no idea what I was going to say and was, in many ways, thankful he'd interrupted, as I was uncertain at that moment whether or not I would be able to keep up the façade of calm composure I wore. Between his emotional distress and my own I was damn near to being a blubbering mess.

He turned his head slightly, holding out his hand, and without thinking about the possible ramifications, I took it into mine. This inevitably magnified his emotional state to my senses and I whimpered aloud, unable to curb that one instance of visceral reaction. He pulled me close, even though I tried to get away, fearing how my reactions would hurt him. He didn't say a word, just wrapped his arms about me and buried his face into my hair; somehow knowing that no matter how scared I was, how much I hurt, how I feared what was happening to him - to us - that I would somehow endure. And what frightened me the most was that I didn't want to, didn't want to bear this burden, didn't want to lose him.

We sat there for hours, not speaking a single word, and he saw his sunset.

***

I conned Bobby into taking Claire home, mainly to get them away from me. Their emotions, so raw and painful, were giving me a headache at a time when I couldn't afford one. Most of my concentration was taken up with keeping Darien as free of pain as possible. Today had been a good one, all things considered, and he was radiating such joy for having renewed his connection with Bobby. Darien had been so worried that he'd torn the friendship to shreds when we'd walked out on the Agency - was it only two days ago? He was doubly afraid to call Bobby and find out, so I had intervened, gave Bobby a fair tongue-lashing for leaving his friend to wither on the vine. Guilt was such a wonderful tool when wielded by an expert. Besides, I missed the mook as well, and since Claire was over here 12 out of 24 hours, heedless of the Official's orders, I figured we might as well have the whole gang together while we still could.

I watched as Darien stood, hands splayed out to his sides as if unsure of the stability of the world beneath his feet. His equilibrium was shot to hell, and just walking across the room had become a challenge far greater than that of any building he'd scaled with little more than fancy suction cups back in his days as a professional thief. I resisted the temptation to rush to his side and support him, knowing that was not what he wanted. Damn, it was so hard to watch him struggle to do the simplest of tasks, but I knew he'd hate me all the more if I showed even the tiniest trace of pity for him.

In one of his weaker moments, he'd admitted that he wasn't all that surprised, had always entertained a niggling worry in the back of his mind that the gland would be what did him in. That it was sooner rather than later was even less of a shock. For him, but not for me. There'd been no warning, not even a worst case scenario simulation that had predicted this, which had sent Claire scrambling to figure out what she'd missed and whether or not it was somehow contagious, fearing that it could affect me and my ability to Quicksilver.

I guess I was lucky in that the mutation was exclusive to the gland, and, though curious as to the cause - Darien had been exposed to any number of potentially harmful things over the years, including a nasty flu virus and an intelligence retrovirus, which were the most likely suspects at this point - Claire was too concerned with his current well-being to indulge herself in speculation. All that we knew for sure was that it could not be fixed, that the damage done was irreversible and that we could not stop it from killing him.

I mechanically picked up the minimal detritus the evening had created, dimming the lights as I vacated one section of the apartment for another. One part of my mind was continually aware of where he was and what he was doing. I'd opened a strong link to him so that I could properly maintain the pain blocks I'd put in place. Claire had offered the far more typical pharmaceutical pain killers, but Darien wanted no part of them, wanted his mind clear, didn't want to spend his last days in some drugged out haze, didn't want to be remembered that way. Claire hadn't voiced a single objection, seeing as I was more than willing to stay by his side and do everything in my power to give him one moment more.

His voice drew me up out of the autopilot I'd been running in for the last little while and, after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I walked over to the bed. He was sitting there, legs crossed under the blanket, the t-shirt that used to be snug now hanging loose on him. I leaned against the bedpost, just watching him as he thumbed through one of the journals I'd given him. They were filled with notes, tidbits, drawings that I'd written to him, words that I often couldn't manage to say when we were together that found an outlet through the medium of pen to paper. To think that I wouldn't have a reason to fill another journal gave my decision another validation.

"We need to talk," he said suddenly, not looking up from the book lying open on his lap.

"Sure." I slid across the bed to lay down with my head near one of his knees, and he released the book to curl his hand under my chin, his fingers cool and shaking slightly. I could feel how tired he was as well as the determination to have this discussion. I closed my eyes and leaned into his hand, wanting to imprint this moment on my mind. I could feel that whatever it was he wanted to discuss was serious so I swallowed down the urge to make some wisecrack and waited on his pleasure.

He tapped the page and I opened my eyes to look up at him. "You mean what you write in these?"

"Every word," I assured him, wondering where he was going with this.

