Episode 14

By Dawnwind

Teaser:

Internationally famous spy 007, James Bond always asks for his martini "shaken not stirred". Not being much of a martini man myself, I don't know the relative merits of one versus the other but I do know I'd prefer to live my life without major shake-ups. Unfortunately, I seem to average a shake-up every few years, and lately it was getting to be more like every few months. So, I guess I was due for another one...

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San Diego greeted the morning with that quintessential Southern California style--brilliant blue skies, warm breezes off the ocean and the sun kissing the palm trees so prettily, it was sin not to be lying outside on a beach soaking up those rays. This was one of those days that promised spectacular things.

Early morning light spilled through the windows of Darien Fawkes' studio apartment, filling the interior with lovely warmth. With his headphones firmly in place Adam Reese ignored the sun's promise, shaking his head in time to the music blasting in his ears and sipped his morning orange juice. Only half concentrating on the bagel he was slicing in two, he sang a few words along with Beck, executing a hip thrust for emphasis.

The floor gave a sudden jolt, jostling Adam's hand and the knife came down hard, slicing into his palm. A second longer jolt was followed by a long undulating wave as if the building's foundation had liquefied. Unmindful of his now bleeding hand, Adam grabbed the counter and ducked down, remembering the elementary school drills that stressed duck and cover.

The earthquake was over in a mere 10 seconds but Adam's heart was racing by the time he stood nervously, surveying the room. Surprisingly, little looked changed by the earth's temper tantrum.

"Ohmygod, did you feel that?" Darien burst out of the bathroom, his hair wet and in more violent disarray that usual. A towel was clutched around his narrow waist and his chest still bore traces of soap.

"Yeah, what'd you think it measured?" Adam wrapped a dishtowel around his bleeding palm.

Glancing around the room to check for any fallen objects, Darien frowned, "Maybe a 3.5 or 3.7?" Except for a few tumbled Cliff Notes the room looked no different that it had before his shower.

"My money's on...4.2." Adam grinned. It was a common enough discussion in California where earthquakes rattled through some part of the state on a daily basis, especially in smaller out of the way areas.

"Did you cut your hand?" Darien asked with concern.

"It's not much, "Adam held up his palm to show the long, shallow cut. "Wait a minute." He pointed to the headphones he still wore, listening to the DJ. "They're talking about the quake."

"I'm getting dressed." Darien dripped back to the bathroom to locate his pants, "Give me the highlights."

Adam nibbled on his bagel, dabbing absently at the cut. "Dr. Div says it was just a rock and roll, 4.0 on the Richter, Darien! I was closer, you gotta buy me a Slurpee."

"I don't remember agreeing to anything." Darien emerged fully dressed in black jeans and a t-shirt proclaiming him an escapee from Alcatraz.

"It was implied."

"Implied my ass." Darien swiped the other half of the bagel and slathered it with cream cheese. "Should probably have Casey take a look at your hand, see if it needs stitches."

"Not Claire?" Adam teased.

"Or Claire. Casey or Claire...whichever."

"You just want any reason at all to see your favorite chick doctor."

"Not like you, huh?" Darien rolled his eyes, "Not like Mr. Big-Man-on-a-Skateboard had to go past Tiffany Sharpton about six times yesterday afternoon at the park."

"Hey, can I help it if she recognizes talent?"

"You just got out of a leg cast for Pete's sake!" Darien reached up to get a box of colorful strips out of the kitchen cupboard. "Let me put a Band-Aid on that hand at least."

"No," Adam pulled his hand out of reach, his face going pale. He didn't want to get blood on Darien's bare skin. "Wait until one of the doctors can do it--with latex on."

"Adam, you're not contagious. Claire said the cure worked."

"The virus is still there. Maybe it's like AIDS or something, in my blood just waiting to infect..."

"Hey," Darien rubbed his back gently but Adam was suddenly almost afraid to take that small measure of comfort. His most terrible fear was that he might infect his closest friends and then watch them die, one by one. It was a nightmare he'd had on numerous occasions.

"I'll clean up here, get some shoes you won't have to tie and we'll head for the Keep." Darien decided.

"Don't touch the knife." Adam ordered.

"I promise." Darien's smile was very sad.

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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

"And closer to home," Tabitha surveyed the assembled group of Chrysalis district managers for California. "I am absolutely disgusted that the theft of the cryopod research remained undiscovered for so long. And no word as yet on who the perpetrator was?"

"It was reported as soon as the problem became known," Ahn Nugyen spoke up timidly, her face pale. "But it wasn't one of the current projects. We don't check every file each week."

"Then you should. I expect news of this magnitude immediately, not a month later," Tabitha seethed. "Are you all complete incompetents? Our research is now in the hands of some unknown competition. We need to know what they know!"

"The likely suspect is the Agency," Paul Fabrini said. "But there has been no sign that they have the technology or used the stolen formula."

Jared Stark toyed with his coffee mug emblazoned with a black butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Such a pretty yet sinister image. He took a sip of the pungent drink to hide a smile. Oh, the Agency had the technology all right and they'd already used it by the time Tabitha's idiot minions had stumbled over the theft. No wonder no one could figure out why the Agency had wanted the information. Adam Reese was already walking around--a living, breathing product of modern scientific advances.

Stark had been tracking the boy since Fawkes had stolen the cryopod out from under his nose. For over a year he'd assumed the Agency was unable to bring their prize out of ice. With the virulent mutant virus running rampant through Adam's bloodstream, it had seemed an impossibility that the boy could be defrosted in this lifetime. Yet, by early December, lo and behold, Stark's squadron of personal spies had spotted the blond teenager skateboarding with the unmistakable Darien Fawkes. Adam Reese walking around in a public place meant that the Agency--or more specifically Fawkes' obscenely talented Keeper--had found a cure for the boy's contagion and untangled the jumbled files for defrosting a person out of cryo. She'd obviously had better results than the Chrysalis scientists had had.

At first angered by the Agency's successes at his expense, Stark had then decided to use what he knew to his advantage. It hadn't been until the Christmas break that Tabitha had been told of the computer break-in. A little subterfuge and misdirection by programmers loyal to Stark had kept the missing files missing for several weeks after the original theft. Just long enough to give Stark the head start he needed. Tabitha wouldn't know what had hit her.

"You, Stark, your sector has been quiet this past month. Getting lazy without a kingdom to run?" Tabitha sneered, but her face remained smooth as a doll's.

"I've been concentrating all my efforts on the cryopod theft," Stark answered smoothly, concealing his gloat.

"I'm glad to see someone under me shows some initiative." Tabitha almost looked impressed. She addressed the ten people assembled around the long mahogany table, "Whoever uncovers the reasons behind the theft and brings back tangible results will be suitably rewarded."

"You don't know what you're starting, my dear, " Stark murmured to himself with a smile.

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'"Curiouser and curiouser!" cried Alice. I double that sentiment.

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"I've lived in California for a few years now but I still haven't grown used to these bloody earthquakes. They just give me the willies," Claire groused, ferreting out a broom to sweep up the litter of broken glass on the floor of the Keep. "Look what's happened; not only did this beaker break, the chemical's eating a hole in the floor, I'll never get his Holiness to pay for a repair there."

"Listen, I'll sweep up 'cause you probably know the proper disposal for that stuff." Bobby Hobbes grabbed the broom but made no effort to come any nearer to the nasty smelling stain until Claire had donned protective gear and cleaned up the spill. "If you got any air freshener, that might do the trick."

"I have heard that the little tremblers take pressure off the faults preventing a larger quake." Claire carefully inspected her handiwork before standing up and moving aside to let Hobbes sweep.

"That may only be partially true," Bobby cautioned, leaning on his broom, "if the earth's magma is heating up, putting pressure from below, a small quake could just be a precursor for the big one." He made a neat pile of the glass shards, swept them into the dustpan and tipped the remains into the trash. "Seismologists'll be all over this, mark my words. There'll probably be something worse in the near future."

"Well, aren't you Mr. Doom-and-Gloom today," Darien and Adam came through the sliding door of the Keep on the tail end of Hobbes' explanation. Both stayed far back until he had completed his garbage detail.

"I saw that movie--'Volcano' with Anne Heche--what a babe," Adam put in enthusiastically.

"Darien, what have you been letting him watch?" Claire rolled her eyes.

"He has his own Blockbuster card, I don't stand over his shoulder."

"Perhaps you should."

"You know she's a lesbian," Hobbes said going over to the sink to wash his hands with a great deal of lather.

"Oh, yeah, she's dating that Ellen, huh?" Adam looked horrified that he'd been attracted to the petite blonde.

"Not exactly, she married that guy...that cameraman," Darien tried to recall the name of the man who'd been in all the tabloids about a year earlier when Anne's exploits had been big news.

"And had a baby," Claire agreed. "So perhaps she enjoys the attentions of both sexes."

"That's just...weird." Adam made the classic grossed out expression. "When did all that happen?"

"While you were on ice, Eskimo." Hobbes affectionately slung an arm around the boy's shoulder, but Adam pulled away with alarm, leaving the older man looking concerned.

"Claire, Adam cut his hand this morning, and he wouldn't let me even put a bandage on it," Darien explained, pointing to the red-stained dishtowel still wrapped around Adam's hand.

"Oh, sweetheart, you should have said something first thing!" Claire cooed, all her mothering instincts coming out in force. She swiftly snapped on latex gloves to examine the wound.

"That hurts," Adam complained, "It doesn't need stitches does it? Darien said..."

"Darien's not a doctor," Claire said tartly, glancing over at the object of discussion, "I am, and a few butterfly bandages will take care of this." She cleaned the wound and placed four narrow strips over his palm. "Now, since we had such a wonderful-" this was said with a great deal of sarcasm, "display of plate tectonics this morning, I thought we'd start your studies off today with some geology."

"Well, looks like you've got your morning mapped out." Darien punned weakly, "I'll just get out of your hair, Keepy." He still wasn't sure how to approach Claire since the revelation that she had once been on intimate terms with his brother Kevin and not told him. They'd once been very close friends but now a little of Hobbes' tendency for paranoia had crept in to Darien's psyche and he still didn't quite feel the old trust he'd had with Claire in spite of her help with Adam. Since there was no more need to come in regularly for Counteragent and with only periodic gland check-ups, the only reason he had much interaction at all with her was because of the boy.

"Guys, can't I come, too?" Adam beseeched. Having been in cold storage for over a year plus the added concern of Chrysalis finding him had resulted in Adam spending most mornings with tutorials, catching up on his studies. All the Agency staff had pitched in to give the boy a well-rounded education. Eberts taught computer programming and graphics, both of which Adam showed a high proficiency at, and also accounting and economics. Hobbes pitched in with recent history. With eyewitness accounts of Beirut, and knowledge of military tactics and strategy Bobby kept even the most uninterested history student on the edge of his seat. Darien's knowledge of philosophy and literature had proved invaluable and although Adam didn't quite share his guardian's interest in obscure quotations and philosophical conundrums, he still found himself reading and enjoying the selections more than he'd expected. Alex knew several languages and her 'relationship-building' skills made her a surprisingly good choice to teach Adam a smattering of French and Spanish and give him the rudiments of sociology. The rest fell on Claire's capable shoulders. Since her Agency work also kept her busy, she'd found a part-time tutor with the proper security clearance to help steer Adam through the end of seventh grade which he'd missed. Together they were already plowing through the California school system's curriculum for the eighth grade at high speed.

"Kid, this sounds like a lot more fun, believe me." Hobbes waved an expansive hand at the schoolbooks piled on the corner of the desk designated as Adam's. "We're on stakeout duty this a.m., and it's bound to be a bore."

"Don't tell me that. I had enough of sitting around watching grass grow when we had to stake out Alison Jennings," Darien groused, loping out after his diminutive partner. "Was that really true what you said about the earth's magma? How'd you know that? Was it one of those partially recalled memories popping up again?"

"Who'd you think recommended that movie to Adam?" Bobby grinned impishly, "But yeah, it's true. There's stuff under the ground nobody really understands."

"Including you." Darien teased. They headed out to the dun colored van, climbing into their usual places. Darien was no longer sure why it was that Hobbes always drove except that maybe it had something to do with his need to control his environment. That and the fact that he had some weird connection with his beloved Golda. And Darien had no real need to be behind the steering wheel. Whichever it was, Fawkes didn't really care, since it gave him time to put his feet up until they got to their destination.

Being the primary caretaker for a growing teenager was taking more out of him than he'd expected, and he couldn’t help reflecting back on his own troubled teen-aged years. By the time he was Adam's age he'd already been picked up by the police more than once and was in the early stages of his apprenticeship with his burglary mentor, Liz. Now at the advanced age of 34, the thought that Adam could follow him down that road to crime was unbelievably terrifying. Even the idea that Chrysalis might come after him again only ranked higher. He'd never before realized how hard being a parent was and was beginning to wonder if his problems with sperm count and motility only added to his fears for Adam. This was probably the only kid he was ever going to have a chance to raise and just thinking about it was like poking at a sore tooth with his tongue. It hurt, but he couldn't stop ruminating and worrying over it. The nagging suspicion that Bobby would correctly term what he was experiencing as obsession, plain and simple, made Darien even less inclined to discuss it with his friends.

"How long are we gonna be stuck here, anyway?" Darien groused when Hobbes had positioned Golda half a block from their assignment and killed the engine. "The Agency's been watchin' this dump for over a week without any arrests or confiscations...isn't that what we're supposed to do? Watching the place is boring."

"I already said that." Hobbes opened a bakery bag and offered his partner a donut, then looked horrified and reversed the gesture, taking the donut for himself and giving Darien the bag.

"I guess I'm never allowed to eat a donut in your presence ever again." Darien teased, taking a bite from a lemon-filled Danish.

"Didn't think you liked donuts." Hobbes shrugged as if the memory of nearly being strangled to death by his partner crazed on Quicksilver Madness was no big deal.

"Never really did, but my reactions that day were...extreme. Sorry." Darien licked some of the lemon filling off his lower lip.

"Hey, this is old ground. I'll never hold any thing you did while under the influence against you, Mr. Hyde." Bobby's tone was light. Darien could read the forgiveness in his eyes. Deep down, though, he didn't really believe it. He'd tried so many times to kill his friends in the past that he would never really forgive himself.

Lately, having to deal with Adam's problems and any number of the other problems that plagued his own daily life, he'd begun going back to mass and even confession with Father Tom. It felt weird to kneel down and listen to the priest talk about God like he'd done before Liz and his dark side had turned his teenaged years into hell. When he was a child he'd wanted to believe that God could answer every question, but when the Big Man upstairs hadn't even brought his father back, he'd begun to question everything he was taught in Catholic school. Now he wished he could just accept that God had all the answers, but nothing in life was that simple. Still, it was nice to be able to unload on Fr. Tom's shoulders. He yearned to give up the guilt and depression that dogged his heels, but he was no longer sure that was remotely possible.

"How come you and me got this dumb-ass assignment anyhow?" Darien continued with his complaints rather than dwell more on his dark musings. "I thought Heyes and Curruthers had this watch."

"Oh, didn't you hear? Curruthers' wife had her baby this morning at 6:57," Bobby answered.

"Right when the earthquake hit?" Darien laughed, "Man, that kid's going to be a handful."

"And Hawkins had already called in sick with a cold. Just leaves us, my friend."

"But why no arrests? Why are we just observing?"

"There's lots goin' on inside that building, or so government authorities believe--big stuff, but the only thing we can actually prove is cock fighting." He smirked, "Which is why the Department of Fish and Game got the job. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms take their turn, too, since they know some of the big arms dealers go in there and then SDPD take their shift to watch for the streetwalkers and other parole violators. The place is like Costco for criminals."

"One stop shopping. Man, I woulda loved havin' a place like this a few years ago. Woulda never left."

"Just can't get rid of those larcenous thoughts, can you?" Bobby teased with a glint in his eyes. "There must be something like Burglars Anonymous: 'Hi, I'm Darien and I'm a thief'."

"Hi, Darien," Fawkes sing-songed, holding up a cup of coffee to take a sip of the strong brew. "Anybody ever been inside?"

"Maybe some undercover narcs, but that's just a guess. Certainly not yours truly, or anybody from the Agency."

"Well, then, I could just slide in outta sight and take a look around." Darien proposed to get himself out of the confines of the van.

"Knock yourself out." Hobbes nodded, adjusting the long lens on a 35-millimeter camera, "Just don't do anything else. We're the U.N. here not special forces, capiche?"

"Mais, oui, Mon Capitaine." Darien gave his snappiest Foreign Legion salute, feeling like he should be wearing a kepi and leading his camel through the Sahara.

"U.N., Errol Flynn, we're not in Algiers." Hobbes corrected dryly.

