Chapter 7

The car pulling up directly outside the motel had Hobbes scrambling off the bed in an instant, gun in hand, cautiously peeling back the gaudy patterned curtain to check on the identity of their late night caller. A relieved smile crept over his face when he saw the familiar cascade of blonde hair as the woman climbed out of her SUV, nervously looking around the mostly empty motel parking lot before heading for their room.

Hobbes took a furtive glance to where his partner slept on one of the twin beds, bare feet dangling off the end. Fawkes had been out of it for a couple of hours now, the events of the past few days finally taking their toll on him both physically and mentally. But before falling into his exhausted slumber he'd relayed some of what had happened during his time with the DoD, up to and including the implantation of the nano-bug and the disastrous mission in Chicago.

Bastards.

He had some basic knowledge of the techniques they would have used to try to distance Darien from his old life; the not so subtle mind games played to work on the subject's fears - or in Darien's case his long ingrained insecurities. Standard, right-out-of-the-handbook tactics to turn an enemy agent, but not one of their freakin' own!

Well whatever they'd done they obviously hadn't broken his spirit completely, though somewhere along the way they had managed to turn Darien against Claire. Whatever unlikely story they had spun, in his vulnerable state he had believed them, which was why Hobbes had waited to put in the call. Whether Fawkes liked it or not, they needed her.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, he unlocked the door and pulled it open just wide enough for Claire to squeeze through and then poked his head outside to do a quick check of the immediate area, before closing it firmly and snapping the locks back into place.

"Are you sure you weren't tailed?" he whispered.

Claire threw him an indignant look, pushing a stray lock of hair back from her face. "Please give me a bit more credit than that Bobby. I've driven in circles for over an hour just to be sure. I wasn't followed, believe me."

Hobbes nodded not looking all that convinced, his inbuilt paranoia making him pull back the curtain for another peek outside just in case.

"These DoD mooks are sneaky Claire, that's how they got to Fawkesy in the first place, but they won't get past Bobby Hobbes again."

And then her arms were around him and she placed a kiss on the crescent shaped scar tissue on his head. After a moment she sniffed and pulled away, wiping a hand across teary eyes and casting an anxious glance towards the still form of her Kept on the bed.

"How is he?" she asked gently.

Hobbes shrugged. and was about to respond when he was interrupted by the sound of the voice, still croaky from sleep.

"What's she doin' here?"

"Think before you blow a fuse partner, " Hobbes warned soothingly, turning towards his friend. "You're screwed unless we can get that thing out of your head. I thought Keepie could also take a look at that," he prodded Darien's still open head wound, "before any more of your brain leaks out."

Darien pulled himself into a sitting position, scrubbing the palms of his hands across his face before gazing back up at Hobbes questioningly.

"And you trust her?"

That comment troubled Hobbes, but he didn't hesitate. Claire had proven her loyalty and come through for them both on more occasions than he could remember.

"With my life, don't you?"

"Not any more." The bitterness and distance in his voice was disturbing. Behind him Claire's breathing faltered at Darien's rejection, and she sank down heavily onto the bed opposite staring sadly into his dark eyes.

"Sweetheart, I swear I didn't mean to leave you there alone. They practically locked me out, I assume on the same night they implanted the nano-bug, but I've since been in contact with Wesley Carter and I know how to…. "

Darien's harsh laugh interrupted her words. "Oh, they did a lot more than just stick me with this freakin' nano-nasty. They also gave me some very interesting reading material to pass those long lonely hours… Keepie."

Inclining his head to one side he studied her with a weird detachment that made her heart skip a beat or two. "And just when were you planning on telling me that the gland can't ever be removed?"

There was a sharp intake of breathe from Hobbes. "Claire is that true?"

The heavy silence that stretched between them spoke volumes and was only broken by Darien, pinning her down with his steady gaze. "Oh it's true Bobby." He tapped the side of his head. "I've got my little roomie here for keeps."

"They gave you all of the research on the gland," she stated calmly, not bothering to wait for a response before continuing. "Darien I know you won't believe me, but initially I was only allowed access to a very small part of the QS9300 data, just enough to keep you and the gland in reasonably good health and to oversee the production of the counteragent. By the time they trusted me enough to give me access to the rest of the files…well, it was already much too late.

"When we brought Kevin back I thought that perhaps he might come up with something to negate my research, but in the end it was beyond even his capabilities. I don't think he could…live…with himself knowing he'd saved you from one life sentence and given you another."