He nodded slowly, as if afraid if he moved too fast, his head would topple from his shoulders and land atop the book. "Risk your life for perfect strangers? Get yourself hurt so bad that you need to spend weeks recovering? Walk around in a drugged haze 'cause you overdid it so much your head feels like it's ripping itself to shreds from the inside out?"

"Been there, done that. Lotsa times. Same as you." I rolled onto my back to more easily look into his eyes, but he hid them from me, his hair drooping low and blocking my view. I stretched out an arm and set the water bottle on one of the shelves built into the headboard.

"Take a bullet for Bobby?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"Of course," I responded, sounding, perhaps, indignant. He knew me better than this, didn't he?

"Die for me?" It was little more than a whisper.

What a question. I would trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could. Of the two of us, he was the one who still had hope; he still saw the potential in each new day, still loved life. I... well let's just say my reasons for getting out of bed on an average morning were fewer than the toes on one foot. And the largest of them was soon to be cut off. "Darien..."

"Is that a no?" Though obviously rhetorical, I couldn't prevent the answer that leapt from me.

"No, it's not a no, you jerk. You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

He lifted his head, his face set in a mule-like stubbornness that caught me off guard. "Then I want you to promise me something."

I was suspicious, but refused to pry into his mind to figure out what card he had hidden up his sleeve this time. I shrugged. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "Promise first."

It was my turn to get all stubborn and I sat up, facing him. I was not about to let survivors guilt let him win and, besides, he'd probably get all pissed if I just let him have his way without, at least, a token fight. "Uh-uh, not a big fan of blind dates here."

The corners of his lips quirked upwards, but instead of the bold countermove that I was expecting he swept his arm across the playing field, knocking all the pieces away. "I know what you're planning."

I found myself staring into his eyes, realizing with a certainty that frightened me that he did know, that, though I'd made certain to keep that knowledge close to my heart, he'd figured it out. "Darien..."

"Don't... just don't," he said, stilling my defiance before I got more than his name out.

"How?" I requested, knowing he'd understand what I was really asking.

He reached out and tweaked my nose, drawing an unwilling smile from me. "You tipped your hand, babe. Said you could keep me going by letting me leech offa your powers. Keeping my battery charged a few more days." He flashed me a grin that I couldn't return.

"You saying you don't want me to..."

"No," he stated emphatically. "I'm still greedy and I want every second I can beg, borrow or steal." He sighed and shut the journal, setting it aside. "But I won't do it if it means killing you."

Ah, hell. Too bad he wasn't as stupid as a lot of people wanted to believe. It would have made this so much easier. 'Cause he was right, when I opened the full link in a few hours he would be the beneficiary of an overflow of my natural ability to absorb energy, along with the nifty side-effect of increased healing. I couldn't cure him, couldn't reverse what had already been done, but I could slow it a bit. Give him another day, maybe two before his body would simply shut down, the damage too great to be countered. When the end came, I planned to let myself be drawn down that long dark tunnel with him.

"Darien, I don't want to live without you." There I'd said it. Let him make of it what he would.

"So, you'd die for me without a thought, but you're afraid to live for me," he observed. "What the hell does that say about me? About how I've influenced your life?"

"It says you gave me a god damn reason to live when I didn't have one," I snapped, suddenly angry that he could even entertain the possibility that what he brought into my life could be anything but glorious.

Then he threw me another curve ball. "What about your kids? Ain't they reason enough?"

Shit, that was a low blow, but I was quick to respond. "To them I'm already dead. They'd just finally have a body to bury."

Darien's eyes narrowed and I actually winced at my cheap shot. "What about Bobby and Claire?"

"What about them?" I practically wailed. "They're adults and will do what's right for them. I," I poked myself in the chest, reveling in the pain it caused for an instant, "don't exist. What I do with my life affects nothing," I hissed the last to cover the fact that I knew what a lie it was.

Claire was near to being overcome with guilt for failing Darien. That was what the cold, calculating Keeper was feeling. Guilt. Thinking that by some misdeed or mistake that she had caused Darien to be struck down in his prime.

Bobby... Bobby was lost. For the first time in his life, he'd found someone who accepted him for who he was, foibles and all, who had proved time and time again that his trust and loyalty was not misplaced, only to lose him. I had come to my decision, accepted it, and dealt with the day to day realities with an eerie calm. Bobby had yet to make one, but it was obvious he would not have an easy of time of it.

This was why I kept shoving them away, insisting that they leave Darien and I in peace for at least a few hours. I had enough burdens to bear without adding theirs to my shoulders.

"Alyx, please, I... The only way I can face this is if I know you'll still be here." He leaned forward, curving one hand about the back of my neck and pulling me near enough to rest his forehead against mine. "Just... live for me."

