Episode Eight

By A. X. Zanier

Teaser

The sun was high in the cloudless blue sky, the weather warm and dry, just a typical perfect southern California day. He sat upon the red and white checked blanket laughing in happiness. Mom was unpacking the picnic basket, which was loaded down with their favorites, even the peanut butter and bologna that Kevin preferred. His nose wrinkled at the thought of ever being desperate enough to eat that combination of substances. Separate? Sure, and often, but he had yet to comprehend how his oh-so-smart brother could not only eat it, but would often eat nothing else.

Glancing over at Kevin, he saw his brother talking animatedly with their father, his hands waving in excitement as he explained some new discovery that he'd made. The sunlight reflecting off the wire rim glasses created sparkles and flashes off the dust motes that hung heavy in the air, each slight motion of Kevin's head causing an almost halo effect about him. For a second their Dad met his eyes, his smile sad, before turning back to Kevin as the topic changed, yet again.

He debated going to the pair, to find out what new and confusing subject his brother had

encompassed the whole of, and, more importantly, why his father had looked so very sad, but didn't. Just then a brightly colored butterfly dipped and fluttered past him, distracting him from his concern and, with a whoop of glee, he set off across the field to try to catch it, but it always managed to remain just out of reach.

He was nearly out of breath from the fruitless chase when music offered something else to focus his vast attention on. Running back up the hill towards the blanket he stopped at his father's side as the unremarkable ice cream truck rolled to a stop on the nearby asphalt covered path. The vehicle and the music inspired both boys to beg for the frosty treat that they knew lay within.

Once agreement from their mother had been asked for and received, their dad laughed and got to his feet in one smooth motion. He found himself tipping his head back to see his father's smiling face. Tall like a tree, his father was, under which he always felt safe, where he always knew he'd belong and be welcomed.

As his dad approached the ice cream truck the youngish driver slid the side window open, and spoke with a smooth accent that reminded him of some of those foreign movies mom would drag him to. Especially the "monsieur" the white-coated ice cream man used to greet his dad.

Kevin was making himself useful, helping their mother set up the last few items from the picnic basket. He carefully set the glasses on the blanket, placing the odd-shaped drinking vessels precisely, reminding him of when Kevin would play with nothing but that smelly laboratory set their uncle had sent to Kev for his last birthday.

Yet another distraction offered itself up to him as the flash of something red off to his right,

perhaps a snake or low-flying bird, drew his attention away from his family. The critter raced off across the grass until he lost sight of it in some thorn-laden bushes that effectively barred his way. His stubborn streak rising to the surface, he tried to force his way through, only stopping when several thorns pierced his skin. He pulled away noting the small flecks of blood that appeared on the inside of his elbows. With a frown he turned back in hopes of seeing his father returning with the treats only to find him gone.

Scanning all of the area he could see, there was no sign of his father anywhere, but when his eyes rested on Kevin he noticed his brother had his treat. With a dark thought or two directed at his sibling, he approached the ice cream truck, hoping he'd be offered one for himself, but was instead rewarded with the roar of the engine and the music cutting off mid-note with a high-pitched squeal.

The driver leaned out, the white jacket replaced with a suit and tie, and waved. "I'll see you,Fawkes, but will you see me?"

The jauntily proclaimed words suddenly caused fear to ripple across his senses, and he turned to his mother for solace only to find her lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. The drink she'd been holding flowed across the grass to coat the leaves with its sticky sweetness and make it shine in the now dimming light.

"Mom?" he called out in a sadly pitiful voice as he moved to her side. She was laying so very still, her skin so pale that the blue veins that lay just beneath the skin were easily visible, her eyes that were normally bright and full of life were now dull and lifeless. He jumped back with a squeal, confused and terrified by the scene before him. He wanted to ask Kevin what was happening, since his older brother always knew, always had the answers even when all he could do was scratch his head and wonder what the question was.

Popping sounds from where his brother had been enjoying his ice cream cone were swiftly

followed by high-pitched screams of pain and terror. The frozen confection was gone, the cone a blackened husk and whatever had been hidden within the innocent-seeming facade had impacted with enough force to knock Kevin to the ground, his glasses sitting askew on his face and some dark red substance splattered across the lenses and his cheeks. His lab coat looked tattered with a stain of the same unknown substance spreading across the pristine white material.

He ran to his brother, his legs pumping furiously, but with little effect, the very air itself seeming to resist his attempts, slowing him and yet enhancing the moments, each second stretched out until it had been burned into his mind to never be forgotten.

He went to his knees once the veil keeping him back had finally parted, allowing him to reach his goal. Part of him, some terrifyingly sad and lonely part of him, knew with an eerie certainty it was too late. Had been too late long before he'd turned his head to see what had frightened his brother so. Still the small child, he lifted the now adult Kevin into his arms, begging his forgiveness, pleading with him to not leave him all alone, but could do nothing else as short seconds later a shudder ran through the man who was his brother, and then Kevin too left him alone.

He closed his eyes for an instant, a wail of pain and loss torn from his throat, when the weight, the dead weight of the lifeless body in his arms, suddenly vanished.

A cry, one not from his throat, caused his eyes to come open in surprise. The bright day had gone, twilight in its place, the moon a heavy golden presence just cresting the hillside off to the east and rendering the figure before him in shadow. The cry repeated and he finally recognized it as belonging to an infant, a very young one at a guess based on the cat-like mewling.

"Well, are you going to come see or not?" the figure asked quietly, with a decidedly feminine voice.

He approached the petite figure, noting the long dark hair and slender body. She turned and though he tried to see who she was his gaze was drawn solely to the child in her arms.

"He's perfect and just like his father," she said in obvious pride.

The moon rose high enough then to pour its light on the infant's face who squirmed and after a second opened its eyes. At first he thought nothing was wrong, that perhaps eyes were just dark-toned, but the child shifted again, turning to face him and he then really saw the eyes as they glinted cruelly in the light. Glinted with the deep blood red of Quicksilver madness.

"No!" he shouted both in the dream and into the darkened apartment as he jerked upright in his bed. It took him several long minutes to convince himself he was awake, that the sheets tangled and twisted about his legs were the reality and not the infant that was very near his worst nightmare come true.

He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-damp hair and tried to slow his breathing to something resembling normal instead of the harsh hitching in his chest that was currently failing to transport enough oxygen to his air-starved lungs. Hyperventilating and passing out might get him a couple hours more sleep, but he knew it was not the best way to go about it.

It took several more minutes, but he finally calmed enough to catch his breath and form a sentence. The variety of choices that rattled through his mind was preempted by two simple words that often summed up the odder moments of his life.

"Ah, crap."

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::Cue Theme Music::

There once was a tale about a man who could turn invisible. I thought it was only a story, until it happened to me. OK, so here's how it works: There's this stuff called 'Quicksilver' that can bend light. My brother and some scientists made it into a synthetic gland, and that's where I came in. See, I was facing life in prison and they were looking for a human experiment. So we made a deal; they put the gland in my brain, and I walk free. The operation was a success... but that's when everything started to go wrong.

::Music Fade Out::

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Act One

Confucius, in his great wisdom, once said something along the lines of, "Heaven, when it's about to place a great responsibility on a man, always first tests his resolution ... Only when he is frustrated in his mind and in his deliberations can he stand up anew. Only when his intentions become visible on his countenance and audible in his voice can he be understood by others. ... Only then do we realize that anxiety and distress lead to life and that ease and comfort end in death."

For most of my adult life I've lived on the edge, as a thief and, once I got caught and had it stick, as an ex-con. I tended to keep people at a distance; friends were few and far between.

Can't call the local fence a friend; hell, if you're lucky he won't give up your name when push comes to shove and the cops have his back up against the wall. Then I let Kevin cut me, what I thought, was a sweet deal to get me out of jail on a third strike.

If only I had known.

The last six months, though, have been some of the best in my life. Yeah, I'm still stuck with

that unwelcome guest in the back of my head and at the Agency, but It's not quite as bad as I once thought. Not quite that dead end that I figured it was going to be.

The madness is long gone by now, the only reminder that emerald green snake coiled quietly on my wrist, and I have friends. Real friends, ones who would do anything for me and, surprisingly, that I'd do just about anything for in return. Life's been damn good lately, even with the inevitable bumps that happen along the way.

The thing is I wish someone had mentioned that all of that was just a pop quiz.

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Darien walked slowly down the quiet halls of the Agency headed for the Official's office. Most days he wouldn't be caught dead within its environs before 10:00 AM unless there was some desperate need, but Hobbes' phone call just after 7:00 AM had actually been a relief and given him an excuse to get up instead of tossing about and pretending to try and fall back to sleep. What, after all, was there to do once you had memorized every crack, crevice, and paint chip in the ceiling above your bed?

Finding himself not very hungry, he'd done nothing more than shower and grab a cup of coffee on the way in, figuring he'd make up for it later. Swinging open the door he found four members of their backwater agency huddled over a pile of files at the conference table. Whether they were multiple copies of the same file or a variety of different files he could not determine through the crush of bodies.

He was actually surprised to see Alex Monroe poring over the papers right beside Hobbes.

She'd been gone far more often than not lately, there'd been that fun job involving those poisonous creepy crawlies that had effectively blow several weeks of sick leave. Then there was that job with the Treasury Department that they'd helped her out with and her assistance in clearing Hobbes' record with the FBI. All in all they hadn't worked together a whole lot since moving back under the purview of Fish and Game. He wondered a bit idly if she was still doing okay or if she was once again suffering from the subtle effects of stress and overwork. She appeared to be fine, her focus on the papers before her as she flipped through one of the files herself. She gave him a quick glance, but her blue eyes were as unreadable as ever.

"Fawkes, you are gonna love this one," Hobbes commented as he looked up to see his partner sipping from a huge cup of coffee and looking like he hadn't slept in a week -- again.

"Why do I find that very hard to believe?" Darien set down the cup and circled around to stand behind Alex in hopes of getting a look at the papers over her shoulder. The disparity in height between the two of them made her the easiest to try this stunt with.

"Fawkes, ever hear of the term 'personal space'?" Alex complained adding an elbow, without any great force behind it, to his midsection for emphasis.

"Heard of it, yeah. Ain't had much use for it since I started sharing my personal space with this cute little gal I never quite met a couple of years ago." At Alex's look of confusion he considered his attempt at distraction successful and reached around her to grab several sheets of paper out of one of the files.

"Fawkes, as usual, you are making no sense whatsoever," Alex commented in exasperation.

"'Afore your time, Monroe. We did a stint..." Hobbes began.

"A, thankfully, very short one," Darien added as he looked through the papers without really absorbing any of the information.

"Too true. With the Bureau of Indian Affairs," Hobbes completed his original thought and

glanced at Monroe to assure himself that he had her attention. "Well, on that fun little camping trip, the Keep spilled that the gland is chro...chromos..." Hobbes looked to his partner for rescue who was doing his best to ignore the conversation with little luck.

"Chromosomally female," Darien finally filled in just to get the day moving in a forward direction again.

"Yeah, that," Hobbes agreed with a sly grin.

Alex closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. "You mean..."

"Yep, Fawkes' better half is all in his head." Hobbes couldn't resist; he'd been holding onto that one for a while.

Darien glanced up from the papers to see the carefully hidden grin on his partner's face. "Cute, Hobbes. At least I have a guaranteed date Friday nights."

"Bobby Hobbes does not have any problems where the ladies are concerned, gland-man. In fact, last night there was this brunette..." Hobbes' recitation of his adventure, real or imaginary, was interrupted by the Official.

"Trade fish tales on your own time! You're here to work, not kibbutz," the Official barked, effectively ending Bobby's story as well as any inquiries Alex might have into Darien's more feminine side. "I have a job for you and it's high priority." He backed away from the conference table and made his way to his accustomed spot in the overstuffed chair behind the desk. He settled into it with a creaking of straining springs and cheap imitation leather.

"What could be so important that you drag me in here so early?" Darien asked through a yawn as he sat down on the edge of the table and reached across for his coffee. After taking a sip he began to thumb through the papers. On the bottom was a photograph that got his attention and brought his awareness fully on the 'here and now.' He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of his stomach following the laws of gravity and heading to his feet, and didn't even notice when Alex removed the coffee cup from his hand and set it down to keep him from spilling it.

"I'm guessing I missed this one," Alex commented at the stunned look on Darien's face.

The Official cleared his throat. "You were on an out-of-town assignment at the time. Eberts will make sure you have the file." The lackey in question moved swiftly over to the row of file cabinets and moments later handed her a file with the codename Invisible Woman on the brightly colored tag. "That should get you up to speed for this one."

"How long?" Darien asked softly once he had found his voice.

"At least a week, Fawkes," Hobbes answered as he handed over several more photographs. Most were taken with a high-powered telephoto lens, so the quality wasn't all that great to begin with, the images pixilated from computer enhancement and slightly out-of-focus. While most were through windows with curtains and other objects obstructing the view, it was still easy to identify the individual. At least for Darien.

Mei-Lin Chong. After a moment's brief reflection on the last time the woman had been in his life Darien tossed the photographs and papers on the tabletop and shrugged. "So she decided to go back to work for the Chinese after all. She told me she never wanted to leave in the first place."

"According to our sources she is not there willingly," Eberts explained as he straightened up the papers Darien had strewn across the table.

"And that makes it our business, how?" Darien would rather not have to deal with this particular situation. He had enough problems with women leaving him to not want to actively court giving them a chance to do it more than once. He and Mei-Lin had parted on good terms, and he knew leaving to be with her fiancée Chen-Po Li was justified. But still, it had hurt.

"That Quicksilver backpack of hers, Fawkes," Hobbes replied, in a tone that made it obvious Darien should have figured this out for himself.

"That, and the Quicksilver recycler that goes with it," The Official added. "Quicksilver is my technology, and I plan on keeping it that way."

"So we go in and get her out. Gotcha, Chief," Hobbes stated, anticipating the Official's orders. "Think those relationships of yours can get us the layout and security schematics to the Chinese Embassy on short notice?" he asked as he turned to Alex.

Alex set down the file she was holding and thought for a moment. "Give me an hour, and I'll have what we need."

"Perfect. Get moving," the Official said in obvious dismissal.

Out in the hallway they trailed after Alex, who was heading to her office to get started on those phone calls. Darien stared into the bottom of his cup, dismayed to see it was nearly gone. Except for the temporary bucket of ice water the pictures of Mei-Lin had thrown on him, he was no more conscious than he had been when the dream had first woken him at o-dark-hundred. He sighed and downed the dregs with little hope they'd do any more to wake him than the entire twenty ounces that had gone before.

"You look like crap, my friend. Trouble sleeping?" At Darien's nod Hobbes frowned. "That dream, again? That's, what, the fourth time this week? I think it's about time you go talk to the Keep."

Alex turned about to face them, but continued walking backwards at a fairly brisk pace. "Aww, does Fawkes have a girl on his mind other than the one already there?"

Darien shot her a look and considered for all of a heartbeat not making some rejoinder, but found his mood poor enough to not fight the urge very hard. "Actually it was the fun one, having both my mom and brother die in my arms. The screaming myself awake is always the perfect capper for it." He stopped as Alex's eyes narrowed and turned to Hobbes. "Ya know, I think you're right, I'm gonna head down to the Keep and talk to Claire. Let me know when we're ready to roll."

"Can do, partner." Hobbes waited until he was sure Fawkes was out of earshot before rounding on Monroe. "Good going, there, Monroe. Nice seeing you prove that Five-Star-A rating ain't just for show."

"Hobbes, how was I supposed to know?" Alex sounded harsh, mainly to cover her embarrassment.

"True enough, but I'm thinking that, after all this time, maybe you should have." Hobbes turned smartly on his heel than and walked away leaving Alex standing there in the hallway.

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The day was cool and the sky was that washed out blue common to desert regions with a slight breeze that was just enough to ruffle the hair. Darien leaned back against Golda trying to soak up some of the heat from the sun-warmed metal while Alex and Hobbes argued over the computer. For a second he debated questioning the merits of doing this during the day. Shoot, it was just after noon and he still hadn't gotten anything to eat, just the coffee from this morning, which was long gone by now. Going through his pockets he came up with a stray piece of chewing gum, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. Yet another attempt to trick his body into thinking he'd eaten. It was getting to be a very bad habit these days.

"Come on, guys, some time this decade. The Keep'll have the gland out before you two agree on anything."

The side door suddenly slid open violently and nearly knocked Darien off his feet. "And since when did you ever want to work?" Hobbes asked as Darien straightened and shot Hobbes an annoyed glance.

"Since about 10 minutes ago when I realized I was not only bored out of my mind, but starved. Listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple hasn't upped my enthusiasm any, let me tell you." Darien then proceeded to parrot back with the correct tone and inflection of Hobbes and Alex's commentary of the last five minutes.

Alex suddenly appeared next to Hobbes. "I'm impressed Fawkes, you were actually paying attention." She handed him the headset. "Let's see if you can continue in that vein. You should be in and out in under 10 minutes if you follow my directions."

"Your directions?" Hobbes rounded on Monroe and Darien rolled his eyes. "Last I checked Fawkes was my partner, and you were assisting us on this one."

"Last I checked this fancy gear that is going to get him in and out was mine, and its assistance can suddenly be revoked," Alex snapped right back. She and Hobbes had been going at it ever since this morning, and it didn't look to be improving any time in the near future.

Darien put the earpiece in place. Alex always managed to get a hold of toys that were far above the quality of the equipment that the Agency could ever hope to beg, borrow or steal, even second hand, on its shoestring budget. He walked away, the Quicksilver flowing across his skin and clothes as he neared the wall he was planning to climb with the aide of a conveniently placed tree. Once he dropped into a crouch on the perfectly manicured grass on the far side he spoke in a carefully enunciated undertone. "I'm over the fence. I see three cameras and four guards. Which way?"

"Fawkes, we're 'round the other side from our last visit here so pay attention," Hobbes said in Darien's ear; in the background Darien could just make out the sound of keys being tapped.

"Circle around to the left; there should be a garage area." Alex's voice was calm and perfectly in control. "Watch for a covered walkway that leads into the main building. Enter there and take the first right; it should be a flight of stairs going down."