"Don't dis my fantasies, Bobby." Darien winked and breathed out, the Quicksilver enveloping his body like a second skin before he disappeared altogether. Crossing the street was no problem, but access to the building was locked securely. He was just deciding whether to circle the place to find a different entrance when a hulking lad with the physique of a high school football team halfback came up and banged sharply on the door. After a brief wait, the door was opened and words exchanged. Darien grinned invisibly as he sauntered in behind the teenager. Once inside he let the other two men walk back to the interior of the cavernous warehouse while he examined his surroundings. The front half was piled haphazardly with boxes, but it didn't take much investigation to figure out that these were just camouflage for the back half of the building. Stepping behind the last row of boxes marked 'sweet baby peas' Darien encountered a low scale Las Vegas without the glitz and neon. There was a bank of phones all ringing at once, manned by two harried women. Their conversations with the callers revealed instantly that they were taking bets on a wide variety of sports--and to Darien's surprise, also on who might be the lucky winner on the horrible reality series 'Supermodels.'

Across from the phones was a cornucopia of gambling equipment, now quiet, since the action probably started later in the day, but Darien was able to identify tables for craps, roulette, and poker along with the usual assortment of one-armed bandits. Colorful piles of chips and croupier paraphernalia were piled at each table awaiting eager hustlers and losers. A small door just beyond led to a room with barred windows and the mouth watering sight of a large metal safe. Darien gave a sigh of regret; he'd already discovered to his surprise that being invisible took all the sport out of theft. It was too easy to steal when nobody could see him. He moved on, examining the place with an agent's eye for detail as much as a thief's.

The halfback and his companion, a tall, thickset man with a crooked nose and rotten teeth were further back, still talking, but between the ringing of the phones and the constant cluck and crowing of roosters, Darien couldn't make out what they were saying. He walked the entire periphery of the building, taking note of private offices where shady deals were no doubt being made and meeting rooms tucked into the corners farthest away from the roosters, where lowlifes and mobsters could convene to cement their allegiances. This was a criminal's paradise.

Approaching the cock-fighting arena, Darien stayed just far enough away from the two men, watching them discuss the cocks and their performances in various fights.

There were ten or so wire cages stacked up, one row of five on top of the second. This close the noise was appalling as all the roosters scratched, clucked and crowed challenges at one another. Most seemed to be kept in fairly good condition--they'd have to be to continue fighting night after night. However, one creature, his tail feathers all but gone and his red crest in tatters, appeared to be on his last legs. The halfback pointed him out in disgust and asked if the bird was worth keeping for another fight. Crooked Nose laughed and agreed that the rooster was better off dead. With a quick flick of the wrist he popped his hand inside the tiny cage and snapped the cock's scrawny neck.

Darien scooted away, his back pressed up against the cool metal side of the warehouse, trying to slow his racing heartbeat. Rationally, he understood that one of the most humane ways to kill a chicken was with one quick twist, but the sudden brutal action sickened him and he wanted to be out of this den of iniquities as soon as possible.

He walked back the way he had come, skirting more inhabited areas and avoiding the phone bank. Still, he'd gotten a great deal of information and could give a full, detailed report to the Official. He was just at the junction between the casino and the concealing boxes when a group of boys came in from the outside, talking with animation. Two were carrying roosters in cages, so the dead one was already replaced without a second thought.

Darien was ready to just slip on by the group when one of the boys caught his eye. Good looking, approximately fourteen years old with neat, short dark hair, shining light colored eyes and a strong jaw, the boy looked so familiar, Darien stopped short only inches away. Who was he?

"Man," the boy shivered, rubbing his arms. He wore the teenager's uniform; t-shirt and jeans. "Gunderson's got the air conditioner on too high."

Even the voice sounded tantalizingly familiar, but for the life of him, Darien couldn't place the face. The teen obviously was involved in some nefarious activities and for one moment Darien relaxed, assuming he'd run into the kid during his own less than lawful days. but that idea died as soon as it was born. It was over three years since Darien had committed any crime, and the boy would have been barely out of grammar school that long ago.

The group moved away, not knowing they were the subjects of intense scrutiny. Darien scanned the other faces, but none of the other four boys jogged any memory. Just the one. Trailing along behind, Darien hoped one of the gang would mention Bright Eyes' name. He'd almost given up hope, knowing he'd been inside the warehouse for a long time and that Bobby would be worrying about him when a sweet-faced blond boy carrying one of the rooster cages yelled out, "Sean! Grab me a soda from the machine, will ya? Then we can put these cocks through their warm up."

Sean turned, flashing a wicked smile and flipped his friend the bird, but fished several cold Cokes out of a machine without rancor.

Sean. Darien stood a minute longer trying to fish Sean's identity out of his memory but any clues stayed frustratingly out of his grasp.

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Darien climbed back into the van and shed his outer silver skin in a shower of glittery flakes.

"You were in there for 45 minutes. You never used to go that long." Hobbes peered anxiously at his partner, "Any headaches? Red eye?"

"I know your memory's going, old man," Darien reached into the bakery bag for another sweet roll and devoured it hungrily, "but I don't get the madness anymore."

"Just checking. What'd you find out?"

After recounting all the illegal operations inside the warehouse, Darien concluded with a description of Sean and his frustration at being unable to place him.

"One of your cronies' kids?" Hobbes suggested, "Stands t'reason anybody you met in prison or on a job might have a kid follow in his dad's footsteps."

That was too eerily near what Darien feared for Adam, "No!" He disagreed explosively, then saw the startled expression on Hobbes' face. "Sorry, man, that guy killin' the rooster got to me." Darien rubbed his eyes. "I don't think it's that. I'm sure I've seen this kid recently--in the last year, at least."

"It'll come to you. Another two hours and our shift is up," Bobby informed him happily.

"Sure am glad we don't have to do twelve hours of this like that time we staked out Duclare's house."

"Yeah, that's the beauty of full coverage stake-out, there's more than enough people to keep watch. I took pictures of everybody who went in while you were there, Your Sean'll probably match up on a criminal database and we're in like Flynn."

"Hobbes, he looked thirteen, maybe fourteen. Closed records and all," Darien reminded.

"Hey, bad boy, we got a hold of your juvie records, we can find Sean's."

"What happened to the notion of 'closed records'?" Darien mused, "Takes away all the security of sowin' all those wild oats before you're 18."

"Like that was a concern of yours," Hobbes snorted. He tapped his partner on his temple with a bent forefinger, "I'd love to know what was goin' on inside that brain o'yours when you were in juvie."

"Sex, Bobby, like any other teenager." Darien laughed uneasily, but the thought of Adam even dating a girl suddenly gave him a bellyache. What had he gotten himself into? Was he going to have to give the kid 'the Talk'? Maybe he could get Claire to do it--after all, she was a doctor. She probably had anatomically correct diagrams and everything.

The rest of the stakeout passed uneventfully. They drove back to the Agency to dutifully report to the Official before developing the photos in Hobbes' camera.

"So the only two names you overheard were Gunderson and Sean?" The Official stared at Darien as if he were a particularly uninspiring species of bug. "You were there for 45 minutes, and that's the only thing you got?"

"I could identify the other guy with the broken nose, but it was noisy in there, I couldn't hear well," Darien whined, "you should try..."

"That's enough, Agent Fawkes," The Official glowered at him, "Gunderson is...?'

"That would be Arvid Gunderson, " Eberts stated smugly with a tight nod, "Powerful mob connections."

"Arvid?" Darien grimaced.

"A very common name in some Scandinavian countries." Eberts supplied.

"Shut up, Eberts," chorused Fawkes, Hobbes and Borden all in one voice.

"I've heard of that mook," Bobby said, "big wig from the East Coast who came out here a year or so ago to stake a claim on this side of the world. Guess he found his niche."

"Nice niche," Darien smiled.

"Get those pictures developed," the Official ordered gruffly, "We can add them onto the database the combined agencies are maintaining to share information. Maybe you can put a name to a few faces, Fawkes."

After they picked up the developed film from a one hour booth Darien pointed to a corner 7-11, "I gotta get Adam a Slurpee," he said, ducking in just long enough to obtain a hideously blue frozen concoction in a paper cup with a domed lid.

"Here you go." Hobbes passed him the envelope of pictures. "See anybody you recognize?"

Flipping through the stack until he found Sean's image, Darien studied it carefully. He hadn't been able to pinpoint the boy's coloring while viewing him in Quicksilver vision, but now he could see that Sean had brown hair and bright blue eyes. This added info didn't give his memory anymore of a jog than before and he sighed in discouragement. "Not a clue."

"Aw, don't sweat it, it's probably one of those things that'll hit you at 3 a.m. Maybe it's some kid Adam knows, want me to show him?"

"No. He's got less than a handful of guys he even knows the names of, and I'm on him like white on rice the whole time we're out anywhere."

"Never know who could be a Chrysali," Bobby agreed morosely. Just as he stepped off the curb across from the Harding Building, the earth gave a giant hiccup, the jolt over almost before anyone walking along San Diego's sidewalks noticed. Darien steadied himself on a lamp pole, but the magnitude of the aftershock was much less than the morning's shaker.

"How many aftershocks d'you think that makes?" Darien asked conversationally, when Hobbes had regained his footing.

"At least the second or third," Bobby shrugged, "I'm pretty sure I felt one while you were in the warehouse."

"You did?" Darien juggled the cold Slurpee cup; his fingers were beginning to get frostbite. With a mischievous grin he Quicksilvered his fingers, freezing the cup to its original iciness and insulating his hand at the same time. "I didn't."

"Happens," Hobbes shrugged, "Radio said the epicenter was right under San Diego and we'd probably get a slew of little ones for the next day or so."

"Hey, guys!" Adam greeted them seconds after they'd entered the Keep, swooping down on his blue Slurpee with the appetite of a typical growing teenager. "Didja feel the last one? The earth's crust is shifting in place--California is criss-crossed with faults. The Ross Canyon fault runs right under San Diego. And in Balboa Park there's the Small Florida Canyon Fault under the parking lot of the Naval Hospital..."

"Remind me never to park there," Hobbes muttered.

"Didja know that Africa and South America used to be attached together?" Adam rambled on with excitement. "Huge land masses shifted apart trillions of years ago..."

"Stuffing his head with useless facts again, Keep?" Darien grinned, "Anything else left to do here today? I got some errands to run."

"Nah, knock off early, we're done." Bobby made fish faces at the piranha swimming around in Claire's tank, tapping his finger on the glass.

"Bobby, I just reprimanded Adam for doing that, you could at least act your age." Claire suppressed a grin at his antics. "You have plans for tonight, Darien?"

"Oh, same old, same old, you know..." He fudged, hands burrowing into the pockets of his low-slung khakis.

"Darien's got a date," Adam sing-songed, "With Dr. Casey."

"Well, then you must go get something nice to wear," Claire said, her eyes alight with romantic notions.

"Why, you don't like this?" Darien smoothed the wrinkles on his 'I Escaped from Alcatraz' t-shirt.

"It's not exactly..." Claire hedged.

"Debonair, my friend," Bobby nodded wisely, "The women like a man who looks smooth. Nice polo shirt, maybe a sports jacket and a pair a'dark slacks. It'd be a good look for you."

"It's a good look on you." Darien flicked the lapel of Hobbes' jacket, "I go a little more retro."

"You need to update, man," Adam joined in the ribbing, "Maybe some Hillfiger or Massimo."

"May I remind you, kid, that I'm not made of money." Darien couldn't believe those words were coming out of his mouth. He'd turned into a parent--complete with all the same phrases his mom had ever said. Taking a good look at the blond teenager, Darien slung an arm around Adam's neck, walking out. The boy had grown since he'd been thawed. His head came to the top of Darien's ear now; his long legs showing some ankle below slightly too short jeans. "You're the one that needs some new threads. We'll stop by the Gap."

"Nooo, you'll torture me," Adam protested, "At least let me pick the store!"

Working out a compromise, both Darien and Adam found clothing they could live with and hung out at the mall for longer than either had planned. Adam even got Darien to shell out bucks for one of the latest Playstation2 game cartridges.

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

"Are they still at the same location?"

Sean Dodd laughed hollowly. He didn't want it known that he hadn't been at his post all day long. He was where he was supposed to be right now and that was all that mattered. "Damn, they went to the usual places most of the day, then knocked off at the mall and went home." He glanced up at the lighted windows of an apartment building, "Which is where I want to be now. Where's my replacement?"

"There are new developments--there's a raid on for tonight. Meet us here." The commands were stated with every expectation that they'd be completely obeyed. No arguments. If everything was done properly there'd be no punishments.

Sean felt his bowels tighten at the thought of the punishments the man could mete out but even that didn't entirely frighten him. He'd been playing on the edge too long to worry much about what lay ahead. A planned raid put a huge crimp in his immediate plans, but postponing his own fun for the good of the group had been drummed into him since his nursery school days. Casual rebellion was one thing; balking when it came to advancing the cause was quite another.

"I'll be over soon. Who's watching here?"

"Corrin will be there soon." The voice held total assurance that this would be carried out. Sean curled his lip at the phone, glad that Stark hadn't ponied up the money to upgrade their cell phones for the newest versions with video feed. Sean had no intention of being a mindless storm trooper. There were too many fun things in life to enjoy while the rest of the mob was marching in step. He'd join in the raid and then rabbit off to the cockfights as he'd intended to do in the first place. What was the point of functional immortality if you couldn't enjoy it?

"What time do we attack, oh great one?"

"Watch your mouth, Dodd, just get here before eight, and I'll explain everything."

Sean flipped his cell closed, pocketing it in one of the oversized cargo pockets in his brand new pants. He wasn't going to let Jared Stark or Chrysalis jerk him around any longer. He just had to wait for the correct moment to strike. Until then he would wait patiently like the good little plebe that he was--or at least pretended to be. He gave a snort of laughter when Corrin pulled up in front of the apartment building.

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

Act Two

"How do I look?" Darien admired his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A new dark red polyester blend shirt and a pair of black jeans brought out the highlights in his dark hair and eyes and he was at least somewhat confident that Casey would be impressed. How impressed was difficult to say. He'd been over the moon to get back together with her after almost three years and was trying to put everything he had into making this relationship work. Yet, even with his new policy of 'total honesty', he had a sneaking suspicion they'd been happier when he was a thief and lying through his teeth to her. Casey O'Claire still aroused every randy hormone in his body but she was much more judgmental than he remembered. She hadn't yet let him go all the way yet since their reacquaintance.

"Not gonna impress Beyonce Knowles, but I guess it'll do for an old guy." Adam handed out the left-handed compliment with a gleam in his light blue eyes.

"Be-yon-say what?" Darien bent at the waist, hobbling on an imaginary cane, his hand cupped around his left ear, "Didn't quite catch what you were sayin', sonny boy."

"Can't stop the march of time, Darien," Adam teased, but the light had gone from his eyes replaced by a haunted fear.

"What's the matter, kid?"

"The cure's held for now, but what if..."

"No what-if's, knucklehead. If we started in on the what-if's we'd have to go back further than either of us can handle. Gotta live for now, my friend," Darien put a little Hobbesian pep talk into his words, "And maybe a couple of days in the future. Nobody knows what lies ahead, and I'm not saying that's not scary as hell, but it's all you and me got."

"You're scared the madness will come back someday," Adam said astutely, busying himself with gathering up his overnight bag and video games.

"Holding firm." Darien held up his right wrist to show the calm green coiled snake tattooed there. Even though it had been over half a year since Claire had administered the suicide gene, he still had a twist of fear every time he raised his wrist to eye level. Was it all a joke? Would the coils suddenly flash red as they had in those frightening days when the Counteragent wasn't holding him, and he'd flip into madness without warning?

With as little warning the apartment gave a gigantic shake like some giant mutant dog shedding water from its fur. Darien grabbed Adam's arm, dragging him into the safety of the bathroom doorframe, but the quake was over even before they had settled themselves there. There was no internal damage, except to jangling nerves.

"Glad one thing's firm around here," Adam said shakily, "And you're wrong, Inviso-dude."

"Who me wrong? Sorry, that ain't happening," Darien joshed, keeping the tone deliberately light.

"You and me, we've got each other." Adam vowed and Darien grinned back at him.

"Wanna bet on how many tremors there've been today?" Darien proposed, leading the way out the door.

"I've felt three."

"Naw, some are so small you don't feel 'em," Darien countered.

"Those are the scariest kind," Adam sighed.

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

"Come in." Eberts held open the door of his house, welcoming his gaming buddy.

"Just got Red Faction II for Playstation today, Ebes," Adam crowed, showing off the still shrink-wrapped box. "Didn't even crack the seal so we're on even footing, but I'm gonna annihilate you."

"No way." Eberts snatched the box out of his hands, examining the liner notes. "This game is rated M, for extreme violence; should you be playing this at your age?"

"Geeze," Adam complained.

"Darien, I assume you bought this for him?"

"Albert, never assume..." Darien began, grinning, but it still stung that everyone was always second-guessing his parenting decisions.

