Secrets and Lies

by Lucy Hale

Then I met Bobby Hobbes, and learned that sometimes cynicism doesn't have to be accurate, or powerful, or an observation. Sometimes it comes wrapped up in human form.

"I don't like this."

Darien rolled his eyes as they surveyed the quiet house, not surprised in the least. "You getting bad vibes? Maybe it's the two cars in the garage, or the bike in the front yard."

"Details, I'll have you know, are what makes a hiding place work. That's just it. Everything looks too innocent."

Darien glanced at his partner. Bobby Hobbes was a lot of things -- paranoid, deluded, demented. Completely insane. But he was also right a lot of the time. Still… "You don't stop to think that maybe it looks innocent because it is?"

"Never. You're not gonna last too long at this job thinking like that. Look, fact is, we've got witnesses saw the men we're after stopping at this house for almost a full night. Our boys went inside, stayed there, and then left by morning, with no unusual sounds being reported. Nothing. So what I figure is this is either some kind of safe house for them, or someone inside knows at least one of them. Either way, we should get our answers."

Darien heaved a small sigh. "So how do you want to do this?"

"I always like the front door approach." Bobby got out of the van and slammed the door shut.

Darien moved out of his door, but stopped his partner before they could head up to the porch. "What if this is some bad-guy hangout? Wouldn't it be dangerous for a couple of federal types like us to go knocking on the door?"

"Nah. If it's a cover, it's a good one, and they won't risk blowing it by putting bullets in us right from the start." Bobby headed for the house confidently.

"Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better." Darien tailed him more slowly, letting Bobby take the lead. Not that he wouldn't have just taken it anyway. Darien found it was best to just let him do his thing.

Bobby marched right up and knocked on the door, peering casually through a crack in the curtains.

There was no answer. Nothing but the sound of a television from inside the house.

He knocked again. "Anybody home?" he called out, keeping anything official from his voice.

Darien rolled his eyes. "Why don't I go through the back, scope the place out?"

"Why don't you." Bobby knocked again patiently.

Darien moved away, going around the side of the small, average lower-middle-class house. He almost tripped on a doll in the grass, and it brought a slight grin to his face. Some poor family was about to get jumped by Bobby Hobbes and submitted to questioning, just because some van had pulled up outside their house.

He moved to the back door, looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching, and sent a mental cue to the gland in his brain.

His skin shivered, and the thin cover of cold silver seeped from his pores, covering him until he could look down and not see himself.

He tried the door, and grinned when he found it locked.

No problem. He was a professional.

He got down on one knee, digging in his jeans for the small kit of tools he'd taken to carrying around on assignments like this. He let his hand and the kit shimmer into visibility, and pulled out two slim instruments.

A few seconds later, the door was sliding open, and he was inside.

He tucked the kit back in his pocket and slid the door shut, looking around.

A moment later he almost erupted into a coughing fit, his hands flying up to his nose.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was that smell? It was nauseating, disgusting.

He breathed in through his mouth slowly, grimacing. He could almost taste the foulness in the air. Something was definitely off here. He'd broken in to a lot of houses in his day, and no normal family's home ever smelt like this.

He moved out of the kitchen and to the front of the house. The living room was empty. The television was on, entertaining the furniture loudly.

A little too loudly. Darien's eyes narrowed, suspicious.

There was another knock on the door, but he ignored it. He'd have to check and see who was here before he let Bobby just waltz on in here.

He headed down a back hallway, his ears open for the sounds of people. He didn't hear anything, so he cracked the first door he came to and peered in.

A moment later, the door was slammed shut and he was fighting hard not to lose his lunch on the carpet of the hallway.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, his hand tight around his nose. Whatever was in that room could wait.

He moved further down the hall, peeking in to the few doorways. There were bedrooms, toys, video game setups. This was a house like any other, he could tell.

The door in the very back of the hall would lead to the master bedroom. The parents' room. It always seemed to turn out like that, in his experience.

He cracked the door open and blinked in.

There was somebody home after all. Some woman was lying in bed, asleep.

Darien moved slowly up to the bed, wondering what the hell was going on here. Something was definitely wrong in this house, he just couldn't figure out--

The sleeping woman shifted slightly, as if trying to roll over. But she didn't, her arms jerking her to a stop under the covers. With a sleepy groan she settled back where she'd been.

Darien's eyes narrowed. He gingerly moved his hand to one edge of the cover and lifted.

"Holy shit!"

A minute later he was at the front door, flinging it open.

"It's about time, kid. I was-- Jesus Christ!" Bobby's hand flew to his nose, and Darien shimmered into visibility.

"Something bad happened here, Bobby."

"No shit. Where are the bodies?"

"Bodies?"

"What do you think that smell's coming from?"

Darien's hand tightened against his nose at that, disgusted. He remembered that room where the smell had been strongest, and realized he hadn't looked in there well enough.

"First things first. There's a woman back there. She's alive." Darien started back to the last room down the hall, leading his partner, who was looking around at the passing doorways suspiciously.

Bobby paused outside the very door Darien remembered those smalls coming from, and nodded almost imperceptively to himself.

Darien noticed, and wondered if it was worth asking how Bobby so easily recognized the smell of rotting corpses.

He wasn't really sure he wanted to know the answer, though. He was happy as it was now -- neither he nor Bobby took each other all that seriously. Darien almost preferred to think of his partner as an overzealous, lithium-dosed Agency rat, and Bobby preferred to think of Darien, it seemed, as some rebellious, ungrateful punk.

It worked for them. As partners, they made it work.

He shook off the train of thought as he got to that door and hesitated. "She's in here."

Bobby waited, and when Darien just stood there for a minute his eyebrows flew up. "So?"

Darien moved away from the door, waving for Bobby to go on in.

Bobby looked at him questioningly, but moved on in to the room. He stopped right in the doorway and breathed in slightly.

Darien almost resisted the urge to glance in over his shoulder. Almost, but morbid curiosity got the better of him.

Yeah, the cover was still flipped off her. She was still tied there, bleeding and bruised and horrible looking.

"Shit. We gotta get her to a hospital." Bobby went to her side and tugged at the rope holding her wrist to the side of the bed. He glanced up at the drapes in the bedroom, which had been pulled to keep anyone from seeing in. They must have shut the drapes and used the cords to tie her up. Christ, he wanted to catch these guys. "You want to help me out here?"

Darien moved in slowly, uncertain. "What…uh…"

"Just get her other arm untied. We need to get her to help. If those bodies in the other room are any judge, she's been here for a few days at least."

Darien grimaced slightly. He lifted her arm gingerly, examining the cord tied there.

The skin around that cord was raw and bloody in patches, and the knot in the cord was so tight he couldn't get at it. She must have fought pretty hard.

He frowned at Bobby. "I can't--"

Bobby was obviously having the same trouble. "Kitchen. Grab a knife, something serrated."

Darien almost shot out of the room, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between him and that woman.

He hated things like this. He hated pain, whether it was his own or someone else's. Ever since he got involved with the Agency he'd been confronted with it in so many forms, it hurt him to look at. This woman, this entire family of corpses, was the way they were because Bobby and Darien hadn't caught up with these two men they were after. Two of the FBI's ten most wanted.

He couldn't handle that. He didn't even want to look at her again.