"Got it," Darien responded in a soft voice. His Quicksilvered vision washed things out but he had little trouble following her precise directions. Since they were making this attempt during the mday they were expecting most of the heavier security to be turned off and so far that seemed to be holding true. He spotted armed personnel and cameras everywhere, but nothing else: no laser grid, no motion sensors, nothing he couldn't handle in his current invisible condition.

This wasn't so very different from the last time he'd been here, though he was hoping things would turn out a bit better this time. Somehow he doubted they'd let him get away as easily if he were to be caught again, and considering he'd been forced to set a room afire to escape the last time...

Alex's voice drew him out of his trip down memory lane.

"Once at the bottom of the stairs you need to turn left. There should be a hallway with three doors off it: two on the left and one on the right," Alex's instructions were well timed and spoken just as he reached the bottom of the steps. They'd worked together just enough that she had a good handle on predicting his movements and time from location to location. Wide hallways led off to both the right and left; three cameras covered the stairwell and the entrance to both hallways.

Hobbes spoke then. The slight bite to his tone was audible to Darien. "According to little Miss Assistant, there should be cameras all over the place and electronic locks on the doors. Your target is the door on the right. It should have a ground-floor window."

Darien approached cautiously not wanting to attract the attention of the two guards standing about 10 feet away at the end of the hall. The door he wanted had a small barred window set in it, and he slid the cover open carefully. Inside he could see a woman seated at a desk as she turned to reach for a book on a nearby chair. The profile was the same, the scar tissue still taking up half her face, but it was indeed Mei-Lin.

The radios the guards were wearing suddenly crackled to life. Darien didn't understand most of what was said, but recognized Mei-Lin's name when it was spoken.

"Crap," Darien muttered under his breath as the two men each drew out a pair of thermal glasses and proceeded to put them on. A definite upgrade since their last encounter some six months ago. It didn't take more than a second for them to spot him.

Darien ran.

"Fawkes? Talk to me, Fawkes," Hobbes shouted in response to both Darien's invective and the sudden wakefulness of the security system on the computer screen before them.

"They spotted me and have thermals," Darien panted as he dashed back up the stairs and turned right, opposite the way he had come in and taking him deeper into the Embassy proper. He dove into an alcove, grabbing the expensive-looking vase as he bumped it, making it wobble on its stand. He got it steadied just as three more guards came running around the corner all wearing identical stylish sunglasses.

"Ah, sh..."

"Fawkes, get the hell out of there," Alex ordered, cutting off his words.

Darien wanted to yell something at her, but bit his lip to keep it inside. No sense in giving away his position any sooner than necessary. Poking his head around the corner to see if the way was clear he noticed the camera swinging back and forth high up on the wall. Just seconds later it locked on his position and shouts were heard coming his way.

"They've upgraded since our last visit," Darien commented as he made a mad dash for a doorway about 15 feet away. It was with a feeling of great relief that the door swung open without effort. However, instead of the hoped for escape route he found himself in an oversized broom closet. A quick glance about showed no obvious cameras. "Their camera system is rigged for thermal."

Hobbes turned to look at Alex, unable to resist a jab. "Looks like your relationships aren't as good as you thought."

Alex grunted and tapped a few keys. "Fawkes, I need your sit-rep."

"I'm in a broom closet." Darien's voice was muffled.

"A what? Repeat sit-rep," Hobbes asked, not believing what he had heard.

"I'm in a fricking broom closet," Darien repeated, sounding more than a bit irritated at the moment.

Hobbes covered his mic with a hand. "So we have to figure out how to get Fawkes out of the closet?"

Alex's eyebrows shot up at the obvious joke.

"I heard that," was the bitter and completely unamused response. "Could we get me the hell out of here?" his voice lowered to a mutter.

"Working on it." Alex was tapping the keys furiously trying to get a handle on the system in hopes of leading him out through the maze of hallways and cameras. "The gland's pretty damn useless if they can still see him," she grumbled as yet another potential escape route was suddenly cut off.

Darien heard her words and a sudden inspiration struck.

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The guy who taught us that the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything is, strangely enough, 42, also gave us the seemingly nonsensical, "A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof was to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools."

I was about to prove this right or die trying.

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The Quicksilver flaked away as Darien began poking through the items in the room looking for something, anything that might give him an assist on his slightly insane idea of how to get out of there with his skull intact. In a back corner he found a half dozen all-purpose industrial work jackets. He sorted through several of them before he found one that might be close to his size. Slipping out of his tan leather coat and pulling on the heavy cotton jacket, he had a flashback to his second stint in prison when he worked in the laundry, which was used as a low-cost laundry service for some of the hotels and restaurants in the area, and had washed thousands of these a week. His newest acquisition somehow managed to be both too wide across the shoulders and too short in the sleeves, though he bet that was pretty typical of the species and he decided to take it anyway. Rummaging around a bit more he came up with a baseball cap, the Cubs of all teams, and shoved it atop his head, stuffing his hair underneath in hopes of hiding as much as possible.

After a search that stretched out over long minutes he succeeded in finding a bucket, into which he placed his favorite coat and some rags, that smelled distinctively of some nefarious cleaning solution, which he reluctantly used to hide his jacket. He then began unscrewing the tops of various bottles, finding one that had to be some Chinese version of moonshine, until coming across a bottle that he decided was ammonia, based on the smell, as his studies had not yet included reading Chinese characters for cleaning products. He stuck that in the bucket to complete the effect and then moved to the door of the room, leaning close to the dark wood in hopes of hearing what, if anything, might be on the other side. Unfortunately the wood was more than thick enough to keep him from hearing anything more than the stentorian sound of his breathing echoed back at him.

"Hobbes, is the hall clear?"

"Hold on," Hobbes replied, and Darien waited impatiently, counting a double score of slightly unsteady heartbeats that seemed to take an hour or more to pound against his ribcage. He forced himself to stay as calm as possible; the very last thing he wanted to do right now was Quicksilver.

"Looks clear of mooks, but the cameras'll still see ya," Hobbes reminded Darien needlessly.

That was exactly what he was planning on. "Only if they're looking for an invisible man." Darien opened the door and stepped out, without hesitating or sneaking, making sure to act as if he belonged there. He slouched down a bit to reduce his height, but if he was right, no one would notice since they would be looking for a cold spot on the thermals and not the normal body temperature everyone else would be throwing off.

"Fawkes, are you insane?" Hobbes spluttered.

"Alex, talk me out of here." Darien kept his head down and his steps brisk. Just another poor soul schlepping off to clean up some mess those in power had made and couldn't be bothered with.

Darien didn't respond as he dodged three men with large automatic weapons coming around the corner. All three were wearing thermals and, except for one bumping into him, they didn't even look twice and just kept going. He followed Alex's directions, but was still relieved when he was back in comparatively familiar territory. As he passed the staircase that led down to where Mei-Lin was being kept he was momentarily tempted to make another try at freeing her, but the shouts of armed soldiers dissuaded him. Besides, the longer he dallied here the greater the chance that his current luck would run dry. Someone was bound to remove their thermals or the cameras would be switched back to normal video as their search failed to turn him up.

Making his way back outdoors he sidled around a van and tried to plan his way out. "Guys, I'm outside but need a way off the grounds. Think you can help?"

There was silence at first, and then Alex's voice was in his ear. "Near as we can tell the exterior cameras are on a separate system and are most likely not rigged for thermal."

"Most likely? How about better odds than that?" Darien noted a couple of the soldiers poking their heads outside and he ducked low, the hedgerow hiding him from direct view for the moment.

"Fawkes, trust me on this, do your saran wrap routine and get out of there. Head for the back gate. They got a delivery truck coming in and if you move your ass you should be able to get out while it goes in." Hobbes rattled this off quickly, obviously not liking the situation or the odds as they currently stood. But as they had learned in Atlantic City, when you can't win with the hand you're dealt, cheat.

Darien Quicksilvered and stood, half expecting there to be a sudden outcry and a hail of bullets aimed in his direction, but there was no reaction that he could see. Following the over-sized one lane road the van was parked on towards the rear of the Embassy's property, he found that back gate. He had to run as the semi-truck was already rumbling through the comparatively small opening, a single gate as opposed to the double gates of the main entrance, but succeeded in slipping through the swiftly closing barrier just in the nick of time. The only sign of his passage, the metal bucket still in his hand, connected with the metal bars of the gate and gave off a loud clang that made the soldiers there look about in confusion, but nothing else.

Once he was free and the subtle fear of being caught had eased, he made his way down the street to where he knew the van to be parked. It wasn't until the comforting presence of the crappy Agency Ford Econoline and his partners within were in sight that he felt safe enough to drop the Quicksilver, the tiny flakes catching the sunlight and reflecting it for scant seconds before completing their downward journey to the concrete sidewalk beneath his feet.

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The trio of irritated agents, two of whom were still arguing, made their noisy way through the near-empty halls of the Harding building towards the Official's office to report on their less than successful mission. Darien had given up on trying to intervene on the sniping going on between Hobbes and Alex. Every now and again he would interject some comment that seemed to do little more than egg one or the both of them on to further heights of nit picking. He banged the bucket against his thigh, his jacket draped over his shoulder in hopes of airing it out a bit. The smells pervading the rags had tried to seep into the leather of the jacket with, thankfully, limited success.

"Well, if you'd gotten the intel we needed..." Hobbes sneered at Monroe who just rolled her eyes and increased her pace to put a little more distance between them.

"I got more than your little Hobbes-net ever could." She raised her hands to physically include the quotes for the nickname of Hobbes' infamous list of contacts and connections. While often surprised by the info he was able to gain with it, right now she was not in a very good mood. Her contacts had screwed up in a major way and had nearly resulted in Fawkes becoming a guest of the Chinese government for a potentially long and deadly stay.

Hobbes charged ahead, then stopped dead, physically blocking her way, and rounded on her. "All right, Monroe, let's see what you really got. Hobbes-net versus that fancy Rolodex of yours." When all she did was stare at him, her heels bringing her height up to almost match his so they could glare at each other eye-to-eye, he added in full pure-d New Yorker, "Or are ya chicken?"

Alex laughed, a harsh, derisive sound that echoed off the cheap plaster walls and spoke volumes for exactly what she thought this little challenge of Hobbes'. "Oh no, little man," she took that one last step forward so that she and Hobbes were literally standing toe-to-toe, "just name the time and place."

"I'll start the betting pool." Darien pushed between them and opened the glass inset door with the gold numbers stenciled upon it. He ignored the glares leveled at him by both contestants, plastered a false grin on his face, and held up the bucket for the Official and Eberts to see. "We're back, and I brought souvenirs."

Setting the bucket, which now contained the ill-fitting janitor's jacket, the Cub's cap and cleaning supplies, he slid it down to the end of the table with a slight curve to its movement so that it parked itself perfectly at the rounded end of the ovoid table. All that bowling was paying off apparently.

He heard Hobbes and Alex enter the room, still grumbling at each other, and forced himself not to comment. The drive back to the office had been filled with the joyous sounds of their

bickering, which had given him a headache of epic proportions.

"Where is Dr. Chong?" the Official inquired gruffly.

"Ah well... you see..." Hobbes began, heading straight for apologetic and obsequious.

"Damn, Hobbes, brown nose a bit do ya?" Alex snapped out as she stepped pointedly away from him and his excuses.

Hobbes went instantly on the offensive. "It wasn't my intel that screwed the pooch."

She continued walking away until she was lounging coolly by the windows. "Your intel couldn't find a stray mutt much less the detailed description of security..."

"Enough!" the Official roared, which effectively shut up both agents and focused their attention on him, where it belonged. "Fawkes, can you manage to explain without the extras?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah." Darien sank into a chair and rubbed his forehead for a second. "Their security cameras were rigged for thermal, as was everyone inside." Thinking about it, now that the adrenaline rush of fear was gone and he was no longer having to listen to Hobbes and Alex play the blame game with each other, the whole damn thing stank. "Almost like they knew we were coming," he muttered aloud, meeting the Official's cold blue eyes.

"Fawkes?" Hobbes questioned, looking from his partner to his boss and back again.

"We suspected, but were unable to confirm the upgrade to their security." Eberts commented from his traditional position behind and to the right of the Official.

"You sent Fawkes in knowing he might get caught?" Alex asked with only a hint of astonishment leaking into her voice.

"It was a risk, but a reasonable one." The Official leaned back in his chair and rested his hands upon his ample midsection. "Even if he'd been captured, they probably wouldn't have held him for very long."

"Why would they give him up?" Alex was not enjoying the sensation of having missed something and being forced to all but beg for clues and tidbits just so she could play catch up.

Darien and Hobbes gave each other a meaningful look as the pieces, several of which Alex was missing, fell into place for them.

"Again?" Hobbes complained.

"Yep, milked like the prize Quicksilver cow that I am." Darien's voice held just a touch of bitterness. "And they don't even give cookies and juice after."

"Milked? Now, this I have to hear." Alex's sarcastic tone was firmly in place to cover the fact that she had no idea what either man was talking about.

"Later, Agent Monroe. If Dr. Chong has provided the plans for the backpack and the recycler they still need one key component." the Official left the sentence hanging knowing one of them would finish the thought.

Alex rolled her eyes and finished the rhetorical statement. "The Quicksilver." She shook her head, not sure she wanted to hear the illogic behind this one. "So you set Fawkes up? Why? You can't want them to get the Quicksilver?"

"Of course not. However, Agent Fawkes' attempt to free Dr. Chong kept their security occupied elsewhere, allowing me to hack into their mainframe," Eberts answered with a hint of smugness.

"So we was a distraction," Hobbes growled as he sank into the chair next to Darien.

"And, for a change, you did the job right the first time." The chuckle coming from the fat man behind the desk grated on the partners. "If you had also succeeded in retrieving Dr. Chong it would have been perfect."

"Did you at least get what you were after?" Darien asked of the suited geek in the corner who frowned slightly.

"While I did successfully infiltrate their system, I am, as yet unable to make use of the data." Eberts' look had gone from smug to embarrassed. "Not only is it in Chinese, but it is encrypted using an algorithm with which I am unfamiliar."

"So now what?" Alex asked brusquely, making it plain she'd had enough of the entire fiasco.

"You still have to retrieve Dr. Chong," The Official stated as if it should have been obvious.

Hobbes raised a hand to gain the attention of his superior. "Uh, Chief, maybe you missed it ...

The place is rigged for thermal. If Fawkes goes see-through..."

"You'll have to find an alternate method then, won't you." The ring of finality in his tone made the trio facing him indulge in a collective groan.

"And you will need to move tonight. According to my sources they plan to move Dr. Chong within twenty-four hours," Eberts explained, unperturbed even when all three pairs of eyes locked onto his with matching glares.

"So you want us to waltz right back into the hornet's nest we stirred up today?" Alex summed up with a delicate curl to her lips that bordered on a snarl. "Beautiful, just beautiful." She paced back and forth a few steps, thinking, but getting nowhere fast at the moment. "I'll be in my office."

"Yo, wonder woman," Hobbes called out, stopping her with her hand on the doorknob. "You planning on putting that yellow lasso of yours to use or what?"

"Golden," Darien corrected automatically.

Hobbes turned from gazing at Monroe's well-shaped backside to the bored look on his partner's face. "Huh?"

"Wonder Woman's lasso was golden, not yellow," Darien repeated with more detail.

"Golden, schmolden, it looks yellow in the comic books," Hobbes countered as Darien sat up a bit more in preparation to defend his side of the lasso debate.

"Boys, could we skip the Justice League lesson and get back to the matter at hand?" Alex ground her teeth for a second in total frustration. It was a wonder that anything ever got accomplished around here.

"Oh right." Hobbes refocused on Alex who was tapping one toe in impatience. "What you planning?"

"I plan on getting the intel we need to get this over and done with tonight." And with that she yanked the door open and smoothly exited the room, the only evidence of her mood the sharp clicking of her heels on the cheap linoleum of the floor.

Hobbes turned back to Darien who was rubbing his forehead. "Hungry?"

"Starved."

"Burgers?"

"Nah." Darien pushed himself to his feet and grinned as the perfect meal came to mind.

"Chinese?"

Hobbes snorted in amusement. "Yeah. And we'll bring some back for Monroe."

No sooner had the door had shut behind the two agents than the phone seated on the corner of the Official's desk rang. He waited until it had rung four times before slowly picking up the receiver and holding it to his ear.

"I've been expecting your call."

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

Act Two

Eberts slid the chair back and waited for the Official to sit, sliding the chair into the proper

position as he did so. Eberts then unrolled the silverware from the cloth napkin and carefully tucked it into the collar of the Official's pristine white shirt. Placing the silverware precisely on the table he waited for the Official's acknowledgement that his current task was complete and sat in the seat to his boss' right once it had been received. There was a reason those in his position were called "right-hand men."

Across from them, and already well into their meals, were the assistant to the Chinese

Ambassador and his ostensible secretary, who was in actuality his personal bodyguard. They had already gone through their salads and were working through plates full of spaghetti with a gusto that hadn't waned even though this was the third meeting here.

"Next time I'll have to introduce you to another of this country's culinary delights." The men paused their inhalation to look at the Official, waiting for him to complete his sentence. "Fish tacos."

Manke Kong, assistant to the Chinese Ambassador, swallowed and lifted the napkin to wipe his face. "You would be wise to be very careful today. The Ambassador is not happy with your little attempt earlier."

"Attempt? I'm afraid I have no knowledge of what you are referring to." The Official raised a hand slightly and seconds later a waiter appeared by his side.

"The usual, sir?" she asked, with notepad and pencil already in hand.

"Hmmm, no. I think today I'd like to try the veal parmigiano with the marinara sauce." The Official had memorized the menu long ago. "Eberts,"

"Spinach tortellini with the garlic Alfredo sauce. And an order of the garlic bread sticks," Eberts answered swiftly, not wanting to delay the Official's meal any longer than necessary.

Once the waitress had hustled away with the order Manke Kong spoke up again. "We know your invisible man was at the Embassy today."