I shuddered, torn by conflicting emotions. How could I promise that? Hell, why would he want me to promise that? The world would be so much grayer without him to brighten my days.

He pulled away, his fist closing about my hair. "Is my life worth so little to you that you want to throw it away?" His words were like a slap in the face.

"No," I responded hoarsely and damn near tears for the first time since Claire had told us. "How could you even think that?"

"Crap," he muttered, his voice breaking as well. "Who's gonna write my memoirs, huh? Bobby? The 'Fish? C'mon, is what I'm asking that difficult?"

"More than you know," I replied. But he had made his point. If I followed him, if I allowed myself to die as he did, everything he'd done would be lost. The Official would lock the files away to never see the light of day. As forgotten as the Catevari Project had been. Just another casualty to the thrice be damned greater good. Bobby and Claire's memories would fade; becoming sepia toned due to distance, locked within their minds out of a sense of duty, and to never be shared. But me... I'd never forget, and this moment, right here and now, would be as clear as those from the first day we met. My voice shaking, I told him the truth. "I can't make that promise."

I was amazed when he didn't get angry as I expected and just simply asked, "Why not?"

"The link, the connection I'm gonna make is... like hard wiring computers together. I don't know that I'll be able to sever it when..." I trailed off, not wanting to give him another reminder of his all too short future.

"Then promise to try."

That I could do.

***

'I can do this,' I told myself for the thousandth time and still not believing the words. Ye gods I hurt. I ached. I felt raw inside, as if someone had vigorously run a wire bristle brush across every inch of my flesh internally. Between facing down the Official, destroying all the files, including the ones the fat bastard had thought he'd hidden so well, arranging and attending the funeral without giving up the game to either Claire or Bobby and the swiftly increasing contact withdrawal, I was lucky to be even vaguely coherent. And yet, here I was, standing outside a house I'd never seen before, about to freak out my children.

Once I'd swum up out of the pit of depression I'd fallen into shortly after Darien's body had been removed, I had begun to plan. I had to distract myself somehow, had to figure out where I was going to go from here and knew that there was no way I could stay. When I'd made the choice to remain in San Diego after the Cabo San Lucas mess, it was because of Darien, and with him gone... Yeah, there was Bobby and Claire to think of, and while I knew my leaving would hurt them to no end, there was - as they would learn in time - a method to my madness.

Did part of me want to stay and wallow in shared misery, toss back a few and drown our mutual sorrows in an alcoholic daze? Hell yes. Especially for Bobby, who was, just as I feared, for all intents and purposes the walking wounded. I think the only thing that kept him going was the promise Darien had dragged from his partner's unwilling lips. Darien was no fool and had been well aware that Bobby's state of mind was little better than my own. Darien had given a washed up end of the road agent a new purpose and, much to the jaded agent's surprise, a real friend, and he hadn't wanted to be that final straw that broke Bobby.

Darien had asked me to be there for Bobby, and I intended to. I just had to do it my way.

And this was the first step to that plan.

***

When Claire arrived I have to admit I was overjoyed, it felt like a missing piece of my heart had been slipped neatly back into place, and I hugged her with tears in my eyes. Pavlov looked bewildered at his new surroundings and huddled at our feet as the kids and Mikey made their appearance to greet our guest. Hard to believe it had been less than three weeks since an irreparable hole had been punched in our world.

It didn't take her more than a day to figure out I was not doing as well as I tried to portray for the children I now barely knew. It was scary to realize that, in some ways, Claire knew me better than my family. Of course, she had the context from which to judge my condition whereas only Mikey knew the real reason why I had come home. I wanted to make sure things were settled and as secure as possible before I detailed everything to the kids.

She found me sitting on a lonely outcropping of rock that stuck out over the deep gray Atlantic, the fall not nearly high enough to even bother contemplating using for some nefarious and life ending purpose. I could feel her standing behind me, but I didn't react, waited for her to make the next move. Being together hurt in some ways, we'd shared so much, fought so much, and lost so much that no one else could really understand and yet... yet it helped. Pain shared is pain halved, right?

"Alyx...."

"Michele," I corrected. "Alyx Silver doesn't exist any longer." Far as I was concerned, Alyx had died with Darien Fawkes.

Claire settled down beside me. "Michele then. How... how are you doing?"

"Still wanna play doctor, Keep?" I asked, making sure she could hear the humor in my voice, feigned though it was.

She shook her head. "No. Was hoping there was an opening for a friend, though."

I turned my head and gave her a wan smile. "That position was filled a long time ago, Claire."

She gave a delicate snort, catching onto my meaning with ease. "My first question still stands."