"Cause it makes an ass out of you and me," Adam finished, giggling.

"Kinda noisy out here." Alex Monroe walked out of the kitchen, her usual Bond girl attire exchanged for a comfortable oversized black T-shirt bearing the words "Trust no one" and black leggings. She was wiping her hands on a dishtowel and smelled faintly of chocolate.

"Now I know the earth has reversed its spin, and we've all fallen down the rabbit hole." Darien held out his arms in wonder, "Five-star-rated agent Alex Monroe is making cookies?"

"Still better watch it, Fawkes, I saved some ground glass for yours," she threatened lightly. "And for your information, they're brownies, from a mix."

"Still smells pretty good, Alex." Darien came up close, sniffing her hair with appreciation while Adam howled with laughter in the background. "Thank you," he whispered, holding lightly to her shoulder. He trusted Eberts, but the man's skill with a Gameboy was far superior to his actual combat prowess, so it gave Darien a feeling of confidence to have Alex guarding Adam as well. Besides, he knew she enjoyed being with the boy, giving all her postponed mothering urges a useful outlet.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date?" Alex asked, but her eyes thanked him back. She flicked him lightly with the dishtowel.

"We'd save some brownies for you, but I don't expect you back anytime soon," Adam said with lecherous undertones.

"I can't believe you said that!" Darien roared, grabbing the boy in an elbow lock and giving his head a rough rub. "Why I oughta..."

"What?" Adam dared, his face shining with happiness and life.

Darien wouldn't have traded that moment for all the stars in the sky. A fierce love for Adam swamped him with fatherly pride. He'd been surprised how powerfully he'd wanted to be the father of Mei-Lin's baby, and when Claire had told him he was basically a gelding, it had wounded him deeply. This was the only kid he was ever going to have and he would protect him from harm no matter what the circumstances.

"I should get out of here." Darien released Adam with a half a hug and tapped at his watch, "Be good, don't eat all the junk food, save some room for-um-a carrot and I'll see you later."

"Much later." Adam waggled his eyebrows.

"Darien, we'll take good care of him." Eberts walked him to the door, looking serious. "Nothing will happen with Alex around."

"I know that, man, I'm okay with it." Darien headed back to his car, but his belly was churning and suddenly he wasn't as eager to leave for his get-together with Casey as he had been. A tiny part of his brain wanted to admit that they'd grown apart and no longer fit together. Two pieces from separate puzzles that once interlocked but now had been irreparably altered. And he knew way down deep that he wasn't entirely at fault here, but he blamed himself anyway. If he had just told Casey from the beginning, on that fateful day when they'd first met and he'd started out the relationship by lying to her. But if he had told her right off that he was a thief, would they have even gotten together in the first place? Probably not. The whole year they'd been together would never have happened. And maybe he would have robbed different houses that year, dated other women and never, ever gone into that old geezer's apartment to try and crack the safe. The old man would never have had a heart attack, he wouldn't have tried CPR, been arrested and sent to prison. And Kevin would have surgically implanted this damned Quicksilver gland in some other poor schmuck's head. That might have solved everything.

The thing about revisionist history is that it went both ways and he couldn't overlook the fact that if he'd never had the gland, he'd never have met Adam--or any of his friends at the Agency. No Claire, no Alex or Eberts and especially no Bobby Hobbes. These people were his family and without his family he was better off in that prison cell he'd been bound for before Kevin had proposed his mad scientist scheme. Just the short time Bobby had tried to pull away from him a few months back, when he'd been convinced Fawkes was meant for better things, had shown Darien that he needed his family. Darien no longer wanted to go back to pre-gland life, so where did that leave Casey and him? The what-ifs were like some philosophical Mobious loop, continuously coming back to the same point. The gland was his curse and his salvation all wrapped up in weird science, Bigfoot DNA and fuzzy logic.

Shaking his head, Darien banished the what-ifs to the same cell in his brain he consigned his doubts about Casey and then slammed the mental barred door. This was going to be a great night. He'd made reservations at Delmonico's, and there was the possibility of dancing and making out under a crescent moon to look forward to.

Casey was wearing the sensible, professional woman's version of casual evening attire, a black silk blouse with the hint of a gold chain glinting beneath the open collar and slim, cigarette legged pants with her one concession to elegance, strappy little gold shoes. Darien was astonished that she could actually walk on the spindly heels, but it elevated her height by two or three inches giving him the odd impression of being on a date with someone different than he'd expected. The chaste peck on the cheek she greeted him with didn't bode well for any nookie later in the evening and he resigned himself to the fact that things were not going in the direction he'd hoped from the outset.

"Reservations are at 8:30," he said, "Delmonico's."

"I've always wanted to eat there." She smiled pleasantly, but her eyes gave her away. They had a distant, reserved quality that chilled Darien to the bone. Suddenly he wondered if she really wanted to be there at all. Maybe she was just going through the motions to avoid the inevitable.

"Casey." He began and then faltered. Was it better to drag things out? Maybe they could talk? Would it change anything? He wanted things to go back to the way they'd been in 1999--a millennium ago.

"Yes?" She took his hand, "I'm hungry, Darien, and nothing you say would ever convince me that you aren't, too. You eat enough for two."

"That's me...an invisible hollow leg."

"I wonder if the molecular makeup of the Quicksilver has affected your metabolism? You were always slender, but I swear you don't put on weight, ever." She looked more intrigued by this scientific theory than by thoughts of dinner and regarded him with the same quizzical look Claire sometimes wore. "I wonder...maybe a blood test?"

"Casey, don't even go there. Claire's in charge of all my blood and she's got enough of it. Ask her about all of that."

"Maybe I will at that. How's Adam?"

"I think these quakes all day have spooked him more than he lets on," Darien said and they managed to chat about safe subjects all the way to the restaurant. The place was packed with customers and even with a reservation they had to wait in the bar for a few minutes before their table was ready.

"This is nice." Casey glanced around. "I've heard some celebrities sometimes eat here."

"Yeah?" Darien pretended to glance over the menu but in reality he was admiring the woman across the table from him.

Casey wasn't a classic beauty by any means. She had a blunt, strong face and dark blond, chin length hair that she'd taken to highlighting with golden streaks. In the past he'd encouraged her to let loose a little, grow her hair, wear something ruffly and sweet but she'd always been sort of severe, without any real girlish frills.

Darien had always loved her looks. He liked the way her eyes would light up when she saw him--well, they had when they'd been dating. And even now, there was a fondness in her eyes that softened her face so that she glowed in the warm candlelight when she looked over the edge of the leather bound menu at him.

"You look lovely tonight, Case," he said, reaching out to take one of her long fingered hands. He so wanted this to be. Her hand was cool and dry beneath his and although she responded with a little squeeze she slid her fingers free just as the busboy came up with glasses of water and a basket full of bread.

"I couldn't decide what to wear. It was this or my red silk blouse that I wore... oh, you weren't with me that time, but it's a good thing I didn't or we'd have looked like twins. Is that one new?" She busied herself buttering apiece of bread.

"Adam talked me into it." He took a slice of bread as well, biting into it fiercely. This wasn't going well. What happened to the spark they used to have? Even a few weeks ago it was there, at least partially. Or maybe he'd just wanted it to be there. He'd been so happy to see her again, and Adam was alive and everything had seemed so incredibly right with the world. Now, things were out of kilter, askew.

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

"Slide the game in, Ebes, I'm gonna get even for the last time," Adam prompted, finishing off his fifth slice of pizza. The remains of their meal littered the coffee table, a huge special from Round Table, a nearly empty 2-liter bottle of Coke and the bare bones from a half-pound of Buffalo wings. Clearing a space in the clutter, Adam propped up his foot.

"Your leg still aching?" Alex asked, leaning back on the sofa, daintily finishing her slice of pizza. She'd enjoyed this rare night of camaraderie.

"Yeah, but I was sure glad to get rid of that cast! My leg itched like you wouldn't believe," Adam groaned.

"I've had a broken bone or two in my time." Alex nodded sympathetically, rubbing her arm in remembered pain.

"Who is the man, my friend?" Eberts raised a triumphant fist, sliding the game into place.

"Don't I get a chance to pick off a few space aliens, or is this a testosterone only zone?" Alex teased in her usual dry, slightly supercilious tone, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. Adam flashed her a killer smile holding out the game controls, and Alex felt that dreaded clench in her heart. How long would she keep thinking about James? He'd be walking and talking now, into everything the way toddlers were. She didn't have a great deal of experience with small boys, but she knew they were handfuls. Older boys were, too and she'd tried to harden her heart against Adam's charm, but he'd slipped past her defenses with ease. Would she and James have played video games like this? Would he have let his mother win just for the pure fun of teasing her between gulps of cola and mouthfuls of pepperoni pizza? It was so painful and yet such a pleasurable daydream.

"Thanks," she laughed, flicking the toggle to begin the game. Despite his assurances that he'd never played this version of the game before, Adam obviously had some knowledge of the game's intricacies and Alex had to concentrate, banishing her daydreams to a lonelier moment when she'd need their comfort more.

Laughing and taunting each other, neither Alex or Adam noticed the passage of real time, only that of the warriors on the video screen battling for supremacy, so it was a surprise to both when Eberts came in with warm brownies served under scoops of vanilla ice cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce.

"We'll have to have you around more often, Albert." Alex smiled at him. He really was the sweetest man, not like anyone else she'd ever known. "I got so carried away with the game I didn't even hear the oven timer go off."

"You two were having fun." Eberts shrugged, "I let you play by yourselves, but next time I get a chance." He licked ice cream off his spoon, digging in for another bite then looked up at Adam who was still shoveling chocolate into his mouth at breakneck speed. "Adam, does ice cream, cold...does it give you any unpleasant memories?"

"What?" Adam laughed.

"Do you remember being in the cryopod?" Eberts asked carefully.

"No." Adam shook his head, his blue eyes suddenly hooded and he shivered, just once, but Alex was sitting close enough that she could feel the fine tremors that shook his long frame for just a moment. "It's just like I was gone for a year and then I came back."

"I for one am glad you did." Alex said, uncharacteristically sentimental.

"Me, too." He laughed, seriousness gone in the easy way of children, "C'mon, Ebes, start the game again, I gotta get to the next level before the evening is over."

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

Dinner was ordered. Darien and Casey kept their talk light while waiting for the food, chatting mostly about Adam's progress with his schoolwork and the recent unsteadiness of the earth's crust. Such a safe topic to fall back on. It was on everyone's lips; even the maitre d' had assured them that the restaurant was up to current code and quite safe.

Once dinner was served by a white-shirted waiter with the continental suavity of a trainee from one of the grand hotels of Europe, Darien found he almost couldn't eat. The food was delicious, he had no doubt of that, but it tasted like paper on his tongue. He kept looking at Casey, and she kept glancing over at him until their eyes finally met. With silent accord they both stood. Darien pulled out his credit card. Their attentive waiter was there within seconds, and it wasn't five minutes later that they were outside the restaurant, staring out at the moon shining on the Pacific Ocean.

"Can we walk?" Casey asked.

"The question is; can we talk?" Darien countered, taking her hand once more. This time her fingers curled around his, cool and comforting in the hot confines of his hand.

"I..." Casey began, her head lowered. He wished he could see those pretty eyes, touch her hair but those were the privileges of a lover and he no longer felt like he had that right. "I missed you, you know."

He hadn't known. Hadn't been sure, especially after Arnaud had conned her into going to Mexico. When they'd returned Darien had been so encouraged when she agreed to help him get the gland out of his head, but after he'd gone QSM and tried to attack her, the relationship had quickly disintegrated.

"Darien, all that stuff...when you came to me with the story of what Kevin had done to you...and then that Frenchman kidnapping me..."

"He's Swiss."

"Whatever, it was too much. I couldn't cope. But after a few months, I did miss you. In my bed and in my heart."

That was too much to hope for. Darien let the tiniest splinter of hope burrow into his heart that she was willing to try again, build something new on the ruins of the old. That a bridge could be constructed over the mess he'd made of their relationship and they could walk right over the whole thing. The eerie song by Sting twisted through his head, "Have to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I laid and if I built this fortress around your heart..." He'd never been able to tell whether the lovers in the song were divorcing or getting back together.

"I missed you, too."

"I know, I know you wanted us to continue on." She looked up at him, her face breathtakingly lovely in the moonlight. It was warm still, but when she clasped his arm, her hand seared through the silky sleeve of his shirt, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps all over his skin. "I did too."

Darien put his hand around her neck, rubbing a finger lightly over the thin gold chain around her throat. The pendent was hidden in the V made by her shirt, and he hadn't noticed what she was wearing until now. Gently he lifted the chain until the tiny gold charm was visible, exactly what he'd been expecting to see. It still sent a thrill down his spine. "You kept it."

"Of course I did." Casey smiled, her affection pouring out this time, even invading her eyes. "Nobody else ever gave me a charm of a Rodeo Clown."

"Hard to find." Darien leaned down to discover a kiss on those sweet lips. Actually, it had been impossible to find. He'd had it made. Had to rob three houses in the ritzy part of town to get the money but it had been worth it when she'd opened the little jewelry box.

Casey's lips brushed Darien's with a feather's caress, but she didn't quite commit. "Not yet," she said, her words strangulating his burgeoning interest. "Not like this, we still need to talk and you just want sex."

"Don't you?" he purred.

"I do, but talk first." Casey put her strong doctor hands on his chest, keeping him at bay, "It's not the same anymore. There's more at stake, you have Adam now. It's very hard to compete with a parent's first child."

"I need to spend a lot of time with him; he's had a hard time of it." Darien stepped away from her, shoving his hands up under his armpits. The weather hadn't changed perceptively, but suddenly he was cold.

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

"Go, go, go..." Adam chanted as if his voice could cause the virtual soldier on the TV screen to move faster than the game controls could. "No, Eberts, not yet..."

His face screwed in a strange grimace with the tip of his tongue stuck between his lips he hit the forward button, but it was too late; Eberts' soldier had raised his gun and scored a direct hit. Adam's man was down. "Aw...crap!" Adam groaned, throwing up his hands in defeat.

"Who got annihilated, huh?" Eberts crowed. "Bow before the master of..."

"Sssh!" Alex hissed, rising out of the half sleepy curl she'd made of herself on the couch.

"What?" Adam asked irritably.

"Outside." All of Alex's senses were suddenly on hyperalert, the inane music from the video game now overly loud and strident. Her ears straining to hear the odd sound she'd caught before, Alex stood, fishing her gun out of her purse. With reflexes honed from years of fieldwork she filtered out the noises from the TV, dropping into combat readiness. This was no game; there was about to be a war.

"Someone's outside?" Eberts whispered his eyes wide. But he'd had enough agent training to remain calm and in control. "C'mon, Adam, let's go."

"W-where?"

This time all three of them heard the small rustling noises even over the TV's volume. There was no time to lose. Eberts grabbed Adam by the arm, hustling him towards the rear of the house while Alex slunk over to the curtains and pulled them closed. Peeking through a slit in the fabric she could see shadowy figures moving between the trees in the front yard. It wasn't Halloween; there was no reason for people to be skulking across Eberts' neatly mown grass.

Footsteps reverberated on the front stoop as Alex extinguished the interior lights with a flick of the switch on the wall. Now the only illumination came from the TV screen. Shelving her fear back into the same place she'd shoved memories of James, she took up position behind the couch, her .9mm Glock pistol trained on the front door. The wood splintered from the force of whatever battering ram they slammed against it and suddenly the house was full of people. If they got Adam, nobody would be left alive to report the crime, that much was certain. Alex squeezed the trigger hoping to repel the invaders until help arrived. Surely one of the neighbors in this nice little suburb would call 911 if they heard gunfire?

"Get out of my house!" Eberts roared, holding the squat .38 just the way Hobbes had taught him. His aim had improved but it was two against a hoard, and there wasn't much chance survival with those odds.

Smiling grimly, Alex gave thanks for Hobbes' insistence on teaching the little pencil pusher the finer points of weaponry and leveled a volley of bullets into the crowd.

"Where is the kid?" A voice rose up from the sound of gunfire, silencing the mayhem.

"What kid?" Alex asked with practiced innocence. Now that she could see who had stormed into the living room she was astonished to realize they were all kids themselves. "What do you want?"

"My girlfriend and I are here alone," Eberts declared.

"Get out of here before anyone else gets hurt," Alex added. With her improving night vision she could see she'd winged two of the boys. That was pretty good considering they hadn't managed to injure Eberts or her. She didn't let herself dwell on the odd little feeling she'd gotten when Albert had called her his girlfriend.

"The house is surrounded, Miss Monroe." Jared Stark waded through his adolescent army, coming into the living room like General Patton wading through the breakers to the beach in WWII. "You're at our mercy. If you hand over the boy, we'll leave without anymore blood shed, but otherwise..." He let the threat dangle, looking as usual like he'd just stepped out of a corporate board meeting instead of leading a raid on a house in the middle of an otherwise normal evening.