"We have him on video tape if you need actual proof," Kairong Ma added, then twirled his fork in his linguini, a large ball of pasta making the tines of the fork vanish, far more than he could ever hope to fit into his mouth. He surprised them by doing exactly that, opening his mouth more than wide enough to slip the entire mass inside and close his lips about it, the fork reappearing empty mere seconds later.

"And how can you be certain that was my invisible man?" the Official countered.

"Are you suggesting there is another one?" Kong asked with an upward twitch to one eyebrow.

"We are not at liberty to confirm or deny the rumors of another invisible man at this time," Eberts interjected smoothly.

Ma snorted. "Same plausible deniability line we always hear. Can we just get this over with? I would much rather enjoy the fine cooking here at Luigi's than debate what we both know is true."

The Official chuckled. "So you taught him to speak, Kong, I'm impressed. However, he does have a point. If our man did pay an unscheduled visit to your Embassy, it was only to verify the health and well being of a... guest who is currently under the protection of the US government."

Kong's look turned momentarily dark, and he set his fork down with a clatter on the edge of the melamine plate. "That guest is a Chinese national and will be returned to her homeland."

"A homeland from which she defected, I seem to recall," Eberts corrected in a bland tone.

This time the glare was aimed at Eberts. "Perhaps she changed her mind."

"Then you wouldn't mind allowing us to ask for ourselves." The Official was growing tired of this banter. They all knew exactly what was going on. All he had to do was push the right buttons and he was quite certain they would dance on the end of their strings just like he wished them to. "I am aware of your guest's... condition and why you are so very interested in said condition." Better to dodge about the edges of the subject a bit more. If he came on too strong they would simply leave and any potential negotiations would be ended prematurely.

The two gentlemen looked at each other and began a rapid-fire discussion in their native tongue.

"Eberts?" the Official leaned over slightly and asked in an undertone.

"My apologies, sir. They are speaking in Hokkien, and I only have a grasp of Cantonese and Mandarin." Eberts' voice was filled with dismay. They had been counting on a discussion of this type to occur, but had not anticipated the possibility they would be speaking one of the lesser-known dialects of the country.

The waitress arrived then, with their orders, and set them down with a swift economy of motion. She was out of their way quickly, and Eberts inquired with a look and slight head motion as to whether or not the Official would like him to perform his usual duties, which included slicing the meat into bite size pieces.

The Official glanced at his plate and shook his head; the small medallions of tender veal would not require Eberts' services today. Besides it might give them a stronger bargaining position if it appeared that Eberts had more power than his position would suggest.

By this time the men across the table had wound down, neither looking very happy with the situation. "I'm afraid speaking with our guest would be impossible at this time."

"Come, come, I can't imagine you want a squad of Marines outside your walls demanding the release of..." The Official was cut off by an exasperated sigh.

"If you were to attempt something like that, justification for the use of force would need to be given, and then your invisible man would not be quite so invisible to the public eye," Kong sneered.

"And your projects would remain any more secret?" Eberts was unable to resist the well-placed jab.

"Gentlemen, all we are asking is that your guest remain in this country where those better able to deal with the special circumstances of her condition can be made available to her," the Official offered expansively, a false smile of goodwill upon his face.

Kong and Ma exchanged a glance heavily laden with meaning. "Perhaps we could be persuaded if something were offered in return." Kong dropped the ball firmly in the Official's court.

"Something that would put your research back to where it was... say, six months ago, perhaps?" was the Official's play. This deal was one that he had always known might happen and though he was adamant that the Quicksilver technology remain within his sole purview, he had to at least give the appearance of willingness or they would get nowhere. Never mind the fact that any offer made here would have to be approved by those back in Beijing and likely to be just as lie-laden as his own words were. But this was how the intelligence business worked, all sweetness and light when face-to-face and no mention of the black-clad figures wielding knives slipping in the back door.

Kong straightened in his seat, his interest piqued. "So you would be able to gain access to and return an item that went missing?" The Official gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Then, it is possible our guest could remain at the Embassy until her... condition has changed."

Ma spoke up then in Hokkien.

"Ah, yes. As I have just been reminded, I personally, do not have the authority to finalize an agreement of this nature," Kong explained with just the right hint of regret in his voice.

"Of course, I understand. Those with the real power must make the decision." The less than subtle cutting remark went over just as well as the Official had hoped. "You must understand I am under pressure from those above me to resolve this situation quickly."

"I will take this to the Ambassador and will recommend haste in resolving the matter." Kong dropped his napkin to the table, slid his chair back and stood. Ma followed suit a moment later. "You will be contacted in 24 hours."

"I'll await your call with bated breath," the Official responded and watched as both men turned and left.

The waitress appeared at his side with what was obviously the bill for the pair that had just left.

"Eberts,"

"Sir," Eberts responded instantly.

"Make a note that it's our turn to stiff them for the bill next time," the Official told him as he picked up his fork to indulge in the rare pleasure of Luigi's veal.

"Yes, sir."

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

"I have known a vast quantity of nonsense talked about bad men not looking you in the face. Don't trust that conventional idea. Dishonesty will stare honesty out of countenance, any day in the week, if there is anything to be got by it." -- Charles Dickens

Have to agree with ole Chuck there. In my time I've used nothing more than slick words and an innocent look to get myself in, and out, of all kinds of trouble. Hell, I'd mastered the whipped puppy look long before I started conning people for a living, my mom, even knowing me for the hell raiser I am, fell for it every time.

I knew lots of guys who went whole hog when running a con, changed their looks, up or down graded the quality of their clothes, added an accent or what have you, but not me. When I ran a con I'd spin the tale, take 'em for whatever they were worth or whatever I wanted from them, but I always looked 'em in the eye, no disguises, no pretenses, no fancy trappings to sell the con, just that false honesty thinly layered over the less savory filling within. Trouble is, after a while you start to believe the fake, that the thin veil of deceit is all you are and all you will ever be, even with others smacking you upside the head with the truth.

And when you do finally figure it out for yourself, start to get a handle on who you really are, it makes you kinda reluctant to slip back behind the curtain for fear you'll never find your way back.

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

The double wooden doors were standing wide open, but both Darien and Hobbes still stopped before passing through the doorway out of habit and Darien rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. "Fawkes and Hobbes reporting as ordered." They'd been killing time since delivering several boxes of Chinese take-out to Alex just after 2:00 PM. No one seemed to have anything for them to do, and Alex made her calls and glared every time they interrupted.

They'd tried hanging out in the Keep with Claire for a while, but were thrown out when an impromptu contest, involving balled up sheets of paper headed for the shredder and the garbage can, caused several pieces to land in the piranha tank. Neither man was interested in losing a finger to retrieve them, but Claire took exception to the presence of foreign objects near her precious carnivorous fish. The threats and invectives that had followed their hasty exit from the basement lab were not ones they thought a lady of Claire's station would know, much less use correctly in a sentence.

They had eventually ended up wandering out of the building and down the length of Broadway and over to G Street until hunger and general boredom led them into a small coffee shop to partake of a late afternoon snack. Hobbes wasn't very hungry with lunch having been so late, and Darien was just beginning to feel the first gnawings of hunger himself as lunch had sat like a cold lump in his stomach for some odd reason. The fancy muffin and coffee had helped immensely and just spending time with Bobby, arguing over some inanities in the newspaper they'd found lying about, had actually left him feeling quite relaxed. Doing something so completely mundane with his best friend on a day that was, most likely, going to be anything but was one of the few things that kept him going, had brought him back to the Agency. Higher pay and better "digs downtown" weren't worth a lot when you couldn't enjoy them with friends. It was the call from Alex that drew them back to the Agency.

"Oh, good. You're here," Claire said from somewhere in the expansive office. "Alex should be back any moment."

The two men entered the semi-sacred domain with trepidation. Normally they were not allowed in here without Alex's express permission, preferably supervised, and only when absolutely necessary. Of course, if Darien hadn't tried picking the lock on the door that one time, with Hobbes egging him on just so he could use her black leather couch for a nap, she might not be quite so unwilling to allow them use of the office when she was out of town on assignment.

"Hey, Claire." Darien entered with a slight duck of his head and looked about to make sure Alex was indeed not present.

"So she bellows for us to get back here, pronto, and she's out gallivanting around?" Hobbes sank into one of the leather chairs, enjoying the feel of the overstuffed, buttery-soft material. "Where does she get off..."

Darien cleared his throat and motioned with his head at the doorway where Alex currently stood with a garment bag draped over one arm. He was leaning over Claire's shoulder, who was sitting at Alex's computer and busily typing away on some project that they appeared to be working on together, but was unable to fathom what any of information on the screen meant. Perhaps it involved those Chrysalis kids, which wouldn't surprise Darien in the least as Alex's determination to find not only her son, but to reunite all the others that had been stolen over the years to their birth parents, had never waned.

"Monroe, we was just talking about you," Hobbes said smoothly as he turned to face her.

"So I heard," she muttered as she crossed the room and draped the garment bag carefully over the back of a chair. "Claire, thanks for the assist. Tobias got the job done in record time."

"You're quite welcome." Claire swiveled the seat, causing Darien to shift to the side as he was still leaning on the back of it, to look at Alex. "He is far more skilled than I am at alterations, especially ones that need to be precisely done. Was he able to make that addition you wanted?"

Alex walked across the room to small bar she had set up and bent down to retrieve an item from the cabinet behind it. "Yes, though it cost me a bundle." Her voice was muffled, but clear enough for those about the room to understand.

Out of curiosity Darien walked over to the bar, sat in one of the stools and leaned over to watch as she dragged out what looked liked an oddly shaped toolbox. "Whatcha got there?"

Alex stood and shooed him back so she could set the case on the bar in front of him. "Everything we need for the part you'll be playing, Fawkes."

Opening the case revealed tubes and plastic jars and brushes and many more unidentifiable pieces and bits that Darien was afraid to even guess at. Picking up an item at random he read the label, which had 'Base Cauc. Med. Tan.' typed across it. Before Darien could ask what that meant the sound of a zipper from elsewhere drew his attention and he rotated in the seat to see Bobby and Claire removing what appeared to be a uniform from the opaque garment bag.

"Oh, nice one, Monroe," Hobbes complimented with a low whistle. "You sure it'll fit Stretch over there?"

"Bobby, I gave Alex the correct measurements, I can assure you of that," Claire interjected with a small enigmatic smile. She ran her hands over the jacket to make sure the alterations were invisible to the naked eye. "An excellent job as always. Tobias is worth his weight in gold."

"If this is an example of his standard work then I have to agree with you. I can think of a half dozen occasions in the last year alone where I could have used his expertise." Alex moved back around the bar, took the uniform from Hobbes and carried over to where Darien still sat leaning one elbow lazily on the bar. "And this being a rush job... the work is nearly flawless."

"So what's with the fancy suit?" Darien asked, fearing what the answer was going to be.

"Your eveningwear, Fawkes." Alex held it out for his examination only to encounter his stubborn streak.

"Nuh, uh. I recognize that uniform. It's just like the ones worn by the soldier-types at the Embassy." This was not the plan; at least it wasn't part of any plan he knew anything about. "Ain't no one gonna believe I'm Chinese."

Alex sighed and draped the uniform over the bar. "That's what the uniform and the make-up are for. It's called a disguise, Fawkes, and they're pretty common in this line of work."

"She's got a point, partner. You wandering out looking like a janitor earlier was dumb luck and you know it." Hobbes stated, knowing exactly how close the escape had been earlier. "And from what I recall Monroe's not half bad at the disguise schtick."

Alex snorted delicately. "'Not half bad' my ass," she muttered under her breath. She was not about to get into a pissing contest over their varied forays into undercover work right now.

"Come on. Me. Pretending to be Chinese military? There has got to be another option." Darien's eyes flitted from one person to another, and even Claire had the 'you're just being stubborn' look on her face. "It won't work, I'm telling ya."

"Fawkes, I can guarantee that I know a hell of a lot more about this than you ever will," Alex snapped, getting exasperated, not understanding why he was being so thickheaded this time. "Would you just trust me on this?"

Darien's eyes narrowed on those words and he met her blue ones squarely with his own. "Trust works both ways, there, Miz Monroe." He caught the eyebrow raise and twitch to Claire's lip, but ignored it. He knew damn well where he'd first heard those words here at the Agency. Thankfully he'd come a long way since then.

"Fawkes... Darien, I do trust you. Just not equally in all things." Alex shrugged slightly. "It's the best I can do for right now."

Darien sat there thoughtfully for a moment, reviewing what he knew of her in his mind, what he'd learned about her in the last year and a half. "Fair enough." He was surprised to see her relax her shoulders a bit at his words, almost as if his answer actually meant something to her. "So what's the plan?"

"First, let's move you," She waved him off the stool and directed him towards the leather chairs that stood before her desk. "I don't want spend the next hour reaching up to work on you." She followed after him with the make-up case and set it down on the spot Hobbes quickly cleared on her desk.

"Gonna have to tame that mane of his for this. Maybe even darken it some," Hobbes commented, as he looked his partner over once he'd settled into the chair.

"At least he's still fairly tan, we won't have to darken his skin tone," Claire added as she turned on the desk light and tipped it so the light fell directly on Darien.

"Why am I starting to feel like this is an interrogation, the old fashioned way?" Darien muttered and squirmed a bit under the scrutiny of his three co-workers. "Gonna bring out the thumb-screws next?"

Hobbes chuckled. "You'll be wishing we had by the time we're done with you."

"Oh great." Darien looked up with pleading eyes. "Can the condemned at least be told why he's about to undergo torture?"

"Care to guess who has decided to make an impromptu visit to the Chinese Embassy?" Alex asked as she picked up and discarded several tubes and jars before finding the one she wanted.

"Lao Ming and his Eberts clone, Wang. Supposedly a simple visit, but actually on Ministry of State Security business," Hobbes replied in a bland tone and was rewarded with the momentary look of surprise crossing Alex's features.

"I'm impressed. Did your source also give you the details?" Alex removed several brushes and a\ few jars of various shades, then dug lower for some basic prosthetics that she would use to adjust Darien's features minutely.

"That's easy. They came for the data and Mei... Dr. Chong," Darien told her. "Though I gotta admit I'm not sure why they came personally."

"Their secure data uplink is currently down," Claire said, startling them all. "I spoke to Albert earlier and he mentioned it. He suggested they might decide to move the data via hardcopy instead of waiting for the repairs to be completed."

"Good one, Keepy." Hobbes shifted the other chair and sat down where he could view the proceedings. "And they brought along the usual entourage, which'll make it easier to slip Fawkes in."

"Entourage? Oh, bodyguards and the like. But will they be in uniform? Last time it was the old suit and tie routine." Darien tried to ignore the fact Alex was holding up sections of what appeared to be skin against his cheek.

"Hold still, Fawkes. You don't want to have to go through this twice." A brush and some strong scented goo had appeared as well. "I wish we had more time, I'd have you fitted with contacts."

"Contacts? I..." Darien was cut-off mid-complaint as Alex placed a hand under his chin and shut his mouth. "Mmmm mmm mmmm mmm," he finished.

"Shouldn't be a problem, you have him ranked for intelligence so the slight western look would be expected," Hobbes said by way of explanation for his partner.

Alex carefully glued the small prosthetics in place near Darien's eyes, altering the shape slightly. Once the make-up had been applied they'd be virtually unnoticeable. "Don't move," she warned him, and he gave her the slightest of nods in acknowledgement. She carefully smoothed down one edge and began to mentally tick off the seconds until it should be set. "And it will also account for his height. Most of the squad members stationed at the Embassy are above average in height. Better for us." She eyed her work critically and judged it was well done as ever. "All right, Fawkes, if you can behave you can talk while I work on this next bit."

What Darien wanted to do was reach up and feel what she'd done to him, but figured she would give his knuckles a rap for doing so, and that was a trip down memory lane he didn't want to deal with. It was good bet Alex hit a lot harder than Sister Anne-Marie did back in parochial school, with or without the wooden ruler. "Do we really have to do this?" he all but whined in a piteous voice.

"Well, you could always go in while invisible," Claire suggested in an astonishingly sarcastic tone.

"Which would do nothing more than get you caught," Alex added.

"And then you'd get to experience that... what was that huge honking needle thing called again, Keep?" Hobbes asked in false curiosity.

"A catheter," Darien responded, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Yeah, that. And then, after saving your scrawny ass, we'd still have to go back in and rescue the good doctor." Hobbes gave his partner the evil eye. "This'll work, Fawkes. Haven't I spent the last several months drilling you in all things spook?"

"Yeah, but..."

"And did you not pass your Agent's Exam with flying colors?"

"Yeah, but..."

"And did you not also, behind my back, get my name cleared from that mess at the FBI?"

"Yeah, but..."

Alex took a try then. "Fawkes, I know you can do this," His eyes met hers with more than a little suspicion in their brown depths. "For this I trust you to do everything humanly possible to get Dr. Chong free. And you damn well know I don't admit that lightly."

Darien still wasn't too sure. Alex was good, damn good, and could run circles around the rest of them if she wanted to. Not wanting to let her, or Hobbes for that matter, know of his continued uncertainty, he simply nodded.

Alex got back to work, carefully combining colors on a jury-rigged palette until she was satisfied with the results. Taking a fine brush she began hiding the first set of prosthetics. She paused, observing how the color actually looked over Darien's natural skin tone.

"A touch more yellow, there. He needs to look more jaundiced," Hobbes suggested and Claire nodded in agreement.

"Hobbes," Darien pleaded, not really wanting to hear his partner adding his two cents about the make-up he was going to be wearing.

Hobbes chuckled and patted Darien on the forearm. "Just wait, Fawkes. Just wait."

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

Alex had been wrong when she said it was going to take an hour; it took closer to two. That was at least partially Darien's own fault because he had foolishly scratched an itch without thinking and pulled up the edge of one of the prosthetics, forcing Alex to begin all over on that side. He had pretty much decided that if this was anything like what women put themselves through to get ready for a date then they were completely nuts.

Darien had very nearly balked when a comb and a variety of dubious looking bottles, tubes, and cans had appeared from the depths of the box. It took several long minutes before Hobbes andClaire had talked Darien into allowing Alex to make a few minor modifications to his hair, but only after she swore that the effects would be temporary and would do no harm to his precious locks -- though it could have been the fiery look in Alex's eyes that ultimately convinced him. It was a look that clearly said she would hold him down and do this no matter how he protested, so he'd be far better off giving in than trying to match her in a battle of wills.