I knew that, but wasn't sure how to answer. I shrugged. "I miss him. Feel as if a huge irretrievable part of me is gone. I get by day to day, just like the rest of the world."

We sat in silence for several minutes with her casting curiously odd looks in my direction every now and then. "Michael mentioned something to me and..."

I sighed heavily, not surprised my twin had caved already. I knew how worried he was about me. "If it was about my abilities then, yes, it's true. They're pretty much gone, knocked back to pre-Phase II levels. Only I'm fully aware of them."

Claire looked even more shocked than I expected. "The Quicksilver?"

"Dunno," I answered. "I haven't tried to use it. Don't see any need for it, do you?" I looked her right in the eyes, mine still the silver caused by my system being flooded with the Quicksilver, hers blue-gray to match the waters below us.

"But how...?" She stopped, looking at me in confusion. "The gland was destroyed, and the research... We all assumed it was you."

I nodded. "My doing," I admitted. "The gland... that was pretty much the last of it. I just barely pulled myself free at the end, couldn't break the connection completely and, I guess, part of me went with him." She was eyeing me in disbelief. "Run tests if you want, my power levels are a fraction of what you're used to. Still more than I ever wanted or needed."

"But the research?" she repeated, not about to let it go until she understood.

I couldn't help myself and smiled broadly. "C'mon, I learned from the best, after all, and I was a talented computer geek long before the Agency recruited me."

That seemed to satisfy her and she returned the smile with a fondness that all but screamed that she was thinking about Darien. But it wasn't our dearly departed she mentioned with her next breath. "Bobby?"

I lifted my face to the sky, the scent of seawater heavy on the afternoon breeze. "Soon," I assured her. "Very soon."

***

'Damn it to hell and back again,' I snarled silently as I toed the body of the man I had just killed, to be certain the bullet had done its job as advertised. I hadn't been quick about it either and he'd spilled his guts - figuratively, as I'd shot him in the knee first - when I questioned him about who he worked for. 'Teach you to taser one'a my kids.' Only after I had the information did I place a shot between his eyes. I glanced over at Claire who was checking out Dani, the Desert Eagle still in the Doctor's hand and at the ready in case any more of these idiots made an appearance.

Chris burst out from the trees and sprinted across the lawn. "There were two more, but they got away in a boat," he managed around pants. "I think I hit it... I hope I hit it," he growled, just as angry as I was.

"Chris," I admonished, not caring much for the bloodthirstiness I could hear in his voice and he did his best to look properly sheepish. "Claire?"

"She'll be fine," Claire assured me. "You think they knew Mike and Rose would be gone?"

I shook my head. "Nah, they were too stupid." I turned to my son. "Find Amanda and do a perimeter check." He gave me a curt nod and rushed off. Shit. Here I was treating my kids like they were nothing more than part of some military unit, but the situation necessitated it.

"Mom," Dani called out, trying to push herself to her feet. "I can..."

"No, they can handle it." I focused on Claire. "What's left to move?"

"Our personal stuff. They took the last of the main computer system with them yesterday." Claire frowned, as if it was she who could read minds now. "We can't wait any longer, can we?"

I sighed, wishing things had gone as I had envisioned. 'No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy,' rattled through my mind, sounding exactly like something he might have said in this situation. "We don't dare." I walked away from the body, more than willing it to leave it where it lay for the carrion birds to deal with. I just wished I could feel something other than a dull sense of anger at having my plans screwed up. Wished I could feel anything beyond a desperate sort of sadness. "We'll leave tonight."

"But Bobby..." Claire cut herself off, realizing that we had no choice. This had been the third incursion in the same number of weeks. We didn't dare wait any longer.

"I know," I whispered, my shoulders drooping, my head tipping down to stare and the grass at my feet, trying to ignore the crimson flecks that lay scattered across the verdant green. "He'll find us. He has to."

***

"'Bout frickin' time," I muttered under my breath as the obviously borrowed Humvees came around the final curve of the lake and straight up the long driveway, kicking up dust into the late autumn air. It had taken some seriously creative and subtle breadcrumbs left behind that only Bobby would recognize, while leaving any others interested in tracking me and my family down, scratching their heads in bemusement. We were cutting it close enough as it was, the first snow would hit this valley within weeks and then there'd be no way in or out, except by plane, until the thaw, sometime in mid-April.

They poured out of the vehicles, Bobby the only one not wearing the mandatory black, and spread out across the lawn. Making it obvious they were armed and more than ready to use 'em. Except Bobby. He stopped about 10 feet away from the bottom of the stairs, just looking up at me, his eyes hidden by the dark glasses he wore. I got to my feet lazily, showing absolutely no concern for the octuplet of Agency hit men behind him.