****

Bobby cursed and dropped the hand he was trying to untie. Fucking bastards. He hated men like the two they were after.

He hated people who had no greater respect for anything but themselves. Whatever gave them kicks was fine, and who cared if it hurt other people?

It made him sick. There were greater causes, greater goods. And yeah, he was probably archaic for thinking that way, but it wasn't going to change. It was the way he was raised. He believed in his country. He believed that men like him should protect innocent people. He believed he was doing right with the Agency, that even though it was a shitty, poor, decrepit little brother to the FBI, it was also getting some real work done.

He couldn't stand people who hurt innocents like this woman here. She had probably been sitting here, in her home, minding her own business. Fate, or luck, or whatever, made these assholes pick this house out of every other one on the block, and fate had deemed she be home when they arrived. For no other reason than some momentary kick, they had tied her here, beat the shit out of her. Probably raped her, but he wasn't about to look hard enough to be sure.

It made him sick. He was going to catch these animals, if it took him and Darien months to do it.

The woman on the bed spoke quietly. "Back for more?"

Bobby turned to her in shock, jerking away from the bed when he saw her eyes open and on his face. She spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but something like defiance shown in her eyes.

He shook his head quickly. "I'm a Federal Agent. We're going to get you out of here."

She didn't buy it for a second. Her eyes went harder, as though attempting to make her feel better was the lowest thing he could have done. "You piece of shit." She was weak, and there wasn't much to her voice. It was laced, though, with pure, unadulterated hatred.

Bobby glanced at the door, then back to her, no idea what to say. "Look, just…uh. Just stay there, huh?"

She laughed at that, faintly. It seemed to hurt her, though, and she flinched. The cold brown eyes shut again heavily.

Bobby stared down at her for a minute, then moved to the door. "Fawkes? Where the hell are you?"

His partner came in a minute later, obviously reluctant to go in. "Here." He thrust out a large kitchen knife.

Bobby took it and moved back to the now-unconscious woman. He sawed at the drape cords around her wrists, but the knife was dull and it took a minute to get the thing frayed.

He glanced up, sensing Darien's discomfort without even looking. "Go call an ambulance," he said gently, ignoring the fact that there was a phone right there.

Darien could hardly disguise his relief as he took off back through the door and out of sight.

The guy was still squeamish, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Bobby wouldn't even kid him about it later. It was kind of nice to be around someone who wasn't as callused to the violence and pain as he was.

Christ, Hobbes. Way to sound like a world-weary old man.

Still, it was the truth. He was used to the dirtiness; he had been since going through Quantico. He could handle it without much more than a flinch.

Darien's innocence was both refreshing and disturbing. It showed Bobby how far he'd gone from being just another average person on the street, but it at least gave Bobby an idea of how innocent most people still were. People should be innocent. They shouldn't have to deal with this kind of shit. That's what guys like him were there for.

Bobby made it through the first cord, and moved around to the other side of the bed, quickly hacking at the second one. These pricks would pay, for what they did to this woman and whatever bodies were rotting in that room down the hall, and for what they'd done to countless other people on the way.

His eyes drifted back to the woman on the bed as he tore through the cord and managed to release her from where she had been stuck for who knew how long. She was still out of it. Her waking up like that had been a fluke, and she'd be safely unconscious until after getting to the hospital, more than likely.

He moved to the door, a hand going to shield his nose as he went out into the hall and passed the doorway that was the center of the rotted meat foulness filling the air in that house.

He heard Darien on the phone, and moved to the kitchen, where the kid was standing. He saw that the back door was all the way open, and Darien was standing as close to the fresh air as he could, trying to breathe in something less contaminated.

Bobby listened long enough to make sure his partner had the details covered, then he steeled himself and turned back around, heading for the doorway he didn't even want to go near.

Someone had to do this, and better him than Darien or some kid medic.

He plugged his nose and breathed in through his mouth, knowing the coppery, rotting odor would enter in however he breathed. He just hoped it wouldn't taste too potent.

The door opened easily, and he almost expected some tangible fog to wash over him.

Instead, he went in to a neat little child's room, and looked around for possible hiding spaces for a body. He shut the door behind him, shielding Darien from having to breathe in anything more than he could handle.

He hoped it wasn't the child. Jesus, he hated seeing kids' bodies. Maybe the kid was away at summer camp or something.

He quickly went to the other side of the small bed, but nothing was behind it. A quick check on his hands and knees revealed nothing under the bed, either.

He stood and faced the closet with a frown. This was the only place left.

Reluctance kept his steps slow, but the need to find this before anyone else came in made him reach for the handle to the closet door and pull it open.

They fell out one on top of the other, the first one hitting Bobby before he could jump out of the way, knocking his hand away from his face in an effort to back up and not fall.

It didn't work. He went down on his rear ungracefully, scrambling away from the first of the dead husks of flesh.

The kid. A little boy, his face frozen in a mask of pain that would never fade. His little body was almost buried under the one that spilled out after it, an older girl. A teenager. She was partially covered by another, an adult man.

And there was probably another left in the closet, staying upright.

Horror swept over Bobby, erasing the callused calm he thought he'd built up. His eyes kept going back to that little boy, whose body was stiff and foul, whose hands were frozen claws.

He breathed in sharply through his nose, and the smell hit him again. All decay and fear and death, the thick, stale copper of blood, the sickly, rotted flesh. The smells that called to nothing good, nothing but memories of other deaths, other decay, other innocent corpses, other bodies too close.

Too damned close.

The nausea wracked his body, turning him over and driving his face into the carpet. His hands moved to his nose out of sheer preservation.

Panic kept him moving, driving him up to his feet and to the door.

It was shut all the way, and for a moment when he tried the knob with one hand, it stuck. He let out a desperate little sound, reluctantly bringing his other hand down to tug at the handle. The door swung open finally and he bolted, slamming it shut behind him.

He fell against the wall beside the doorway, shaking.

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.

He could handle this. He was Bobby Hobbes, he was an agent; he was tough. He could handle this. He'd seen corpses before. He'd seen men die right in front of him He'd seen deformed, violated children, women. He could handle this.

His hands covered his face as he fought to catch his breath, trying to fight off a panic attack. Not since he'd started therapy and gotten hooked on medication had he felt this close to losing control.

"Bobby?"

He was losing it. Jesus, he was losing it. He shut his eyes and saw that little boy, and he shuddered, knowing the image would be in his nightmares for a long time to come.

"Bobby? What's wrong?"

His eyes flew open as Darien came a little too close to that room.

Rule number one -- block anyone else from getting hurt. Keep people back, away from the scene. Keep everyone else safe.

He came off the wall, reaching his partner before Darien could get closer. "Is the ambulance coming?"

Darien nodded, frowning under his hand. "Are you okay?" He glanced at the door behind Bobby and his eyes grew wide. "Shit, you didn't go in there, did you?"

"Just go outside and wait for the ambulance. You'll have to direct them in here."

"Why--"

"Just go!" Bobby pushed with both hands, turning his partner and steering him towards the living room and the front door. "I'll take care of everything in here."

"Bobby, what--"

Bobby didn't wait for more of the inevitable argument. He gave one last shove and turned back to the hall. He'd have to go and sit with that woman, in case she actually did wake up again.