With a disconcerted internal squirming Darien endured a final inspection by all three before the piece de resistance was pulled from the case. At first Darien thought it was some odd furry insect until he recognized it for a thin mustache; much like the one he'd often sported in his early days at the Agency. Removing a small jar and opening it, Alex frowned and then cursed softly.

"Prob?" Hobbes asked.

"The glue is dead. Must not have sealed it correctly after the last use," she paused for a moment, lost in thought, "three years ago."

"Three years?" Darien asked out of honest curiosity. He wasn't even sure where she'd been working the day before she had the Agency switched to Health and Human Resources, much less three years ago.

"It's not often I have need of facial hair, Fawkes," she pointed out. "False eyelashes, hair extensions, the occasional birthmark, yeah, but I haven't put on a mustache and beard in almost a decade." She caught Darien's look and cut him off before he asked. "Let's just say it involved a brothel and leave it at that. Okay?"

Darien somehow managed to not even crack a smile. "Sure. Do we really need that?" He gestured at the fake fuzz that was doing a pretty good imitation of a dead caterpillar at the moment.

"Yeah, Fawkes. For what you're pretending to be, it's almost necessary," Hobbes said with a nod then turned to Alex. "I got something that should work so's we don't have to resort to the heavier glue."

"Good. He does not want that stuff near his mouth if we can avoid it." Alex turned over the mustache to Hobbes and began to clean up the rest of the items.

"Fawkes, meet me in the men's room in five," Hobbes ordered as he left the office with a quick stride.

"Am I safe, or will it all fall apart if I blink too hard?" Darien asked, looking from one woman to the other.

"It should be fine, Darien." Claire's lips quirked into a hint of a smile that Darien decided he didn't want an explanation of.

"Just don't scratch," Alex reminded him with some force to her words. "And avoid water, no getting caught in sprinklers or the like."

"Oh, and you probably don't want to Quicksilver unless absolutely necessary." The consternation in Claire's voice made both agents turn and look at her.

"Keep, I kinda hafta, to get onto the property," Darien explained in a dry tone. "What's the problem?"

"I'm unsure how the Quicksilver will react to the prosthetics or the bonding material. It might cause them to fall off since they are blocking the pores." Claire walked around the desk and sank into Alex's leather chair with a slight frown.

"Crap," Alex muttered. "We might as well find out sooner than later." She waved a hand at Darien. "Give it a try."

With a bit of trepidation Darien allowed the Quicksilver to flow across the areas Alex had been playing with for the last couple of hours.

"Fawkes, that is just too weird," Alex commented as she watched Darien who sat on the chair before her sans his head.

"Works great at Halloween. The old headless horseman routine." He saw Claire frown. "Come on, Keepy, I'm the invisible man every other day, being Ichabod Crane's nemesis once a year is a nice change of pace." That earned him a small chuckle and a headshake from her. And he was quite sure she knew he was joking.

"All right, Claude, show yourself and lets see what damage there is." Alex closed the case and moved to stand before him, trying not to cringe at what she feared might lay beneath the layer of Quicksilver.

As if on cue the Quicksilver hardened and flaked away revealing that, by some miracle, no obvious damage had been done. Moving right up to him and leaning down she examined her work closely for any signs of loosening. After a few minutes she straightened with a nod of satisfaction. "Looks good."

Darien sighed in relief and got to his feet. "Great. I'm off..."

"Take this with you. You might as well change now." Alex handed him the closed garment bag, which he took with some reluctance. "Hobbes'll know the proper way for it to be worn."

Darien strolled down the hall, one hand buried in his back pocket and the other holding the garment bag over his shoulder when he saw Eberts thumbing through a pile of files apparently headed towards the very office Darien had just left. "Heya, Ebes. What's shaking, my man?"

"I am taking the additional data Agent Monroe requested to her off..." Eberts lifted his head and got a good look at whom he thought was Darien and stopped dead, going slightly pale in the process.

"Whoa there, you okay?" Darien went to his side as Eberts suddenly swayed on his feet.

The voice, the mannerisms, not to mention the decidedly flea market style clothes were enough to convince Eberts that no matter how much the man before him failed to look like Darien Fawkes, that it was indeed that man. "Just surprised. Agent Monroe is more skilled than I thought."

"You freaked cause of what she did? Oh man, I better not look like that Mimi chick from the Drew Carey Show or I'll..." The look of pure astonishment on Eberts' face was worthy of a Kodak moment. "What?"

"Nothing, Darien." Eberts' momentary discomfort had passed, and the realization that Darien did not yet know what his appearance looked like gave him an odd and probably totally inappropriate sense of amused pleasure. "If you'll excuse me."

"Oh, sure." Darien stepped back and let Eberts continue on his way. After a moment he headed straight to the men's room only to find it lacking his partner. He hung the garment bag on one of the doors and turned about to get a look at himself and jumped back a step, colliding with the door in his surprise. He whipped his head about looking for the stranger he'd seen in the mirror for several breathless seconds until he realized that the figure in his peripheral vision was copying his every movement. Facing the image, he raised his right hand and turned it about to expose his wrist and saw the bright green snake magically appear in the mirror before him. Striding forward he leaned on the counter and began lightly running his fingers over the stranger's face reflected back at him. The disbelief in the brown eyes he could see was all his.

His hair had been darkened to near black and lay flat, neatly parted just to the left of center. That one uncontrollable lock fell across his forehead in a half-curl as it typically did on the few occasions he allowed his hair to remain down, which he hadn't done with any regularity in years. The look was just too boyish on him and had been a definite hazard to his continued well being while doing some of his earlier stints in prison.

But it was his face that had been changed the most, the color slightly darker, with just a hint of yellow to the tone. His strong boned features had been softened. His cheeks built up and rounded, his nose wider and flatter than he was used to. His jawline and chin had also been filled out somewhat, and the bone over the eye socket somehow thickened giving him an almost sleepy gaze. He could now understand Alex's comment about contacts, against his new features even his deep brown eyes were a shade or so too light and looked just a touch off.

"Holy crap."

"You said a mouthful, there, my friend. She did one hell of a job," Hobbes agreed as he entered the room and moved to Darien's side holding a small jar and the mustache Alex had given him.

"I... That is not me," Darien stated, waving a hand at the image reflected back at them.

"You're right about that, Fawkes, and by the time I've beat a few things into your head the transformation will be complete, Shangxiao Tanrui Fang," Hobbes intoned the last with a slight grin.

"Huh?" Darien looked more than a bit dubiously at the bit of fake fuzz in Hobbes' possession.

"Your Chinese name. Colonel Darien Fawkes, " Hobbes translated. "Now, give me that lip without givin' me any lip."

"Should I salute too?" Darien sounded snippy, but was grinning as he spoke. He turned about and leaned back against the counter, slouching down so Hobbes wouldn't have to stretch in order to get this done correctly the first time.

"Smartass," Hobbes complained good-naturedly.

"You know it. Now, lets get this show on the road."

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

The ugly tan van sat in deep shadows under the only unlit streetlight, which had conveniently been broken by Darien with one well placed ball bearing sent flying with a sling shot, on the quiet back road behind the Chinese Embassy. The few people in the area wouldn't look twice at it due to the crappy condition and the "Acme Locksmith" banner stuck to its side. This area was still mostly undeveloped, but the van had parked near one of the few office buildings in the area and it could easily be assumed they had been called out to jimmy open a file cabinet or replace a lock due to a set of keys being lost. It wouldn't be the first time such an event had occurred and certainly would not be the last.

"So, you sure about the security this time?" Hobbes asked in a snide tone as Alex tapped a few keys on the computer before them.

"As much as I can be," she responded, slightly distracted as she continued to get set up. "I went and had a little talk with my source. He claims he had no knowledge of the upgrade."

"So they did it all in house. Probably brought the equipment in the last time they rotated the guard. Smart of them and definitely caught us with our pants down." Hobbes reached over and tapped a few keys and the image finally steadied. "Fawkes, where you at?"

"Good fricking question," Darien muttered in Hobbes' ear. "Some ornamental garden. All very Zen, but a pain in the ass avoiding the sand." There was the sound of a surprised intake of breath. "They have guard dogs this time," was the nearly inaudible comment.

"Fawkes, you're invisible. I doubt the mutts can see any more of you than the rest of us," Alex reminded him.

"You wanna bet my life on that, Monroe?" Darien snapped at a harsh whisper. "Sure as hell looks like they know I'm here."

"Just calm down Fawkes and dodge around them the best you can," Hobbes told his plainly frightened partner, then covered his mic and turned to Alex. "Do we know dogs can't see him or smell him?"

"Hobbes, I am so not the one to answer that question. Ask the Keep the next time you're down in her lab," Alex suggested with a small quirk to her lips. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that Bobby Hobbes had a thing for the blonde Keeper and only had her suspicions confirmed when the two of them were faced with a bomb about to go off in front of them. Hobbes' confession of "I love you, Claire" had been a source of much amusement, but she had not exploited the knowledge in any way. At least, not after that one attempt to get Hobbes to admit how he felt about Claire; they would just have to figure it out for themselves.

"Fawkes, just keep cool. This can't be the first time you've had to dodge some pups to get to the goal." Hobbes hoped the comment would ease his friend's worry.

"Hobbes, I used to scale buildings. Ain't many guard dogs fitted with climbing harnesses," Darien grumbled in an irritated undertone.

Alex glanced over at Hobbes. "Can't really argue with that, now can you?"

Hobbes debated doing exactly that, but chose not to at that moment. They could always have a knock-down, drag-out fight later, when they were off the clock and not trying to keep Fawkes' ass in one piece. "You in yet?"

"Gimme five; they have guards all over the place tonight." Darien sounded calmer now, like he'd regained his momentarily lost confidence.

"Not surprised with Ming visiting. Probably upped the physical security and reduced the electronic. Don't want it to look like they can't handle the situation." Alex tapped a few keys and zoomed in on the area where Darien was supposed to be making his entry.

"All that means is that if they suspect something's going down they won't sound the alarm and will try to handle it real quiet-like." Hobbes' tone was so flat that Alex reflexively shot him a confused look.

"Uh guys, comments like that are not doing much for my confidence here," Darien informed them at a low hiss.

Hobbes contained a chuckle, knowing his partner was more than capable of handling this even if things suddenly dove into the realm of complete fubar. "Good. Keep you on your toes that way."

"That's me, ole Twinkle-toes." There was a distinctive pause. "Here goes nothin'."

Everything was suddenly a lot crisper, the Quicksilver having the deleterious effect of muffling sound waves other than those from Darien himself since the mic was within the layer of Quicksilver. A few seconds later they could hear a door being quietly opened and then shut and then the heels of the boots clicking on the solid floor as Darien walked down the hallway of the service entrance he'd used to make his way unnoticed into the building.

"Fawkes, you want to follow the corridor for about a hundred feet," Alex told him even though they had gone over the floor plans and made Darien memorize the route earlier. "Then take a right that leads past the kitchen."

"Preaching to the choir, there, missy," Darien hissed.

They could hear voices and other ambient noises, but none seemed to be directed at Darien as he made his way through the back hallways of the Embassy and to the staircase he'd visited this morning. He kept up a running commentary -- just a word here and there -- letting them know where he was and how things seemed to be going from his perspective.

Darien marched down the staircase giving the place the once over as he did so; there was a single guard against the far wall who did nothing more than salute after he'd raked his gaze across Darien, the guard's eyes widening slightly in apparent recognition of the insignia. Darien turned crisply and headed for the room they hoped Mei-Lin was still being kept in. That was one of the potential glitches with this plan; that Mei-Lin had been moved, forcing him to go searching for her in the far more populated areas of the Embassy.

Peeking into the window, much as he had this morning, he saw her lying on the bed off to the left of the door, partially propped up with pillows, several books lying open on the bed around her and writing in a notebook that rested against her thighs.

Reaching into the interior pocket of the jacket, he withdrew the one piece that had taken both

Monroe and Eberts to secure, and even then neither would guarantee its efficacy. If this failed he'd have to try this the hard way and he'd only been able to smuggle in the most primitive and simple of his thieving tools. He swiped the mag-key through the slot and keyed the three-character code and breathed a silent sigh of relief when the light turned green and there was a quite beep from the locking mechanism.

Entering the room, Darien shut the door behind him with an equally soft click and twitched slightly in surprise when a voice spoke behind him.

"Aren't you a little tall to be in the Chinese Military?"

He spun about to see Mei-Lin on her side leaning up on one elbow, eyeing him warily.

"Huh? Oh this." He tipped back the hat and ripped the annoying mustache off his face; he'd been trying not to scratch at it for the last 30 minutes or so. He just barely managed not to yelp at the pain as the first layer of skin was torn away. He'd have to thank Hobbes later for the toupee glue and ask why he had it stashed in his office... In front of Claire and Alex. "It's me. Darien Fawkes. I'm here to rescue you."

Mei-Lin threw off the covers and hurriedly got off the bed and moved towards him. "You're here to rescue me?"

"Yeah," Then he grinned and continued with a bastardized version of the traditional response. "I'm here with Ben Kenobi and I have your droids."

"Droids? Ben Kenobi?" Mei-Lin asked him in confusion.

"Okay," Darien muttered, his amusement fading as he realized she had no idea what he was talking about. "Not a Star Wars fan."

Having heard this over the headset, Hobbes added his two cents, "All right, Luke, how about getting you and the Princess there back to the Millennium Falcon before they turn those tractor beams back on."

Alex gave Hobbes questioning look and he covered his mic to answer her. "Star Wars, Skywalker's choice for a movie-a-thon last weekend."

Alex rolled her eyes to cover the sudden urge to laugh. If nothing else they kept things amusing. "I know where it's from, Hobbes. I'll have you know I camped out for two days to see the premiere of Empire."

"Really? Lemme guess, first in line?" Hobbes asked, but Alex's response was interrupted by Fawkes' voice over the headset.

"Yo, Yoda, how about using those Jedi skills and telling us where that promised back route out of here is?" Darien's tone was failing to hide some very real concern.

Both Alex and Hobbes rolled their eyes. "Yeah, yeah, keep your lightsaber on."

"The force says to cross the hall to the door at the very end. Once inside there should a door to your right," Alex supplied as she looked over the images on the computer screen.

"Right-o ... uh," Darien suddenly realized he wasn't sure which Star Wars character would suit her without insulting her. Vader and the Emperor were out, as she was a good guy, C3PO just wasn't right, and Chewbacca would get him seriously hurt. So he went with the only available choice left to him, "Han old buddy," and cringed waiting for the response.

"Wise choice, there, young apprentice," Alex commented dryly, and Darien breathed a sigh of relief as he followed her directions.

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

Act Three

A poet by the name of Thoreau, in his usual perfectly phrased verse, said, "Our truest life is when we are in our dreams awake." He could've mentioned he meant nightmares, too.

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

Mei-Lin had followed him willingly enough once he'd convinced her that he was indeed who he claimed to be by showing her the tattoo on his wrist. She'd simply grabbed several notebooks, which she shoved into a small bag and slung over her shoulder; making it obvious she was not going to leave them behind.

Making their way out of her room he led them down the hall and away from the easily seen stairwell that lay in the other direction and where, he knew, the guard who would ask questions Darien could not answer, waited. Moving to the farthest right hand door he noted the electronic lock, which appeared to match the one to Mei-Lin's room, with one baleful red light staring at him.

"Monroe, will the key and code work in all the locks?"

"It should, provided they are the same type," Alex answered crisply. "Different lock and you're on your own."

"Gotcha." He pulled the mag-key out, slid it through the provided slot, and then pressed the code. It seemed to think about what he had done, and he was on the verge of offering up a prayer to that god he'd stopped believing in years ago when the red light darkened and its mate turned green.

"Fawkes?" Mei-Lin queried at his sigh of relief. He shook his head, not refusing to answer, but to put it off until they were in a slightly more secure area. The door opened onto, not the expected room, but a short hallway with yet another door and another of those locks. This time he didn't even bother with his partners in the van and simply went through the motions and had the door open seconds later.

As they followed the revealed staircase down, Mei-Lin spoke up again, "Fawkes, where are we going?" She kept her voice soft and was looking warily about as the flight of stairs led them down to a subbasement that was plainly the underbelly of the beast above. Wires and pipes and all the pieces and parts that kept a building of this type running smoothly lay above, aside, and on the walls. There were piles of boxes, file cabinets, and old furniture; some were carefully protected, others covered in layers of dust. Crates with stenciled markings in Chinese pictograms, trunks, statuary, paintings, everything but the proverbial kitchen sink, it was stored down here to either rot away or to await renewed use someday in the many rooms above.

"Back way out. Used by electricians and plumbers when they're called in. Keeps them out of the main building." That had been Hobbes contribution to this plan. The people he knew might not be the same highbrow class that Alex used, but that didn't make the information any less valuable. "Exit is behind the secondary buildings out back."

Mei-Lin stopped dead and it took a few seconds for Darien to realize she was no longer beside him. Turning about he mentally groaned at the look of stubbornness on her features. "What?"

"We have to destroy the data," she told him, gazing about and looking like she was about ready to bolt.

"Eberts will handle that. He's already hacked the system and just needs to crack the encryption..." He trailed off as she vehemently shook her head.

"If he hasn't by now, then he won't. Not in time anyway. They were just setting up the equipment when they stuck me back in my room. They'll be finished soon and will transfer the data, leaving your 'Eberts' nothing to find." The earnestness in her voice convinced Darien.

"Crap," he muttered and then, "Hobbes, we got a problem."

"Like that's a big surprise. We heard her. Your job is to get the Doc outta there. Let the Fat Man and Eberts worry about the rest," Hobbes told him, followed by the muffled sounds of arguing as Hobbes and Alex got into it yet again.

"Fawkes... Bring Dr. Chong out, and we'll go from there. She is first priority. That is from the Official himself." Her tone was hard and her information news to Darien and he'd be willing to bet it was news to Hobbes as well. Darien was almost certain that was the sound of grinding teeth echoing hollowly in his ear. Once again Alex and the Official had successfully kept the two agents out of the need-to-know loop.

