"You sure about that, Eberts?" Hobbes didn't want to be sent on another wild goose chase. Eberts, computer geek that he was, had gone into Alex's computer to see if he could come up with any Chrysalis locations that she hadn't shared with the other boys and girls of the Agency. There turned to be nearly a dozen listed as 'unconfirmed.' The first two had been busts, so they were hoping this next one would pay off. It was going to be dark soon, and Hobbes feared that like the light, time was swiftly running out.
"Yes, Robert. A preliminary search of their records leads me to believe that they are indeed a Chrysalis front." Eberts' voice was confident enough for Hobbes. When it came to searching company records, Eberts was da bomb.
"All right, we'll check it out and get back to you ASAP." Hobbes shut the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.
"Where to now?" Darien was sprawled in the passenger seat of the van, discouragement written in every line of his lanky body.
It had been a long day of fruitless searching after they'd left the Keep. Golda had survived the fall off the jack with only minor injuries; a new tire, including an rim, which had been bent, some TLC back at the Agency garage, and she'd been ready to go. Stark, however, had gone to ground and the few leads from the boathouse had led to dead ends. And there was no sign of Alex anywhere.
"A place called Archangel, over in La Mesa." Hobbes pulled back onto the road, merged with traffic, and headed away from the water.
"Which one?" Darien asked, leaning propped against the window, with his eyes at half-mast. He looked like he was trying not to fall asleep and failing.
"Which one what?" Hobbes goosed the gas and shot through the yellow light just before it changed.
"Which archangel?" Darien sat up straighter and made a valiant attempt to appear conscious. "You know, from the Old Testament? Michael, Gabriel, Raphael... Lucifer."
"Lucifer? What does that have to do with anything?" Hobbes whipped around a corner, tires squealing.
"Just figured if we knew which one we'd have a clue what the place is, that's all." Darien slumped back down, his interest suddenly waning.
"Eberts said something about security. Think they replaced that other one?" Hobbes dodged down a side street, planning on using a back route, which would allow him to avoid the worst of the rush hour traffic. Any other time of the day, he'd stick to the main roads, but now... He didn't want to get caught in the I-8 commuter gridlock surely happening right now.
"Cerberus Sentinel. And we did blow it up." Darien chuckled softly.
"And the Fatman didn't dock our pay for it 'cause it was Stark who went postal with the grenades." Hobbes grinned. "Fun times."
"That they were. Still are, ain't they?"
So, that was why Darien had gone all broody. He wasn't worried about Monroe, or not only her, he'd been thinking about what Hobbes had said earlier. "Dunno, Fawkes, what with you hanging out with O'Neill..."
"Damn it, Hobbes, leave her outta this, or I'll..."
"You'll what?" Hobbes challenged.
"I'll bring Claire into this." The threat was real, that much was obvious.
"And who fixed us up there, pal?" Hobbes couldn't resist the jibe.
"Not denying that, but this ain't about them. This is about us. You and me." Darien shifted in his seat, rotating as much as was safe with Hobbes driving. "What did I do wrong? Just tell me so I can fix it, would ya? I'm tired of fighting over piddly-shit, and rubbing each other's last nerve raw."
Hobbes sighed, slowing to match the speed of those around him. "A well oiled machine," he mumbled under his breath.
"What was that?" Darien leaned in closer, not catching the words.
"We're not such a well-oiled machine now, are we?"
"Not so much. Why is that, Hobbes? Can you tell me that?" Darien sounded distressed, which matched how Bobby was feeling at the moment.
Damn it, that made no sense. If pushing Fawkes away was the right thing, then it wouldn't hurt so frickin' much, would it? "'Cause things changed, my friend."
"What things?" Darien twisted completely about to face Bobby.
"Doesn't matter." Bobby tired to divide his attention between the road and his partner and, after narrowly missing smacking into the rear end of a banana yellow VW Beetle, realized both needed his full attention. He pulled into the first parking lot he came upon, for some nameless strip mall.
He put the car into park and turned to meet Fawkes stony gaze. Hurt or not, it was time to make the break, and do it cleanly this time. Not the slow inch by inch torture he'd been putting both of them through.
"What things?" Darien repeated at a near growl, as if certain Bobby was going to try avoiding the question.
He wasn't, but he had no plans to answer directly, since it would make no sense to his friend. Better to risk wrath and do the roundabout thing, either that or add to the confusion and misunderstandings already between them.