He heard the front door open and shut a minute later, and sighed in relief. At least Darien was out. At least the Agency's seventeen-million-dollar boy had been sheltered from this.

With that sigh, he realized he wasn't covering his nose. He was breathing in that tepid, loathsome air without even noticing.

Somehow that scared him more than anything.

***

"All right, boys, what have you got for me?"

Darien glanced at his partner, but Bobby didn't automatically jump to reply. Odd. He grimaced, though, knowing what had knocked Bobby off-kilter like that. "Uh, looks like they just made a pit stop at this house. I don't think there's any connection between the family there and these guys. They just picked a place at random."

He glanced at Bobby, but the older man sat back, expressionless, seemingly willing to let him run the show. "We found five people in all. Four had been dead for a few days…" He shuddered slightly. "And there's one woman. She's in bad shape, but she's alive."

The Official nodded to Hobbes. "Keep an eye on her. When she's stable, go get some answers. I want to know why those men were there, why they killed so many people, and where they're headed next." His eyes were serious as he looked out at his two prize agents. "We're running on a rapidly-depleting timeline here, people. This one is big, and it won't stay quiet for long. Soon the Feds are going to be just as close to the Lyons brothers as we are. I need something solid, and I need it soon."

Darien glanced over at Hobbes, waiting for his next plan to come out.

His partner just sat there.

"Uh, I guess we could get over to the hospital." Darien suggested slowly.

"Yeah. Do that. That was our last lead, that house. You get that woman talking."

Bobby stood automatically, moving to the door.

"Hobbes?"

He barely glanced back. "Yessir?"

The Official hesitated, but stayed stern. "I need you both at one hundred percent right now."

Darien watched Hobbes, knowing the Official was wondering what had the jumpy agent so restrained.

Bobby just shrugged. "We'll find them, sir. Believe me, we're gonna track these guys down." There was a cold look in his eyes, a firmness that said he was speaking nothing but the absolute truth.

Darien almost shivered at that look. Bobby was tenacious, stubborn, and like a rabid dog when he got on the trail of something. From the look on his face, he was on the trail now.

Bobby left without another word. For once, Darien was the one left behind in the office, and he was the one who had to go trailing after Bobby.

****

The quotable Freud again. I think I read too many psychological journals.

"Hey? You okay?"

Bobby's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn't respond.

"Come on, you're spooking me here. I'm not used to the silent treatment from you."

Again he didn't answer. He wasn't deliberately trying to ignore his partner, but Bobby's mind was on other things, and it just didn't seem important enough to interrupt his thoughts by answering.

He was still shaken up by that damned house. It was ridiculous. It might have been symbolic of something -- him losing his edge, his cool. Whatever. It almost made him panic, and it still had him distracted now.

Those god damned bodies. That smell, the kid's room, the small closet stuffed with corpses. Feeling that lifeless, stiff body falling over, hitting him. Seeing the frozen face and the wide eyes.

Seeing the hatred on the one survivor's face when she refused to believe he was a good guy. Pure, unadulterated hatred, directed at Bobby.

He was almost grateful he'd be talking to her again. He needed to see another look from her, something that wouldn't be driving into his conscience every time he shut his eyes. Something he didn't have to feel guilty about.

He could feel Darien's eyes on him, but he stayed quiet, and he knew Darien wouldn't ask. They weren't friends. They were partners, and every now and then they clicked for a few minutes at a time and worked well together. Still, they didn't ask about personal problems, and didn't go opening up to each other.

He wasn't about to go sharing all his thoughts, and it was fine with him. Partners didn't have to be buddies. He liked the kid well enough when he wasn't making a forced effort to hate everything about the Agency and his life with that gland stuck in his head, but it didn't make them friends.

He wouldn't talk to Darien about that little room with the stuffed closet, and how badly he freaked out. He'd talk to someone else. His shrink, maybe.

Maybe not. Only thing therapy was good for these days was getting a bigger prescription written out. 'Oh, Bobby, bad day? So sorry. Take this to the pharmacy, they'll make it all better.'

Not that he was complaining. This latest shrink was better than those soul-prying ladies who never seemed content without gory details and in-depth reports on every feeling he'd ever had.

So he wouldn't talk to anyone at all. Screw it. He'd never exactly been crazy about the idea of baring his soul to other people. Well, one other person, maybe. But she was long gone and getting hitched to some Naval cop.

He almost grinned to himself at the self-pitying trail his thoughts were taking. Poor Bobby. Poor misunderstood borderline-psychotic Bobby.

"Jesus."

Darien readily responded to the grumbled word. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Darien stared at him for a minute, then shrugged and turned back to look out the window as they approached the hospital.

Bobby relaxed when his partner lost interest. He hated people trying to pry him open. Even just asking him how his day was. If he didn't want to talk about it, that should be good enough.

Looked like Darien was learning to respect that.

He pulled the van into the hospital parking deck, and found a space quickly.

Time to stop feeling sorry for himself. There were witnesses to question and criminals to hunt down.

***

The woman was awake. She was up and asking questions, from what the doctor said. Which surprised Darien, but it was good, since they wouldn't have to wait to get their answers.

The doctor identified her as Jennifer Sawayah, but that was about all they knew. The police had come and gone, and were tracking down various leads that had nothing to do with medicine, so they didn't bother sharing with the doctor.

After the short talk, the doctor pointed them towards her room. There was a uniformed officer standing guard, and Darien couldn't help but smirk at the sight. Too little, too late. She was hurt already. Not like these guys would come back and try to finish her off in the hospital, right? If they'd wanted her dead, they'd have killed her in the house and stuffed her in a closet.

He shuddered slightly at that, remembering the cool, clinical description of the bodies that Bobby had given to the cops at that house. Calm as he acted, the thing had messed him up bad, Darien knew.

But Bobby was all business as he flipped his badge and got them both waved into the room.

Darien immediately planted a big smile on his face, knowing Bobby would go in all official. The poor woman deserved at least one friendly face.

Bobby kept his badge out long enough to approach the woman, who was sitting up looking at them in unhappy surprise. "Federal agents, ma'am."

Jennifer Sawayah was not looking her best, Darien would guess. But it wasn't surprising. She was bandaged, pale. She had dark eyes that seemed to take up half her face as she watched them come in. It was nice to see those eyes open, after seeing her the way she'd been in that house, no matter how suspicious and nervous they were looking now.

She glanced at the badge, then at Bobby's face. Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Do I…" Her voice was low. "Oh, you were the ones who…" She shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry. You were at the house, right?"

Bobby nodded and stuck his badge back in his pocket. "That's right. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?"

Darien was surprised at how gentle Bobby managed to keep his voice.

She nodded stiffly. "I guess I owe you that much."

Bobby actually smiled faintly. "You don't owe us anything, but we’d like to find the men that did this."

She frowned. "I don't think I'll be much help. I have no idea where they would be now. Roger…my brother…he refused to help them. I think he knew Dave and Phil would kill us anyway, the minute they showed up at the door."

"You knew these guys?" Darien moved to the other side of the bed, surprised. He assumed the Lyons brothers had just broken in to some random house and terrorized the family there.

She nodded slowly. "Roger went to prison with them years ago. They robbed a bank together. It was a stupid thing to do, but he was a kid."

"So they showed up expecting their old partner in crime to help them hide out?"