"They want you out of here now. We'll come back and deal with the data after," Darien summed up the conversation that was going on in his head.

"Won't work. I can get in and wipe the data permanently. I have the codes. Who do you think was going to be handling the data transfer?" Mei-Lin was adamant.

"All right." Ignoring the shouts from the earpiece he yanked it out and shoved it the pocket where they could happily yell at the mag-key for the next several minutes. "Come on." He led them back the way they had come, not quite sure how he was going to get the two of them past the guards as he only knew about five words in Chinese, and Hobbes had not been entirely satisfied with his pronunciation of them. Though where Hobbes had learned Chinese Darien had no idea and wasn't quite sure he wanted to know.

Mei-Lin stopped them just before they passed through the final door and back into the hallway, right back where they had started, once he had explained his concern about the guard at the foot of the staircase. "Why don't you just Quicksilver us?"

"Can't. The security cameras are rigged for thermal imaging and will spot us in no time flat." He waved a hand at himself. "You think I'm dressed like this for the thrill of it?"

She shook her head. "No, but since you have only a limited amount of Quicksilver use before the programmed side effect kicks in I assumed it was to keep the invisibility in reserve."

It dawned on Darien then that she, and most likely everyone else in the building, thought exactly the same. That he was still restricted with use of the Quicksilver, dependant upon the counteragent for control of the side effect, and he was not about to change their views on the matter. It could be just the ace-in-the-hole he might need one day. "Doing both of us would give me about... 10 minutes before things turned ugly, is that enough time?"

"No," she admitted. "So what do we do?"

Darien shrugged. "Same thing I always do: Make it up as I go along." Darien realized then, that he'd been watching far too many movies with Harrison Ford in them as of late.

Opening the door, they checked to see if the hall was clear, both leaning out, Darien's head just above Mei-Lin's. Their heads turned in opposite directions as they surveyed the area, then Mei-Lin looked up at Darien at the same time he looked down at her. With a slight nod they stepped into the hallway and shut the door with a soft click. Coming up with the only plan he could think of he grasped Mei-Lin by the upper arm, the hold appearing far tighter than it really was, and marched her towards the staircase.

Mei-Lin appeared to have caught on to what he was doing at least enough that she just went along instead of questioning and fighting him. The guard went on alert when he saw the couple, hand going to his sidearm, and his stance instantly switching to a defensive posture.

"Ming wishes to speak with her before the data transfer," Darien told him, affecting the lightly accented voice Hobbes had drilled him in for over an hour earlier.

Much to Darien's surprise the man backed down, acknowledging his words with a curt response in Chinese that Darien had no hope of understanding. Mei-Lin huffed and glared, but didn't struggle or complain verbally. Urging her forward, they mounted the stairs and turned to the right, much as Darien had earlier in the day, ducking down a side hall to figure out what to do next. Darien kept a wary eye out for the security cameras, doing his best to make sure they saw only him and not Mei-Lin.

"We need a back way to wherever they have the data. Can you do that?"

"For the most part. I have only visited the Embassy a few times so my knowledge of the building is limited," she explained at a whisper. "This way." She moved off at a brisk walk, and Darien actually had to stretch his legs to catch up.

"You okay? They didn't hurt you or nothing?" Darien asked softly as they made their way through the maze of corridors that made up the interior of the building.

"Not really. Though my stay here has not exactly been comfortable," she answered as she flattened herself against a wall. Several men, in what looked like waiters' uniforms, walked by in the cross-corridor carrying trays of food. The scent drifted to Darien and caused his stomach to growl in response. Mei-Lin's attention drifted to the source of the offending sound and then up to meet Darien's eyes; she tried and failed to hide a smile, which caused Darien to duck his head in momentary embarrassment. The miniscule dinner Alex had allowed him to eat had done no more than ease the hunger pangs temporarily.

Verifying the route was clear, Mei-Lin led them the same direction as the waiters had gone, but turned off at the second corridor and to a double door watched by two cameras and with an electronic lock that he knew by sight he would not be able to open. "You can open that?"

"Not this one. Different model." He wanted to rub the back of his neck, but refrained as the disguise he was wearing might yet be of use.

Lady Luck chose at that moment to get involved in the situation, to their benefit, as the doors suddenly swung open and a man dressed in a lab coat and frowning intently at the papers in his hand pushed right between them, without ever seeming to notice their existence.

Darien grabbed one of the doors before they closed and they slipped inside. This hallway was brightly lit and far more institutional-looking that the other sections of the Embassy that he'd seen, the exception being that room where'd he'd been strapped to a table and... He shook his head to chase away the aural memory of a sound very much like a dentist's drill. Now was not the time to be remembering that less than fun experience.

Mei-Lin strode forward with confidence, seemingly unconcerned they could be discovered at any moment. "Most everyone is scheduled to be presented to Ming. This area should be empty for the most part."

Darien grunted in acknowledgment, but didn't relax the least little bit. All it would take is one guy in the security room to notice that Mei-Lin was not in her room and wandering about in restricted areas of the building for the alarm to be sounded and their asses to be mulch.

She stopped before a plain door with some Chinese symbol on it, which seemed oddly familiar to Darien and opened it. Inside was little more than a desk, a chair and a computer. From the looks of the place, which was only about ten feet on a side, it was a former storage closet that had been hastily converted for this new purpose.

"What's this?" Darien asked as Mei-Lin slipped into the chair and turned the computer on.

"They didn't trust me in the main computer center, so they set this up. I have full access to the system, just no contact with other people." She gave a small groan then and rubbed her abdomen.

Darien froze as that dream image forcefully intruded on his waking mind, only this time when he tried to look up at the face of the woman holding the red-eyed child he was successful, and it was Mei-Lin's face looking back at him. He snapped back to reality as the blood drained from his face. "You're pregnant?" He just barely kept his voice from making a prepubescent squeak.

"Yes. You just now noticed?" She glanced over at him and then focused back on the computer as it finally finished its start-up routine.

Darien tried to swallow with a throat gone dry as dust and nodded absently. "It's ... It's not that obvious," he finally managed once he'd worked up enough moisture to clear his throat.

She actually gave him a small smile, albeit a surprisingly wistful one. "I can't imagine you having all that much exposure to women in... in my condition."

"Ain't that the truth," Darien agreed. "Why are you here alone? Why isn't your ...."

She stopped typing and turned to face him. "He ... Chen wasn't ready for this." She rubbed one hand across her swollen belly. Even now that he knew, it was still not very obvious so Darien figured she was probably not very far along. "Can we have this discussion later?" she requested plaintively.

"Sure. The sooner we get you out of here the better," Darien replied in consternation at momentarily forgetting they were in enemy territory. Mei-Lin turned back to the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she worked on removing the information from the Embassy system. "Question, why would they give you the access, codes, or whatever so that you could erase the data?"

"They didn't give them to me, Agent Fawkes. I saw the override access code in use and memorized it." She never even turned to look at him, but he caught the way the corner of her lip lifted in a hint of a feral smile. "I hope Kong gets sent home in disgrace over it." The vindictive tone in her voice made it plain to Darien that she was not fond of the man mentioned in any way.

An odd buzzing caused Darien to look about the room for a minute, his eyes locking on the lone camera mounted above the door, before he realized the sound was coming from his pocket. With an anticipatory cringe he brought the earpiece back into the light of day and towards his ear. He could hear the shouted voices well before he had the thing in place.

"Yo, I would like to be able to hear, ya know."

Hobbes snapped his mouth shut on the next bellow he'd been readying now that he actually had the attention of his idiot partner. "You had better be on your way outta there, Fawkes," Hobbes snarled into the mic.

There was a pause and the blatant sound of the mic being muffled on Darien's end of things. "Five minutes, Hobbes," was the eventual response.

"Fawkes, you didn't..." The disappointment in Hobbes voice was easily evident as he tipped his head down and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"Hobbes, the woman could kick me into next week, do you want to argue with her?" was the hissed reply.

Alex spoke up then, "Fawkes, did I hear you correct? Dr. Chong is pregnant?"

"Yeah." Darien answered, sounding a touch off.

"Damn," Hobbes muttered looking at the woman next to him, whose face had gone completely blank. "Monroe..."

"Fawkes, you get her out of there in one piece, understand me?" Alex's voice was tight, as if she wasn't quite sure how to deal with this sudden revelation. "Or I will personally see to it your lazy self-centered butt gets kicked so hard..."

"Whoa, cool down there, girl. I'll get her out, trust me on that." Hobbes and Monroe could just hear whom they assumed to be Dr. Chong speaking, but were unable to understand exactly what she said. "Hobbes, call Eberts and tell him to get out of the system here or whatever Mei-Lin is gonna do might eat his too."

"On it." Hobbes picked up his cell phone and dialed.

Alex was watching her monitor and frowned as she noticed security measures that had been off suddenly spring to life on her screen. Altering the view so that she could see a three-dimensional image of the entire building, she realized they were being turned on selectively, rolling through the building, as if in search of something. "Fawkes, you need to get the hell out of there."

"As soon as she's done," Fawkes responded brusquely.

"No, Fawkes, now. I think they've figured out that Dr. Chong is not where she belongs." Alex zoomed the image closer trying to follow the changes as they occurred.

Hobbes, who was still on the phone with Eberts, moved right in beside her and tapped the screen where yet another system suddenly sprang to life. "Eberts says he's out and has what he thinks is the data he wanted."

"Goody," Alex muttered in false enthusiasm. The eastern quarter of the model before her began to blink with red overlaying the image. "Damn it."

Hobbes slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"If you mean did they just set off an alarm and put everyone on alert? Then, yeah, it does." Alex's words dripped sarcasm. "Fawkes, you are out of time. Get out of there."

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

"Crap," Darien muttered. Striding over to Mei-Lin he set a hand on her shoulder. He didn't say a word, but watched as her fingers flew even faster across the keyboard and then hit enter.

"All right, it's done." She turned to face him, tucking her long black hair behind her ear on the left side, but allowing that on the right to hide her face. In an oddly touching move that caused her eyes to widen in surprise Darien brushed her hair back on the right side as well and met her eyes without a trace of pity within his. "Fawkes."

"Lets get you out of here." One hand on her back, he urged her towards the door of the room and opened it the tiniest of amounts to see what, if anything, was going on out in the hallway. He was amazed to find it still empty. Together they walked down the hall at a swift pace and through the double doors at the end of the hallway. Hearing voices from the right, they went left and stepped around the next corner just in time. To their relief, the raised voices and rushed footsteps headed down the corridor they had just left. "What's the nearest way outta here?" Darien asked sotto voce.

Mei-Lin looked uncomfortable. "The main entrance, but it will be heavily guarded."

"Yep, it probably will," Darien agreed. "Hobbes, get the Falcon out of the landing bay and move her around to the front gates." He motioned for Mei-Lin to lead the way while keeping a sharp eye and ear out for anyone coming their way. There wasn't a whole lot he could do about the security cameras, aside from hope that they moved faster than those watching in the control center noticed.

"Fawkes," Hobbes hissed in his ear. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Not for months now," Alex quipped in a surprisingly light tone. "Just do it, Hobbes. If that's where he's going, he's gonna need us there for back-up."

"And to get the gates open," Darien said softly as he and Mei-Lin crossed a wide hallway that was obviously near the more public rooms at the front of the building. It was even looking a bit familiar from his first visit here, when he had sneaked in while the Keep and the Official kept two bureaucrat-type goons busy.

"Jeeze, Fawkes, do I look like a Storm Trooper to you?" Hobbes complained even as the engine roared in the background.

"Rather have you in an X-wing than a Tie Fighter, but I'll take whatever I can get." Fawkes gave Mei-Lin a small headshake as she looked back at him in confusion. He wasn't about to take the time to explain it to her right now.

They continued through the hallways, dodging armed men as necessary, their luck miraculously holding out as they drew closer to their planned escape route. Eventually, as they both knew they would, they hit an impasse where both physical and electronic security blocked their way. They were huddled in a blind spot between three camera sweeps, but were within earshot of an easy half-dozen armed guards and two who were giving orders, one of whom Mei-Lin identified as Manke Kong.

Darien considered their very few options and, with an anticipatory shiver that was almost evenly divided between fear and excitement, drew Mei-Lin closer to explain it to her. "I'm gonna draw them off. You head for the doors and to the front gates. Hobbes'll be there. Trust him."

"Fawkes, don't you go and do something stupid," Hobbes warned.

"Hey, few do it better than me," Darien joked, drawing a snort from at least one of the occupants of the van. "You in place?"

"Yeah, Fawkes, we're ready," Alex answered. "Be careful."

"Careful has very little to do with this line of work," Darien's rejoinder went without an immediate response and his focus swung back to the petite woman next to him. "Head towards those doors." He pointed to the French doors just a few steps away from their current position.

"Darien..."

"You can thank me later." Stepping into the view of the cameras, Darien moved out into the main room, where he was spotted after only moment. Taking off at a run he let the Quicksilver flow as he aimed for the main entrance of the building with shouts following him. The first of the gunshots impacted the doorframe by his head causing him to squeak in surprise.

"Fawkes?" Hobbes shouted, nearly making Darien shout in reaction to the volume.

"I'm fine." He slammed his shoulder into the door, forcing it open, not wanting to take the time to do something so simple as turning the knob. Bursting through, he dashed towards the driveway and past several sleek black cars parked there with those little "diplomatic" flags on the front of their hoods and drawing the attention of several more guards that had been stationed outside. He caught Mei-Lin's form running across the grass at an angle that would intersect with the long driveway a good distance before the gate.

Darien altered his course to intercept her. Behind them shouts and then shots rang out, and he pushed himself harder, not wanting to risk leaving her unprotected any longer than necessary. Just as he got within a few steps of her, more gunshots rang out, and Darien grunted in pain at the same time Mei-Lin shouted and stumbled. He caught her, barely, the two of them propping each other up. Darien found himself momentarily unable to breathe as the muscles of his chest locked due to the impact. He didn't even bother to wonder why he was still standing, just grabbed Mei-Lin, the Quicksilver rushing across her, and got them staggering away.

The shouts changed, no longer in mystifying Chinese, making Darien's blood run cold.

"Cease fire, you fools! Use the tranqs! We need them alive!"

Air came rushing back into Darien's lungs. "Hobbes," he squawked, "get the gates open."

"On it," Alex answered as Hobbes glanced back at her. Sliding open the side door of the van, she leaned out and took careful aim. "Ready." The engine revved once, twice, then the van shot forward, gaining speed as it went. There was a single gunshot, then Hobbes whipped the wheel about into a tight 90-degree turn, losing minimal momentum, and smashed Golda into the gates that Alex had just blown the lock away on with a single deadly accurate shot. Hobbes slammed on the brakes once the side door had cleared the gates, which rebounded back into the rear quarters of the van and then bounced away, remaining open and leaving their escape route free.

"Fawkes, move yer ass," Hobbes muttered into the headset.

"As fast as I can, partner," Darien answered from the doorway as the Quicksilver flaked away to reveal both Mei-Lin and him.

Alex reached a hand out to the woman and helped her into the van, getting her buckled in front while Darien climbed in and slammed the door shut. "Go!" he shouted, and Hobbes didn't hesitate, backing the van out at a seemingly insane rate of speed and whipping the vehicle about until it was aimed in the direction he wanted to go. Shifting gears, he pressed down on the gas pedal, the rear tires smoking as they left a trail of rubber down the middle of the street.

"Are you two okay?" Alex asked, noting neither one of them was looking too healthy.

Almost as one they said, "I've been hit."

"Now is not the time to be joking around," Hobbes snapped from the driver's seat. He had reduced speed enough to not send everyone flying every time he made a sharp and unexpected turn, but was still doing a good clip down the streets as he headed for the interstate.

"He's not, Hobbes." Alex could see the holes along the right side of the jacket Darien still wore, but didn't see any blood. Turning to Mei-Lin she settled between the two front seats. "Where are you hit?" Alex asked at the same time she noticed that the woman was holding her upper left arm with her right hand, the blood oozing out between her fingers.

"Here," Darien said as he tossed Alex the first aid kit that Bobby kept stashed in the van for those oft happening accidents. Unbuttoning the jacket he felt along his ribs and back on his right side and while he was most definitely tender, his hand came away without even a trace of blood. "Let me guess, that addition was a bullet proof lining."

"Just in case, Fawkes," Alex responded as she tied off the bandage she'd hastily wrapped about Mei-Lin's arm. "It just winged you," Alex told Mei-Lin, who nodded mutely. "Try and stay calm, we'll get you back to the Agency safe and sound."

Alex moved to the back where Darien had moved towards the back of the van. He had one hand pressed against the roof of the van and was looking out the back window. The van was moving far more moderately now, trying to not draw attention while still making the best time possible in the scramble to get home.

Pulling open the jacket, she yanked the shirt out of his pants much to his obvious surprise. "Well, Alex, if I'd known this was what got your motor running..."

Her placing a hand over his ribs made him yelp and go pale. "I don't think they're broken, luckily, but you're gonna have one hell of a set of bruises." Returning the shirt to its proper position she was forced to brace herself with a hand on the door and Hobbes jerked the van around slower moving traffic. "And you'd be very surprised by what gets my motor running," she teased.

"Alex." Darien was staring out the rear window, tempted to respond to her obvious innuendo-laden opening, but was finding the traffic behind them much more interesting.

"Yes."

"Alex," Darien said more emphatically as he turned to face her. "Look out the fricking window." He nodded his head at the glass and the vehicles driving like maniacs about a half a mile behind them.

"Damn." Alex's hand went to her gun and drew it; she flicked off the safety and made certain she had a round chambered. "Get up front," she ordered.

Darien didn't argue. "Hobbes, we're gonna have company," he informed his partner at a near-shout. He slipped into the jump seat and glanced first at Mei-Lin who appeared to be relaxed and mostly unconcerned, except for the fact that one hand gripped the armrest on the door hard enough to turn the knuckles of her fingers white while the other traced slow circles on her abdomen. "It'll be fine," he said to her softly.

"I know, but that doesn't make his version of driving any easier to take," she replied with mixed concern and humor in her voice.