"Back in April, when we first got mixed up with... Fallon," he managed to say her name without choking on it for Fawkes' sake.
"Oh no, you a are not blaming this on her." Darien's jaw tightened noticeably in anger.
Hobbes held up his hands defensively. "I'm not, I swear it."
Darien fumed, but said nothing.
"She just made me realize some things and..."
"And what? That you don't need a partner, no more? Bullshit, you..."
"No," Hobbes shouted, cutting Darien off. "Shit, Fawkes, I was so damn worried that you'd gotten hurt or," he stopped, swallowing hard at the fear-ridden memories it dredged up, "killed. And that it'd be all my fault 'cause I left. Bailed on my partner in a nasty situation and gotten him killed. That... that I'd let you down."
Darien jaw dropped, blown away by Bobby's statement. "But I was fine," Darien reminded him.
"I know." Hobbes sighed and turned to stare out the windshield. "Boy, do I know. And to top it off you probably saved O'Neill's life. You were miles better than fine."
Bobby saw Daren's head shake out of the corner of his eye. "I screwed up over and over again that day. You have no idea."
"Don't matter, Fawkes. The point is that you handled the situation. Like a pro." Bobby straightened and met Darien eyes. "Like an agent."
"Huh?" was Darien's startled response.
Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, big surprise for me too. You're damn good, my friend. Better than I was after only a couple years in the game. Someday you'll be great." The last was said almost shyly, as if knowing Fawkes wouldn't take the compliment too well, so the response was rather shocking.
"You think so? We talking Steed great or Bond great?" The grin on Fawkes' face was irrepressible.
"Getting too big for your britches there, junior," Hobbes warned with a faint smile and a finger wag. Once again, he had second thoughts on his chosen course of action. "Fawkes, I think we should break up."
Darien burst out laughing. "You what?" he spluttered. "You're yanking my chain, right?" Bobby's silence and dour expression caused Darien's laughter to quickly die. "Right?"
"No," Bobby shook his head sadly, "I'm not."
"You're dumping me?" Darien whined, sounding pitiful. "What for?"
"'Cause... 'cause you deserve better than a washed up agent like me," Bobby mumbled, knowing it wasn't going to work, that he'd have to do this the hard way. "Fawkes, you can work with anyone. Real agents. Like Monroe. Learn stuff I can't teach you..."
"I don't want anyone else," Darien practically shouted. "Don't you get it? Working with them only makes me appreciate what we've got even more."
It was Hobbes' turn to say, "Huh?"
"You heard me. You ain't getting no divorce without a fight." Darien crossed his arms over his chest, a look of determination on his face.
Bobby blinked. "You want to be my partner?"
"Duh." Darien reached out to poke Bobby in the forehead. "Shit, Bobby, without you this place would be no fun at all."
"But Alex..."
"Alex is a great agent and a good friend, but she's not my partner," Darien cut in. "You are. And I want it to stay that way, got it?"
Hobbes grinned. "You sure?"
"Hobbesy, don't make me hurt you," Darien warned, the smile threatening to split his face in half.
"Like to see you try." Hobbes held out his hand. "Partners."
"Partners." Darien low-fived Bobby, who relaxed for the first time in months, it seemed. "Now, speaking of Alex... think we can go get her?"
Bobby's smile faded. "Yeah, the sooner, the better." He put the car into drive and headed for the nearest exit. "There may be no I in team, but there's an A and Alex is ours."
Darien snorted in amusement. "That would make Eberts our E. So, who's the T and M?"
"Uh... not a clue, Fawkes, but when this is over we'll figure it out over pizza and beer." He glanced over at Darien. "That work for you?"
"It's a date."
---
It took them nearly an hour to get to Archangel. An accident on El Cajon Boulevard trapped them in near standstill traffic for 30 minutes, but the time was well spent. Instead of the as of late typical heavy silence or ad nauseam bickering, they chatted and joked, and simply talked; filling each other in on the events of the last few disjointed months with nary a word of unhappiness.
When they finally arrived, parking in the lot of the neighboring building, they were back in sync with each other. There were still issues, but they were partners once again.
"Stark's here," Fawkes said as soon as Hobbes turned off the engine.
"Where?"
Fawkes pointed, but not at a person.
"Fawkes, that's a car," Hobbes groused then dove into the rear to power up the surveillance equipment.
"Okay, yeah, but its Stark's car. The one he was in earlier." Fawkes took the binoculars Hobbes handed to him.