"Bobby, let's talk," I said, and waited for his reaction.

He removed the glasses, I recognized them as a pair from Darien's extensive collection, and didn't begrudge him the memento for an instant. I'd taken a few of my own. Some pictures, a favorite shirt, his scent still lingering upon the material and, though it seemed so stupid, Ralph's key. I watched as Bobby carefully folded the glasses before slipping them into the interior pocket of the suit jacket he wore. "Yeah, kid, I'm thinking we should."

I took the steps two at a time, which caused a couple of the twitchier Agency suits to go for their weapons.

"Stand down," Bobby ordered, which made the agents glance at one another uneasily.

"I'd do as he says," I stated with a dangerous smile. "You'd be dead before you cleared your holsters." I wasn't kidding; even Rose was a fair shot when aiming for the torso. I didn't want to hurt these guys, but, if push came to shove, I'd kill 'em myself and bury the bodies out back without a single moment of lost sleep.

Bobby didn't say a word, perhaps wondering if they had orders other than the ones he knew about. He had every right to be suspicious given what I learned over the last few weeks, but I think they took my threat seriously since they backed off, taking up positions about the yard that would allow them to keep an eye on the situation without looking overly-threatening.

I strode away, back up the stairs and onto the wide porch that offered an incredible view of the lake. I turned back to see Bobby still standing there and gestured for him to get a move on. He muttered something to himself and then followed me. As soon as we were through the door Claire stepped into view, hands on her hips and tears in her eyes.

"What took you so bloody long?" she asked before doing her best to hug the stuffing out of him.

It wasn't until she'd taken a step back to look him over that he seemed to realize who she was. "Claire?" The word sounding far more like he was questioning his sanity than acknowledging the presence of the woman standing before him.

"Yes, you silly git," she responded, all smiles. She couldn't seem to stop touching him, hands wandering along his arms, shoulders, and face. "You've lost weight," she observed, which caused a snicker to escape from me.

Bobby turned to look at me, back at Claire, and then finally settled on me. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, my friend, waiting for you."

***

It took some time, tears and a lot of explanations before Bobby was willing to believe that I hadn't bailed on him, hadn't run away in some attempt to erase all that had happened to me in San Diego. That it had all been part of a plan to make a clean break from the Agency and allow him to do the same, without risking the Official catching wind of the plot. Claire's leaving after Darien had died was inevitable and probably expected, but if Bobby had up and quit so soon after it would have looked suspicious and Charlie was too wily a character to not figure out that we'd end up together. That, instead of tearing us apart, losing Darien would draw us closer in a united front against the Agency and its future plans for invisibility.

If Bobby had any inkling that I was going to destroy the QS-9300 project files he would have been forced to make a choice that, at the time, would have done him irreparable harm. I had done my best to take everything into consideration when I made my plans. I hadn't wanted to hurt him, hadn't wanted to leave him alone when I knew he needed me the most, but it was the only way to assure he'd be free to join us later. And once I explained it all, he agreed. However, he still gave me a lecture on trust and never bailing on one's partner, no matter how tight the situation.

With Mike's help, we altered the memories of the agents who'd arrived with Bobby, so that they left believing that he'd been killed in a fierce gun battle with me and my family. Gave them a few injuries to back up that claim, and the firm belief that trying to take my clan by force would be a serious mistake. Oh, and we also made sure they wouldn't be able to find their way back to Lost Valley, least not without having to start the search over from scratch.

Within days, we had confirmation through various contacts - mine, Mike's and Bobby's - that the Official was backing off, and that the trail had gone cold at their end. We were safe until spring, which was more than enough time to prepare for anything short of an invasion. Bobby wandered about the area, wearing a bemused expression with Pavlov trailing behind, as if the he knew Bobby shouldn't yet be left alone, for about a week. Then one day woke me up with an extensive list of things that needed to be changed around the place, and pronto, to increase security. When I explained I owned the entire valley, he got this gleam in his eye that I knew didn't bode well for anyone wanting to try anything.

Yes, we went into hiding, much as my grandparents had when they built the original house on whose foundation the current rested. They raised six children here, none of whom had been hurt by the isolation from the rest of the world. Insulated, maybe. Protected, definitely. But not one of them had any trouble adapting to the world beyond the peaks surrounding this valley and neither would mine.

Was it easy? Not by any means. I got by day by day and did as he asked of me.

I lived.

~~~~~~

and I will never see the sky the same way

and I will learn to say goodbye to yesterday

and I will never cease to fly if held down

and I will always reach too high

cause I've seen,

cause I've seen,

twilight...

Finis