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't tell him." Claire knew Bobby well enough to sense the anger and disappointment simmering below the surface. He was only maintaining control because it was her.

"I was ordered not to." Even to her own ears this sounded like a feeble excuse and she desperately needed them both to understand.

"After I went against orders and gave Darien Arnaud's cure, they weren't taking any more chances. I was warned in no uncertain terms that I'd be severely punished for any further acts of disloyalty,and they weren't just talking about my removal from the QS9300 Project or deportation believe me."

Glancing over at Darien she shivered at the hard expression on his face.

"I suppose their reasoning was that while you still clung to the belief that we were doing all we could to come up with a safe way to harvest the gland, you'd stay at the Agency. Without your need for counteragent it was the only means they had of keeping you."

Darien stood suddenly, ending up with his back to the door staring down at her.

"Jeez. What is it with all these freakin' secrets? Haven't I done enough for everyone to have just a little faith in me?"

"I've got faith in you partner, that's for sure."

Darien rewarded Hobbes with a grateful smile.

Somewhere off in the distance a car engine revved and Bobby twitched; his reflexes were on high alert tonight. He plopped down beside Claire on the bed and she was glad of the touch of his hand on her arm; at least he was ready to forgive her, unlike Darien who was still brooding. Not that she could blame him for all that he'd suffered since the gland had been implanted.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked tentatively.

"Me and Fawkes are gonna get out of the country if we can," Bobby answered. "I've got one of my contacts working on new ID's for both of us and we'll have them by morning. But in the meantime we need to find some way to get that little gizmo out of his head."

Claire nodded. "Dr. Carter has briefed me fully. He's sending me the chemical compounds for a neutralizing agent and as soon as I get back I'll start to synthesize a batch, it'll take a few hours but …"

"Why the sudden change of heart from Wes, after all he's the one who stuck this in me in the first place?" Darien's voice startled her, and she was dismayed to hear that it had lost none of its earlier acidity.

"Because at the end of the day he's a scientist not a torturer," she responded. "Wesley has worked very closely on QS9300 over the past few weeks, and he now realizes that the true way ahead for the project is collaboration… not control. Besides, I think he's become rather fond of you."

"Yeah, Fawkesy does have a way of growin' on people," Hobbes confirmed proudly.

Claire continued, "Wesley's keen to stay with the project but to do that he has to ally himself to the winning team. Word coming down from on high is that Spelling's days are numbered. He failed to identify Craven and Sartori as rogue agents even though they were operating right under his nose; and he's now mislaid a valuable piece of government property…you. " She risked a half smile in Darien's direction, adding as an afterthought. "And not forgetting the GS-2."

"Do you mean this?" Bobby reached down into his rucksack on the floor by the bed, and after a moment of rummaging through the contents produced the lethal black canister.

"Bloody hell!" Claire's face went ashen.

"You should take it," Darien added, earning a nod of approval from Bobby. "Put it out of harms way."

She got up from the bed. "Let me see to that," indicating his head wound. "And then I'd best get back to the lab. I've got a lot of work to do before morning."


Claire left them about a half hour later; GS-2 canister stashed safely in her black medical bag, with a promise to return as soon as she could with the neutralizer.

Even though he'd seemed to relax slightly with his Keeper and even allowed her to examine him, Darien's goodbye had been curt and he was back on the bed staring blankly at the TV screen even before she'd finished packing her things away. Bobby threw an admonishing look in his partner's direction as he escorted Claire outside to her car.

"Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" she asked softly, her eyes flickering back towards the prone figure on the bed as Bobby pulled the door closed behind them.

"Who Fawkes? Nah," Hobbes teased, immediately regretting his attempt to lighten the mood of the moment when he saw the dejection in her eyes. In the motel room she'd somehow managed to hold her emotions in check, but right then she looked about ready to burst into tears.

"Sure he will Claire, you mean too much to him," he soothed, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Listen, the kid's been to hell and back…again because of that damned mass of gunk in his head, so right now he's scared and confused and lookin' for someone to blame…and Kevin ain't here."

She wiped a hand across her face giving him a sad little smile as she pulled open the door of her SUV. "I'm not so sure Bobby."

At that she embraced him quickly before climbing into her vehicle and driving off into the night back in the direction of The Harding Building.

Neither of them noticed the nondescript van parked on the corner of the street across from the motel. Inside two suited figures watched intently and as soon as Hobbes had returned to the room and closed the door, the man on the passenger side of the van spoke into the mic on his headset.