"You sure?" Hobbes made certain the recorder was working properly and slid open the side door; the parabolic mike at the ready.
Fawkes adjusted the focus on the binoculars. "Yep. Same plate. I doubt he'd bother to change it. He don't think that way."
"True 'nuff." Hobbes smacked the receiver with one hand.
"Problem?"
"Dunno." Hobbes pointed the mike at a group of chain smokers in the parking lot and their conversation came in loud and clear. However, when he aimed it back toward Archangel he got nothing. The glass should vibrate enough to roughly transmit voices, phones, or generic hums and buzzes, but there was nothing but a deadening silence. "Shit."
"No go?"
"No, looks like they've been shopping at O'Neill's place," Hobbes grumbled, lowering the useless piece of equipment.
"Huh?" Fawkes didn't bristle at the mention of Fallon's name, not assuming the worst of Bobby's comment for a change.
"The glass ain't passing sound like it should. Like what she's got at her place, remember?" Hobbes had to admit it was a nifty idea and damn useful for foiling eavesdroppers. It just wasn't so good for their current situation.
"Oh. And it's tinted. I can't see a damn thing." Fawkes lowered the glasses and turned about. "I'm gonna check it out."
Hobbes nodded slowly. "I don't like it, but we need info." He opened a case, pulled out the wireless earpiece, and handed it to Fawkes, who set it in place on his right ear. "I got a bad feeling about this."
"You and me both. Something's going down." Fawkes shivered lightly.
"Yeah, something nasty." Hobbes switched on the receiver. "Got you loud and clear, my friend."
"Good." The Quicksilver oozed out of Darien's pores and within seconds, the passenger seat appeared empty. The door swung itself open and closed a moment later as he exited the van.
Hobbes could hear Fawkes' breathing as he made his way across the grass verge and the other parking lot. "How's it going?"
"Jus' fine, Hobbesy." Fawkes paused. "I'm right in front of the door. It ain't tinted, so I can see inside. There's a big ass desk with some Chrys goons behind it and... Well, lookee who's here."
"Who, Fawkes?" Hobbes asked impatiently.
"Our blonde superchick with some heavily armed friends," Fawkes told him in a bland voice. "She does not look happy."
"That can't be a coincidence," Hobbes stated, mind whirling. "Monroe is here."
"That's what I'm thinking, but why are the super twins interested in her?"
"Don't know and don't care," Hobbes said matter-of-factly. And he truly didn't.
"Want me to do some invisible recon?" Fawkes was clearly raring to go and ready to rush headlong into danger if that's what it took to rescue the fair maiden.
"A negative on that. If this place is a security company and Stark is involved, it's probably got eyes that can see even you, my friend." Hobbes wanted to take no chances, and most certainly didn't want to be responsible for losing both Monroe and Fawkes. "Got that, kimosabe?"
"Yeah, I got it. So what's our next move?" Fawkes sounded unhappy, but apparently wasn't in the mood to risk his ass more than absolutely necessary.
"We report to the Chief."
"What good'll that do?"
"He'll give us the bodies we need to throw at this place. Plus, sic Eberts on 'em. We'll bust in and take her out by force." It was just the kind of plan Hobbes liked. Get in, do the job, and get out.
"Ah. Gotta love that wanton destruction option." A second later, in a shower of Quicksilver, Fawkes appeared, standing in the doorway of the van. "Think we'll get to blow this place up, too?"
Hobbes chuckled. "Only after we get Monroe out."
"Of course. She gets to help." Fawkes grinned, but sobered almost immediately. "You think she's still alive?"
Hobbes nodded. "I don't doubt it for a second. Stark would want to get everything outta her that he could first." A sad fact, but true, and exactly what they would do if roles were reversed and Monroe had Stark in her hot, dainty, and deadly hands. "Yeah, she's still alive."
Fawkes sat down on the floor, one hand running through his hair. "I'll stay while you talk to the 'Fish. I don't wanna leave her alone... just in case."
Hobbes pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. "Fawkes, I ain't going nowhere." He paused while the call connected. "Eberts, tell the Chief we found her."
---
Delphi pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to stave off the swiftly building headache and finish with the business at hand. Some more questioning of Connor, Stark and the host, who had been more than willing to cooperate once she realized that this was indeed real and that she'd be walking away with her son, revealed a very suitable and believable story for Lethe to implant.
The various parties had already left, escorted by several of Tabitha's elite, heading to the location where Stark's wife and son were currently staying. It was as secure a place as needed while the work was being accomplished. Soon, only a select few would remember the real events of the last few days and it would be their duty to see that it remained that way.