"They wanted everything. A hiding place, some money, a new car. They were scared. Some agents were closing in on them." She looked at Bobby. "You?"

"Could be. We’re not the only ones looking for them, though."

She nodded slightly.

"So your brother refused to help?" Darien asked gently.

"Of course. He's put his life back together; he wasn't about to ruin it again. He's married; he has children. He's not just some dumb kid anymore."

Darien heard the use of present tense, and it kept him quiet for a moment. Was she using it out of reflex, or was she unaware that he and his children were on slabs in the morgue?

She let out a breath suddenly. "Look, I've already told the cops everything that happened. Couldn't you just get a copy of my statement? I really don't feel like going over it again."

"That's all right, we don’t expect you to. We're interested in catching them, that's all. Did you hear anything that might have given a clue as to where they would go next?"

She frowned. "I…to be honest, Agent…"

"Hobbes. Bobby Hobbes. This is Darien Fawkes."

She smiled, but it was a wisp of an expression that came and left quickly. "Agent Hobbes, right now it's all kind of confused. The last few days…" She shook her head. "I don't remember. They might have, but it's all pretty unclear right now. Could I have a little time?"

"Take as long as you want." Bobby dug into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Just give us a call the minute you can think of anything that might help."

"I will." She took the card and looked up at Bobby suddenly. "I'm sorry. About before. I knew you weren't…one of them. But my mind was so…confused, I…" She trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

He smiled again, a gentle, easy expression that again caught Darien by surprise. He'd never seen Bobby make a face like that before. "It's all right. You just take it easy, and try and remember what you can."

She nodded.

Bobby glanced at Darien, and they turned and headed for the door.

"Agent…Hobbes?"

He turned back.

She hesitated uncertainly, but spoke up softly. "Would you do something for me?"

"If I can," Bobby said instantly.

"Talk to the doctors. They keep letting all these cops in, but they won't let anyone else. I know Roger must have been here to see me, but they must not be letting anyone in. Tell them I want to see him. Please?"

Bobby's slight smile vanished. He glanced over at Darien, then back at her. "I'll…uh, I'll talk to them."

She smiled faintly. "Thank you."

He nodded once, then left. Darien went after him a minute later.

Bobby didn't wait for him. A new motivation was quickening his pace as he went down the hall and to the desk where they had met with her doctor.

The man was still there, going over some clipboard with a nurse.

Bobby marched right up to him. "You haven't told her?"

He turned, surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Her brother is dead. His wife and kids are dead. You didn't tell her that?"

He frowned. "You did?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, but I'm really tempted."

"Agent, Miss Sawayah is dealing with a lot of stress right now, physical and mental. She has a lot to recover from. I'm not going to add to her trauma by telling her about her family's deaths."

"You're letting her sit there wondering why you won't let him visit? When are you gonna break it to her? The day she gets out? 'Take it easy, stay off your feet, and by the way, your house is going to be empty?'"

The doctor frowned sharply. "Agent Hobbes, I suggest you get on with your investigation and leave the handling of patients to me."

"This is my investigation! Right now that woman is so confused she can't remember anything helpful. Keeping quiet about this isn't helping. This isn't any kind of proper procedure. What gives you the right…"

Darien stood back and watched. He felt his partner's anger over this, but was surprised at how vocal Bobby was being over his aggravations.

He glanced over at the doctor as he finished replying. "--to do your job, and let me handle the patient. You're lucky we're even letting you in to talk to her. You understand me, Agent?"

Bobby was seething. "Listen, you lab rat. If I wanna know her blood pressure, I'll come to you. This isn't about medicine, it's about some asshole in a white coat thinking he knows what's better for people than they do."

Darien spoke up at that, coming forward and grabbing his partner's arm. "Okay, I think it's time for us to go. Thanks, doc."

"Hold on, Fawkes."

"No. I think we should leave."

Bobby jerked his arm out of Darien's grasp, glaring up at him.

"Agent Hobbes, I think you'd better listen to your partner. Otherwise I may not be so tempted to let you in next time you have some questions for my patient."

Darien pulled Bobby away from the man before the agent could respond. He pushed him in front of him and made sure he didn't so much as look back as they moved down the hall towards the elevator.

Bobby resisted for a minute, but he gave up and stalked to the elevator doors, hitting the button on the wall sharply.

Darien stayed close, and almost pushed Bobby in when the doors in front of them opened.

Bobby moved stiffly, turned, pressed the button for the lobby, and waited for the doors to shut. As soon as they were left alone in the large elevator, he moved suddenly, slamming his fist into a wall. "Son of a bitch!"

"Hey!"

Bobby let out another curse, grabbing his fist. "Shit."

"Yeah, it hurts when you do that." Darien stared at his partner. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bobby shook his head, turning to lean against the wall. "I hate this. I hate this fucking assignment."

"Come on, Hobbes. We can talk, you know? You got something you need to get off your chest, I am your partner."

"Forget it, kid."

Darien frowned. It was quiet for a minute, before he decided to speak up again. "You're letting that house get to you, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Come on, Bobby. You've been weird ever since we went to that house. It was bad, I know. But you gotta talk to someone before you blow up, you know?"

"Yeah? Well, I got me a doctor for that. Don't worry about it."

Darien let out a breath, wondering why he even tried. It took forever for them to even start to like each other. What was the chance Bobby would start opening up to him about personal things like this?

And did he really want him to? He wasn't sure. He didn't know if the two of them were ready to have some kind of real friendship.

Although, if he thought about it, he and Bobby had been there for each other on a number of occasions. When Darien had found Kate, when he thought she had the solution for getting the gland out of his head, Bobby was there. He bitched and complained, but when the time came, he covered for Darien, and helped him get her back when she was grabbed.

And Darien had been there for Bobby when his ex-wife decided to remarry, when she decided Bobby couldn't have any more place in her life.

It was strange, but that situation had brought out a new kind of protectiveness towards Bobby. Darien realized that although Bobby was overprotective and paranoid, he really didn't have anyone to look out for him in return. His ex's behavior told Darien that he might never really have had that. She was nice enough, he guessed, and had legitimate complaints about Bobby following her late at night on dark roads.

But still, every chance she got, she shut the guy down. Every time Bobby made a comment that left him open, she was all set to tell him it was over, he was a lunatic, he had been a mistake, she was so much better off now.

Poor guy. Had to hurt, getting those kinds of vibes from a woman he obviously loved a lot.

It made Darien feel like coming to Bobby's aid. It had led him to spy on his partner during more private moments than he normally would have allowed. It led him to make sure he was there at that hospital with Bobby when Vivian came in for that last goodbye.

He really was a good guy, Bobby was. He had some problems -- big ones -- but when you got down to it he was a caring guy who just took things way too far sometimes.

Darien wondered at times what Bobby had been like before. He knew from overhearing the Official that Bobby had had some sort of crack-up that led him to go heavy on the pills, and made him unwanted by anyone but the Agency. And Bobby had been a Fed, however briefly. So it must have been bad, whatever had happened.

He glanced over at his partner as the doors opened, depositing them at the lobby of the hospital.

Bobby ignored the look, leaving the elevator in a hurry. He went right for the front doors, and straight outside towards where the van was parked.

Darien followed quickly, not putting it past Bobby to just drive off without him if he wasn't there in time.