"If it keeps ya alive, its good enough," Hobbes commented in grim humor. "How far, Monroe?"

"Quarter mile and closing fast. Where the hell are we?" Alex asked.

"Interstate 5, headed towards downtown." Hobbes sped up and whipped about some of the late evening traffic. As it was not quite eleven the traffic was thin, but not nonexistent.

"Floor it and get off by Bay Bridge Park," Alex suggested.

"Hobbes, exit at 17th and try and lose 'em on the side streets. I doubt they've memorized the one ways and short cuts," Darien offered as a better alternative.

"Yeah, good idea. And I can make some speed when I hit Harbor. Turn up 5th and it's a straight shot to home." Hobbes checked the mirrors and weaved through a sudden clump of cars, ignoring the horns and single digits flung into the air as he did so. "Monroe, think you can discourage them a bit?"

"I think I can manage that." The sound of rushing air inside the van increased ten-fold as Alex opened one of the rear doors in preparation.

"Exit, coming up," Hobbes warned mere seconds before slipping down the ramp and slowing only marginally.

Behind them they heard a single gunshot as Alex said, "Gotcha."

"Alex?" Darien shouted above the ambient noise.

"Nailed the radiator on one, he took out the one behind him," Alex shouted in response.

"A twofer. Not bad," Hobbes commented as he whipped Golda onto 17th headed south.

"Did I mention the four cars behind them?" Alex failed to sound thrilled about the matter.

"Ah, no you didn't. Looks like its gonna be one hell of a party," Darien said in the driest tone he could manage.

"Monroe, hold on." The warning came just in time as they took the first right that presented itself, followed shortly thereafter by a left.

There was a curse from the rear and the sound of the door slamming shut, but nothing else.

"Hobbes, we gotta get turned around," Darien told him needlessly.

"I know that." Hobbes snarled, his concentration on losing those tailing them before making the final dash home.

Alex chimed in then, "Hobbes, they know where we're going. Get there before they have people in place to block us."

Darien was close enough to discern the swears that Hobbes was muttering like a mantra under his breath even as he spun the wheel right and floored her again, ignoring the stop signs and leaning on the horn to warn off other drivers, which were few and far between. Then it was another hard right onto Harbor Drive headed west towards downtown and home.

Traffic was fairly light, and Hobbes completely ignored and broke just about every traffic law ever written as he pushed the van to even greater speeds. The modifications that he had made over the last year contributed greatly to the improved performance of the vehicle. As the Convention Center came into view Darien breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that there wasn't that much further for them to go.

"Monroe?" Hobbes hollered.

"So far so good. Now just so long as this crate holds together..."

There was a bang and the forward speed of the van slowed dramatically. Almost as if planned all three sitting in front leaned about to glare at the woman standing by the rear door.

"What?" Alex pointed at the sight through the front window where clouds of steam could be seen billowing up into the cool evening air. "You gonna tell me that smashing through the gates had absolutely nothing to do with it?"

"Timing, Alex. Golda here is a very sensitive lady," Darien remarked, recalling the number of times Hobbes had chewed him out for his derogatory comments about his precious vehicle.

"You said it, my friend," Hobbes agreed as he tried to get the last bit of energy out of the van. Red warning lights began to flash all over the instrument panel, including the temperature gauge signaling the imminent overheating of the engine.

"Crap. I'm gonna have to pull 'er over." Hobbes turned up onto 5th and bumped across the railroad crossing and up onto the sidewalk, an attempt to keep out of the flow of traffic. The poor beast didn't need any more damage than she had already sustained. Once the engine had been turned off he urged them all out of the vehicle.

"Fawkes, what the hell is this?" Hobbes plucked the small, feathered item from the back of the jacket Darien was wearing and showed it to him.

Darien swallowed hard. "Looks like a tranq to me. Alex, remind me to thank you later."

"You know it." The sound of squealing tires drew her attention to the street they had just turned off of. There was at least one vehicle coming towards them and irritating quite a few drivers based on the blaring of horns. "Company." She pulled her gun out and checked the clip quickly. "Hobbes get 'em moving. Call for back up to meet you."

Hobbes eyed the woman and after a second nodded curtly. "C'mon kiddies, time for a quiet stroll through the Gaslamp District." Hobbes set a hand on each of their backs and urged them forward, but Darien balked.

"Alex, you don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. A couple of flat tires will slow them down." Alex moved to stand before her far taller co-worker. "Hobbes'll protect the Doc, just as you will. I've got your backs. Trust me."

There was little way for Darien to argue with those words, especially with a very frightened and pregnant Mei-Lin needing to be as far away from there as possible. "Just be careful."

"'Careful has very little to do with this line of work.' That's a quote by the way," Alex responded with a hint of a grin. "Now go, would ya?"

Hobbes yanked on Darien's arm and got him moving. They pushed the pace, so by the time the first shot echoed back to them they were already mingling with the small crowds that strolled along the sidewalks. Darien's pace slowed a bit, as he hesitated, wanting to rush back and help Alex while Hobbes got Mei-Lin clear.

"Fawkes, she made her choice, you can't go back and change it for her," Mei-Lin said softly and Darien draped an arm over her shoulders, though for support or comfort neither really knew.

Hobbes had his phone out. "Eberts, we ran into some trouble. I need back-up scrambled and in position to meet us at Market and 5th ASAP." He paused listening. "Just do it, Eberts, or this rescue attempt will fail right on the Fat Man's doorstep." Snapping the phone shut he looked over at Darien. "Lose the jacket," he ordered in a no-nonsense tone and Darien rushed to do as he'd been told. The hat had been left somewhere in the van, victim of one of Hobbes' more creative turns.

"I can, you know, make us disappear," Darien reminded Hobbes in soft voice to prevent anyone nearby from overhearing.

Hobbes shook his head. "Not yet anyway. I'm hoping we'll just blend in the crowd."

The earpiece Darien had forgotten he was still wearing suddenly crackled to life. "Fawkes, one got through. Repeat, one vehicle got through, others are on foot," Monroe yelled over the sound of shouts and shots at her end.

Darien stopped dead on the sidewalk in front of one of the many restaurants still open, music poured from within. "Alex?" Darien just barely remembered to not shout.

"Fawkes, run damn..." Her voice was suddenly cut off.

"Crap," Darien met Hobbes' eyes. "I think they got Alex."

"Move." Hobbes hooked his arm through Mei-Lin's and got her moving as swiftly as they could. "Any other good news?"

"She said one car got through and several more on foot," Darien told him as he looked back over his shoulder reflexively, and Hobbes swatted him on the shoulder.

"Natural, Fawkes, just friends out for an evening stroll."

"Natural, he says. What's natural about being chased by..."

"Fawkes, shut up," Mei-Lin growled through clenched teeth.

Instantly, contrition and concern washed through Darien. "Sorry. How are you doing?"

"Been better," she admitted.

When they reached J Street, Hobbes had them cross to the eastern side of the street. Taking advantage of the crossing to look for their followers. Through this part of town the traffic was still fairly heavy, which should slow down those in the car.

"We need to get off this street," Hobbes commented as they continued moving uphill.

"Where the hell is the back-up?" Darien complained as he whipped his head about in a vain attempt to find their hoped for rescue.

"Eberts said there was a problem with the pool vehicles," Hobbes answered.

"Another one died in the driveway?" Hobbes nodded and Darien groaned. "The cheap bastard." Taking note of where they were Darien had an idea. "Hobbes, about a block up I know a way to cut over to Sixth, can you get them to meet us there?"

Hobbes pulled out the phone and dialed. "Where will we come out?"

"Near Krasne's Gun and Pawn," Darien answered, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Hobbes. Sudden shouts from behind them caused Hobbes to reach for his gun, but he didn't draw it, yet.

"Can you run?" Hobbes asked of Mei-Lin.

"Yes. I'm pregnant, not handicapped," she snapped, grabbed the bag she'd been carrying securely in one hand and took off at a dead run, her small size making it easy for her to eel between others on the street.

Less than a second later both men dashed after her and caught up quickly. They lucked out as they hit Island Avenue, the light turning green just as they reached the intersection and removing the necessity of slowing or dodging through moving traffic. By the time they'd made it to their current destination all three were panting, and Mei-Lin was holding her stomach in obvious discomfort.

"The Cuban Cigar Factory?" Hobbes asked in dismay. "Fawkes, you have a thing for irony, don't you?"

"Tell me something I don't know, my friend," Darien muttered as he went to work on the lock of the gate to the small alleyway between the buildings. He had it open in seconds and waved the other two through first. With some creativity, and the fact he'd done this a few times before, he rigged the gate to lock when he shut it behind them. The distinctive click was music to his ears. "This way." He led them through the maze of three-foot wide passageways that snaked oddly between the buildings on 5th and 6th streets.

It was the sound of a gunshot behind them, most likely shooting the lock on the gate, which changed his tactics slightly. Setting a hand on each of their shoulders he let the Quicksilver flow across all three of them. If the guys after them had thermals, this would do little to help, but he was betting on them being in such a hurry that they hadn't bothered with them. It took another five minutes of seemingly aimless wandering in the dark alleyways before they came to their destination.

Darien took one look at the unexpected steel gate in front of them and let fly with a rather impressive invective.

"Fawkes?"

"New gate," Darien replied as he dug through the pockets of his jacket blindly for anything that might be of use.

"Frost the hinges, Chilly Willy," Hobbes told him, setting his still invisible hand over the middle hinge. Both Darien and Mei-Lin caught on, with Darien going high and Mei-Lin low. When the frost lay thick upon all three hinges Hobbes warned them back. One swift kick and the gate snapped open to swing about and then fly off, the lock not able to withstand the attack from its weak side, and slammed into the ground with a loud clang. "Move!" Hobbes barked as the Quicksilver dropped away from him and Mei-Lin.

Sixth was mainly business district, with far fewer restaurants and therefore people on the street, but their exposed position didn't last for long as a trio of Agency POS-mobiles roared down the street towards them, the brakes squealing as they skidded to a halt near the trio.

Darien and Mei-Lin dove into the back of one, Hobbes into another and they roared away, hooking a left back onto Island Avenue and then up 5th and right past the black sedan with several Chinese milling about it. Darien couldn't resist the temptation to give a wave as they rolled by.

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

Act Four

"Claire!" Darien shouted at the metal door that lay at the end of the slightly downward sloping hallway. Carefully held in his arms, her soft groans of discomfort and pain being expressed against his chest, was the petite form of Mei-Lin. His heart ached, and he flinched internally at every whimper and soft cry, wanting to blame himself for the trouble she was now in, no matter that he knew it wasn't his fault… not directly anyway.

Relief swept through him as the door slid open without him having to fumble for his key or wait for Hobbes to catch up, and the harried visage of his Keeper appeared, her wait for their return apparently no less a trial then their mad dash home had been. She took in the situation in one cool glance and blocked his entry to the Keep. "Lab Three. She'll be more comfortable there." Taking off at a hurried walk with Darien right on her heels, she led the way to the little used lab. She just barely got the door open and the lights on before Darien went through the door sideways and right past her to set Mei-Lin gently on the hospital style bed that lay within, a reminder of the time his mind had been taken over by the former owner of the gland … Simon Cole.

Claire's eyes widened in blatant surprise as the realization of the woman's condition registered fully on her mind. "How far along?" she asked as she searched for and found a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope in one of the drawers lining the one wall of the room.

"Six months," Mei-Lin answered in a tight voice as she curled on her side with a low groan, her arms wrapped protectively about her abdomen.

Darien reached out to brush the hair off her face. "Easy. Relax," he murmured in a soothing tone.

Claire's gaze snapped away from the woman lying in pain on the bed to the worried countenance of her Kept. "What happened?"

"Ahh… The van died and we had to run…five or six blocks before back up arrived," Darien answered in a quiet voice, his focus never once changing. "She started feeling pain in the car."

Claire nodded. "Dr. Chong, you need to relax and breathe deeply."

There was a tight nod of response from Mei-Lin, but it took several long minutes before Mei-Lin uncurled and rolled slowly onto her back. "This has happened before. It's stress related."

That didn't stop Claire from taking Mei-Lin's blood pressure or pulse. Claire did smile as she set the diaphragm of the stethoscope on Mei-Lin's abdomen. "Nice and steady."

"And kicking," Mei-Lin commented as one hand moved to rest against the spot.

Darien opened his mouth for an instant, wanting to ask for something he had no right to participate in, so he instead said nothing at all.

Mei-Lin must have guessed at what Darien had been unable to say. "Would you like to feel?"

Finding himself unable to answer verbally, Darien simply nodded, and Mei-Lin took his nearest hand and set it over the spot. His brows knitted together in consternation as he initially felt nothing, but at the first strong kick against his hand, which was swiftly followed by several more, his look brightened, and a single word escaped past the astonishment he felt. "Cool." Both women smiled at his simple and honest reaction.

Hobbes poked his head in the doorway. "Here you are, been looking all over this place for ya. Come on, Fawkes, pow-wow in the Chief's office." However, instead of heading back out the door, he entered the room and sidled over to Claire. "Everything okay?"

"So far," Claire answered as she turned away from the sight of Mei-Lin and Darien, who was still looking at where his hand lay in wonderment. "Let me get her stable and patch that arm wound, and I'll know better."

Darien chuckled. "Keep, you're just looking forward to running some tests on someone other than uncooperative me, is all." Catching the look on his partner's face he somehow screwed up the courage to ask. "Where's Alex?"

"Now that's a real good question, my friend," Hobbes commented as Darien removed his hands from Mei-Lin and frowned. "A real good question indeed."

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

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

Eberts was pacing back and forth behind the Official's desk as the owner of said desk frowned at the voice coming across the phone pressed to his ear.

"No. That is not an option."

As Darien and Bobby entered the room Eberts motioned for them to be quiet, causing them to glance at each other, shrug as one, and then sit on opposite sides of the conference table. Eberts noted that Darien had yet to remove the prosthetics and was still wearing the uniform, though without the formal jacket. The gun belt looked decidedly out of place on the lanky agent, who, though now perfectly capable of handling a variety of weapons, still was not very comfortable with them. Second he noticed the bag that Hobbes had set on the table and proceeded to pull a variety of hardbound notebooks out of. Darien grabbed a couple, and Eberts moved to stand behind him, observing the data on the pages as Darien thumbed through them. Eberts forced himself not to laugh aloud as Darien, obviously thrown by the formulaic symbols, turned the notebook completely upside down to try and decipher their meaning. A few more page turns and it suddenly dawned on Eberts what the contents of the notebooks most likely were.

Eberts snatched the notebook out of Darien's hand and quickly flipped through more pages as shock liberally tinged with greed rushed through him and, heedless of Darien's minor protests, he carried the precious notebook over to the Official's desk and set it down. Tapping it urgently he waited till he was sure of the Official's mostly undivided attention and mouthed a single word, "recycler," which earned a grim smile from the Official.

"No!" The Official repeated emphatically to whomever was on the other end of the phone line. "The Doctor is under the protection of this Agency and the US government. However…" He let the sentence hang until there was a response, however reluctantly drawn from the speaker at the other end. "That could be arranged." He paused with a slight frown crossing his features. "Yes, a reasonable supply could be provided."

Darien and Bobby eyed the Official warily, making it plain that they really wanted to know what was going on.

"No, I'll need more time than that." The 'Fish rolled his eyes. "All right. Yes. No, that won't do. I want this done in public."

"Horton Plaza," Darien tossed out, even though it was obvious he still wasn't quite sure what was happening.

One gray eyebrow went up on the 'Fish's forehead, but he still made the suggestion. The location was nearby and even at the agreed upon hour would be more than public enough for the exchange. "Horton Plaza. Yes, the Planet Hollywood." He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "No, they won't be open that early. The entrance off Broadway will do."

"Eberts…," Hobbes spoke softly, but was still silenced with a harsh "shhhh" and a sharp hand wave by the man he had tried to speak to. Hobbes huffed and glared at Eberts who easily ignored the non-verbal response from the other agent.

"I would highly recommend that Agent Monroe be returned unharmed." A hint of a snarl crossed the 'Fish's lips. "We'll be there." He hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes before sliding his glasses down from where they had been perched high on his forehead.

"Damn. So they did get Monroe," Hobbes sighed with a headshake. "She okay?"

"So they claim," The Official answered.

"We are not giving Mei-Lin back." Darien's tone and body language made it clear that he'd rebel completely if it were even suggested as an option.

"No, we are not," Eberts told them as he took up his traditional position.

"Then what…?" Hobbes groaned. "The data and the backpack."

"And a supply of Quicksilver," The Official agreed as he settled back into his chair. He already had several ideas for how to make an end run around the Chinese's demands, the others he would have to leave up to his agents to figure out.

Darien shook his head in confusion. "I thought we were trying to keep that stuff from them?"

"Yes, and I intend to keep it that way."

"How?" Hobbes asked.

"That's for you to figure out. I suggest you get to it." The Official shifted slightly; it had been a long day and he was getting very tired, but he made a point to not let it show. "How is Dr. Chong?"

"Dunno yet. Claire's checking her out right now," Darien answered with a hint of suspicion tingeing his words.

"And the baby?" Eberts queried in a completely bland tone, which caused the Official to growl under his breath and shoot a scathing glare at his underling.

"You knew?" Hobbes shoved his chair back and got to his feet. "Any other surprises for us ya fat bast…"

"Hobbes!" the Official barked, cutting off the remainder of the rant. "You have six hours to figure out how to give the Chinese what they want without giving them what they want." He ignored the angry looks from both agents and simply glared at them until Darien also got to his feet. The Official was actually surprised there had been no commentary from the plainly dissatisfied and upset agent. His attention turned to Darien. "I always know what is going on with my agents.

Before Darien had a chance to process the meaning of that comment Hobbes nudged him verbally into motion.

"Come on, Fawkes. Let's get you looking like yourself, then we'll consult with the Keep on this." Hobbes headed towards the glass door and swung it open.

Darien shuffled over, one hand running absently through his hair and making the darker than normal locks stand up awkwardly. "Man, I'm seriously thinking I should've stayed home today."

The door shut on those words and the Official turned to Eberts. "What can you do with these?"

He tapped the notebook still lying on the desktop before him.