"You should rest," Cooper admonished, looking worried.
"I will, when this is over. There are still issues to be resolved." Delphi leaned against the reception desk, the three Chrysalis members behind it doing their best to ignore her. Stark had made his displeasure known as he was marched out the door and to the waiting transport vehicle. He'd shouted orders left and right, but it quickly became obvious to those at Archangel that he was no longer in control.
Fredericks, Cooper's long-time partner, had gone with Lethe, leaving Cooper and two of Tabitha's men behind in case there were problems.
"What else is there?" Cooper asked; he always preferred knowing about potential trouble well ahead of time.
Delphi shook her head and stared out the main door. There was nothing there, but she had the oddest feeling that she was being watched. "I'm not entirely certain. What do we know about the Agency?" They know Stark has Monroe; could they find this place?"
Cooper frowned. "You tell me. Will the Agency discover Archangel?"
Delphi stiffened, her body exhausted after all that she had seen today, but still bound by her geas. Images crashed upon her like a tidal wave. "They already know. They will be here tonight. They will..." She blinked as her gift relaxed it's hold upon her and turned to Tabitha's man. "When they come you must let them in and discover she is not here. You may put up a reasonable amount of resistance, but they must not be killed." Things would be so much worse for Chrysalis if those Agency men were to come to harm, especially the one called Fawkes.
"I will need to clear this with Tabitha," he said, shifting his weapon to emphasize his point.
"Tabitha put me in charge of your unit, did she not?" Delphi's voice had gone bitterly cold.
"Yes, ma'am, she did." The words were bitten off, his teeth bared in a near-snarl.
"Are you refusing my order?" The look she gave him boded ill for his continued existence should he answer incorrectly. She wouldn't even give Cooper the opportunity to deal with the situation. If a statement needed to be made, she would do it herself and give all of those here a real reason to fear her.
He snapped to attention, plainly getting the message. "No, ma'am."
"The follow it," she barked, no longer willing to be patient with those who looked upon her as anathema.
He scuttled off, taking his partner with him.
"Is it really so important that they live?" Cooper asked, and it was not an unreasonable question.
Delphi sighed, closing her eyes and allowing the images, the multitude of possible paths flitter through her mind. "Thanks to Stark, yes. For now, anyway. The path he has forced us down is a risky one, but our only hope. The dam has cracked and is threatening to break. We can only pray it holds long enough for us to get out of the path of the flood."
"And when the dam bursts?" he asked, knowing his fate hung in the balance as much as hers.
She raised an eyebrow. "Remember Noah?"
"What does some religious myth have to do with Chrysalis?" He was not a believer, of course, none of Chrysalis' children were. In truth, neither was Delphi, but there were lessons to be learned, parallels that could be drawn and manipulated if one was wise enough to see them.
"Only God's Chosen survived," Delphi explained in a sardonic tone, but she could see that the message had been understood. There would be those who would fall by the wayside, lost, or sacrificed to the greater plan.
"Do you know who the chosen will be?"
Delphi smiled.
---
The attack was swift and precise, coming just after 0200, when occupancy of the building was believed to be at its lowest and those there lulled into complacency by the lack of alerts. Hobbes led the group of 10 who stormed the main entrance with flash grenades in the entryway to blind the guards and shaped charges to blow the door inward. Thanks to Eberts' research they were able to lock the main elevators and stairwells, keeping anyone on the upper floors trapped until they were done.
One of the guards, with some persuasion by Hobbes, revealed the route to the interrogation rooms. Again, Hobbes led the way, this time encountering some resistance, which was quickly brought under control. One of the Chrysalis mooks coughed up the info about the rooms located below ground and that Stark reserved the sixth sub-level for special guests.
The team went down in two groups. The secret elevator at the end of the interrogation room hallway would only hold six men at a time. The second smaller group remained topside until the first group radioed back up that the sub-levels were secure.
Hobbes and Fawkes had remained behind with the second team, and only entered the elevator after the all-clear was given. The Official had been very specific that Darien was not to take part in the assault. He had no experience and millions of dollars of bio-ware in his head that the Official did not want lost to a stray bullet. Fawkes had had mixed emotions on the matter, wanting to be there for the grand entrance and yet not wanting to get shot, but in the end had agreed with his boss' terms. It wouldn't do Monroe much good if he was killed trying to rescue her.