Bobby jumped in to the driver's seat, started the engine, and then just sat there for a minute.

Darien got in and stared right at him.

When he spoke, his voice was almost pinching, like he was forcing the words. "Every person they hurt until we catch them, it's part our fault. You know? I should have looked up old accomplices. I should have known about Roger Sawayah. We should have gotten there before the Lyons' did. This is our fault."

Darien's brow furrowed. "Look, Hobbes, we're not the only ones after these guys. Are you saying it's the FBI's fault too?"

"Sure. They should have known. They should have been there. We should have…" He leaned back, his eyes pointed through the windshield. "This is our job. We should have caught 'em before now."

Darien didn't know how to respond to that.

"And now we’ve lost 'em again. Unless that woman in there can remember something soon, they're gonna do this again, and it'll be our fault."

"You gotta relax, Hobbes. You can't take responsibility for everything that happens, you know? We do everything we can." Funny, Darien was usually the one trying to assume guilt for everyone that suffered thanks to the agency. It was a lot easier to be on the giving side of this advice than the receiving.

"It's not good enough," Bobby replied simply, glancing at Darien. "We gotta do better." There was an intensity burning in his eyes, a driven look Darien hadn't seen before.

Darien didn't reply. Bobby finally put the van into gear and started them moving.

****

"You're early." The Keeper greeted Darien worriedly as he came in. "I won't have another batch of Counteragent until tomorrow. We told you to use the Quicksilver sparingly, Dar--"

He flashed his hand up, cutting her off. He showed the snake, still less than a quarter red.

"Oh." She relaxed, meeting his eyes. "So what's this visit about?"

"Hobbes."

"What about him?"

"You guys know everything about us, right? I mean, we're not allowed to have any secrets. What do you know about him?"

"What are you asking about, exactly?"

Darien hesitated. "He's a good agent. I mean, the guy's nutty, but he comes up with things I would never even think of. He's really good. Why is he working for this Agency? Why not the FBI?"

She frowned. "Why not ask him?"

He laughed faintly. "Yeah, he's gonna come right out and tell me everything." He sat down at the edge of the chair he usually got his shots in, his eyes going serious. "The Official said something about a crack-up. What happened?"

"You shouldn't be asking me this, Darien. It isn't my story to tell you."

"Oh, come on! You people know every damned little thing about us. He's my partner. If something's going to set him off again, I need to know, right?"

She thought about it, and heaved a sigh. "I can't give details. You'd have to ask him. Or the Official. If he thinks you should know, he'll tell you."

"At least give me a general idea here."

She sat down beside him, her voice lowering despite the fact that they were alone. "Agent Hobbes comes from an FBI family. When he was around sixteen years old, he saw his parents killed because of someone his father had been close to catching."

Darien's eyes grew wide, but he stayed quiet.

"He had what could be called a minor crack-up right there, but that's hardly surprising. He saw a psychiatrist for a brief period, and was deemed to be all right. But shortly after he graduated from Quantico…" She paused, frowning. "It happened again. He cracked, but it was a lot bigger and a lot more public than his last one. Word got around that he was unreliable and unstable, and the FBI dropped him then and there. No one else would touch him, but the Official…he was willing to give him a chance. That's all I know."

"No, it isn't. That's all you'll tell me, though, right?"

She nodded. "If you want more, ask the Official."

He nodded and slid off the chair.

"No," she stopped him. "Better yet. Ask Hobbes. He's your partner, you're right. You two should be able to trust each other, and if he discovers you went behind his back digging into his past, he may not be able to trust you anymore."

Darien grimaced slightly. Good point. Bobby didn't seem to be the forgiving type.

"You mind telling me why you're so worried?"

He hesitated. "I don't know. This case is getting to him."

She looked on sympathetically. "You two have been after these men for almost two weeks. It's bound to be wearing on you both."

He shook his head. "It's different. He's taking it really personally. He says it's our fault, what happened to this woman and her family. He's holding himself responsible for everything, and it's getting to him. He came close to getting into a fight with a doctor at the hospital."

"Hobbes? That isn't exactly unusual."

"No, you don't get it." Darien frowned. "I don't know. It's hard to explain."

She smiled faintly. "You two are becoming quite the friends, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"You're awfully worried."

Darien returned the smile faintly. "All right, so maybe I like the guy a little."

"That's good. If you're right, he could probably use a friend right now. Help him relax."

"That your professional advice?"

"Why not?" Her smile faded suddenly. "But if he gets much worse, even if he just doesn't get better, you'd better let me or the Official know."

Darien studied her. "You think he's ready, don't you? You think he could crack again any time now."

"It's a possibility the Official and I have discussed. Hobbes is one of the best agents he has, which is why he's your partner. But he's unstable, no matter how many meds he's on. We have to watch him as closely as we watch you."

"But his shrink isn't Agency, is she? I thought he was seeing a private doctor."

She met his eyes seriously. "So does he."

Darien blinked, then his mouth dropped open. "You mean Hobbes goes to this lady and vents all his secrets, not knowing she reports right back to the Boss?"

"Something like that," the Keeper admitted reluctantly.

"You people really have all the angles covered, don't you?" He shook his head in disgust.

"It's necessary."

"Yeah. I'm sure. Very necessary." Darien didn't say anything else, heading for the door.

He couldn't be there anymore. He felt like he had at the hospital -- there was something unbearably condescending about lying to someone, or keeping a secret, just because you thought it was for their own good.

Just when Darien thought he was getting a handle on where he was and what he was doing, the Agency had to reveal something like this to make him remember exactly why he hated almost every aspect of his new life.

**

"Until we get some new lead, there's nothing we can do." Bobby's voice was low, almost angry.

The Official met that anger head-on. "Agent Hobbes, you've been after these men for two weeks now. You're supposedly one of our best -- why don't we have them yet?"

"With all due respect, you fat son of a bitch, we're doing our best. Back off."

Darien shut his eyes with a groan.

The Official's face went hard. Standing over his shoulder, Eberts glared down at Bobby in his quiet capacity as lackey. "You're on a thin rope here, Bobby boy. You'd better think before you go mouthing off again. You want off this case? You want us to stick Fawkes with another agent? Someone a little more dependable?"

Bobby glared right back, but heard the real threat in those words, and didn't respond.

The telephone rang, breaking the tense silence that fell.

Eberts reached over and grabbed it. "Eberts." He listened for a minute. "Very well." He held the phone away from his mouth. "Agent Hobbes, you have a telephone call. Our witness."

Bobby jerked up out of his chair. "Send it through to my office."

"You take it in here, Agent Hobbes."

Bobby didn't even slow down, going through the door and down to his office.

The Official looked dangerous as he stared after Bobby for a minute. He nodded to Eberts once, jerkily.

Eberts raised the phone again. "Connect the call to this office, please." He handed the phone to the Official.

He grabbed it and waited. "Miss Sawayah?" A forced smile appeared on his face. "I'm in charge of the case…I'm afraid he's unavailable right now." His smile vanished a second later. "Hold on," he said reluctantly, and jabbed the phone back at Eberts.

The assistant frowned, but pressed a button on the phone. "Transfer to Agent Hobbes' office, please." He hung up.

The Official turned to Darien. "You get down there. I don't want Hobbes leaving your sight for ten minutes. He takes a leak, you take a leak too. You got me?"