"Doctor Keeply has just left sir." He listened intently to the voice on the other end for a moment before continuing, "Two male occupants, one positively ID'd as Agent Robert Hobbes. We're certain the other one is Fawkes. Yes sir, understood. The team is moving into position now."


With pillows plumped up behind him Bobby relaxed back on the bed, closing his eyes but not allowing himself the luxury of sleep; that would have to wait at least until he got Darien safely out of San Diego.

They both recognized the risk they were taking, knew that they would probably be running for the rest of their lives. The government was hardly likely to give up its search for Fawkes, he was just too valuable and too classified. But it was a risk worth taking under the circumstances, particularly when the probable fate that awaited Darien was permanent residence in some high-security government research facility.

Fawkes had drifted off again, half way through an old black and white movie showing on one of the late night cable channels. The TV was still on but Hobbes had turned down the volume, finding the flickering images strangely comforting in the semi darkness.

He wasn't sure when he first heard them; just a soft footfall directly outside and a low murmur of voices, but in an instant Hobbes was off the bed and grabbing his gun from the nightstand, hissing at his partner to get up.

Darien shifted position, grumbling softly in his sleep.

"Fawkes, get up dammit. We've got company." This time the message got through loud and clear and Darien scrambled off the bed landing on the floor with a heavy thud, recovering quickly to crawl over and huddle with Hobbes below the window.

"Who are they?" Darien whispered.

Hobbes shot his friend a look of sheer disbelief. "How in hell should I know. You want me to go ask for a business card or somethin'?"

Then suddenly all hell broke loose.

The window above them shattered as an object came crashing through; both men dropping flat on the floor with arms covering their heads in an instinctive attempt to shield themselves from the falling shards of glass. As it impacted and bounced off the far wall, the small canister popped and began to emit a steady plume of a light green vapor.

Together. "Aw crap…gas!"

At almost the same moment the door collapsed inwards and half a dozen armed men, all wearing gas masks and thermal shades, stormed the motel room.

Choking against the effects of the cloying, overpowering substance, Darien and Bobby tried vainly to struggle to their feet, swaying unsteadily as they clung to each other for support. Then amid shouting and barked commands they were literally wrenched apart and shoved face down on the floor side by side, held there by the threat of several semi automatic gun barrels.

Darien flinched as his arms were cuffed behind him, the hot garlicky breath of one of his captors on his face as the man leaned in close to speak.

"Agent Fawkes, if you attempt to use quicksilver we are under orders to shoot Agent Hobbes, do you understand?" Darien just had time to nod as a heavy dark cloth was pulled down over his head. A muffled curse from Bobby confirmed that he was getting exactly the same treatment.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of activity as they were hauled to their feet and manhandled outside to the back of a van, where they were forced to lie face down on the cold metal floor, heavy boots keeping them in place. The door of the vehicle slammed shut with a gut-wrenching finality.


Hood and cuffs were still in place.

Darien's left leg and lower back had started to cramp painfully and he groaned, trying to shift position on the uncomfortable hard wooden chair which creaked loudly beneath his weight. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there but definitely long enough for other parts of his anatomy to start seizing up now as well.

He knew Bobby was close by, could hear his breathing, and from the sound of his labored little gasps was having about the same amount of fun as Darien beneath the smothering, claustrophobic shroud. Their one attempt to communicate when they had first arrived had been met with a harsh reprimand, accompanied by a sharp prod with the muzzle of a gun.

Now, any fear he had felt during their capture had long since been replaced by an overwhelming eagerness to get it all over and done with. He didn't really care who had them; the DoD, Craven and Sartori, hell it would even be good to see his old buds Arnaud or Stark if it meant he could stand up, just for a minute and… stretch.

Then footsteps were pounding a steady rhythm towards them. Their hands were suddenly released from the cuffs, the hoods removed; both Darien and Bobby squinting against the harsh glare of the powerful spotlight aimed directly at them.

A moment later a familiar bulky presence made itself known as it stepped into the bright arc of light.

"Welcome home boys," The Official said with an amused chuckle.


"Was that completely necessary?"

The fact that both the Fat Man and Eberts were making no attempt whatsoever to conceal their amusement was really starting to piss Darien off. Neither of them seemed the least bit bothered by the traumatized state of the two agents following their 'abduction', not when it had proven to be such good entertainment value.

Hobbes still looked dazed and shaky and dry swallowed a couple of his meds.

