Darien coughed, clouds of dust rising around him; foul, sticky stuff that coated his throat and lungs with a chalky paste. Making a face he spat some of the stuff out and climbed slowly to his feet, taking stock of his physical condition. A few scrapes and bumps but nothing unusual. Rubbing the back of his neck absently, he looked around.
The emergency lights had come on and pierced the gloom in twin shafts of dusty brilliance. The double steel doors he and Hobbes had come through were ten feet behind them and buckled, their tiny safety glass windows cracked and broken, and about five yards in the other direction the corridor had collapsed in a heap of concrete and rebar, broken pipes and wires. Hobbes was nowhere to be seen.
"Hobbes?" Darien spun around, looking for his partner. "Bobby! Where are you?"
"Fawkes." Bobby's voice was pained and labored- and coming from the pile of debris. Something shifted under the pile and bits of concrete rained down to reveal an arm. Swearing vividly, Darien crossed the distance in one leap and began frantically tossing pieces off the pile. After a few minutes he'd uncovered Bobby's shoulders and torso, and his partner drew a deep breath. "Thanks Fawkes. I knew you'd find me."
"Let's get you out from under this pile, huh partner?" Bobby nodded. Darien stood, looked, and suddenly felt at a loss. Bobby looked up at him from under dust-coated lashes.
"Damn it Fawkes- just grab me and pull." For lack of a better idea, Darien took Bobby's proffered hands, braced his feet against the pile of debris on either side of Bobby's shoulders, and heaved, slowly at first, then gradually increasing his effort. Bobby grimaced and his fingers tightened around Darien's, the muscles in both their arms straining. With a sudden shift Bobby slid free of the debris, and Darien dragged him the few feet across the floor to prop him against the nearest wall.
Darien looked at his partner concernedly. "Hobbes, you okay?"
Bobby's face was tight with pain and pale under his tan as he fumbled around in his jacket, expression crumbling as his hand closed around something. "Ah crap," he grumbled, pulling out the case that held the counteragent. Darien stared. The case was dented and twisted, broken beyond repair, dripping blue liquid. Hobbes pried the lid off and it clattered to the floor loudly, and it was Darien's turn to swear.
The syringe was shattered, what little counteragent remaining not soaked into the protective foam dripping through Bobby's fingers onto the concrete. "Son of a bitch," Darien snapped. Hobbes looked up at him, eyes apologetic.
"Fawkes, I'm sorry…"
"It wasn't your fault, Hobbes. Chalk it up to my continuing bad luck in life." Darien ran a hand through his hair, releasing a cloud of concrete dust. He sneezed, then turned back to Bobby. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Feels like I broke a couple of ribs here, but nothing major." Hobbes shifted, trying to get more comfortable, and his breath hissed out from between his teeth. "Damn. Let's just not do that again." He looked up at Fawkes. "Do me a favor, will ya partner? Feel right here." He indicated a spot on his stomach just below his ribcage. Gingerly, Darien reached out and did just that, first with just his fingertips. Hobbes sighed and pressed Darien's palm flat against his stomach. "What do you feel?"
"Feels… hard," Darien murmured thoughtfully, eyes drifting from his spread fingers up to Bobby's face. Hobbes' expression was troubled, and he released Darien's hand with a muffled curse. "What? Is that bad?"
"Could be," Hobbes sighed. "I saw a guy in combat once, a grenade went off and a tree fell on him. We got him out from underneath and checked him out, seemed like he had minor injuries. Time goes by and he starts getting sick, cold, trembly, going into shock." Bobby grimaced and slid down the wall, painfully arranging himself on the concrete floor. "By the time we got back to base thirty minutes later he was comatose, his stomach distended and hard as a rock from internal bleeding. He didn't make it."
"You think… oh crap, Hobbes, we gotta get you outta here." Darien started to get up but Hobbes grabbed him by the sleeve.
"Call the Keep," he said softly, fumbling in his shirt pocket for his phone. Darien reached in and picked it up, dialing Claire's number from memory.
Claire could hear her phone ringing as Jamie pulled her through the crowd. Throwing off his hand, she fumbled in her pocket, finally finding it and picking it up. "Hello?" she said.
"Keep, it's Darien."
"Darien! Oh thank God, I saw the van out here, thank goodness you're safe…" She motioned for Jamie to wait, and he stood by patiently, listening to her half of the conversation.
"That's just it, Keep- we're not." Darien kicked a chunk of concrete out of his way. "We saw some Chrysalis goons out front after you left so we grabbed some gear and followed them. We're in the basement of the center, and we're trapped. The bad guys are nowhere to be found down here, and we have no idea what they're looking for, so keep an eye out."
"Are you okay?"
"Well- I'm fine. A little scraped up and dirty, but okay." Darien turned and looked at his partner on the floor, looking up at him with troubled eyes. "Hobbes, on the other hand…" Bobby motioned for the phone and mutely Darien handed it over.
"Keep," he said shortly.
Claire put her free hand over her unused ear to block out the sirens. "Bobby? Are you okay?"
"I'm not sure, Keep. At the moment I feel fine other than a couple broken ribs, but I have a feeling there's more going on in my gut than my breakfast."
"Pressure? Pain?"
"Both."
Claire blew out a stressed out hiss between pursed lips. "Bobby, that doesn't sound good. We need to get you out of there immediately. Do you know where you are?"
The phone beeped once, and Hobbes looked at the display. The battery indicator was flashing, and he swore. "I'm almost out of juice here," he sighed, squinting at the painted text on the wall. "Uhhhh- corridor C, between doors 5 and 6," he read.
"Okay, STAY PUT. I'm going to tell the rescue workers where to find you."
"Claire…"
"Bobby, if you argue with me so help me God I'm going to strangle you." There was another beep and a long pause and Claire felt fear creeping up her throat to strangle her. "Bobby? Are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here." His voice was strangely quiet. "I just… Never mind. I'll call if our sitrep changes." He flipped off the phone and tossed it back to Darien, who regarded him with barely concealed amusement.
"Wimp."
"What?"
"You were going to tell her, weren't you?"
"Tell her what?"
Darien simply laughed. "Hobbes, you kill me."