Time-Line Setting: Set soon after 'Separation Anxiety.'
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not affiliated in any way, shape or form with anyone who does.
Darien sauntered in through the door to the Official's office. He felt like slouching through, moping around and being annoying, but he had a feeling that the Official would take a perverse pleasure in seeing Darien depressed at his job, so he acted cocky, pretending that the world was all sunshine and roses. He sprawled himself out in one of the chairs, made an acknowledging nod to Eberts, who looked away, embarrassed, and waited for yet another day to begin.
"Where's Hobbes?"
Darien studied the Official's face, he was using the one that had fury plastered all over it. Darien tried not to chuckle. "I don't know, did your little puppy slip his leash?"
"He's late."
"Work officially starts at eight thirty in the morning," Eberts chipped in.
Darien stared between the two of them and the clock, "its eight thirty-one."
"Precisely," the Official scowled, "that means he's late. You two have a mission today."
Darien rolled his eyes, "oh, now there's a surprise. The top-secret agency has a mission for its little puppets?"
"Yeah, and your first task is to go and bring Hobbes back," an evil glint lit up in the Official's eye, "so dance puppet, dance."
He was still chuckling when Darien stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Darien wandered outside the agency, calling Hobbes' cell phone. No answer. He climbed into the car and went straight to his apartment. No answer. Went to the shops in the area. No sign that he had ever been there.
Darien was about to call the Official and say that he hadn't been able to find him when something caught his eye on a newsagents stand. He put his phone back into his pocket and picked up Modern Bride magazine. His eyes flickered in thought for a minute before he realised why he had been drawn to it. Dumping the magazine on the shop floor he pelted out of shop to the nearest phone booth. He found the address that he wanted, got in the car and drove there as fast as he could manage.
He got to the front door and leaned against the frame, knocking impatiently. He could hear a woman inside and, after a minute, she opened the door.
"Sorry, I was in the shower," she made the remark before she knew who she was looking at. She squinted at Darien as if trying to remember where she knew him from.
"Viv?"
"Yeah," she closed the door as much as possible while keeping a foot wedged inside the frame, "can I help you?"
"Hobbes isn't here by any chance is he?"
"Hobbes?" Viv realised where she recognised Darien from, "you're his partner. Darry…Darro…"
"Darien," he finished for her, extending his hand. She shook it coldly. "So, is Hobbes here?"
"No, why would he be?"
"No reason," Darien was starting to feel uncomfortable. It had been a hot day and Viv had obviously dressed accordingly. She was wearing a skimpy cream coloured dress and Darien found himself inspecting the bricks around the door frame to keep from staring at her. "He's just late to work, we got worried. You know Hobbes, never late for anything.
Viv scoffed, "yeah, I know Hobbes alright." She inspected Darien's face and her harsh tone softened. "You okay?"
Darien was shocked at the question. It had been weeks since anyone outside the agency had asked about him. In fact, when he thought about it, it had been weeks since he had spoken to anyone outside the agency. "What, me? I'm fine."
"You don't look all that fine, your eyes are red."
Darien felt panic rip through him, he hadn't even felt any headaches coming on. Grabbing a small pocket mirror from his jeans he inspected them, only to let out a huge sigh of relief. He wasn't turning mad, they were just bloodshot. "They're okay. I just haven't slept for a few days."
"You want a drink or something?"
"I'd better not," he lowered his voice as if telling her a secret; "I'm officially at work right now."
She laughed, "I meant a glass of water, you look about to collapse." She opened the door fully and wandered inside, leaving Darien to follow her.
He found himself in her living room and sat down on a beige sofa. Everything inside was immaculate, there were books on two large bookcases in the corner of the room, all alphabetical. There were a few wedding pictures on the mantelpiece and one of two people that Darien assumed were her parents.
She walked in and sat next to him, handing him a mug full of water. He sipped it and nodded at the photos, "how's the marriage thing going?"
"It's good," she sounded sincere but Darien could have sworn that he heard a small amount of regret in her voice. "I didn't know I could be in a marriage where I didn't do gun training at the weekend."
"Are you sure you haven't heard from him?"
She furrowed her brow, "you really look out for him don't you?"
"Well, that's what partners do. I've got his back and he's got mine."
"I suppose so."
Darien couldn't think of anything else to say and found himself staring at her again. He blinked fiercely and began looking around the room again, trying to find something interesting enough to feign interest in.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting strange."
"No I'm not, I'm acting normal."
She stood up and took a few steps towards the kitchen before turning back to him, "then you really have been spending too much time with Bobby. You want something to eat?"
"Err… yeah, I suppose so." She had been gone less than half a minute before Darien's phone rang. "This is Fawkes."
"Fawkes, where the hell are you?"
"Hobbes?"
"Yeah, who do you think it is? I'm sitting here, at the agency and I can't start my mission because you choose to turn up late!"
"Wait a minute, I was there on time. You were late. The Official sent me out to find you."
"Just get back here. Now Fawkes, I don't want to lose a pay check because my lazy-assed partner can't be bothered to show up on time!" Hobbes hung up and Darien put the phone away, closing his leaning back against the couch and groaning with frustration.
"You okay?"
He opened his eyes to see Liz standing over him, a plate of biscuits in her hand. "I'm fine. Hobbes called, he's at the agency waiting for me, I'd better get going."
He stood up and walked over to the front door. She followed him and gave him a smile as he left, "you can come back later if you want, I've already got biscuits."
"Yeah, sure." She shut the door and he left as quickly as he could. When he got into the car he felt his body about to collapse, he didn't know why he had agreed to go and see her again; he had no need to, Hobbes was safe and she was off-limits. Not only was she married, but she had also been married to Hobbes, and Darien knew how protective he still was of her.
For a moment he considered going back and telling her that he was cancelling, making up some prior engagement when he hadn't had anything to do in the evenings for a fortnight. He shrugged the thought away, he was only going for biscuits, and it would be nice to have the company of someone who didn't only talk to him because he had a gland in his brain.