"What are you doing here, Stark?" Alex clamped down on her hatred of the man who'd stolen her son. She could put a bullet into his heart so easily from this distance but what would that gain her? His boys would just mow her down, and his wife would still have James. It wasn't the optimal course of action. "What boy are you referring to? You already have James. I'm fresh out of sons."

"Brandon," he corrected automatically. "Brandon is doing well by the way. Saying 'Mommy' and 'Daddy.' He never went in for that infantile baby talk. Spoke in full sentences right away. Already knows Mozart and Bach. He's quite a fan of Emeril, too. My little chef."

Oh, God. Alex tightened the reins on her emotions, wanting to hear all about the child she treasured but not about to let the smarmy man manipulate her like that. "I ask again, what boy are you looking for? Albert and I were enjoying an evening alone."

"Three sodas drunk? Three plates? Looks to me like you had a guest." Stark walked around like he owned the place. Alex kept her gun trained on him as he toured the room and out of the corner of her eye she could see Eberts shift his pistol to follow Stark's movements. But all the boys behind them also carried weapons, some of them Uzis. Where was Adam anyway? Where had Eberts hidden him and was it secure enough that Stark wouldn't discover the deception?

"Adam Reese was here," Stark said with confidence. "Where is he?"

"He left," Eberts said airily. Alex glanced his way again, thinking how odd he looked holding a pistol with deadly intent. It lent a strange hardness to his features that she found she didn't like.

"We've had the house under surveillance since Fawkes left," Stark answered. His voice had gone steely and cold but his face still looked congenial. The man was a sociopath, Alex noted, wishing she could formulate the perfect plan that didn't include getting she or Eberts killed in a hail of bullets. "Adam is still here. I can sense him."

"Your ESP must be on the fritz." Alex arched an eyebrow, "And one of your men is lying, Adam left."

"Sir!" One of the boys protested, "I was here the whole..." Stark backhanded the boy with a violent curse. Alex smiled to herself, mentally encouraging dissension in the ranks.

"Quiet," Stark commanded, leaving the boy on the floor wiping his bleeding lip.

"Search every inch of this house, Adam Reese is here." The boys spread out, trampling through the small bungalow, messing up carpets and cupboards. Stark himself relieved Alex of her gun, smiling ferally when he fondled her wrist before pulling it behind her.

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

Hobbes didn't even lock all five of the locks on his front door as he dashed for the van. In fact, he'd only secured the deadbolt, rushing out of the house with his shirttails flying and shoes untied after Eberts' frantic call. Using his cell he mobilized the Agency's most elite troops and sent them to Eberts' home without delay, cursing his own stupidity for letting the normalcy of the last few weeks lull him into complacency. They'd all known Chrysalis would strike at some point to grab Adam. At least Alex was there. The woman had more battle training than most of the agents Hobbes had worked with and she thought fast on her feet, but that didn't guarantee success every time. He railed at the late evening traffic on the freeway onramp, trying to dial Fawkes' number while steering the van and going 60 miles an hour.

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

"I'm still your friend," Casey said sweetly, smoothing the furrow out of Darien's brow, "And that's why what you do scares me so. You've traded the adrenaline rush of robbery for these...spy games."

"But I never told you when I was stealing, how'd you know...?" Darien asked in dismay. The soft lights from the ocean side lamp poles haloed Casey's hair but he was too worried to notice.

"I didn't know what you were doing back then," Casey replied, "But there were nights you came over with every nerve ending zinging. I could feel the energy arcing off your body like electric sparks. It was infectious."

"Yeah, I remember that." Darien kissed her hair, but he was restless, nervous. Was she blowing him off or trying to establish ground rules for a more honest relationship?

"You like the rush, Darien. Too much. It's your drug of choice."

"Casey, I've changed. I..." He faltered, unsure of how to explain the growth that had occurred in him. That somehow the gland had changed more than just his biochemistry. "I've got a steady job, a real paycheck. It's not the job I would have picked, but I'm good at it."

"It is the job you would have picked." She shook her head, pulling back from the loose embrace leaving just her hand still resting on his hip. "You just didn't know it since you only thought about jobs on the wrong side of the law. But it's still a teenager's dream--James Bond and big guns all wrapped up in one glorious injection of adrenaline. You may not need Counteragent any more but you've got this."

"Casey!" Darien protested, but just as he was about to explain his cell phone vibrated in his leather jacket pocket, tingling the nerves over his hipbone. Casey jumped back in alarm, shaking her hand. "I've got to answer this," he apologized, flipping open the tiny case. Bobby's words tumbled out so quickly it took Darien half a second to untangle the consonants and decipher the message.

"Adam's in trouble. I'll call you. Can you take a cab home?" he said to the astonished Casey. Not waiting for her answer, he pelted down the path to the parking lot, his heart hammering in his chest with distracting force. He had to save Adam. Nothing else on earth mattered anymore.

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

"Where is Adam?" Alex whispered sotto voce when Eberts had been bundled up next to her with a length of rope. Stark had gone off to monitor the search leaving them under the distracted eye of a good-looking boy with a thatch of brown hair and very blue eyes. The kid held the automatic weapon cradled in his elbow with professional elan but wasn't really paying attention to his captives.

"Safe," was the only reply. Suddenly sirens pierced the air, the sound growing louder with each passing moment as the cavalry approached the neighborhood. Alex let that little frisson of hope flourish in her chest that everything was going to come out all right and wiggled her right arm to try and loosen her bonds.

"I called Robert," Eberts said.

"Good thinking." Alex smiled grimly, feeling the rope scrape the sensitive skin of her wrist. It hurt, but that meant she was alive, and if she had her way she was going to stay that way.

"Where is that boy?" Stark demanded furiously, tromping back from the kitchen. Alex wasn't sure but she thought Eberts gave a sigh of relief that Adam hadn't been found. Stark raised his hand in a threatening manner, "Where have you hidden him?"

"We told you before, he left," Alex said calmly, sincerely glad she hadn't a clue to his whereabouts. Stark couldn't threaten the information out of her, but on the other hand, Eberts didn't have her internal fortitude. Luckily, her right hand was almost freed from its bonds. "I can't make him reappear at will."

"Sir!" The brown-haired boy with the Uzi was pointing towards the door at the ever-increasing sounds of police arriving. "I think we'd better go."

"Out the back way," Stark ordered, his tone murderous. He gave brusque instructions to the young soldiers awaiting his orders, and suddenly the house was a great deal emptier.

"What about Eddie and Mac?" the boy asked. Alex had totally forgotten about the two would-be warriors she had shot and craned her head to see them crouched down near the still open front door. Neither looked in very good shape but she was unprepared for Stark's next move. He raised a powerful looking H& K pistol, pointing it at one of the wounded boy's heads.

"No!" Eberts erupted with amazing anger, lunging at the astonished Stark. Since Alex was still partially attached to Eberts, she fell backwards, both of them missing the more agile Stark. His shot went wide, imbedding itself in the ceiling molding. The two boys cringed, their eyes terrified and grateful for the near miss, both crying out as Stark bolted, running into the kitchen. The brown haired boy stood his ground for a second longer, obviously debating whether to save his friends or flee the sinking ship. With a last look back he too disappeared just as authoritarian voices could be heard in the front yard announcing the arrival of the police.

"Eberts, turn over." Alex swore under her breath, trying to untangle herself from the inelegant mess.

Bobby Hobbes rushed in just as Alex was extricating herself from Eberts by using the knife left over from cutting the pizza to slice through the ropes that bound them.

"Whoa!" Hobbes cried out, "What's goin' on here or should I ask?"

"Hobbes, they went out the back way!" Alex nearly shrieked, totally disgusted with her inability to detain Stark.

Without asking to whom she was referring, Hobbes ran into the kitchen just as more Agency personnel charged into the living room, taking command of the two injured boys. Hobbes returned quickly with a shrug, "Nobody to be seen," he frowned.

"They can't have disappeared into thin air," she groused, rubbing her chaffed wrists.

Once untied Eberts immediately ran down the hall without a word.

"We're not exactly talking about Fawkes here," Alex said sotto voce.

"Who are we talking about?" Hobbes demanded.

"Stark. He reunited his boy band for a road tour, but this time they're number one with bullets." Alex growled.

"You mean the bionic kids?" Hobbes looked around with sudden fear, "Where's Adam? Did they get him?"

"Right here," Adam said wearily, following Eberts back into the room.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Alex said more calmly. That had been her one fear; that Stark would find the boy and subject him to some horrible fate. "Where were you?"

"I took the precaution of erecting a false wall in the back of my walk-in closet in the spare room," Eberts explained, trying to smooth down his pale, downy hair but it refused to be tamed. He looked like a bedraggled chick in his rumpled yellow Star Trek t-shirt. "When Stark took baby James I hoped there was a possibility of getting him back quickly so I had a bolt hole constructed to give Miss Monroe a place to hide her son until such time as they could disappear together."

"But I was never expecting to see him again," Alex protested in amazement. She was profoundly grateful for such an unexpected act of kindness. "You did that for my James?" she asked, lightly touching his arm.

Eberts blushed modestly.

"Well, it was good thinkin', Eberts," Hobbes said sincerely, holstering his gun. "How're you doin', kid?"

"Okay, I didn't see anything," Adam sighed, collapsing onto the sofa. "Eberts had me back there in seconds. There's a chair and a..." he glanced uncertainly at Alex, "A baby bed in there. I was fine."

"Stark and his bully boys stormed in here demanding Adam," Alex explained, "Luckily, I heard them a few seconds before they burst in. It was long enough for Eberts to hide Adam."

"And call me," Hobbes smiled grimly, "You're the man of the hour, Eberts." For once there was no sneer in his voice when he said the name. He began to issue orders to the other agents just as Darien came flying in, his face pale.

"What happened?!" he shouted with a wide streak of fear in his voice, waving his arms when everyone in the room started to explain at once.

"The main thing right now is that the kid's in danger," Hobbes summed it up succinctly, "We need to get him back to the Agency pronto and then to a safe house."

"What about my stuff?" Adam asked in alarm, his voice cracking half from puberty and half from terror. "Where will I end up?"

"We'll keep you safe," Darien enveloped him in a hug. Alex realized belatedly that no one else had remembered to comfort the thirteen-year-old, and he must be terrified out of his wits for all his bravado. She knew she had been scared, and she was a seasoned agent. Leave it to Darien to be the heart of the group.

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

Act Three

"We have to have a plan!" Darien prowled the Official's office, feeling caged in and frantic. He'd grown to love Adam like a little brother--hell, a son--and the most current suggestions were to hide the boy away for the next several years. He was not about to let that happen.

"Fawkes." Hobbes tried, reaching out a hand to stop the ceaseless movement. "He's not safe. You said so yourself."

"We can't just let him go!" Darien protested, "We can work around Stark."

"How?" Alex asked quietly. Darien was surprised to see compassion on her face and he wilted, dropping into a chair in defeat.

"I can't just let him go."

"We need to come up with a cohesive plan to get that boy into protective custody," Charles Borden said imperiously.

"We were supposed to be protective custody," Hobbes sighed. "He needs to get out of the country."

"Bobby," Darien pleaded, but put forth no new ideas of his own.

"Robert," Eberts said suddenly. "Do you still have the packet of photos you had developed this afternoon?"

"I gave 'em to you to scan onto the computer," Bobby reminded.

"Yes, how forgetful of me." Eberts scurried off to his office to retrieve the pictures.

"Maybe witness protection?" Hobbes suggested to the morose room

"He's thirteen years old, Bobby," Fawkes argued, "He can't go live by himself. He needs parents, support, school..." He clenched his hands, his whole body in shock. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to be. He'd made plans. Crap, he'd started thinking about the future, something ex-con Darien Fawkes had never done much of before. It was like his whole rosy colored picture had just been slashed in half and splattered with blood. He had planned to give Adam the life he hadn't had in his teens. Oh, yeah, Darien had to give Aunt Celia some credit for his up-bringing, she'd been supportive and sweet in her own slightly out of focus way, but he'd never felt like someone was really in his corner, pulling for him. He wanted to believe that he understood the psyche of a teenaged boy and could give Adam what he needed. Darien and Adam, an instant family.

"Fawkes is right," Alex agreed reluctantly. "There needs to be a way for us to monitor him ourselves. Witness protection is pretty extreme, and there are ways of breaking into their system and getting information on where he's hiding. Chrysalis already penetrated the WP to get James back."

"Like we're so fool-proof?" Darien asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That's enough of the negative talk, son," The Official said, not unkindly. "Adam is safe and we have time to think of alternatives."

"How did they find him?" Alex mused.

"Probably following Fawkes," Hobbes said.

"No," Darien protested.

"How do you explain it, then?" Bobby questioned, his arms held out, palms up.

"I would have seen somebody...you taught me." Darien's sense of reality was beginning to crumble. He'd been trained to observe these things, from one of the best. How could Stark's brats have been able to penetrate their security so easily? "I took different routes..."

"They have to know he's here," Hobbes pointed out. "Stark's gotten people in here before."

"I'd recognize his wife a second time. I think all of us would," Monroe growled. "And I saw most of the boys he had with him. Unless he has an unlimited supply, nobody's gonna walk in the front door tonight."

"Here they are." Eberts came back rifling through the prints to find a specific one. "This boy. He was there tonight." He held up a photo of a handsome lad with a hank of brown hair hanging over his forehead and bright, snappy blue eyes.

"Oh, my God," Darien whispered horrified.

"What?" Hobbes took a good look at the image, "Is that the kid you thought you recognized?"

"From Camp Tean...Teen-ast..."

"Teanaustaye," Alex corrected as she always did.

"The Chrysalis training camp," Darien clarified. "One of the instructors was praising him for his prowess on the shooting range. With an automatic weapon. That's Sean."

"But those kids were all sent back to their parents," Hobbes countered. "When Monroe said he'd gotten the kids back together, I figured she meant kids from some other camp we didn't know about."

"Not all the children were reunited with family," Eberts spoke up softly, still holding the colorful packet advertising Kodak's version of the perfect family tightly to his chest. "Some we had to place in boarding schools since we couldn't identify or locate relatives."

"So they ran away," Darien said flatly.

"You don't know that." The Official held out a hand for the picture in question, examining it carefully.

"Chief, believe me when I say I know the mind of a rebellious, angry kid." Fawkes swallowed the tight lump of grief that had developed in his throat. Now at least he had something else to focus on. "And this one's into gambling, cock fighting...No way was he going to toe the line with some boarding school head master. He ran back here where he knew the territory and found Stark again."

"That's a scary thought. That they'd want to go back," Alex said softly. "Do you think it's a programmed response? That these...kids want to be together instead of with...normal kids?"

Fawkes looked over at her, knowing she was thinking of baby James and reached out to rub her shoulder. Alex accepted the soothing touch for a moment before she got up to pace the room, thinking furiously.

"Where do they stay? How did they get in contact? Those two we caught weren't hurt too seriously, maybe we can get locations and agendas out of them."

"All you have to do is go back to the warehouse and roust Sean," Darien interrupted. "He's probably there right now betting on some vicious rooster. Go arrest the little S.O.B. and bring him back here to explain exactly why they want Adam now that the virus is null and void."

"We're not supposed to be arrestin' people yet, Fawkes, you know that," Hobbes shot back.

"To hell with procedure, Bobby. We need some answers now," Darien insisted. He turned beseechingly at their boss, "This takes precedence, doesn't it?"

"In this case, I have to agree with Fawkes. Losing Adam to Chrysalis could be a national disaster," The Official nodded with a frown. "As a federal agency we can do things for the good of the country. But take him quietly--he must be under age, use contributing to the delinquency of a minor..."

"Curfew violation." Eberts added helpfully. "Miss Monroe could pose as a child welfare worker..."

"Thank you for the suggestion." Alex traced a smile, "That just might work, but I'll need to change out of these clothes. I have something more appropriate upstairs."

"Hell, gambling's illegal in San Diego, even if you're over 21," Hobbes shrugged, "Are you comin', Fawkes?"

"No, I gotta go talk to Adam," Darien sighed, not knowing what he was going to tell the boy. All the pretty dreams they'd given him when Claire had cancelled out the deadly virus were now just fairy stories. When was Adam Reese ever going to get a break?

"How's he doing?" Darien asked, surprised to walk into the Keep and not see Adam noodling on one of the computers. "Where is he?"

"In Gaither's old cell," Claire answered. "It's been repaired since Arnaud blew it up. There's furniture there, and a bed. And I brought him a portable TV. It's comfortable and more easily guarded than one of the labs."

"I still don't like the idea of him being behind bars," Darien shivered, remembering his first nights in juvie, and especially his first night in a real maximum-security prison, It wasn't a night he liked to dwell on. Staring out at the world from behind steel bars was a sobering position to be in.