"I can… scan the pages into the computer system," Eberts answered after a moment to consider the options. "Once the data from the Embassy is decrypted I can run a comparison…"

"Yes, yes. You have two hours to finish with these." The Official handed the notebook to Eberts, not wanting or needing to know the details of what the man had planned. Whatever it was it was sure to be done swiftly and efficiently and make the best use of the resources they had on hand.

"Yes, sir." Eberts took the notebook and moved quickly to gather up the others that still lay on the conference table. "As quickly as I can, sir."

The Official watched as Eberts moved as quickly as he ever did and seconds later the door shut softly behind him, leaving the Official once more alone. Removing his glasses, he dropped them onto the surface of the desk and leaned back in the chair, ignoring the sounds of discontent emanating from the inanimate object. Rubbing his eyes he sighed deeply. "I agree, Darien; today would have been a perfect day to stay home. Shame neither of us has that choice."

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

Darien leaned slumped back against the cheap plaster wall just down the hall from Lab Three where Claire was presumably still examining Mei-Lin and the baby. He could only hope they were both all right as he was unwilling to intrude and add even more stress to what Mei-Lin was already burdened with. He ran his hands through his hair, causing it to temporarily return to its normally upswept position. It was still dark, even though his features were once again his own and not that of a stranger, the sun lightened brown was hidden beneath the false layer of color and would remain so until the mission was complete and he was allowed to return home.

Hobbes had returned to the Official's office to plan out the exchange, even though they, as yet, had nothing they were prepared to trade to get Alex back, because until Claire was done with Mei-Lin there was no one to discuss or plan with for the more technical aspects, such as how to not give them the Quicksilver while giving them the Quicksilver. So instead he had paced the halls, stewed over the way things had gone down earlier, and tried to stay awake.

The door he'd been studiously not watching for the last fifteen minutes finally opened and Claire stepped into the hallway, the dim light from within casting her shadow across the floor and far wall until the door swung shut and left them standing in the dimly lit corridor. As he watched in his peripheral vision, she placed her hands on the small of her back and arched to try and stretch out tired muscles. Once again she seemed to be able to read his mind.

"Both of them are fine."

Darien released a ragged breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "You sure?" He didn't even turn to look at her, his focus on a suddenly fascinating elephantine shape caused by the convergence of several warps in the flooring. Seconds later he felt a warm hand laid on his bare forearm.

"Darien, it has nothing to do with your dream. It is nothing more than coincidence," she tried to reassure him.

"You don't know that," Darien hissed as he finally met her eyes. "How many times does it have to happen before it's no longer coincidence?" He watched her frown, betting she was counting up the times he'd come to her in the last two and a half years with some odd dream only to have it end up being an eerie reflection of the reality that eventually happened. The thing was, he'd not told Claire about all of them, just the ones that both made the greatest impression and caused him the greatest concern.

"Darien…"

"Later, Keep." Darien summarily decided that now was not the time to discuss some of the stranger aspects of being the receptacle of the Quicksilver gland. "We need your help with…"

She waved a hand. "Yes, I know." Crooking a finger she strode down the hall. "Follow me."

Shoving away from the wall he slouched along behind her. He wasn't really paying attention to where they were going so he was rather surprised when they stopped before a door he recognized. "This is Lab Two, right? Where Gloria stayed?"

Claire nodded as she entered the code for the door. "Yes, I've been using it for some of my more esoteric research." Four steps across the floor and she was entering a second code, which opened the second door onto the main room. It had changed greatly from his last visit, no longer the slightly sterile hospital-like setting. Now there were lab benches, a variety of tools and other equipment upon them and a row of solid steel cabinets along the back wall. They looked similar to the row of coolers along the one wall of the Keep, but much more solid, like the scientist version of a safe.

She went to the one on the far right and, withdrawing a key from her pocket, unlocked the door, revealing a second one with an electronic lock that required a six-digit code that Darien noted out of habit. From its depths Claire withdrew two very familiar items, which she carried over to a cleared area on one of the lab tables and set them down upon.

"Where'd we get the second one?" Darien asked as he looked over the pair of Quicksilver backpacks that lay before him.

"I built it," Claire explained with a hint of pride. "However, it is non-functional."

"Keepy's been busy reverse-engineering the other team's toys," Darien said in a teasing tone that did nothing to hide his astonishment of her skill and intelligence. He carefully compared the backpacks, finding that, on the surface that they appeared to be identical, so he was forced to assume that it was the interior structure that differed.

"The Official would not allow me to dismantle the original so I've been forced to rely on X-rays, CT and MRI scans to try and ascertain the workings of the inner structure. With limited success, I'm afraid." Claire made it plain she was unhappy with the situation.

"So we give them the fake," Darien commented thoughtfully. "What about the Quicksilver that they want?"

"I've got a few ideas on that as well." Picking up the original, she returned it to the safe and locked it away, returning the key to her pocket when she was done. "Will you assist me?"

Darien shrugged not sure how much help he could to her. "I guess. What can I do?" She handed him the fake Quicksilver backpack and he followed her out of Lab Two and back towards the Keep.

"I'll need fresh samples of Quicksilver to test a variety of reagents on. I need something that'll cause the Quicksilver to break down quickly once exposed to air, rendering it useless and making it difficult to duplicate," she told him as they turned the final corner to the Keep.

Darien absently scratched the back of his neck with his free hand as he mulled her words. He was at least marginally conversant with how the gland and his body worked together to make this miracle of invisibility occur. "Like to make it flake and then biodegrade faster?"

"Exactly," Claire agreed as she slid her key through the slot in the lock and waited for the door to rumble open. Once inside she took the backpack from him and waved him towards the exam chair. "Up you go."

Darien slid onto the chair as she cleared a spot near one of her computers for the backpack. "Ah, the memories."

Claire bustled about gathering whatever items she deemed necessary to run her little Quicksilver experiments. Darien relaxed back against the slightly reclined chair and allowed himself to drift; while not quite asleep he wasn't exactly all there either. At least at first. Within moments his wandering mind found its way into that dark corner where he tried to keep those things better left untouched by his waking mind buried from the light of day.

He found himself back in the recurring dream, only this time he skipped ahead, straight to the scene with the red-eyed baby and the woman he now knew to be Mei-Lin. Instead of shouting "no" as he had done in every previous replay he said in a sad voice, "I'm sorry."

Mei-Lin shook her head and held the infant out to him, and he found himself gingerly taking the child into his arms. "You have to protect him." She gestured and Darien turned about to see what, at first glance, was nothing more than an elaborate crib.

Unsure of her intent, he began, "Mei-Lin…"

"It is necessary," she stated, but her voice came from far away and when Darien turned to look at her she'd vanished into the rapidly gathering mist. Confused, he turned back to the crib and slowly walked towards it. Almost against his will, he set the infant down and then lowered the lid. The soft cries were cut off as the surface began to frost over, the fog created by condensation rising up about the coffin-like metallic box as he backed away. What the crib really was finally registered on his mind as nothing less than one of the Chrysalis cryo-pods.

With a physical twitch that very nearly dumped him onto the floor Darien awoke as Claire gently laid a warm hand on his shoulder. A strangled yelp was all that got past his lips as he righted himself on the exam chair.

"Bad?" Claire asked as she reflexively took his pulse one he had settled.

"Bad enough," he answered as he tried to convince his racing heart to slow down to something vaguely resembling normal. "How long was I out?"

"About 45 minutes. You looked like you needed it, and, no, you didn't delay anything," she assured him with a nod at the lab table covered in various vials filled with a variety of colored substances. "Want to talk about it?"

Darien shook his head, not really wanting to probe at the potential meanings of this newest version of the nightmare. Especially not now, when they still had some very real and very serious issues to deal with.

"All right," Claire responded as a tall thin beaker with regular milliliter markings on its side magically appeared in her hand. "Fill 'er up."

Darien blinked at her, at first not entirely sure exactly what it was she wanted him to fill the beaker up with and hoping like hell it wasn't what he thought it was, because after that dream nothing like that would be happening. "Keep…"

"With Quicksilver," Claire said in exasperation causing Darien to blush in embarrassment.

"Uh, yeah. Quicksilver, of course." He tried to cover the fact that his thoughts had gone in an entirely different direction, but still saw the slight grin that passed across the Keeper's lips before she got herself under control. Things had never been quite the same after that little dual madness induced incident at the dock yard, but they had eventually gotten past the discomfort and refused to let it affect their relationship -- their friendship -- any more than it already had. Holding the beaker in his right hand he directed the Quicksilver to flow along his left to slip off the ends of his fingers and into the container in a steady stream where it pooled in a silvery liquid mass. Once it was roughly three-quarters of the way filled - about six ounces of Quicksilver - Claire motioned for him to stop.

"Perfect."

Shaking the remaining amount from his fingers, he held the quickly chilling glass beaker out to her and watched her take it with a heavily gloved hand. She carried it quickly over to a large insulated container and poured it inside, where it would remain liquid until she needed a sample to perform her tests on. Turning his right hand over, he checked the snake that lay coiled quietly there; its emerald green scales still strangely comforting to see. After living so long in fear of the colors changing, of the green being subsumed by red, and his mind sliding down that slippery slope into madness, he still needed the reassurance that seeing the snake completely green brought to him.

"It still surprises you even after all this time." It was most definitely a statement and not a question.

He drew one leg up onto the chair and wrapped his arms about it. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"Darien, every test I've run says that the gene therapy worked exactly like… Arnaud suggested it would." The obvious reluctance to mention Darien's personal nemesis was easily discerned by him.

"I know, and I guess that's why I keep waiting for that other shoe to drop." He slipped off the exam chair. "I'm gonna find out what's going on, okay?"

Claire looked him over thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "I'll call if I need another sample."

Darien stepped through the doorway as soon as there was enough room to slide his thin frame through. "Milked by force or by request; there ain't much difference."

He ignored Claire's indignant squawk of "Darien…" that was cut off as the door shut.

To avoid a reprimand or discussion on the now suddenly touchy subject Darien let the gland do its little trick and coat his body in the light bending substance it produced in seemingly infinite amounts and vanished from sight mere seconds later. Moving silently, he made his way through the dark corridors in search of his partner and news from the front.

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

Hobbes rubbed the top of his head, the few remaining hairs bristling upright as if laden with static electricity at the action. "Okay, the Keep has the fake backpack and is working on rigging the Quicksilver to self-destruct, right?"

"That is an accurate summation, Robert," Eberts agreed. "But they are demanding the return of the notebooks as well."

"You said you made copies," Hobbes stated, but waited for confirmation from one of the two other people in the room.

"I scanned the pages into the mainframe, but it might very well take years to…" Eberts stopped as Hobbes waved a hand at him in irritation.

"We have copies," Hobbes reiterated. "So we give 'em the originals back just like they want." A sly grin crossed his features.

"Bobby, take your meds." The Official's tone failed to hide his exhaustion or frustration.

Hobbes debated a snappy comeback, but chose to explain what he meant instead. "You give 'em back the notebooks, but change some of the numbers. How are they gonna know if there's been a few adjustments; she supposedly wiped their computer system so's they got nothin' to compare 'em to."

The Official chuckled. "Brilliant, Bobby. I'm suitably impressed." Hobbes tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Eberts."

"Sir." Eberts was instantly attentive.

"Find out if Dr. Chong is awake and have her assist. We don't need a nuclear meltdown because we juggled the wrong decimal point," The Official told him.

Eberts quickly gathered up the notebooks. "Yes, sir." And quickly left the room.

"Bobby."

"Yes, Chief?"

"Find Fawkes. We have less than two hours to pull this off."

"Will do sir. He'll be ready." Hobbes turned about and headed for the door Eberts had not used.

The Official's look hardened. "No, Bobby, he won't."

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

Hobbes found Darien in Lab Three, which had become the default command center since Claire was reluctant to move Mei-Lin, especially with the numerous monitors still attached to various parts of her anatomy as well as the I.V. line still stuck in the back of one hand. While looking better than earlier, she still did not look right, and there wasn't a single person in the building that would try and force her to move without there being a life or death emergency.

Mei-Lin was involved in an intense discussion with Claire and Eberts, though the latter was interjecting only the occasional comment, while Darien sat on the end of the bed, one leg drawn up and the other dangling off the side swinging slowly back and forth. He had a magazine folded over in one hand and appeared to be fully absorbed in whatever he was reading, the conversation drifting right past him unheeded.

As Hobbes watched, the semi-polite discussion heated up, bordering on a full-blown argument. Casually Darien shifted position to lay on his side, practically curled about Mei-Lin's feet, one hand reaching out to tap her on the calf hidden under the blanket and defusing the situation almost instantly. He never even looked up from the page, yet it was plain he'd taken on the burden of moderating the exchange of information even though he most likely understood only one word in three.

"The Official will not allow any version of Quicksilver technology out of his direct control," Eberts stated flatly.

"And who appointed him arbiter of this technology?" Mei-Lin snapped.

"I got a question." All eyes turned to focus on Hobbes as he paced slowly across the room towards the group. "Where'd you get the Quicksilver for the backpack?"

Darien perked up at that, setting the magazine down, but maintaining the bored expression on his face to prove he was not really interested in the answer. "Yeah, I coulda sworn we destroyed the supply they… took."

"A small sample was reserved and from it. I was able to duplicate the Quicksilver," Mei-Lin answered without disseminating.

"But if they have the formula why do they what Darien for a new supply?" Claire asked with more than a little confusion in her voice.

"'Cause they don't, Keep. Not any more." Hobbes waved a hand at Mei-Lin. "Lost in yer accident, I'm bettin'."

Mei-Lin reluctantly nodded in agreement. "All that remained was the one sample reserved for the backpack, and no one wanted to risk destroying it while I was recovering."

"You're good," Darien said with false joviality. "Musta had the Quicksilver copied within weeks and then got right to work on an alternative to the gland." He met Mei-Lin's eyes, which held neither guilt nor embarrassment in their dark brown depths. She'd been doing her job and no more and though Darien liked to think she was one their side now, he was fully cognizant of the fact that she had once worked for the enemy.

"You copied Fawkes' Quicksilver, but didn't deal with the nutso side effect, how?" Hobbes truly sounded curious.

"The Quicksilver was never the carrier for the disinhibitor. A secondary chemical produced by the gland had the toxin piggybacked onto its code. When that substance is secreted the toxin is filtered away and remains in Darien's system," Claire explained with carefully chosen words since Darien had warned her earlier about the Chinese's apparent lack of knowledge about his cure.

"So when that Counteragent Two was used the toxin was secreted out and became transmittable via the infected Quicksilver flakes in which it had become highly concentrated," Hobbes summed up, causing everyone in the room to stare at him in surprise. "What?"

"Nothing, Hobbes. Go back to sleep." Darien shivered slightly; for a second there Hobbes had sounded just like he had when he'd been nailed with that genius retro-virus over a year ago.

Hobbes grunted. "I'll sleep when this is over. Now, what's the problem?"

They all looked expectantly at Mei-Lin.

"All right. I'll make the alterations, but I am going to want concessions from this Fat Man of yours." She was frowning as she spoke, but took the notebooks from Eberts as he handed them to her.

"Anything within reason," Eberts told her with a look that said he was speaking for the Official at that moment. The next question was all his own. "Why did you come back?'

Mei-Lin paled slightly, the subject a touchy one for her. She brushed her hair back out of nervousness. "There were… anomalies with some of the standard second trimester tests that had been run. Every blood test including the AFP showed unusual substances in my system, though the ultrasound showed no abnormalities. It wasn't until I obtained access to a lab to examine the blood samples for myself that I was able to determine what the problem appears to be. Apparently the Quicksilver left some minute traces behind." She shrugged, but looked at Claire and some wordless communication passed between the two women. "Your Dr. Keeply has agreed to perform some more detailed tests, including an amniocentesis, that I had been unable to arrange in secrecy."

"The Keep, here, will make sure everything is just fine," Hobbes said with absolute confidence in their Keeper.

"So now what?" Darien set down the magazine and rolled slightly to look at Hobbes, who was pacing back and forth across the room. Five steps, turn, five steps. He paused for a second at Darien's question, but took up the movement again as he answered.

"Wait for the Doc here to finish doctoring the books and then make the meet in," he glanced at the clock mounted high up on the wall, "less than an hour."

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

The sun was above the horizon, already well clear of the high dusty hills that lay just east of the city. Where the three Agency pool vehicles sat was still deep in shadow, the man-made mountains of glass and steel preventing those first warming rays from alighting upon them. The peaceful stillness of the morning was broken by an irritation laden voice.

"Just one shot, Fawkes, and we can be eating city squab for lunch," Hobbes grumbled as his hand twitched towards his gun.

Darien fought the sudden urge to laugh. "Hobbes, you are not shooting that bird just for doing what comes natural."

The bird in question once again went into its trilling repertoire that was its way of greeting the new day, causing Hobbes to glare and Darien to set a hand on his shoulder to, hopefully, keep him from pulling the gun and firing.

"This isn't about the bird, is it?"

Hobbes sighed and slumped back against the side of the dark green Ford pool vehicle they had driven to the meet. "She just looked so bad, Fawkes. I dunno if I can save her."

Darien patted him on the back in a consoling manner and made sure his high strung partner didn't see the grin on his face, knowing full well exactly how sensitive Hobbes could be about that van. "She'll make it, man. No one knows her better than you," he said in the most serious tone he could manage.

Hobbes snuffled a bit. "Thanks. With you helping I'm sure we'll have her good as new in no time at all."

Darien groaned softly; he'd wanted no part of fixing up the van the first time around and really had no interest in doing it again. He glanced about at the Agency suits as they failed to blend in about the small heavily landscaped square in front of the Planet Hollywood. The one guy slowly pacing about the fountain stuck out like a sore thumb, the dark suit and glasses completely out of place beside the gaily bubbling fountain, and had drawn the attention of more than one commuter driving by heading to, or perhaps even from work.

"Where are they?" Darien muttered as he snapped the piece of gum he'd stuffed in his mouth on the drive over here.

"They'll be here." Hobbes swung right back to the job at hand, the glimpse of the man behind the agent fading into the background. "Time for you to disappear, my friend."