"Great, I'm reduced to spy again." Darien stood slowly.

"Yeah, you are. Accept it. Because if he pisses me off again the way he's pissing me off today, I'm going to seriously rethink his place in this organization."

Darien frowned, but nodded slightly and moved towards the door.

"You may want to remind him, just for good measure, that we partnered you with him because he followed the rules. If one of you doesn't start following them again, I'll separate you two." He smiled grimly. "You think Hobbes was bad, we have a number of very dutiful, by the book agents we could partner you with, Fawkes."

**

Bobby sat there waiting, until finally his phone rang.

The Boss must have tried to talk to her upstairs. Figured.

He answered quickly. "Hobbes."

"Agent Hobbes?"

"Miss Sawayah. What can I do for you?"

"I…I'd like to talk to you. If it's all right."

"Of course it is. You want me to come to the hospital?"

She sounded relieved. "If you wouldn't mind."

He smiled faintly. "Not at all. I can be there in about half an hour."

Darien was at the door by the time he hung up and stood.

Bobby just looked at him for a minute, then sighed. "Don't know why I bothered coming down here. They've got all the phones tapped anyway."

Darien laughed, a forced sound that quickly faded.

"You're Rover again, aren't you?" Bobby asked a moment later.

"Throw the guy a bone." Darien smiled tentatively. "Doesn't matter, though. I'm your partner. I'm going along, right?"

"Yeah, right." Bobby moved towards the door, and stopped right in front of Darien. He looked up at his partner, searching his expression. "You scared of me yet?"

Darien blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked a little too casually.

"You know. Scared I'm gonna flip out and get us both killed or something."

"Come on, Hobbes." Darien grinned instantly, but Bobby's eyes stayed on his, and he had a feeling his partner saw right through the smile.

****

Freud wasn't my kind of guy. He had a lot of bonzo theories I don't agree with. But this one I like. This I can get behind. I've had a lot of experience with bizarre forms of suffering. In fact, if there's one thing in this world I won't underestimate, it's the capacity for a situation to always get worse.

She was looking a little better, anyway.

Darien slid through the door behind his partner, making sure to stay nice and quiet.

They had decided he should go in see-through. She seemed to have decided to trust Hobbes, but anyone else was still uncertain, so Darien would go in invisible to avoid spooking her.

Bobby casually held the door open just long enough to let him slide in, and smiled faintly at the woman on the bed. "Afternoon."

She didn't smile back. "Is it? I can't tell in this place."

Bobby nodded. "About three o'clock."

She looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap nervously. "I…thank you for coming all this way."

Bobby sat in the chair beside her. "Miss Sawayah, right now you're pretty much our case. It was no inconvenience, trust me."

She nodded slowly. "I really don't know how much help this will be. I had a dream -- the doctor says we can't be sure if it was a nightmare, or a memory that was trying to resurface. But I think I have an idea of where Dave and Phil said they'd be going next."

Darien surreptitiously moved a little closer to the bed.

"Anything you can tell us would help."

She hesitated. "My brother, Roger, he had another young friend when he got involved with Dave and Phil. His name was Jason…" She shrugged. "I can't remember his last name. My brother… Anyway, he was involved in a lot of their activities together. Roger told me once that he helped plan the bank job, but he didn't actually participate. He was never arrested. I have no idea where he would be today. Maybe Roger…" She trailed off again, her hands fidgeting nervously. "I had a dream. I was back…in the house, where you found me, and I overheard them talking from outside the room. I heard them mention the name Jason, and I think they were asking Roger if he knew where Jason lived."

Bobby smiled reassuringly. "You have any idea where Jason is now?"

"None at all. Roger never kept up with friends from those days. Not that I know of, anyway. You could ask…" She swallowed. "You could check the house. There may be something there. He's a packrat. He saves everything. Maybe he got a letter or something. I'm sorry I can't help you more."

Bobby's smile didn't fade. "You've been a lot of help, Miss Sawayah. Thanks."

She looked up at him, brown eyes round. "Would you tell me something?"

"Anything you want to know," he answered instantly.

"Is my brother dead?"

Bobby's smile vanished. His mouth stayed shut for a long moment.

She studied him. "I remember hearing his children the first few hours I was in there. I could even overhear him and Julie -- my sister-in-law -- talking. But I don't think I heard them at all after Dave and Phil got done asking Roger their questions. None of the doctors will tell me where he is, and a nurse told me when I asked that no one has been here to visit."

Darien frowned, looking over at Bobby, wondering what his partner would say. With Bobby feeling responsible for what this woman had been through, he was probably feeling a little protective of her. Would he obey the doctor's order or tell her the truth?

Lately, Bobby was no good at obeying orders. He kept his voice low. "He's dead."

She flinched at the words, despite looking like she'd been prepared to hear it. Her eyes dropped to her lap again. "Julie? The kids?"

Bobby swallowed. "I'm sorry."

She nodded slightly, her face hidden from view by stringy brown hair falling over her eyes.

Bobby watched her for a minute, then looked out at the empty room, not quite finding Darien with his eyes.

Darien took a step towards the bed. He took a step back again uncomfortably.

"Why didn't they kill me?" Her voice was quiet.

Darien looked over at his partner, and saw the sympathy in his eyes. That fierce intensity was back -- the one that had sent Darien to the Lab to ask the Keeper about his last crack-up. The look was directed at the young woman on the bed as she sat there shuddering.

She seemed to have forgotten they were in the room. She took a few deep breaths, almost hyperventilating.

Bobby got up from his chair and moved to the bed, reaching out a hesitant, awkward hand to her shoulder. "Miss--"

At his touch she flinched, startled, and jerked away from the hand. "Stop!"

He yanked his hand back as fast as he could.

Her eyes went to him, wide and defensive. She was on the verge of a panic attack, Darien could see. He took another step back, wondering if he should go get a doctor. Bobby sure as hell wasn't going to know what to do.

But, to his surprise, Bobby sat down at the edge of the bed, his hands raised slightly, meeting her eyes. "It's okay. I'm here to help you. I'm not gonna hurt you." He kept his voice low.

She shut her eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. You got nothing to be sorry about. Don't even worry about me right now. I'm not here to hurt you."

"I know. I just…I think I remember almost everything they…they did t-to me." She shook her head helplessly. "I wish they had just killed me too." Her eyes went up to Bobby, suddenly awkward about speaking that way in front of him.

He just gave another of those gentle smiles that seemed so out of place on his face. "I know how you feel."

Darien frowned at his partner, hearing the honesty in his voice. Now that he knew a little more about Bobby's past he could understand most of the motivation behind that. But he didn't know it all. And he wanted to. Seeing the almost natural way his finicky partner was handling this, he grew more and more curious to learn those parts of Bobby he had no idea about.

She straightened suddenly, jerking a hand over her eyes and clearing her face of emotions with some difficulty. "If you go back to the house, search my brother's closet. He kept boxes of everything. If Jason ever wrote to him, or he ever figured out where Jason was living, he'd have written it down somewhere. If nothing else, look for some old yearbooks. Jason graduated high school with my brother. You can at least find his full name."

Bobby nodded, his face going calm and professional again. "Thank you very much for your help."

She nodded. "I'm sorry I can't do more. I want you to find those…"

"We will," Bobby answered plainly, with absolute certainty in his voice.