"The cell door isn't even closed, he can come and go, but right now, the Official has to find a new safe house, and until he does, this is the best place." Claire didn't really look totally convinced herself. "How are you?"

"You don't even want to know. I'm going to see him. Hopefully we'll have some more answers in a few hours." Darien filled her in on the revelations about Sean before heading down to the well-guarded holding cell. He paused just outside the door leading to the room with a cell, watching Adam for some minutes. The teenager was curled up on the couch, arms around his drawn up knees, head sunk down to his chest.

"Hey," Darien greeted walking through the open barred door.

"D! Are we gonna go home now? It's wicked cold down here." Adam perked up immediately, looking scared but hopeful.

"Uh--" As much as Darien would have liked to defy a direct order, he knew Adam's safety was at stake here. "No, kid, not tonight."

"I have to stay here?" Adam bit his lip. "It's cold."

"Hey, it's better than that stark white place we took you the last time, huh?" Darien swallowed, trying for cheerful but the look that had been on Adam's face that day was back again.

"Oh, yeah," Adam said sarcastically, "Garage sale couch, a piece a crap for a computer an' a lumpy bed. It's a better local, but I'd trade it in for some upscale crib with a big screen TV and an Xbox any day."

"I know, Adam, it's not perfect, but work with us, buddy. You're safe and that's what matters."

"They wanted to grab me for the virus, huh?" Adam plucked at the butterfly bandages that crossed his palm. "To reactivate it, so I'll be a killer."

"Looks that way," Darien agreed, not willing to sugar coat it. Adam knew the score, and he'd come to some sort of shaky terms with his 'lab rat existence' only recently. There was no way to completely protect him from his dangerous legacy.

"Then let 'em take me," Adam insisted, his voice shaking with emotion. "It's no good like this. I'm always hiding, always so cold...frozen. I'd rather be dead than have it hangin' over my head all the time."

"NO!" Darien shouted.

Adam reared back in surprise, his face pale.

"I know exactly how you feel, Adam. When the madness came on without warning and I hurt people...I'd have rather died, too, but you have to hang on and be strong. Claire cured you, didn't she?"

"I guess, but if they can undo what she did..."

"Stop it. Think positive," Darien coached, knowing it was a good message for his own current mood. "Sh-uh, crap happens and then you clean up afterwards." He grasped Adam's hand, surprised at how cold it was. "You remember that Disney flick we went to?"

"The one where I was the oldest kid there by about ten years?" Adam rolled his eyes. "'Lilo and Stitch'."

"But you liked it."

"The surfing scenes were cool. And that baby's older sister wasn't bad for a cartoon chick."

"What about 'ohana?" Darien quoted Lilo's famous words.

"'Ohana means family and family means..." Adam responded with the correct movie dialogue automatically.

"Nobody gets left behind."

"Or forgotten," Adam finished tears in his voice.

"Adam, you're family and you won’t be left or forgotten. We'll find you a good place. Trust me on this one." Darien spat on his palm and held it out.

"I do, man," Adam repeated the gesture, pressing his wet, uninjured hand into that of his foster father's.

Darien slipped the leather jacket he'd worn for the abortive date with Casey over Adam's shoulders. The boy was starting to tremble and Darien wondered if he should call Claire. Maybe Adam was going into shock. Belatedly he realized that the boy was crying, one fist pushed up against his mouth to suppress the sound.

"Hey, it's not the end of the world here," Darien comforted, tugging the jacket more firmly around him.

That got half a giggle out of Adam who sloppily wiped his eyes on the back of his hand until even Darien was grossed out. He found a paper towel in the bathroom and brought it back to clean up Adam's face.

"Yeah, I guess as long as the cure holds out, the rest of the world is safe from Typhoid Adam, huh?"

"See, there's that positive outlook." Darien remained standing, studying the small enclosure. "Listen, I'm gonna go over to the apartment, get a few things for you. Got any requests?"

"I didn't finish 'The Outsiders' yet," Adam sighed, then brightened. "Hey, think this'll get me out of school?"

"You wish," Darien scoffed, knuckling him on the head. "I liked 'The Outsiders.'"

Adam got up to roam restlessly. "There a guard outside the door?"

"Yeah."

"He gonna be here all night?" Adam asked, getting a nod from Fawkes. "You are coming back, right?"

"Yeah, I'm coming back." Darien smiled sadly. The boy was in such turmoil and putting up such a brave front. "Adam, I'm not gonna leave you alone. Not again."

"Thanks." Adam gave a tight smile, "Could you bring me something t'eat? I'm starving."

Donning his invisibility, Darien slipped out of the Harding Building and circled the parking lot. With Chrysalis scouts watching who came and went he didn't want to telegraph his every move by taking his own car. He solved the dilemma by boosting the Official's Caddy and drove off with a clear conscience. He parked a block away from his own apartment, in the Whole Foods Market parking lot. Nobody else was using it at one a.m., and he hotfooted it invisibly to his front door. He still didn't see anyone watching the building, but maybe they'd all been sent over to keep an eye on the Agency since Stark knew he and Adam would go to ground there.

Once inside the large studio he gathered up clothes and personal items for Adam, his chest growing increasingly tight with each thing he picked up. In such a short time Adam had totally immersed himself in Darien's life. His imprint was everywhere, from the forgotten box of Cocoa Puffs on the breakfast bar, the innumerable pieces of gaming equipment scattered around the television and the large posters of Avril Levigne and Christina Aguilara on the wall near the bathroom. Darien carefully peeled those down and rolled them for transportation. As much as it hurt inside, he knew that Adam would never live in his home again. After packing up most of the boy's things, Darien threw in a t-shirt and khakis for himself to wear tomorrow and locked the door behind him with a heavy heart.

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

Brushing some imaginary lint from the straight lines of her black cashmere skirt, Alex glanced across the street at the criminal Cost-co.

Hobbes lounged casually a few feet away, one foot up against the rough stucco wall, but with his eyes glued to the entrance to the warehouse. "How d'you propose we get in there, Miss Five-Star-Rated?"

"This would be a lot easier if we had Fawkes," Alex groused.

"Well, we don't. And if that's your only plan..." Hobbes turned his attention back to the door of the warehouse. A group of boys had just exited and stood chatting on the sidewalk, high-fiving each other and whooping at their good fortune. "Would you look at that?"

"That's impossible!" Alex declared, staring at the brown haired boy swinging a long necked beer bottle between two fingers. "It never happens this easily."

"Get out your badge, sister, and make like you work for the state." Bobby started across the street with Monroe directly behind him. They'd already informed the ATF agents who were crowded into a surveillance van of the imminent detainment, so it only remained to actually get their hands on Stark's protegee.

"Sean Dodd?" Alex flanked him to the right, Hobbes to the left, slightly crowding out the other three boys.

"What the hell do you want?" Sean flared, his eyes hard in the white, flat light of the street lamps.

"You need to come with us." Hobbes said flashing a badge just fast enough for the boy not to be able to read it.

"Says who?" Sean backed up; about to make his escape, but Alex blocked his getaway. His buddies didn't waste any time, they fled on feet shod in the fastest Nikes and Air Jordans.

"Original," Hobbes muttered.

"Office of Child Protection." Alex showed her badge. It actually did look like an official license from that department, but in fact Eberts and Hobbes had mocked it up while she was changing.

"I'm no child." Sean laughed harshly, the beer bottle dropping from his fingers with a startling crash. "And you're not...you're that broad from the geek's house!" He dipped his hand into one pocket of his padded Lakers jacket but Hobbes grabbed his arm before the fingers had closed around the hidden .38.

"Take it out real slowly." Alex had been using her nice voice up until now, but at the sight of his weapon, she toughened. He may have been a kid whose life had been screwed around with but he was no innocent orphan wronged by the system. "So nice to be recognized," she purred in his ear, holding one arm just tightly enough to ensure he didn’t make a run for it.

"What do we have here?" Hobbes said all jolly, examining the pistol he plucked out of Sean's hand. "Serial number's filed off, you know that's illegal, doncha? So is gambling, drinking beer and any number of other things you were involved with tonight, unless I'm entirely off the mark."

"You are." Sean tried to twist away from Alex's grasp, but she'd always been stronger than she looked. "That's my uncle's warehouse. Just a bunch of vegetable boxes. He hired me as a night guard."

"So you hang around with your friends drinking beer?" Alex went back to sweet but with that subtle dash of sarcasm for flavor. "I'm sure your uncle would be interested to hear about that. Shall we call him?"

"He's out."

"At nearly three a.m.?" Hobbes started steering them all towards the van with light hands on the back of Alex and Sean's jackets. "What is he, a vampire? Cause, y'know, I did always think Stark wasn't completely human."

"Stark's not my uncle, he's..." Sean trailed off, aware he'd already said too much.

"Maybe your daddy?" Hobbes prompted. "Maybe daddy to a lot of your friends? Or did he just stir those genes up in the test tube and sprinkle 'em with bits from lots of people? Gene manipulation is kinda scary, y'know. Ever wonder if..."

"Shut up! " Sean jerked away with enough force to momentarily stun Alex, but she raised one shapely leg and brought the heel of her sensible but stylish pumps down on Sean's foot. The over-large pumped-up basketball shoes he wore took the brunt of the point, stalling him long enough for Hobbes to haul him into the van with a hard thrust.

"I don't get off on handcuffing under-age brats," Hobbes warned dangling his metal cuffs in front of Dodd's nose, "but I could make an exception in your case. We just want to talk."

"You want me to give up Stark an' it's not gonna happen." Sean scrambled back against the opposite wall of the van, panting.

"We don't want you to betray anyone," Alex said smiling. She had apparently been relegated to 'nice cop' without any forewarning. "We just need some information. Then you're free to go."

"Where can I go now?" Sean whined, "If Stark finds out, he'll kill me." He sounded belligerent and cocky, but Alex could see the fear in his eyes behind the bluster. He truly believed Stark would kill him and she wasn't a bit sure he was wrong.

"We found you a place once before, Sean. Why didn't you stay?" she asked quietly, almost afraid to know the answer.

"There isn't any place left for me," Sean answered, turning away from her.

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

"Hey," Adam looked up sleepily from the ratty couch as Darien schlepped his bags into the cell. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"You should be asleep. It's the middle of the night." Darien sat down to catch his breath, pulling Adam into a rough hug. Adam wiggled free, grinning shyly, but his blue eyes were haunted and far too old for a thirteen-year-old.

"I feel like I don't want to miss anything. Like I need to be on alert."

"Adam, leave that to the rest of 'em. You can't stress yourself out. Things have a way of working themselves out. Just wait and see." Darien fervently wished that he wasn't just giving out false hope.

"That sounds sorta familiar, like something you told me once before." Adam ducked his head, quoting, "When things are out of control the best thing is to sit tight and do nothing and wait for it to come back into control again."

"Gee, y'mean something I said made sense?" Darien teased.

"Or else you're repeating yourself, old man." Adam got up and stretched his long, narrow body. "Didja bring me anything to eat?"

"It's nearly three a.m.."

"So, it's a later'n midnight snack." Adam dived into the bags, grabbing the box of Cocoa Puffs and stuffing a handful of the sweet cereal into his mouth. He began pulling out his possessions, tossing clothes aside with abandon, "Oh, hey, you brought the Playstation and Halo, wanna play?"

"You need to get to bed," Darien ordered, pointed to the now much more inviting mattress. He'd adorned it with pillows and a coverlet from the apartment and stowed Adam's clothes underneath the bed.

"Where are you going?" Adam asked, peering into the cereal box.

"Just upstairs to see what Hobbes and Monroe came up with. I'll be back in a while." Darien shooed his charge under the covers, waiting until the blond head was lying on the pillow. He flicked off the overhead light, leaving them both in shadow.

"Darien," Adam said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I always wanted somebody like you in my family. I was just thinking tonight that I really don't have anybody, not really. My mom--the one who raised me, ran out. My real mom--I guess I won't ever know why she did what she..." Adam gulped tightly. Darien could tell he was trying hard not to cry and was waging a similar battle himself. "Dads I never even thought about much, until you came along. I wish you were my dad, Darien."

"I'd be proud to be your dad, junior." Darien closed his fist around the cold, hard bars to stop himself from running over and flinging his arms around the boy like some weepy soap opera character. "No matter what happens, Adam, we'll always be family."

"Thanks, man." Adam hiccuped, closing his eyes. In the stray light from the hall a tear glinted on his pale eyelashes. "I am tired."

"Sleep, bro, we'll talk more in the morning. There is a solution to this mess." Darien promised.

He walked slowly up the stairs to the upper floors which housed the Official's offices. It was a rare occasion when there were so many in the building this late. Usually when Darien indulged in nocturnal wanderings and plundered the Agency's safes and filing cabinets, there were no more than a handful of guards dozing through their graveyard shift. Not that he'd done such frowned-upon deeds in at least a month or more, but it felt decidedly strange to be walking through the dingy halls with all the lights on in the middle of the night. Even stranger that there was hustle and bustle everywhere. The two wounded boys had been taken to Fort Levitt and would be interrogated in the morning, but there were still reports to be filled out and data to be compiled. What exactly was Stark's agenda?

As Darien neared office number 202, he spotted Hobbes and Monroe coming from the other direction flanking a familiar teenaged boy. "You found him," he said in surprise.

"Wasn't even hard. You had him pegged," Hobbes agreed, steering the stone-faced Dodd into the Fat Man's office. "Came out of the warehouse with $1500 in his pocket, swiggin' a bottle of Anchor Steam."

"You drink a San Francisco brew?" Darien addressed the smaller boy, "Can't find a local brand you like?"

"Screw you," Sean growled. "An' you better give me back the money, or it's stealing."

"What, me?" Hobbes faked a shocked expression, rolling his eyes at Monroe who smirked at him. "Fawkes is the thief here, not me. That was payment for having to listen to your filthy mouth on the way back here, you punk."

"Sit down, Sean, and watch your language." Alex gave him a push to get him into the chair. "This is the Official." She waved her hand at the jowly-faced man who had sat silently behind his desk while they all found places to sit. "We just need to know what you know and then you'll be done."

"What can you tell us, son?" Charles Borden smiled genially. Darien suppressed a grin, surprised that he could be amused at something so inane. Genial on the Fat Man gave him a remarkably strong resemblance to Han Solo's nemesis Jabba the Hut.

"I'm not anybody's son," Sean growled.

"Technically, you are someone's offspring, although it may be difficult to ascertain whose..." Eberts started.

"Shut up, Eberts," Borden hissed, "Now, Dodd, spill your guts or things could get ugly fast here."

"Who's gonna make me? You? And what army?" Sean lobbed back.

"We still have some of that Beta C truth serum around here, boss?" Hobbes pondered as if the answer wasn't really any concern of his.

"Hobbesy," Darien protested, playing along. "That stuff is deadly. At least it is to some people. We'll never know now if ol'Jonesy had the allergic reaction because of the drug or those parsnips he ate."

"I still say it was the parsnips," Hobbes said. "It was a really rare thing for his throat to just close up like that, wasn't it? Turned so purple. Parsnips are sorta purple, I figgered it was a side effect, so to speak."

Glancing at Sean, Darien noticed the boy was following their conversation without turning his head, but his eyes widened with every outrageous thing Hobbes said. Monroe had turned to face the windows, her shoulders shaking just a bit. But when she turned back she looked every inch the professional agent.

"Sean, don't listen to them. Beta C is a very useful tool, breaks down the inhibitions, makes a person say just about anything..." Alex explained.

"Just before they start that annoying twitching," Hobbes added.

"Robert, Beta C doesn't..." Eberts protested.

"That twitching just makes my skin crawl." Darien grimaced, "Sorta like spiders walking all over you, I guess."

"No truth serum," Sean said hastily, "Stark just wants Adam Reese."

"Why?" Darien asked.

"He didn't tell us everything. Just that the guy was some sort of viral time bomb."

"The bomb was deactivated," Borden said. "Why would Stark want him now?"

"It was on a need to know basis. Stark did tell us he wasn't contagious. Some of the guys were ready to run when they heard he had some kinda Ebola or something." Sean jutted out his chin defiantly, "But I overheard Stark telling someone at headquarters that he wanted leverage over Tabitha."

"Leverage? Was he trying for some kind of coup?" Hobbes questioned.

"Like I already said, I don't know. That's it. He wanted us to storm in and scare the geek." Sean pointed to Eberts who looked affronted, "And grab the blond kid. I didn't even want to go. I was watching you two for days." He twisted around to glare at Darien, "You guys lead boring lives."

"He was watching you, and we were watching him," Hobbes laughed. "Makes a weird kinda sense."

"Cosmic," Darien agreed without humor. "And neither of us saw the other watching." That was the part that scared him. How much danger was Adam in? How many more attempts would there be?

"Can I go now? I gotta run before Stark finds out I'm not in my widdle bed with all the other clones."

"Where were you all staying?" Hobbes asked.