"Huh?" Darien asked, not sure where Hobbes' mind had wandered off to now.

"You remember…" Hobbes stopped and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Forgot you weren't there for the plannin' stages. All right, we need these guys to think we're gonna double-cross them."

"Hobbes, we are gonna double-cross them," Darien said with his head cocked at an angle as he eyed his partner.

"But they don't know that." He slid his glasses down and looked over the top of them at Darien, then clucked his tongue in dismay. "You've been straight too long. You've forgotten how to sell the con."

"Oh, now I am truly wounded." Darien drew a hand to his heart and mimed having suffered from a serious blow to the chest. "What the hell are you talking about, Hobbes?"

"We gotta give 'em an obvious double-cross so's they don't catch on to the subtle one. Capish?" Hobbes explained in a tone that implied Darien should know this by now.

Darien rolled his eyes. "I got it, though I'm thinking a bit of your family might have rubbed off after that visit." Darien easily dodged the fist swung at him, noting the hint of a grin about Hobbes' lips. "Seriously, which one of us made a living running cons?" The droll look Hobbes gave Darien made him quickly reconsider wanting to hear the answer. "Never mind."

"Fawkes…"

"I'm going. I'm going." Stepping away from the car, the Quicksilver crawled across his skin, outward over his clothes, sheathing him in liquid ice and making the garish colors of the exterior of the restaurant fade to monochromatic, his peripheral vision leaving fiery trails of white on his minds eye as he turned his head to survey the surroundings in more detail. The Quicksilver actually improved his vision somewhat as the darker shadows lightened dramatically, revealing plants and flowers that had previously been hidden to him.

He wandered over to the sidewalk and then up the lower half of the staircase to the restaurant proper, giving him some height to look over the area with. His move was well timed as three late model Cadillacs rolled up and parked on 4th. Four men stepped out of two of the cars, two of which Darien recognized. Leaning against the railing Darien watched as two strode cautiously forward, Ming along with what seemed to be a generic bodyguard type, to be joined by Hobbes and another agent on the sidewalk at the foot of the stairs. Darien observed all this with a bit of bemusement, not entirely sure what Hobbes expected him to do to sell this to the Chinese.

"Where is our equipment?" Ming asked brusquely.

"Lemme see Monroe," Hobbes ordered, one hand brushing aside his jacket to rest on his hip and allow a clear view of his Colt.

Ming raised one hand and snapped his fingers. The rear door on the third car opened and a man slid out. Darien's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the man; while definitely Chinese he easily stood six feet tall, but was triple Darien's own wiry musculature. Dragged along behind the hulk, who had a fierce and probably painful grip on her upper arm, was Alex, who was looking more than a little upset about the whole situation.

As Darien watched she tried to jerk her arm free, without success, but it gave him an idea of how to cause some trouble and maybe just sell this con.

"You okay, Monroe?" Hobbes asked of the plainly frustrated woman.

"Fine. Had a lovely nap." Alex tried to pull her arm away again, but the guy tightened his grip, causing her to gasp and pale slightly in reaction.

"Tranqed ya, did they?"

Alex shrugged. "Four on one. I'll give you the play by play later."

"There will be no later unless we get what we came for. I am quite certain Agent Monroe can be…. persuaded to give up information on any number of projects and missions that your government would rather we knew nothing about." Ming's voice was cold and hard, an eerie reflection of the Official when he was in one of his moods.

"Eberts," Hobbes barked.

The rear door of the dark blue Agency vehicle opened and Eberts appeared, clutching one of those ubiquitous white cardboard file boxes to his chest. He glanced about nervously at first, but drew himself up to his full height, which nearly matched Darien's, and strode confidently to Hobbes and the group gathering on the sidewalk. Once he took his place beside Hobbes, all the others, both Embassy and Agency, joined them, looking for all the world like a group of crows circling about a tasty morsel they'd spotted from high above. Only Monroe and the hulking brute holding her stayed behind.

"Let me see," Ming ordered.

Eberts began to lift the top off the box, but Hobbes slapped his hand down on it, shutting it again. "Bring Monroe over."

"Agreed. Xing."

Xing, the sumo wrestler in disguise as the Embassy muscle, adjusted his grip on Alex's arm and pulled her along with him even though she wasn't fighting him at all. He had moved maybe ten feet when he suddenly stopped dead, his eyes nearly bugging out in reaction to something no one else could see. However, he refused to loosen his grip on Alex, and, in fact, began to increase pressure, giving Alex the opportunity to take action. Shifting slightly, she stomped one thin heel down on the muscle's instep making him roar in pain and release her. Then he inexplicably fell forward onto the concrete, his hands coming out just in time to keep the majority of the skin on his face from being sanded off by the rough surface.

Guns instantly appeared in hands aimed at every visible member of Agency personnel.

"Whoa. Hold up," Hobbes shouted, his hands coming up to half-mast in hopes of defusing the suddenly volatile scene. The gunshots on the street last night had caused enough havoc once the van had been traced back to the Agency; they really didn't need this getting out of hand. "Your guy's a klutz and the hardware comes out?"

Alex froze in place, instead of taking off like every instinct was screaming for her to do. This time all the guns were loaded with bullets and not tranquillizers, and she had every intention in living to fight another day.

"Just go with the flow," a chill breeze whispered in her ear, making her visibly shiver in reaction.

"Faw…" She stopped as an icy finger was pressed to her lips.

"Shhhh!" he hissed as he released Alex, her hand going reflexively to her mouth.

The incredible bulk hadn't taken the hint and was trying to get back to his feet so Darien

intervened and, with a well-placed kick to the man's midsection, had him back on the ground, his air having been expelled with a whoosh at the violent contact. It would probably take several minutes before he would be showing any interest in the proceedings.

Ming cursed softly in Chinese. "Where is Fawkes?"

Hobbes played the complete innocent, laying it on as thick as he dared. "Who?"

"Find him," Ming barked and three of the Chinese agent pulled out thermal goggles disguised as stylish sunglasses. Within seconds they had spotted Darien, who was walking calmly towards the main group.

"Fawkes," Hobbes called out, conceding that Darien was indeed there.

"Yeah?" Darien snapped his gum as he allowed the Quicksilver to flake away to reveal him standing directly behind Ming, much to that man's shock. "So, we gonna do this or not?" Darien casually walked about Ming, ignoring the trio of guns pointed at himself to stand beside Eberts.

"You would try to double-cross us?" Ming sounded appropriately indignant.

"Like you wouldn't have done the same," Hobbes sneered. "Eberts."

Eberts removed the cover from the box and allowed Ming to examine the items inside. A look of pure greed momentarily crossed the man's features. "Kairong." The man standing next to Ming reached for the box only to have Darien bat his hands away and wag a finger in admonishment.

"Uh, uh." Darien nodded towards Alex who was standing as patiently as she could manage with Xing who had finally regained his breath and his feet. His weapon was aimed at her midsection. "We get her, you get the box."

Both Ming and Ma glared at Darien, but he kept his look bored, as if he could care less if they changed their minds and instead chose to take Alex and whatever information they could squeeze from her instead of what was in box number one.

"Do it," Ming finally said.

Alex was escorted, though without the forceful hold of earlier, until she stood in front of

Hobbes. He reached a hand out for Alex and nodded to Eberts who held the box out to Ma. The man practically snatched it from Eberts' grasp he was so eager to have it in his possession.

Hobbes grabbed Alex by the forearm, but didn't need to pull as she quickly stepped forward and then behind Hobbes who swung an arm about her protectively.

The foursome began to back away; Xing's drawn gun aimed at Darien's head stopped them.

"Check the contents," Ming said with a dangerous smile.

Wang suddenly appeared beside Ma and, after giving Eberts a companionable nod of mutual lackey-dom, began to go through the contents of the box with a swift efficiency. With economical motions he went through each of the notebooks, examined the backpack with a gimlet eye and then unscrewed the top of the canister containing the Quicksilver. Dipping a pen, fished from an inner pocket of his jacket, it came back out missing its lower half. With a nod from Ming, the cap was replaced on the canister and Xing's gun vanished from sight.

"Tell your Official to expect my call." And with that the entire Chinese contingent turned away and hurried back to their cars.

Hobbes turned his head slightly. "Hawkins."

One of the faceless Agency men appeared as if conjured up by magic.

"Follow them. I want to know where Ming the Merciless, there, ends up. Embassy, airport, hell, if he takes a train to Tijuana for a weekend of cheap booze and cheaper women I want to know about it. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Hawkins headed for the off-white Lincoln and seconds later he and his partner were off to tail the black sedans that had left seconds before.

Darien sidled over to Alex, turning her about and resting his hands gingerly on her shoulders, unsure of how much, if any, contact she would be willing to accept. "Are you all right?"

"Well, I was fine until you," her voice rose to a shout for the next word, "idiots gave them exactly what they wanted." She didn't shrug off Darien's hands, but did glare at each of them in turn."

"I'd say she's just fine," Hobbes commented as he slipped off the glasses and slid them into his pocket.

"Yep, same sharp-tongued lass we know and love," Darien agreed, ignoring the look of pure anger that flashed deep within her blue eyes. "Glad to have you back."

Those words caused the fire to gutter and die out, a sigh escaping from her. "You shouldn't have traded that data for me," she insisted.

Eberts cleared his throat. "Technically we didn't, Miss Monroe. The items were all doctored. If we're lucky they'll head straight back to Beijing with them."

Understanding dawned for both Alex and the rest of them as the sun finally lifted high enough into the sky to break past the man made barriers and shine its light down upon the group, chasing away the few remaining shadows. That mystery bird began it lilting call again, and Hobbes groaned.

Darien dealt with the situation in his usual manner. "Breakfast? I'm starved."

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

Tag

"Well?" The Official asked as he signed the paper Eberts set on the desk before him.

Hobbes stifled a yawn; it had been a fricking long 24 hours and he was looking forward to collapsing on his bed to sleep for at least 12. "Hawkins watched Ming and Wang board a private plane 20 minutes ago."

"My contact in the control tower confirmed a flight plan direct to Beijing, with a refueling stop in Oahu," Eberts informed them.

"So we've bought some breathing space. Good work." The Official set down the pen and looked up at Hobbes, who was yawning again and not bothering to try and hide it this time. "Go home. Both of you."

"Sir?" Eberts sounded very surprised.

"You heard me. Go home, get some sleep and be back here first thing tomorrow." This time the words were quite plainly a direct order.

"Yes, sir." Hobbes mock saluted. "Come on, Eberts, before he changes your mind for you."

With uncommon companionship the two men left the room walking side-by-side and chatting softly about the past day's events.

Once the Official was certain he was alone and not likely to be disturbed for several minutes he picked up the handset of the phone and dialed a number he had memorized a long time ago. "Let him know everything went as planned."

When he hung up the phone he was smiling.

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

Knocking on the partially open door Darien was only mildly surprised by the feminine "Come, " from within. After the events of last night he'd have gone home and to bed if he'd been her, but because Alex was… Alex, he'd pretty much expected her to still be here. Perhaps she found some odd sort of comfort in the aged Harding building and the people walking its halls. "Shouldn't you be home doing something normal like sleeping? I'd say you earned it."

Alex looked up at him and he shifted the hanger holding the uniform off his shoulder and around front so that she could see it. "I will as soon as I finish this." She waved at the paperwork on the desk before her.

Darien moved closer and leaned over the desk, noting it was the standard triplicate crap the Official tried to make Darien do and that he blew off more often than not these days. Even now that he was considered a "real agent," he still preferred playing the game his way, if only to piss off the laughing fat man in the office two floors below them. "Blow it off. It'll still be there to do tomorrow." Stepping back he carefully settled into the chair he'd spent a couple hours in the day before as his outward appearance had been altered by the woman sitting across from him. He made sure to drape the uniform across the arms of the chair so none of it dragged on the floor. "Thanks, Alex."

She shrugged, still seeming to be far more focused on the paperwork before her than on Darien. "Part of the job, Fawkes. Try to cover all the contingencies."

"If you say so." Darien noticed she wasn't meeting his eyes. "Look, I want you to know that we wouldn't have let them keep you. And not 'cause it's the job." He got slowly to his feet, assuming, rightly, that after everything she'd been through that she might very well want to be alone.

Setting the pen down with a deliberate movement she looked up at him. "I know, Fawkes." She paused as if fighting with herself over the next words. "I… I want to apologize about my comment yesterday morning. I was out of line." Exhaustion washed across her features for an instant, much to Darien's astonishment. "Looks like nightmares are something we have in common."

Darien wasn't sure what to say. It was so rare that she'd shared anything personal that he was unsure how to respond so he inevitably fell back on sarcasm. "So that explains your wonderful mood all the time."

He watched one eyebrow slip momentarily upwards, but she didn't snap anything back at him. Instead, in a deceptively cool voice she asked, "Anything else, Fawkes?"

"Umm, yeah, actually. I was wondering if I could hang on to the uniform for a couple of weeks."

"Why?"

Darien took a deep breath and rattled off the lines he'd spent the last hour practicing over and over. "For the procurement of vast quantities of manufactured confections."

She looked at him darkly. "Fawkes…"

"Halloween, Alex. I've got invites to a couple of parties and am thinking of crashing a few others." He gave her a shy smile. "'Sides, I like dressing up to hand out candy to the neighborhood kids."

A host of emotions crossed her features, only a few of which Darien could readily identify.

"What happened to 'the ole headless horseman routine'?"

"I guess it's time for something new, is all," Darien answered, surprised at her comment. His penchant for memorizing what others said was not something he'd even have thought to have in common with… anyone much less Alex Monroe.

"Sure, Fawkes. Have fun." Alex's focus shifted back to the report she'd been filling out when he'd interrupted her. Reaching for the pen she sighed softly and got back to work.

"Thanks." Darien said as he turned away from her and to the office door where paused. "Alex."

"Yes?" She didn't even lift her head up to look at him.

"Would you like to join me? At one of the parties that is?" He wasn't quite sure what had made him ask. Maybe it was the subtle look of disappointment he'd thought he'd seen in her eyes when he'd mentioned being invited to the parties.

"Fawkes, I don't date co-workers," Alex reminded him, her voice and posture stiff.

"Do you see a fishing pole?" Darien quickly came back with. "Just two friends spending some quality time together without having to worry about work." He saw the look of combined distrust and disbelief on her face, but something in her eyes made him press on. "What? Want me to swear on my lock picks or something?"

"And if I do?" Her overly cool tone was ruined by the spark of amusement Darien could easily see in her eyes.

"Come on, Alex, I promise to behave. No red-eyed mambo or nothin'," Darien added with a grin.

"Where would the fun be in that?" Alex countered with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'll think about it. Give me a call with the time and place."

"Great." Darien was actually thrilled she was willing to even consider it. It was looking like the ice was really beginning to thaw. He stepped through the doorway and began to swing it shut, but one last comment insisted on making itself be heard. "Maybe I'll get to find out a few more of the things that get your motor running."

A shout of "Darien!" was easily heard through the hastily shut door even as some unknown item impacted against the far side of it.

Darien held his place for a moment and smiled at the soft laughter he heard from the far side. Whistling brightly, a lilting trill that might very well have caused Hobbes to draw on him, he made his way through the building, heading down for the lower levels. There was one last stop he had to make before he could go home.

There was life in the building now, that soft subtle buzz that was instantly recognizable as the unnatural ebb and flow of people at work. The relief of the mission having been completed with a reasonable amount of success greatly improving his mood even though he was going very short on his precious and necessary sleep.

Swiping his card through the lock he called out as he entered the darkened lab and hung the uniform on the nearby coat rack. "Honey, I'm home. Are you decent?"

"Yes, Darien." Claire's voice came from the far side of the lab, and he cautiously poked his head around the glass divider to see Claire taking a blood sample from Mei-Lin who sat calmly on the exam chair.

"Everything okay?" He failed to hide his concern for the petite woman sitting on the chair he had learned to hate over the course of two years.

"So far so good," Mei-Lin answered, patting her burgeoning belly as Claire placed a cotton ball over the small wound and folded the arm up to apply pressure.

"Good." Darien sidled up beside her, unsure of his welcome here. "So, ummm, where are you going to be staying?"

"She'll be staying with me for now. I have a spare bedroom she is more than welcome to," Claire answered as she marked the vial of blood and set it in a rack in the glass fronted cooler.

"Is that safe? I mean, I can understand not wanting to stay here. Sleepovers in this place just ain't all that much fun, as I well know." Darien was feeling more than a little protective of both women, making him wonder if he'd been hanging out with Hobbes for too long. "There is the Agency safe house."

"We'll have at least four Agency personnel with us at all times, including two inside the house itself." Claire went to Darien's side and set a hand on his arm. "We'll be perfectly fine."

Mei-Lin muttered, "I am exceedingly tired of being watched by guards."

"I know that feeling," Darien agreed, having dealt with a variety of guards over his many years. In a voice that he tried make sound bored instead of overly curious he asked, "So, when ya due?"

"End of January." Mei-Lin turned to look him in the eyes as she spoke.

Darien remembered her saying she was six months along, but at the time he'd not really thought about exactly what that meant. Counting up both sets of numbers he came up with an answer that was mildly disconcerting. "Okay, unless my math is way off, that would mean you… umm… about the time you were last here."

As one both women said, "I know."

Darien looked at them in consternation, not quite understanding the sharp tone they had each used when answering. "Wait…" He carefully thought it through and all the pieces suddenly fell into place. "Oh."

In the driest tone Claire could manage she said, "Well, that's the understatement of the year."

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

In a movie filled with man-made impossibilities one Dr. Ian Malcolm made what may be the ultimate statement, "Life finds a way."

Guess you could say I'm living proof of that, what with that bit of biosynthetic wet-ware tucked quietly into the back of my skull, generously provided by my brother.

Considering the things I've seen and done since coming to the Agency - men poisonous to the touch, getting to experience old age for an afternoon, nearly killed by a mermaid, being courted by an invisible monster, being stalked by the super-accelerated remains of a dead woman - you'd think I'd be ready for just about anything. None of that could ever have prepared me for the news that I might have helped create a life.

Oh, crap. Me. A father. The only coherent thought I can remember after the news had sunk in was, "I wonder if it's a girl?"

End