In the end, it didn't matter. When Bobby and Darien arrived, the room, and the smaller one within it, were empty.
---
Darien was toweling his hair dry, trying to convince his body that a 20 minute hot shower was the equivalent of 12 hours of sleep. It wasn't working.
After the bust at Archangel, which had gained them all sorts of useful data, but no Alex, they'd continued down the list. Chasing down any and every lead they or Eberts could come up with, even expanding the search beyond Chrysalis. For two days now. Even Darien was beginning to think that whoever had grabbed Alex was long gone, having taken her so far away that they'd never find even the slightest trace of her.
They'd been working non-stop since the raid, running on caffeine, adrenaline, and not much else. Claire had finally ordered them in no uncertain terms to go home, but he'd been unable to even doze off for more than a few minutes. The need to find, to save Alex overriding the demands of his body.
He stared at his reflection, eyes bloodshot, with deep, dark circles beneath them. He looked like he'd aged a decade in the last few days. Not that it mattered. Bobby had taught him the value of not bailing on your partner or your friend, and Alex was both. He had to do something.
His cell phone went off with a chirp that meant the caller was unknown and he shuffled out to retrieve it from the felt of the pool table. Expecting some telemarketer that had gotten his number he mumbled, "Fawkes."
"Darien, I..."
"Alex?" Darien practically shouted into the receiver, his heart suddenly pounding forcefully against his rib cage. "Are you all right? What happened? Where the hell are you?"
"If you give me half a chance, I'll tell you," she grumbled, but there was obvious relief in her voice. "Can you get away?"
"Yeah. Just tell me what you need." Darien would have walked through fire, covered in Quicksilver, of course, if it would help her.
"Meet me at the Westgate Hotel in Hollywood at 5:30. We'll be in the gift shop off the lobby," Alex said, rushing her words.
Darien jotted down the info on the top of a pizza box lying on his counter. "Five-thirty. I'll be there. Should I call Hobbes?"
"No. The fewer who know the better. I promise I'll explain everything when you get here. And don't try to call back, I'll be ditching this phone as soon as I hang up," Alex explained.
It was way too spy-school for Darien, but since she was the Five-Star-A, he'd follow her lead. "Alex..."
"We're fine, Darien."
"We?" Darien asked, wondering who was with her when the gleeful giggle of a child echoed across the distance. "James."
"Yes. I got my baby boy back." You could hear the utter joy in her voice. "Five-thirty, Darien. We're counting on you."
"You can, Alex." Now he just had to prove it to her.
"I know, that's why I called." And on those words, she disconnected.
The relief Darien felt was palpable. Alex was all right. No, she was better than all right, she had her son back. Somehow, she had grabbed him out from under Stark's nose and made off with James like a thief in the night. It made Darien feel oddly proud.
First things first; get dressed, get some cash, and get a ride for the trip. Darien dashed back to the bathroom to get started.
---
By all accounts, Alex had pulled off a fricking miracle. She'd been at that boat dock, bided her time, had managed to grab James right out of Eleanor's arms, and took the car intended for the woman's use. Alex had then forced the driver at gunpoint to take her to the airport where she'd left him unconscious in the driver's seat while she upgraded to a plain white Explorer at Shamrock Car Rental under an assumed identity. Then she'd driven north to Los Angeles, a perfect place to get lost. She'd hit LAX, where she dumped the Explorer and picked up a Dodge minivan under another name, then headed for the water and picked a Holiday Inn at random. She'd swapped cars, hotels and names three times since then, waiting and watching, expecting Chrysalis to show up at any second to reclaim James and whisk him back to the loving bosom of Stark.
After five days had passed, she decided it was time to risk making contact and called Darien. They'd spent one last night in Hollywood before driving back to San Diego in the pre-dawn hours. Darien had taken made use of the Quicksilver and got mother and child into the building and before the unsuspecting Official without incident.
The self-same Official who had listened to the entire story in stony silence, seemingly oblivious to everything about him, ignoring the happy reunion as Eberts, Claire and Hobbes made their entrances, squealed over Alex and oohed and ahhed appropriately over James, who rarely strayed from his mother's side and had to have been the best behaved toddler on record.
The whole thing was looking to transform into an impromptu party when the Official cleared his throat and captured their full attention. "Agent Monroe, do you realize you may have cost this Agency a lot of money with your failure to meet Agent Ivanova?"
"And miss her chance to get James?" Darien scoffed. "You gotta be kidding me."