"And why did you come back to San Diego when we placed you in a school in Virginia?" Alex leaned forward as if her life depended on the answer. Darien supposed that in a way it did. Or at least the life of her son... The same way his depended on Adam's continued well being. This parent stuff was the hardest thing he'd ever done, including solitary in the joint. That millions of people every day faced hard issues with their kids impressed the hell out of him and gave him an unexpected sympathy for his uncle and aunt who'd had to deal with him.

"Didn't like the uniform." Sean bluffed but there was a fear in his eyes that Darien recognized easily. He was caught, had no friends to back him up and only trouble in his future.

"We can get you away from Stark," Borden said abruptly. "As long as you tell us what we need to know."

Sean reluctantly gave them the address of a block of condos, adding that in all certainty, there'd be no one there by the time they stormed the place. Stark had many hideaways in the city. After a few more questions that yielded no new information, Borden agreed to put the boy up in a basement lab for the night until they could figure out what to do with him. Darien checked to make sure there were no windows for a crafty, narrow hipped boy to wiggle out of and cautioned the guard outside his door. This wasn't some wise-assed little street kid; this was Chrysalis genetic engineering at it's finest. The last thing he wanted was for Sean to go wandering and discover his quarry a few floors down.

"How's Adam?" Hobbes asked his partner, rubbing his face in exhaustion following his partner upstairs.

"Worn out and scared," Darien replied.

"Can't say I blame him."

"Bobby, he's family. I just can't send him off to some unknown safe house and never hear from him again," Darien sighed, dropping heavily into a chair. He was so tired he couldn't think straight anymore, and there was no chance of getting much sleep in what was left of the night. Already the sky was getting lighter in the east as dawn approached.

"At least I know who James is with," Alex said after a long empty silence. She toed off her pumps before padding stocking footed over to the bar for a glass of Perrier. "I believe in my heart that Eleanor loves him. Stark, on the other hand, has the heart of a snake."

"A worm," Bobby agreed.

"Sean is safe for the night," Eberts reported, finding the three of them in Alex's lush office. "Now we need another safe house."

"As long as he stays away from Adam, I really don't care what happens to Dodd," Darien declared bitterly, "Send him...to juvie. I survived. Adam needs a place to grow up safe, where he won't have to worry about Chrysalis or bein' cold or..."

"Being cold?" Hobbes echoed, "Adam is family and as such, we'll do our damnedest to..." He trailed off in thought.

"Going senile, Hobbes, or do you have an idea brewing?" Alex asked snidely.

"Fawkesy, your family is my family, capiche?"

"The mob?" Darien leaned his head on the back of the chair to look up at Hobbes, then understood. "Charlie and Debbie?"

"They don't have kids, they've got a nice place to live where it's warm, and he has some savvy about layin' low, if you know what I mean."

"Hobbes, man, you're a genius!" Darien gave him the hug he hadn't bestowed on Adam. It was a more than perfect solution; it actually made a great deal of sense. And more importantly, he'd have a way to keep in contact with Adam.

"Your cousins?" Eberts asked with the beginnings of a smile on his lips, "Robert, I do think that is a most desirable solution."

"Care to fill me in?" Alex tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed under her impressive breasts. "I was probably in Outer Mongolia at the time."

"We kinda helped Bobby's cousins disappear," Darien explained the caper in New York in under 500 words, "And now they've got a nice spread on a quiet island in the middle of the ocean."

"Don’t even get the mail every day. Comes by boat," Hobbes added. "But Eberts has a secure satellite e-mail uplink with them and there are a group of--shall we call them like-minded people--in their area who all stick together and could protect Adam."

"Nice," Alex granted the infrequent compliment. "I'd like to live there."

"Better'n the Community, I'll say that much," Hobbes laughed, and then the floor gave a sudden lurch. It was just enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through the four people.

"I'm beginning to get tired of these things." Darien laid his hand flat on the wall, forcing his breathing to slow down. "Y'think we've had enough shakers for 24 hours?"

"Technically, since the first one started at 6:57 yesterday, it hasn't been 24 hours yet," Eberts informed but he stood resolutely under the doorframe.

"Shut up, Eee-berts," Hobbes sneered.

"Feels more like 24 years," Darien groaned. "I'd better go see if that last one woke Adam up."

"I'll check on Claire. Maybe we can make a breakfast run," Monroe offered with uncharacteristic generosity. Darien smiled, thinking she'd started showing a whole different side since he and Hobbes had helped her out with the Cuban mess. It softened her without dulling any of her edge as a five-star-rated agent.

"I'll go with. Eberts, yell when you got Charlie on the horn," Hobbes followed after her, "Have you tried that little deli on San Rafael? Best blintzes in the city..."

Eberts headed downstairs to his employer's office, squaring his shoulders with the importance of his news. "Sir, we may have found a place for Adam Reese."

Borden listened to Hobbes' idea nodding brusquely. "Sounds feasible, get on line with the Steinmans ASAP." He picked up a stack of papers all stamped 'eyes only' and started to peruse the document. "Oh, and Eberts..."

"Yes, sir?" Albert stiffened, expecting to be sent out on some petty assignment like finding French roast Hawaiian mocha blend coffee at this hour.

"Monroe reported that you kept your cool under fire last night and saved those two boys lives. Damned fine work, son." Borden never lifted his head from the file he was reading.

"T-thank you, sir. I'm honored to be of..."

"Shut up, Eberts," Borden said kindly. "You're dismissed. Oh, and after you contact the Steinmans, call over to the DOD's adolescent behavioral department. To a Dr. B.F. Skinner--tell him we may have a lab assistant for him."

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

"Where's Dodd?" Stark demanded, his sharp gaze taking in the unmade beds and kitchen disarray of the condo-dormitory. Although he'd never expected that ten teenaged boys would keep a place neat, the house could have been closed down by several city agencies as a biohazard and a firetrap. He should have kept a closer eye on the troops rather than leave it to the eldest boys to police the younger ones. Not for the first time did he wonder whether having an army of girls might not have worked out better. Girls were neater weren't they? And less apt to mess around when his back was turned. But on the other hand, girls could get vicious and were mouthy, a trait he hated above all others. Like that damned Tabitha--oh-so-superior, aggressive and backstabbing. Yeah, girls probably were the more dangerous of the species. At least he understood how a teenaged boy thought--chicks, booze and sex. That was why he'd allowed specially selected hookers into the condo, but that hadn't been enough for Sean Dodd. The little brat had taken a powder once again, if the guilty looks around the breakfast table were anything to judge by. "I ask again..."

"Don't know, sir," Mitchell mumbled into his Wheaties. Two more blond heads next to him gave negative shakes in a slightly eerie single movement without speaking.

"You don't know?" Stark repeated. This was what he'd help create? This was the future of the Chrysalis master race? A bunch of slack jawed, blank eyed cretins? God help them all. "Well, do you have some idea when he left? Where he was going? And why? I gave you strict orders to stay here after the raid. We cut it very close last night and still didn't get our quarry." He glanced around at the boys pretending to eat. "And to make matters worse, lost two of our best men. What's the status on locating them?"

"Boswell's still out, but he pinged me on the cell an hour ago," Carson responded, his carriage erect, even sitting, and his chin lifted with self-importance. "Said they took Eddie and Mac to the Harding Building--except they aren't there anymore." Carson flinched ever so slightly with the news he was imparting. "An ambulance came and took them away and Boz lost them."

"Just how did he lose them?"

"If you'd let us drive..." Mitchell whined, "Instead a' using those crappy scooters."

"When you've shown more adequate brain power than an amoeba, maybe, but until then, the electric scooters are fast, lightweight and since you're minors, make you inconspicuous." Stark kicked at a pile of girlie magazines in the floor, "They no doubt transported them to a secure medical facility. They're lost to us now." Without Dodd, that left him only seven boys in his army. Not even enough for a rough game of football.

"Did Boswell report seeing Reese at the Harding building?" Stark asked after assessing his next moves. Keeping what he knew from the Queen Bee Tabitha was the important thing. If he had Adam Reese in captivity, he'd have a major bargaining chip to wave in front of those highest in power on top of the Chrysalis chain of command. Recreating the virus that had infected the boy would go a long way to restoring his position of power within Chrysalis. Maybe even make it possible to achieve greater heights than ever before. Instead, right now, he was reduced to attempting to mold hormonal adolescents who only thought with the head below their belts into disciplined, cohesive fighting machines.

"No sir," Carson replied, one hand toying with his toast as if he wanted to get back to it. "He never saw Fawkes or Hobbes until this morning. The bald guy and the Bond girl left the building and went to a deli."

"Reese is inside, under their security, unless I miss my guess." Stark mused, taking a step. His foot squished something indefinable that sent waves of revulsion up his spine. This house wasn't of any use to them now anyway; leave the mess, it was no longer his concern. "Get ready to relocate within the hour. They have to know our approximate location by now. But we still have the upper hand and we're going to keep it. Meet me at Condo Two by noon for further instructions.

"Tonight we strike a blow for the right side." Stark snarled with a feral smile, "Our side, and Adam Reese will be in our hands and on the way back to our scientists in Europe before Midnight." The sardonic chuckles from every corner of the room sounded like the rumble of the earth right before a major quake.

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

"How's Adam holding up?" Darien asked Claire, standing just inside the sliding steel door of the Keep. He no longer really felt like this was his place anymore. When he'd needed Counteragent every few days, he'd hated the Keep, but felt a sense of order and security there, as well. Now, since he no longer HAD to come in, and since the revelations of the last few months, coupled with his pre-occupation with Adam, he felt distinctly uneasy around the trappings of medical science. Both he and Adam had had too many things done to them in the name of scientific research to ever let him be relaxed in the presence of needles.

"He's doing well." Claire answered, stuffing her hands into her lab coat pockets, "What about you, Darien? You're burning yourself out at both ends."

"Me? Nothing going on for you to worry about, Claire." Darien paced around the exam chair, emotions so close to the surface he could hardly speak coherently. Moving helped to keep his adrenaline pumping, it was the only thing keeping upright at this point. "So, Adam's healthy?"

"Yes."

"If he had to fly, he'd be okay?" Darien couldn't stay still, he walked back to the door.

"Fly where?"

"Away, fly away from here. He'd be okay?"

"Darien, he's healthy as a horse, and eats like one, too." Claire followed him into the hall, "He recovered long ago from the effects of the cryo. His broken leg is healed. And there's no way for the virus to become infectious again unless someone were to deliberately tamper with his antibodies."

"As long as he's healthy."

"You're the one I'm worried about," she sighed and he almost risked turning around to comfort her, jolly her out of the concern. "You look like you did after Allianora died, but no one's dead here."

"Nobody’s died - yet," he echoed flatly, "And I'm gonna keep it that way." He walked swiftly down the hall and would have continued on to the cell where Adam was housed but Bobby's excited voice floated down the steps, stopping him in his tracks.

"Partner! Fawkes!" Bobby almost crashed into him, he'd come down the stairwell so quickly, but at the last moment Darien backed up to give his hyper partner some room. "I just I.M'd Charlie. He and Deb talked it over. Fawkes, he gets the need for speed, here. He and the missus agreed that their little hacienda sounds like the perfect place for Adam to grow up undiscovered."

"That's great." Darien tried to inflect some joy into his words but the effort was almost too much. Hobbes didn't seem to notice. "How soon do we need to get Adam ready to leave?"

"Charlie is checking out airline schedules and stuff and will get back to us. If we drove the kid down to LAX or Orange county, and he boarded the plane with a new name and a new passport, there'd be no record of Adam Reese ever leaving the country." Hobbes was practically hopping with excitement.

"So, it could be as early as tomorrow?"

"Could be." Finally Hobbes seemed to notice Darien's lack of enthusiasm. "Hey, you don't sound so thrilled about this. Gonna miss the rugrat?"

"Maybe I'll get some peace and quiet around my place for once, huh?" Darien faked a smile, "I gotta get out of here for a while, Hobbesy. Can you wait to tell Adam 'til I get back? I'll break it to him."

"Sure thing, my friend," Hobbes nodded with a frown. "Where you going?"

"Just out."

"Oh, by the way, Dodd wasn't lying. A couple of our guys went by the address he supplied. Obviously'd been a herd of kids living there, the place was a toxic waste dump by all reports. But no Stark, no boys, nada, bupkus."

"Did you expect anything else?" Darien asked bitterly. "We can’t get ahead of Stark while he's got his teeth in our butts, and he's not going t'let go."

"So you see the need to get Adam out of here?" Hobbes asked, noticing Claire walk up behind them.

"I see the need, I just don't have to like it." Darien walked off; his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Bobby, you're sending Adam away?" Claire asked sadly.

"Have to, Keepy, to keep him alive and out of Chrysalis’ hands, " Hobbes answered, turning to look at her.

"No wonder Darien's upset. He's invested so much in Adam." She gave herself a little shake. "Maybe I'd better go give him some chemical equations to work out, the tutor will be here in an hour or two. It'll give some semblance of normalcy to the day."

"Yeah, you do that. Can't have too much normalcy around here," Hobbes quipped.

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

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a great deal on where you want to get to," Said the Cat.

"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.

"--as long as I get somewhere," Alice added.

I kind of understood what Alice meant. The minute we'd found out Stark was after Adam I wanted him to be somewhere else--anywhere, as long as he was safe.

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

Easing open the door to St. Mary's rectory, Darien stood in the semi-dark hall to get accustomed to the dim light. Removing his sunglasses helped immeasurably. He headed down the narrow corridor without hesitation, stopping in front of a partially open door. Hearing the squeak of a chair and paper rustling but no voices, so he entered without knocking.

"Darien!" Father Tom, a baby faced but balding middle aged man, started in surprise. "You came in so quietly I never even saw you."

"I'm visible, Father." Darien quirked a tired smile. That was another reason he felt comfortable here; the good Father knew about his 'secret' and he didn't have to hide behind half-truths and government speak.

"Which makes it all the more easy to see you look depressed." Tom hooked his foot around a chair and pulled it closer. "Mrs. O'Hanrahan made me a batch of scones this morning. She cooks like an angel, but could put the saints to sleep the way she goes on and on." He held out a plate; there were two plump, raisin filled biscuits left. "Have one, I've already eaten more than I should."

"Thanks," Darien accepted one, remembering with a jolt that he hadn't eaten since the date with Casey the night before. His belly rumbled at the sight of the scone. He took a tentative bite, and discovering it was very tasty, ate the whole thing quickly. "I haven't been around much because of Adam."

"Children do take up a lot of our time." Tom slashed a big red 'F' on the top of the paper he'd been grading and put it to one side. "I commend you for taking on such a responsibility."

"Didn't think I had it in me, Father?" Darien asked sardonically.

"No, I think you didn't." The Priest smiled wisely, circling a misspelled word and giving the student a 'B minus'. "You planned on being Robin Hood for the rest of your life until events you never foresaw put a gland into your brain. Which led you to Adam in a very circuitous way. And he gave you back a part of yourself you never knew was missing."

"Except he's leaving now." Darien bit his lip, wishing the ache of tears didn't keep swamping him at the most inopportune times. "We can't keep him safe in San Diego. Hobbes..." He started to say the location then realized he could be giving out top-secret information. He'd never even told Tom why Adam was such a highly classified teenager.

"It's hard to explain. Leave it that for family reasons he has to go away."

"Family who don't want you to be his guardian?" Tom looked up momentarily, his hand still finishing the strokes of a broad 'B' on some child's paper.

"No, wish it were that easy." Darien gulped, his throat very dry from the scone and Father Tom got up to pour a cup of coffee from a warm thermos. Darien took the proffered cup, "I never thought I'd have to say this to anyone, but it's on a need-to-know basis."

"And I don't need to know." Tom half smiled, going back to his grading.

"National security and all that stuff." Darien said, feeling guilty that he couldn't even tell his priest where Adam might be going. "But I just got to know him, y'know? And I'd just got to know Kevin again before he...died. You don't ever know how long you have with a person, huh? Make every day count like it says on greeting cards."

"Sounds like you're bitter," Tom observed dryly.

"Bitter doesn't even start to cover it." Darien sipped the coffee with a grimace, "But it describes this coffee to a 't'."

"Sister Bridget's in charge of the communal pot this morning. We all have to take the bitter with the sweet."

"You been reading cards at Hallmark's, too?" Darien asked snidely.

"What exactly did you come here to talk about?" Tom shoved his desk chair back, folding his hands over his black-shirted tummy. "Just to vent, or did you have something specific in mind?"

"I wanted a family," Darien blurted out. "I started letting myself indulge in all these little fantasies about Adam... and Casey."

"Ah, the love interest."

"I pretty much blew it last night. I left in the middle of a conversation, but what could I do? Risk Adam's life? " Had it really been only last night? It felt like two years ago all over again and in a way, it probably was a rerun of an earlier episode. He and Casey would have to work very hard indeed to ride off into the sunset together.