She searched his face for a moment, then relaxed. "Good."

He stood. "You still have my card?"

She nodded.

"Use it, anytime you need to. If you remember anything else, if you want to know how the case is going. Use it."

She actually smiled somewhat. "I will, thanks."

**

Bobby went right for the doctor when they left the room. Darien stayed behind long enough to wait until the corridor was empty, then come back into view, shaking off the Quicksilver. He followed his partner and groaned when he saw him talking to the man he had almost ended up getting physical with last time he was there.

But as he approached, he heard the doctor talking calmly.

"--abuse, yes. And of course you saw the more physical damage when you found her. That's really all I can tell you."

"Yeah, thanks." Bobby trudged away from the doctor, down the hall and back to the elevator.

Darien followed on his heels. "What'd he say?"

Bobby stayed quiet until they were in the privacy of the elevator. "You know she's twenty-nine years old?"

Darien's brow furrowed. "No. Should I?"

Bobby glared over at him. "She's still young, Fawkes. Whole life in front of her, and she's wishing she was dead. It pisses me off. You think she's gonna recover from this? Whole family's dead, her life's trash. She's gonna have to deal with what those assholes did to her on top of everything." He paused. "I hate them. You know, I don't think I've ever hated anyone as much as I'm starting to hate those fucking Lyons brothers. Think they got the right to just march into someone's house and kill whoever they want, and destroy this woman's life? They shouldn't have that kind of control. Nobody should have that kinda power over someone else, but they do. And the only reason they got that power is 'cause they don't have the morals to know it's wrong." He shook his head bitterly. "We all got that power in us, Fawkes. We could all do that to anyone we wanted. There's so little stopping us. Conscience, whatever. So damned little."

Darien was quiet for a minute. "Hobbes…Bobby. Look, I know this is bad. The whole thing stinks, you're right. These guys are bad to the core, and we're gonna stop them. But you have to relax. You've gotta calm down and take it easy."

Bobby didn't even seem to hear him. "You know what's funny?"

Darien didn't want to ask. "What?"

"People like me, we're probably closest to snapping like that than anyone. We gotta hold onto sanity and morals and conscience through pills and therapy. I'm probably real close to turning into one of those bastards I'm trying to stop."

Darien shook his head automatically. "No way."

Bobby smiled faintly. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely. You're letting this get to you, Bobby. I saw you in there with that girl. You care about people. You try to hide it, but you do. You know it's wrong, what those assholes are doing. That wouldn't change even if you never saw that shrink of yours again."

Bobby paused. "I hope not," he said in return.

"You have to stop driving yourself nuts over this."

Bobby threw him a crooked grin.

Darien rolled his eyes. "I'm speaking figuratively here, pal. You've got to ease off. The Official's one step away from dropping you like a bad habit. Either that or he's gonna split us up."

"That bother you?"

"Yeah, actually it does. I'm learning to work around your insanity. I don't need some new guy's insanity screwing me up."

Bobby chuckled quietly. "It's kinda funny, the fat man being pissed at me for once."

"Funny? No, it's downright nice. Refreshing."

"I'm the one in trouble, and you're the guardian angel sent to make sure I stay in line." Bobby shook his head, wandering out the doors as the elevator opened and deposited them on the first floor. "I guess I'm learning how you feel. It's funny how things are changing, isn't it? Guess we're rubbing off on each other."

"Now that's a scary thought."

"Isn't it? I dunno, Darien, maybe he should split us up."

"Are you kidding? At this rate, I'll have turned you into me in a matter of weeks. I like the idea of having me as a partner."

"I've had you as a partner, kid. It ain't that great."

"Wait until I'm you, see how much you like it then. You've had it easy, Bobby."

"When did we get on a first name basis?"

Darien grinned, happier than he could say to have this old banter, to have Bobby relaxed enough to grin and joke with him. At least he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't still laugh at himself.

He just hoped it was a sign that Bobby wasn't as bad as everyone seemed to think he was. It was either that, or this was just the calm before the storm.

****

It's important for people to know they're not alone in their suffering. I understand that well enough. What's hard is finding someone who's not so absorbed in their own pain that they can't help with yours. If you find that, you've got an instant friend.

Bobby dropped his keys down right inside the door and heaved a sigh. The lights went on, the door shut, and he took care to make sure the lock was locked, the bolts were in place. Same as always. He then turned and looked into the brightness of his apartment as though he'd never seen it before.

Funny. He was a pretty spontaneous type guy. That was what Viv had loved about him, right? When she woke up in the morning, she had no idea what her day would be like, thanks to him.

But Jesus, his life was feeling really routine lately. Sure he went after criminals and dodged bullets and dealt with the strangeness of having an invisible partner. Still, it all seemed to be getting so stale. The Agency, the strange assignments. He could even almost guess what Darien's gripes were going to be before he griped them.

Maybe he was burning out, he reflected as he moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

Out of beer. Shit.

He shut the fridge and trudged his way towards the bedroom. He should sleep. Get up early, find the damned Lyons brothers.

He went through his routine, washing up and hitting the sack.

But as he lay there, the lights off, blinking up at the ceiling, he couldn't stop his brain from working.

It was funny, but when the Agency decided to pair him with Darien Fawkes, they hadn't reckoned on the two men having as much in common as they did. They thought Bobby would play the good Agent, and he had, at first.

But it was getting thin. He was realizing that he and Darien were a lot alike, and although he kept arguing when Darien bitched, a part of him was longing to just agree, to bitch along with him.

Darien felt like he was a freak -- someone under the microscope because of the gland in his head. Bobby knew exactly how he felt. He was a freak himself, but he didn't have the excuse of an artificially planted gland. He had no excuses at all. He was just nuts. Even Viv called him nuts. She had back when they were married, and she did now.

And that seemed to be getting worse as well. Now even Darien, who knew what it felt like to be looked at and studied, was watching him as though he was going to spontaneously combust at any time. Along with the Keeper, who greeted him these days with oh-so-casual questions about his dosages, and the Official, who was getting close to just blacklisting him as all the others had.

It was no fun. And the worst part was, Bobby didn't blame them. He couldn't argue, because he had no idea if he was gonna crack up or not. He was taking his meds like a good little psycho, but sometimes that just wasn't enough.

And this damned case. This case was getting to him like none he'd ever worked on. This case with the dead bodies, that foul-smelling room with the kids and parents shoved into a closet. That boy with his eyes staring, his hands frozen into claws.

That woman left behind, sitting in the hospital with no clue what was going to happen next.

It made him feel helpless, and he hated that feeling more than anything else in the world.

He was a protector. That was the only thing he was good at, was keeping people safe. It was what Viv first loved about him -- that he was so wild and spontaneous, but at the same time she never felt like she was in any danger. He kept her safe.

He had first met her before Quantico, when he was still in the Marines. Lifetimes ago. He'd been in uniform, out with a group of friends, and she'd been in a short little dress with some flowers splashed all over it, out with her own group.

He had watched over her even that first night. Since his first sight of her, he wanted to get close. But he was in macho-mode, with the guys, and had to stick it out, drinking beers and laughing way too loudly, until most of the guys were gone or looking for their own action.

When he caught sight of her again after that, some creep was talking to her, and she didn't look too happy about it.