Alex ran her fingers through the hair of the child now clinging to her leg and staring at the Official with eyes gone wide in reaction. "Given a choice between my son and my job, my son will win every time."
Then everyone began speaking at once.
"Sir, you must admit..." came from Claire.
"It is why she joined the Agency," Eberts reminded.
"Chief, it's her kid, she hadda..." Bobby tossed in.
"Enough," the Official roared, slamming his hands on his desk and rising. "So, all of you think she did the right thing, haring off to do this on her own?"
Darien's response silenced the room. "No, I don't."
"Darien, but you just said..." Claire began, sounding shocked.
"I know what I said, Claire, and, though I hate to admit it, the Official's right." Darien turned to face Alex. "You shouldn't have gone alone."
Alex gaped at him. "But..."
"He's right, Monroe. We're a team." Bobby shrugged. "We got problems, we help each other with 'em."
Alex shook her head. "This was personal. You," she aimed a look at the Official, "made it clear when I reupped my contract that I was not to use the Agency to find James."
The Official harrumphed and waved his hand dismissively. "That was before we learned Stark had taken him."
Alex just closed her eyes for a long moment in total disbelief. "So, does this mean you'll help?"
The Official spread his arms wide, managing to look grandfatherly for a second. "All you have to do is ask."
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "Protection, but not that witness relocation program you used last time - they're idiots."
The Official chuckled. "Not to worry. I'm owed some favors that will allow the Agency to oversee your protection." He smiled broadly.
"You planned for this?" Hobbes asked; a total lack of surprise in his voice. After all, the 'Fish was a wily old coot.
Eberts moved to his usual position behind his boss. "The Official has set up many contingency plans should this event occur." He glanced at his boss. "Will Little Lost Lamb do?"
"That one should do nicely." The Official came around to stand before Alex, who now held her son. "They are going to come for him."
She faced him defiantly. "Let them."
He smiled. "That's the spirit. The safe house is furnished with everything you might need. It's not fancy, but..."
"Thank you. I'm sure it will be more than adequate." Alex truly sounded grateful.
Hobbes rubbed the top of his head. "How'd you know she pulled it off, that she wasn't sitting in some torture chamber all this time?"
Darien was wondering that himself, given the last week they'd all been working on the assumption that Alex was in someone's clutches, and had been searching every nook and cranny for her. Would've been nice if the Official had filled them in and kept them from worrying.
"The same way I know you prefer the right side of her bed," the Official stated smugly as he looked from Bobby to Claire and back.
"Sir," Claire squealed, blushing a delicate shade of pink while Bobby blustered and muttered imprecations under his breath.
Well, that answered that question, now didn't it? At least Darien no longer had to worry about accidentally revealing the relationship to his boss.
"See that is doesn't interfere with your work," the Official ordered as he headed to the opaque door and opened it. Higgins and Alice stepped in. "Arrange transport for Agent Monroe and her child to the safe house."
"Yes, sir," was the quick response from Higgins. "If you would follow me?"
Alex walked over to Darien first and, going up on her toes to do so, kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."
Darien ducked his head, heart warming at her honest appreciation of his efforts. "Anytime. Now get out of here," he gave her a gentle shove to get her moving, "and get to know your son."
With a grateful smile, she did.
Eberts and the Official followed along, playing verbal ping-pong as they detailed the plans for protecting mother and child.
Hobbes pouted. "How come you get a kiss? What about me, huh? I did just as much work, worried just as much..."
The rant was cut off when Claire planted her lips on his and turned the remaining words into unintelligible mumbles that eventually trailed off into silence as she finally derailed his train of thought.
Darien smiled. At least everything was all right in one... no make that two corners of the universe. But he had a nagging feeling that there were loose ends, important ones that needed to be tied up - if only he could figure out what they were.
"All right, you two, break it up." He set a hand on each of their shoulders and pried them apart, both of them laughing. "I'm not that voyeuristic," he informed them.
Claire gave Darien an apprising look. "I do have some tests to run that require your presence."
"And we've got paperwork to do. In triplicate," Bobby reminded.
Darien pushed them back together. "As you were. I'm off to get breakfast."
"Sorry, pal, you're right, there's work to be done," when Darien's face fell, Bobby added, "after we eat. You're buying, right?"
Darien grinned, glad to be free of the work grind for a little while longer. "You got it, my friends." He tossed his arms about their shoulders. "Krispy Kreme, here we come."
Arguing amicably about a more suitable place to have breakfast, the trio left the office.