"And?"

"I was so busy dealing with a crisis with Adam I never even called her or anything," Darien replied with a sinking heart. "I shoulda called. I never even thought about her."

"Do you love her, Darien?"

Such a stark, simple yet deceptive little phrase. Used so effortlessly these days. 'I just love Madonna,' 'I love that shirt, where'd you get it?' and the all time kicker, 'I love you, Casey, trust me.' He'd meant it too, once upon a time. He'd whisper it in her ear late at night while still high on the powerful thrill of a post-burglary rush. But she couldn't trust someone who'd lied to her from the first words he'd uttered, and in reality, how could he untangle the truth from the lies? If everything else you say except 'I love you' is a lie, do those three words really hold the only truth?

"I don't know," Darien admitted.

"What about Adam?"

"I love Adam. But that's different..."

"Yes, a parent's love is vastly different from love of a mate, but you didn't have to think about Adam, you did with Casey." Tom took up his own cup of coffee and drank it down. "I think you want to love Casey because it would finish the picture you've created in your mind."

"I do love her," Darien defended, but it even sounded hollow to his ears. "It takes time. And I don't have that right now."

"Good relationships require hard work. I can't tell you how many couples I have come in here looking for marriage counseling. Some want out just because their spouse doesn't put the cap on the toothpaste. Others say their love has changed." He shrugged, "Who can't say that? But the important thing is to examine deep inside yourself and discover why you loved the person in the first place. If their love has changed, can you steer yours over to their shore or are you hopelessly moored in the shallows, wallowing in what's left of your life?" He sipped coffee for a moment as if considering his next words. "We can't read what's in our future anymore than we can change the past. I'm truly sorry that Adam cannot stay with you. I think you two fit together well. The one time I met him he seemed like a fine boy. But don't let this be your only chance, Darien."

"Yeah," Darien took a deep breath. Nothing had been decided, he'd come to no real consensus on what to do, but he felt less burdened. Now he just had to break the news to Adam.

"Will you be able to keep in touch with Adam?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Maybe you'll see him again, then, in a few years."

"You just finished saying we can't see our future."

"But planning joy always has it's own reward." Tom stood, taking Darien's hand in a firm handshake, "I know, sounding trite again. Better get out soon, I think I'm on a roll."

"See you, Tom."

"Always glad to have you come by, if only because it gets me out of grading papers." Tom reached up and sketched a blessing cross on Fawkes' forehead. "Keep asking the hard questions. It's served you well so far."

Turning left outside the rectory, Darien walked into the sanctuary from the back end. The alter guild women were chatting quietly while they polished up the brass work on the prayer rail and put out vases of roses. The sweet smell of the romantic flowers mingled with phantom scents of incense and candle wax from hundreds of past masses and Darien paused off to one side of the church to drink in the revitalizing peace.

Near the front doors a few people waited for their turn in the confessionals with St. Mary's other resident priest, Father Edward. Walking a slightly circuitous route to avoid the line of penitents, Darien didn't notice the blond haired woman going out just after him until her voice caught him up short.

"Darien?" Casey asked in surprise.

"Case!" Darien greeted, his heart thumping double-time in a matter of seconds. But instantly he recognized there wasn't any happiness in seeing her here. It should have been an unexpected joy, to be celebrated. Instead, it just complicated everything even more so. "What're you doing here?"

"It's my parish. What about you?"

"Uh--I know one of the priests. I go here sometimes."

"I didn't even know you were a practicing Catholic," She buttoned her coat against the slight nip in the air. "You never went to church when we were together."

"Gotta start practicing sometime," Darien quipped to keep it light. God, he didn't want to have to do this here, now.

"How's Adam?" Casey asked. "I thought you might call me up, tell me what happened."

"I'm sorry, it's...really complicated." Darien mentally castigated himself again for forgetting her. "We're making arrangements to get him out of the country, but there's someone out to kidnap him."

"Why?"

"Casey."

"Yes, I forgot myself," she smirked. "Government secrets."

"Casey." He was repeating himself but there was so much to say and none of the words would change the inevitable.

"Darien, this isn't working."

"Maybe we could get some coffee? Only just not right now, I've got so much..."

"No coffee. There's nothing left here." She pursed her lips, biting down on petal pink lipstick. "I really wanted to try again, too, I wasn't lying, I missed you. But too much has changed, Darien and I know it sounds harsh, but I don't want to get hurt again."

In a way, it was a relief that she'd broken it off first. He'd never have been able to get the courage to say goodbye and would have just ended up doing something else to drive her away. Still her words hurt, but for the first time they were both hearing what the other was saying. He and Casey had never been on the same wavelength the entire time he'd known her. It wasn't just static that distorted their words to each other, like some cheap cell phone, they'd never even been speaking the same language. "I know," Darien agreed. He held out his hand to her, closing his fingers around hers. "You're still wearing the clown charm," he said, touched.

"I have good memories to cherish, and you'll always be a friend."

"It's always good to have friends in high places, like ER's." Darien was choking inside but he managed the little joke.

"How long will Adam be gone?" she asked, giving his hand a squeeze and pulling her hand free.

"Maybe a long time."

"Well, then give him my love." Casey placed a hand on Darien's shoulder and pulled his head down to her level, planting a sweet kiss just in the same spot where Tom had just blessed him. "That's for both of you."

"Thank you." Darien straightened, touching his forehead.

"I'm late, ER's never wait." Without another word between them, Casey disappeared out of his life.

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

Act Four

"Hey." Darien lounged in the doorway of the cell. Adam looked up from his sprawl on the couch, closing a paperback book on his finger. "Whatcha been doing all day?"

"Claire conspired to keep me busy," Adam laughed with a slightly hollow sound. "But I knew what she was doin', probably for the best, huh?"

"Yeah. We got some things worked out, Hobbes and me, so now you and me need to sit down and sort out some of the details."

"I'm leaving?" Adam said evenly, but his Adam's apple bobbed twice.

"You got it in one." Darien so didn't want to do this. It was all too achingly familiar, harking back to just after his mother's death to when kind hearted people had sat Kevin and he down to tell them they were being shipped off to places unknown to what amounted to complete strangers. At least he'd met Uncle Peter and Aunt Celia before. Adam didn't know Charlie and Deb Steinman from--well, Adam. "Hobbes has some cousins who, through a series of events too long to go into here now, live incognito on an island in the Bahamas. It's warm there." That sounded lame, even to his own ears.

"Bahamas?" Adam said on an exhale, like he was trying not to cry. "Maybe I could surf?"

"That'd be cool." Darien encouraged even that tiny amount of interest. "And the Steinmans are good peeps, Adam. It'll be weird at first, but it's safe and best yet, Eberts has a secure line to them, so we can e-mail, IM, whatever..."

"Whenever?" Adam asked, his fingers still clutching the novel in his hand like it might fly away if he didn't hold on tight.

"Every day, man," Darien promised.

"I know I have to go, " Adam said with the same incredible bravery he'd shown stepping into the cryopod. "But I want to stay here." At long last the tears came, streaming down both cheeks without any sound.

"I want the same thing, pal," Darien enveloped his foster son in a tight hug, pouring all the love he had into that wiry body. "Someday, man, someday, stuff is gonna change."

"Can I bring the Playstation?" Adam knuckled some tears out of his eyes, hiccuping with the effort to control his breathing.

"Anything you want." Darien gave a sigh of relief that the hardest part was over. Well, maybe the second hardest part. The worst would be watching that courageous boy walk onto the plane and out of his life. Two people in one day, a personal record of desertion. And on some level, Darien realized he'd been far more prepared for Casey's loss than Adam's.

"I still didn't finish 'The Outsiders'." Adam dog-eared a page in the book and left it on the couch. "But I really get the story." He started digging around in the chaotic mess of clothing only a teenager could create in a single morning. "That the consequences of a person's actions always bring about change and you can't just sit in one place waiting for the worst that will happen. You gotta stand up and take what comes."

Boy, he'd discerned a lot more from the novel than I had at the same age. Darien thought dazed.

"That an' I wanna see a Paul Newman movie, that guy sounds tough."

Spoken like a true kid. "Can't go wrong with 'Cool Hand Luke' or 'Butch Cassidy', but my all time favorite is 'The Sting'," Darien said because it was easier than talking about the boy leaving. "They're all on DVD, I'll send 'em to you."

"How many suitcases do I get?" Adam surveyed the pile of T-shirts he'd started on the bed. "There's still more stuff at your place."

No longer our place, now it was back to being yours. Darien noted, wanting to curl up and die, but he stretched his back until vertebrae cracked, walking over to help fold the same clothes he'd packed only the night before. "We have a few more things to discuss."

"My name?"

"How'd you know?"

"Stands to reason. Everybody and his brother must know by now about Adam Reese and his killer cells."

"Well, hopefully not everybody, but you need a new name and soon. Hobbes has to get you new papers, passport, all that stuff before the plane leaves."

"When's that?"

"Charlie and Deb come in at two a.m.. I think the return flight is four hours later."

Picking up a candy bar from a stash on a chair next to the bed Adam did a careful job of unwrapping the paper to reveal the chocolate. "Wanna piece?"

"No," Darien said, even though he hadn't eaten anything except the scone at Father Tom's. He wasn't hungry, but he was so tired he could have slept until the next millennium. Rip Van Darien. He wondered idly if being inside the cryopod felt like sleeping or more like frozen but awake? He didn't really want to know. "Got any ideas?"

Finishing off the Snickers by licking his fingers, Adam nodded slowly without lifting his head, "Maybe Darien?"

Oh, God. For a moment Darien couldn't speak, but he forced the words past the huge obstruction in his throat, "You said Darien was a dorky name," he reminded.

"So, I changed my mind." Adam tipped up his face, his blue eyes still teary but determined.

"Thanks, bro, but I think you'd be happier with something more common," Darien offered. "John?"

"Boring." Adam frowned, flopping down on the bed. "Maybe Alex? Like Alexander?"

"That's perfect," Darien smiled. Monroe would be honored, but he'd never say that aloud to the kid.

"What's your middle name?" Adam said unexpectedly.

"Gerard," Darien supplied mystified.

"Do I have to be a...what was it, Steinman or can I pick any last name?"

"Be who you are, man, it's the only time you'll ever get to choose your own name."

So, Adam named his choice.

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

"Carson, Boswell, Mitchell, we're hitting the Agency offices tonight at midnight." Stark informed his troops. "Exactly how we've practiced. You all know your places in the simulations, but this is the real thing..."

"This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill..." Carson gave a cheeky grin which didn't even wilt under Stark's stern eye.

"Act your age, Carson, you're the squadron leader now that Dodd is out," he ordered harshly. "Everyone in their places by 11:30 tonight and we go in hard and fast. Destroy all computers but leave the ones in the big lab to me. Find Reese, and Dodd if he's still there. We will be the victors tonight, boys, this is the Superbowl."

As the seven members of his cadre cheered, Stark imagined the look on Tabitha's face when she was deposed of her position. If all went well, he would be back in power before the next dawn.

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

"You made this yourself?" Darien examined the American passport, impressed. Looked like the real thing down to the minutest detail. Even Adam's photo had that slightly stilted, overly posed look all passport pictures had. And a recent stamp proclaimed he'd vacationed in Cancun the past summer.

"Well, it was easier once I was able to procure actual passport documents," Eberts answered, looking none the less proud.

"Alexander Gerard Curtis?" Hobbes read over Fawkes's arm, "Where'd you get that name?"

"Adam picked it out. Curtis is from that book he was reading." Darien didn't want to comment on Gerard. It was too personal, too fresh. He'd dreamed of sharing a name with Adam, but he'd thought it would be Fawkes someday, not their middle names. Still, it made them family all the same.

"Well, let's get this show on the road, Crosby," Hobbes picked up a wrapped box off his desk. "Claire and Alex have things set up in the Keep. Is the kid all packed?"

"For hours and whatever we didn't fit into his suitcase can get shipped, right, Eberts?"

"Absolutely," Eberts picked up a brightly decorated package of his own and followed them out. "I'll miss Adam very much."

Out of the mouths of innocents. It was the one thing Darien hadn't been able to say all day. He shut his eyes tight for a moment, willing the intense emotions to pass, "Yeah, me, too."

"You get any sleep today, partner?" Hobbes asked.

"No more than any of the rest of you," Darien fudged, hoping that meant none.

"Eberts, we'll catch up," Hobbes called as the other man hit the elevator button. When Eberts had disappeared, Bobby propelled Fawkes over to a chair and forced him to sit down. "I took a siesta mid-afternoon, and I know for a fact that Eberts fell asleep over the copy machine and slept with his face all mashed up against the fresh paper for a couple of hours. Alex told me she curled up on the couch in her office, and Claire used a vacant lab. Now, I'm asking again, what about you?"

"You forgot the 'Fish," Darien reminded. "What, are you taking a poll on sleeping habits at the Agency?"

"The Fat Man sleeps with his eyes open anyways." Hobbes crossed his arms over his chest, his chin forward with a pose that said 'just try and lie to me'. "You look like hell."

"Thanks doctor, I'll return the compliment some day." Darien tried to rise, "Bobby, they're all waiting."

"Let 'em wait for half a minute. This is ripping you up inside, and I'm not lettin' you fall down some well without bein' there to pull you back out again."

That was almost too much to bear, but Darien stifled the raw pain Hobbes' words brought forth and stood on shaking legs. "Hobbes, I'll crash once Adam's on the plane, safe. Until then I gotta keep going."

"Just remember I'm right beside you, my friend," Hobbes said simply.

"I know, man," Darien touched his knuckles to his partner's, feeling revived by the uncomplicated knowledge of his friendship.

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

"Surprise!" Claire tooted on a party horn as Alex ushered Adam into the Keep.

"Happy Birthday--sort of!" Eberts crowed, then attempted the birthday song on a silver and purple horn. The whole room had been decked out in purple and blue streamers with a bouquet of Mylar balloons floating serenely just below the ceiling. A decorated cake sat on a Mayo stand waiting to be cut into.

"But it's not my birthday," Adam grinned self-consciously, giving one of the balloons a shove. It bobbed playfully in the air, the leering face of a pro-wrestler looking out of place with the cheery words 'Happy Birthday' above his head. Other balloons proclaimed 'We'll miss you', 'Bon Voyage' and 'Party on!'.

"Well, you missed your birthday while you were in stasis," Claire spoke up, "And we won't be there in a few months to celebrate the next one, so this one's an all purpose party."

"Presents and everything." Alex smiled, posing next to the pile of gifts like Vanna White presenting a vowel. "We didn't want you to leave here empty handed." She didn't want him to leave period, but ever the good little agent, Alex recognized Adam's needs over her own. She'd never meant it to happen, but Adam had slipped into her heart and helped ease the ache of James' absence. He would never be a replacement for her child, but she'd finally discovered how mothers love more than one child at a time. The heart expanded ever wider to encompass all the love needed to cherish and nurture each subsequent child. She'd kept herself so cold and emotionally closed off for so long, but once she'd opened herself to James, there'd been no way to jam that door shut ever again. First the Agency personnel had forced their way in past her better judgement, leaving the door open wide and Adam had just waltzed right in leaving her with a lingering guilt at ever having participated in a plan to terminate his life and an aching sadness that she wouldn't be able to see him grow up from now on.

"We'd better cut this cake." Claire piped up, holding up a knife. "It's mint chip ice cream, and it's melting already."

"Where's Darien?" Adam poked his finger in the whipped cream, but there was an air of uncertainty about him. He couldn’t quite stay in one place very long as if his nerves were all firing at once, keeping him on the move.

"He'll be here," Eberts assured, holding out plates for the pieces of cake. "He has your new passport."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bobby erupted into the Keep, Darien trailing behind him. "Can't start the party without Bobby Hobbes! Got you a present, kid."

"Thanks!" Adam glanced briefly at Fawkes, then tore into the gift wrapped in leftover red and green Christmas paper. He pulled out a green Gameboy with a separate game cartridge. "Cool, Bobby, thanks." Adam fiddled with the controls for a moment before taking the plate of ice cream handed to him.

"Bobby?" Claire passed him a plate and a fork.

"Can I see the passport?" Alex brought Fawkes a piece of cake and exchanged it for the little blue booklet he held. She didn't like the wan, wretched look on the taller man's face. He was exhausted mentally and physically and Alex knew it wouldn't be long before Fawkes fell apart, but he gave a quick, quirky grin as if to pacify her. "Alexander Gerard Curtis?" Alex read in astonishment, her heart speeding up.

"Can't decide whether Al or Alex sounds better," Adam spooned in another mouthful of soft mint chip, meeting her eyes. Alex bit down on her tongue to stop herself making any comment at all. She recognized the gift he'd given her and let it go at that.

"I vote for Al." Darien left the plate of ice cream on the exam table, coming over to check out the newest Gameboy, "Al Mundy on It takes a Thief, great show."