"We had no choice," Borden stated unrepentantly, carefully lowering himself into the chair immediately opposite them. "We needed to grab you before the DoD did, or before you both did something stupid. And let's face it, your track record for stupidity is pretty impressive."

Darien stared open mouthed, shaking his head in disbelief. Beside him Hobbes had recovered enough to speak for them now.

"You could've just asked us nicely?"

Borden let out another loud burst of laughter. "Ask nicely, that's a good one, eh Eberts?"

From where he stood, behind The Official, the mild-mannered assistant was doing a terrible job of masking a grin. "Yes sir, it's certainly something we should consider in the future."

"While we're on the subject of 'stupid'," Darien cut in sarcastically, "Just whose bright idea was it to bring us here?" He inclined his head slightly and motioned with his eyes around the Keep to make his point. "This is the first place they're gonna come looking."

"It was my idea," The Official advised happily. "And yes, it's the obvious place to search for you which is why I don't think Spelling or his lackeys will consider it, at least not for the moment. Besides, I've got guards posted around the building, if they show up we'll be ready."

Bobby looked impressed "We can afford guards now?"

"The Agency recently came into some, uh, funding Robert, from an unexpected source," Eberts said smugly.

"So, what's our next move Chief?"

"Wait, wait Bobby." Darien stood up quickly. "Aren't you even the slightest bit curious to know how they tracked us down so easily?"

"Well, yeah… I guess…Chief?" Bobby pursed his lips and looked enquiringly at the Fat Man. If Borden was daunted by Darien's towering form looming over him he didn't show it, just folded his hands across his sizeable paunch and stared back at them both with a satisfied smirk.

"That's need to know boys."

"Yeah, and this time we really need to know," Darien countered, jabbing a finger at him. "If you found us, so can the DoD, and I'm telling you now I'm not goin' back with them no matter what sort of deal you've made."

"I've never made a deal with them son." The sincerity of Borden's tone caught Darien off guard. "And who said anything about letting them take you back?" He half turned in his chair to look at Eberts, enjoying the moment. "Did you hear me say anything about letting them take him back Eberts?"

The young assistant shook his head, a warm smile touching his lips. "No sir, I don't believe I did."

Darien dropped back down onto his chair totally confused now, so was Bobby if his bewildered expression was anything to go by.

"But if…" Hobbes started.

"Have a little faith boys," the Official cut in. "Eberts!" He held out his arm and immediately his assistant was there tugging him up and out of the chair with some effort.

"Spelling's in deep shit for losing both the nerve agent and you. I'm going to offer one in return for the other. The DoD gets the GS-2 we get to keep…you."

"You think that'll work Chief?" Bobby cast a skeptical glance in his partner's direction; Darien didn't look all that convinced either.

"It'll work, if you've got the canister." He stared expectantly at his agents. "Do you?"

"Yeah…no…well we did…but now we don't," Bobby informed his boss. "We gave it to The Keeper for, well, safe keeping."

As if suddenly realizing that a vital someone was missing, they all gazed around the Keeper-less Keep then at each other, a sudden sense of dread settling over them.

It was Darien who broke the uneasy silence. "Aw crap. Please tell me she made it back here safely?"

"Eberts, check it out," The Official barked. "If she's still within range that tracking device we planted in her medical bag should lead us straight to her."


Darien lay back on the demented dentist's chair, watching his partner's relentless pacing back and forth across the lab as they waited for news of Claire's whereabouts.

It had been almost an hour since The Official and Eberts had left them. Darien had been ordered to stay put for his own protection, with two armed guards posted right outside the door of the lab. Bobby made the decision to wait with him for the moment or at least until they had a little more information to go on, but as the minutes ticked by the inactivity and feeling of helplessness was enough to make them both more than a little stir crazy.

The concerned look on Eberts' face when he finally walked back into the Keep, was all they needed to know that something was terribly wrong.

"We…we found her car abandoned two blocks from here." The young man's voice faltered slightly but he did his best to compose himself before continuing, "There was no sign of a struggle so we believe it was fast and very well executed. This has just been delivered…" He glanced warily at Darien, producing a folded piece of paper.

"It's a note from Ella Craven stating that if you and the trigger device are not returned to her by noon today, she'll not only kill Claire but will also activate the GS-2 in a public place, one guaranteed to result in a large number of civilian fatalities."

Darien wiped a hand over his eyes.

"Uh, Darien there's something else you need to know," Eberts began hesitantly, drawing in a deep breath. "Director Spelling is in The Officials office with a federal warrant for your immediate detainment…and a military escort."

TBC