"Any wonder why he liked that one?" Alex smirked.

"Come t'think of it, the premise sounds awfully familiar, a thief sprung from jail to steal for the government," Hobbes laughed, "Combine it with that one where whatshisname--played Illya Kuryakin on UNCLE...went see through..."

"David McCallum, The Invisible Man, I loved him," Claire gushed. "Lovely fair hair."

"Y'think somebody stole my life from a TV show?" Darien teased, elbowing Adam in the ribs. "Never work in prime time, it's too weird to be real anyway."

"What are you guys talkin' about?" Adam groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Seventies TV, before your time, sprout," Hobbes ruffled his hair. "C'mon, open up your presents."

Claire had packed a troll Pez dispenser, a book of movie quotes, a yard long roll of purple bubble gum, red licorice and a T-shirt advertising the movie 'Matrix Reloaded' into a carry-on bag. "Didn't want you to be bored on the plane," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "But this doesn’t mean you can neglect your school work. I'm sending a curriculum to the Steinmans."

"Whatever," Adam groaned with a grin. Alex handed over a small box containing oatmeal cookies and a watch that gave the time in several time zones. For a moment Adam clung to her, resting his forehead on her shoulder. But it was just a moment and then he was back to ceaseless movement, eating ice cream and opening presents all at the same time.

Darien's gift was a pair of garishly colored swim trunks and a matching T-shirt in wild shades of hot pink, neon green and shocking blue.

"D!" Adam grimaced, "I can't wear this!"

"It's vintage '70's. I had a pair just like it when my Mom took us to the ocean. 'Wear it again, Sam's' only sells the best."

"Times have changed, man," Adam protested, but he folded the clothes with reverence, patting the shirt gently when he placed it back into the box.

"This is from me--and The Official," Eberts handed over a heavy flat box. Adam ripped the paper quickly, staring in shock at the Apple iBook lying within.

"Oh, man, Ebes..." he whispered.

"I've set up a special link just for you. The Steinmans have a separate account, but this is for you to use anytime to get in contact with us," he explained, pedantic as usual but there was a roughness in his voice that only partially covered up the hint of tears.

"Have a safe trip, son." Charlie Borden stood in the doorway of the Keep, a benevolent smile on his face. "I suggest you get Mr. Reese on his way as soon as possible. Our men watching the boys watching us warn that something is going to happen very soon." He turned to go, then threw out over his shoulder, "And Eberts, in my office in five."

"Yes, sir," came the hurried answer.

"What's about to happen?" Adam asked as Darien began to pack as many things as would fit into the carry-on and stowed the computer into its shoulder bag.

"We're gonna have unfriendly visitors any time now, Adam," Hobbes said, pulling his pistol out of the shoulder holster and checking the rounds.

"How are we planning to work this?" Alex asked, checking her own .9mm Glock.

"The same way we talked about earlier, Monroe," Hobbes answered, slightly irritated. "Adam goes with us, you pull out in another car with Smithy in the passenger seat." Smithy was a slight, blond haired agent who could pass for Adam in the dark, at a distance.

Glancing over at Fawkes again, Alex frowned, "Can he still pull this off?" She asked Hobbes softly. Darien looked ready to drop and she didn't want to entrust Adam to his care without assurances.

"I know what I gotta do, Susie," Darien retorted. "Take care of your own business."

"What time is it?" Adam asked breathlessly, shouldering his carry-on.

"You just got a new watch, sweetie, synchronize yours with mine." Alex held out her arm to show the correct time. "Ten minutes to twelve and in the Bahamas, it's four hours later." Adam fiddled with the dials on his watch, setting the hands to the proper positions.

"Already tomorrow in wonderland," Darien sighed.

"Zero hour and counting," Bobby Hobbes said ominously.

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

Once Hobbes, Adam and Fawkes had piled into one of the Agency's not quite new Toyotas, Darien extended his arm out of the side window, placing an already cold hand onto the metal roof. He took a deep, cleansing breath to center himself for the job he was about to do. He was so tired, and empty, a hollow shell filled with nothing but Quicksilver. Within seconds the interior of the car began to chill as icy silver rivulets began coating the entire automobile. Just as Alex Monroe started the engine of the car in the next parking slot, the Toyota shimmered in the low light behind the Harding Building and winked out, completely disappearing.

Darien had to use his whole concentration to keep the car invisible, so he wasn’t much help to Hobbes who had to drive without lights onto a dark street suddenly crawling with soldiers carrying guns. Two boys carrying Russian made automatic weapons ran in front of the car, barely escaping being mowed down by one ton of transparent steel.

"Bobby, go left!" Adam shouted from the backseat.

The car carrying Monroe and Smithy shot out of the driveway to the right and a good many of the attacking horde followed, but just as many descended onto the sidewalk to engage one on one with Agency personnel pouring out of the building.

Keeping his hand planted firmly on the roof of the car, Darien shut his eyes, panting. This was harder than he'd expected. He'd and Mei-Lin had once worked together to disappear a car while driving, which had resulted in a fender bender. But keeping the car and two other people invisible after two days without sleep and very little food was putting quite a strain on his system. He could feel a killer headache crawling up the back of his skull and wrapping a tight band of pain over his whole head after only five minutes. It wasn't the precursor to QS madness, but it was a bad one all the same. He was glad Hobbes was doing the driving. He trusted Bobby to keep all of them safe even when a bullet zinged through the back window and buried into the seat upholstery just to the left of Darien's shoulder just after they pulled out of the Agency lot.

"Get down on the floor of the car, Adam," Bobby ordered, swinging the steering wheel in a tight arc. The car seemed to bounce off the curb but managed to round the corner and head straight down the cross street.

"We're past all of them," Adam's disembodied voice complained.

"Just get down, damn it." Hobbes cursed.

Darien opened his eyes to watch the silvery dark street zip by at over 60 miles per hour. He felt like he was flying as they hurtled invisibly through downtown San Diego. Other cars, what few there were on the road at midnight, were unaware of the passage of another vehicle. Just as Darien thought they were in the clear and considered letting the freezing cover dissipate, three police cars barreled down the avenue to screech onto 'G' street, nearly running straight into the Toyota. Only Bobby's quick reflexes saved them from a head on collision and they made the turn with two wheels up on the sidewalk, taking out a newspaper box.

"You can drop the Saran Wrap, partner," Hobbes instructed once he'd gained the freeway and they were headed north towards Los Angeles.

Dropping his hand into his lap, Darien let out a slow exhale. Quicksilver caught the light from passing street lamps as it flaked off, showering the road with tiny sprinkles of fairy dust that vanished immediately. His energy gone, Darien slumped against the seat of the car, drained to immobility.

"That was extreme." Adam declared, sitting upright, "You okay, D.?" He let his hand rest on Darien's shoulder, giving him a little shake.

"Hey, Fawkesy, you don't look so hot, you still with us?" Hobbes took his eyes off the road for a moment.

"I'm good," Darien insisted, his throat as dry as dust and the headache jamming sharpened metal rods through his skull starting at the gland in the back and coming out both his eyes. The constant motion of the car was so sick-making he had to shut his eyes to avoid hurling.

"Well, take it from me, you're not that good of a liar," Hobbes snorted. "Adam, find that cooler Claire packed. There's a coupla bottles of water in there and some coffee. Give Fawkes the water and me the coffee. We're still almost two hours from the airport and once those goons realize we vanished under their noses, they're gonna figure we bugged out."

"Did any of 'em have thermals?" Darien asked, sipping water with his eyes shut tightly.

"Thermals?" Adam asked.

"Special sunglasses for seein' Inviso-boy, here." Bobby explained relaxing his rigid driving stance the farther they got from San Diego.

"I saw some guys wearing sunglasses," Adam confirmed, "I thought that was kinda weird at midnight."

"Well, then even if they saw us, nobody followed us," Bobby said with confidence.

"You sure, Bobby?" Darien asked anxiously, wishing he had the strength to stay on point.

"Sure, Fawkes," Hobbes answered kindly, "Take forty."

"I've never been to Los Angeles," Adam said after ten minutes or so of driving.

"Never?" Bobby repeated, "Now that's just a shame. Fawkes shoulda taken you to Disneyland or Universal..."

"I meant to," Darien replied, feeling more amongst the living after water and four Advil. The painkillers hadn't taken effect just yet but he had confidence they would at least cut the headache in half.

"It's okay, D, I've never been to the Bahamas either," Adam said. He twisted the cap off a bottle of water and downed half.

"Now that's paradise," Bobby assured. "The water there is nothing like you've ever seen. Million shades a'blue and so clear. You can see the fish swimming. And the girls, wearing little tiny squares a'..."

"Hobbes," Darien warned.

"Girls?" Adam sounded interested, "So these Steinmans are your cousins, Bobby?

"Correctamundo, my friend," Hobbes fished a folded square of paper out of his jacket pocket and passed it into the back seat, "Deb sent you a hello."

Darien massaged his temples, listening to paper rustle as Adam read the missive. Everything was slipping through his fingers--time, life, happiness...it was as if all the planets had aligned to trip up Darien Fawkes and screw up even the little sweetness he'd been allowed. Why? An optimist would say be thankful for the time he'd had with Adam and be grateful that he was alive, healthy and such an astonishingly well adjusted kid for the amount of crap that had been thrown his way, but Darien wasn't in a particularly optimistic frame of mind.

"Sent me a picture of the house, it's near the beach." Adam said into the dark car. "Deb, she sounds nice."

"She is," Hobbes agreed.

"Think we can stop at the Burger King up ahead?" Adam asked, his voice cracking halfway between childhood and maturity, "I gotta go and I'm kinda hungry."

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

Jared Stark grabbed the nearest boy's arm, hurtling him around the corner with the other few survivors. Boswell was at the wheel, despite the fact that he didn't have a license, and as soon as the rest had piled into the car, he roared off with the speed learned from countless drag races.

"How could you have let them get away?" Stark roared, trying to situate himself with four other boys crowding the back seat. "I saw the car--Fawkes made the whole car invisible!"

"You had thermals, you can drive, you shoulda thought of that yourself!" Carson argued from the front seat. He had a bullet in his arm, but luckily, along with the anti-aging properties of his DNA, the boys also healed more quickly than most.

"We've lost Adam Reese and the last chance to get our hands on his blood," Stark ranted. He hadn't imagined this scenario at all. The Agency personnel waiting for them. It had been an ambush. His special corps now fit into one car. It was back to haunting runaway hangouts and boys' shelters, looking for his children. They always came back--to him. He wasn't vanquished, only demoralized. It was only a matter of time before Jared Stark once again wrested power away from that conniving witch Tabitha and sat in his rightful seat once more.

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

"Who are you?" asked the Caterpillar

Alice replied, rather shyly, "I hardly know, Sir, just at present--at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar sternly, "Explain yourself!"

"I can't explain myself, I've afraid, Sir," said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see."

Lewis Carroll had the knack of writing down the craziness that invades our lives in times of stress in a way that comes out sounding like a child's story. But just about all of us have shared Alice's confusion. Adam was no longer who he had been, I certainly wasn't. In just one day we'd changed even more than Alice.

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

Adam wandered around the shopping concourse, but naturally the airport stores were all closed at 2:45 in the morning. He poked through the shuttered iron gates, making out magazines, Beanie Babies and little pillows to prevent stiff necks on the plane in the dark recesses of the shop.

There was nothing left but the waiting. After the stress and tension of the last day and a half, Adam just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

In a way, he wouldn't mind leaving California if it weren't for Darien. In the Bahamas he could be a new person--A. G. Curtis. He said the name aloud, but low enough so it didn't sound like he was talking to himself. Alex Gerry Curtis. A.G.

Who was Adam Reese anyway? He'd never thought twice about his identity living in Clear View with his mom, on a nice little suburban street, going to the local elementary school. He was just a kid, like dozens of other kids. Then his Mom told him she was going away and people would come to get him. People--Darien, Bobby and Alex, who became his surrogate family. Then there was the whole revelation about his own personal killing virus and how he'd been manipulated as a baby. It was just as well Adam Reese was going away, because Alex Curtis wasn't sure he wanted to be him anymore.

The hardest part would be leaving Darien. Especially when Darien looked like he was sick or something. Sad. That Adam/Alex understood. He knew from sad, but there was nothing to be done about it. One of the spelling words he'd had to memorize in the last few sessions with the tutor had been pragmatism. The tutor had even made him stand up the way they did in formal spelling bees and define the word, then spell it.

Squaring his shoulders again the way he'd done that day, Adam spelled it out, saying softly to himself, "Pragmatism--the theory that actions and beliefs must be judged by their practical results."

Adam recognized himself as a pragmatist. He knew that going to the Bahamas with Charlie and Deb was the practical solution and the only one for the situation, even if it wasn't what any of them ultimately wanted. Pressing his thumb into the tiny wound on his hand, Adam welcomed the brief flare of pain across his palm. It gave him a reason to let a few tears drop, but he wiped them quickly away with his jacket sleeve, remembering the words, spoken by the immortal James T. Kirk in 'Wrath of Khan', "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." He'd watched the video with Darien one night while they scarfed root beer and Chex mix. After the scene where Spock sacrificed himself for the ship's crew, Darien had gotten a faraway look in his eyes, slugging back the soda with an almost violent swallow.

"Kirk and Spock are idiots," Darien had said. "I wouldn't stand for that."

But here they were and Adam knew what had to be done. He had to keep his friends safe from any future threat of infection and further attack from Stark. If that meant going away with people he hardly knew, he could handle that. Glancing back at his friends, he studied them, standing behind an advertising kiosk so they wouldn't see his scrutiny.

Deb Steinman had a nice face; blondish hair framing her tanned skin and a plump body that made her breasts round and soft looking under a tropical print shirt. Adam felt himself blushing. It was wrong for him to notice such a thing on a woman who was going to be his foster mother, but these days he just kept seeing breasts. He shook himself, looking over at Charlie. He looked vaguely like that guy on the show 'The Sopranos' that Darien had turned him on to. Adam couldn't remember the character's name, but Charlie seemed nice. He was a little taller than Hobbes with more hair and a beer belly but there was a definite family resemblance. He and Hobbes were arguing, amicably it appeared, but Adam was too far away to hear their actual words. Deb was pressing some food on Darien who had recovered from his near collapse in the car, but still looked tired. Good thing they'd stopped at Burger King, that BK broiler and large fries had recharged Darien's batteries to a point where he didn't look like death warmed over.

Darien.

Adam rubbed his throat, trying to massage away the clutch of tears that lodged there. He'd just clicked with Darien Fawkes the minute they'd met. Like an instant understanding of another person without saying a word. Their mutual 'lab rat' status had only bonded them closer. Strangely enough, he'd never really felt like he and his mother belonged in the same family. Oh, he loved her and would always hold a place for her in his heart, but he'd always thought they didn’t fit quite right. Now he understood why. But with Darien there'd been no alteration necessary. So, naturally, he couldn't stay here--he had to move along again.

"Hey, Adam," Darien stood, ambling over with that lanky way of his that made it look like he was built from spare parts. "You gonna come over? Deb has some cookies with macadamia nuts. Really good."

"Nothing's open," Adam waved a hand at the shops in a lame explanation for his absence.

"You okay?" Darien gave him a cookie.

"Yeah, you?" Adam asked quietly. He didn't want to appear babyish but was more than comforted when Darien pulled him into a rough hug, knuckling the back of his head.

"Careful with the hair!" Adam protested.

"We'll both survive," Darien whispered, "C'mon, get to know them."

"Kid!" Hobbes called, "Deb says you can have your own room, don't have to double up anymore."

He'd kinda liked doubling up with Darien, was the problem. A dad and a big brother all in one. Still, the Steinmans seemed like really nice people and a house where you could surf off the back porch was nothing to complain about. He'd be far away from Chrysalis, hopefully for a long time to come. Maybe someday the threat would be over and...Adam ate the cookie, brushing the crumbs off on the back of his jeans before extending his hand to Charlie Steinman.

"Call me Alex."

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

Standing in front of the elegantly appointed desk, Stark didn't let the décor detract from what he was going to say. Instead, he looked Tabitha steadily in the eye, his own righteous anger keeping him in balance. "The Agency thawed out Adam Reese with the information on the stolen computer files. Your people are so out of the loop they failed to even notice when it was happening right in front of their noses."

"What about you?" She regarded him with narrowed eyes, her fingers laced together in a tight weave.

"Oh, I noticed," he answered, making sure to keep his voice on an even keel. No need to let her find out about his big debacle. Just start anew, with a vengeance.

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

The cute Beatle, Paul McCartney once sang, "The long and winding road that leads to your door will never disappear...it always leads me back, leads me to your door."

The road of life is truly a long, convoluted journey with a lot of shake-ups and potholes, but you meet good people along the way. And with any luck, you'll be able to keep them in your life, even if the road between stretches across an ocean.

End