Bobby saved her. Of course he did. And she looked at him with gratitude and surprise, and asked him his name.

Rest was history. They got closer, they got married, she started to realize his protectiveness wasn't going to fade, and it wasn't reserved for just bar situations. He started giving her Tazers, and calling her at home during the day just to make sure she was okay. He started therapy, he started with the meds, but it didn't get better.

And she asked for a divorce, and when the time came she stood in front of the judge and listed every bad thing she could think of.

Bobby could still remember clearly sitting there, staring at his wife, the woman he worshipped, as she denounced him as a paranoid lunatic who was suffocating her.

But it was who he was. It was all he knew how to do. She was the most perfect thing he'd ever known, and he had to watch out for her. Some accident of fate had sent her into his arms, and he was gonna fight like hell to make sure no one took her away. And that made her leave on her own.

But damn it, he just couldn't turn it off. He still wanted to watch out for her. He wanted to watch out for Darien, his partner. He wanted to watch out for that woman in the hospital, who had made him feel so rotten when she saw him in that house and thought he was a bad guy.

He let out a sigh in the dark room. He was sleeping less and less every night, it seemed.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he was about to break again. It was a scary thing, not to be sure of your own sanity. Scary to have to depend on pills, and even scarier when those pills didn't work.

Darien would be over early the next morning, obeying the Official's rules and sticking by him like glue.

Bobby knew there was irony in that, and even more in the fact that he was now going to have to do everything he could to shake Darien off his trail.

In fact, maybe it would be best if he just wasn't there when Darien showed up in the morning.

Hell, he wasn't going to get any sleep anyway.

**

Bobby nodded at the patrolman sitting outside the hospital room, flashing his badge and going to the door. He opened it slowly, just a crack, and peaked in.

To his surprise, she was sitting up, gazing out into space, wide awake.

He hesitated, unsure of why he was even there. He didn't have anything to say to her. No breaks in the case, or anything else.

But she saw him before he could change his mind and leave.

"Hello?"

Bobby opened the door a little wider and grinned crookedly. "Miss Sawayah."

"Agent Hobbes?" Her voice reflected her surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Just checking up on things, that's all." He stayed by the door, ready to make his excuse and then leave.

She again took the decision out of his hands. "Come in, please."

He obeyed, shutting the door and making the dim room even darker. Apparently she was obeying the lights-out rule, even if she wasn't sleeping.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" she asked quietly as he came closer.

He shrugged. "I work for the government."

"Ah. Uncle Sam's faithful servants never sleep?"

"Something like that." He moved to the chair by the bed and sat. "What about you? Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't take much energy to lie here all day."

"I suppose not. When they letting you out of here?"

"A few more days." She smiled slightly. "They say they want me to heal a little more, but they have this woman come in every day and talk to me for a couple of hours. I think they have me on some kind of suicide watch."

Bobby grimaced. It wasn't unusual -- she had lost her family, and at the same time had been attacked pretty brutally, raped… it wasn't pretty. "Do they have good reason?" he asked quietly.

She seemed surprised by the question. "No, not right now. The only thing I want is to know that Dave and Phil Lyons are back in jail."

"And after that?"

She smiled somewhat. "That's the tough question. That's the one she keeps asking that I can't answer. I guess when I've come up with a response, they'll let me out."

"You better think of something fast. Those head-shrinkers are tricky suckers."

"You speak from experience?"

He shrugged.

She studied him through the dim light for a moment. "You know, ever since I woke up here, people have been telling me they know how upset I must be, and they know what a struggle I'm going through." She met his eyes, her brow furrowed slightly. "You were the first person to tell me you know how I feel that I actually believed."

He smiled faintly. "Go figure."

"You were telling the truth, weren't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess not. I can't really know for sure what's going on in your head, but I can take a pretty close guess."

She was quiet for a moment, and to his surprise, she didn't question him any further. She just nodded. "I had a feeling. Is that the reason you're up so late at night?"

"One of them, yeah." He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. He hadn't expected her to even be awake, much less ready to talk about such serious things. He wasn't really equipped to handle it. "Look, I gotta take off. Early morning ahead, you know?"

"Yeah." She watched him, her dark eyes glittering in the dim light. "Agent Hobbes?"

He heard his voice come out before he even realized he was going to respond. "Bobby. Bobby Hobbes."

Her brow furrowed again, but she smiled after a moment. "Bobby. Thanks for stopping by."

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't. He really didn't have a clue why he'd decided to drive to the hospital at two in the morning. He just knew that protectiveness was surging inside of him, and she was the closest thing that really needed protecting.

So when he finally answered, he surprised both of them. "Tell me something. If you could have anything right now, anything that could make this whole thing better, what would it be?"

She answered quickly. "Dave and Phil in jail. I won't feel safe until they're locked up, and that's all I really want now. To feel safe."

He nodded slowly. "Night, Miss Sawayah." He smiled briefly and started out of the room.

"Jennifer," she said quietly. "Jenny."

He paused, glancing back in surprise. He echoed her faint smile and nodded slightly, then left the room quietly.

****

Darien was surprised to see Bobby outside his apartment building when he emerged that morning.

Darien was supposed to be the watchdog. He was supposed to go to Bobby's, to make sure he didn't get away. But Bobby knew that, Darien supposed, and was heading him off at the pass.

He went down and got into the van. "Morning."

"We're going to tear that house apart until we find some guy named Jason, and then we're gonna track the Lyons' down." Bobby shifted and pulled the van out quickly.

Darien glanced over and saw the seriousness in his eyes, and the dark circles that meant Bobby hadn't slept.

He sighed quietly, not bothering to speak up.

***

"What's got you worried?"

Darien hugged the phone close to his mouth, cupping his hand and keeping his voice low. "We’ve been here for five hours now. He's going through that closet for the eighth time, and the guy shows no signs of stopping. He's getting obsessed, and it's bothering me."

The English voice sighed into his ear. "I'll contact his doctor. Maybe he hasn't been taking his medicine."

"I don't know. I'd better go before he hears me on the phone."

"All right. Just keep an eye on him."

Darien hung up, and stayed quiet for a minute until he heard the shuffling and grumbles from down the hall that meant Bobby had stuck with his task and hadn't overheard him.

He looked around the house with a sigh. It gave him the creeps. He couldn't breathe naturally, half-expecting that smell to be filling the air.

He didn't want to be there, much less be camped out for the day waiting for some small reference to someone named Jason.

"Fawkes? You wanna get back in here and help me?"

Darien sighed and started down the hall. He went through the door of the bedroom and deliberately didn't look at the bed, turning right to the closet and stepping through piles of clothes and shoes and papers. "How do you expect to find anything? The place is a mess, and there's hundreds of letters and things in here."

Bobby didn't even look at him. "Just help me out."

But Darien was tired and annoyed, and through obeying the fierce directions. "Bobby. There's nothing here. We've searched time and again, and nothing's going to mysteriously appear the tenth time around."

Bobby practically threw down the pile he was sifting through, glaring up at Darien. "Well? What else you got planned for the day, Rover? There's nothing else to go on. This is our assignment, pal. We got no other clues."

"Come on. There's got to be something else. Let's go talk to the girl again, maybe she remembers something else."

"She doesn't."

"How do--"

"Just drop it, Darien!" Bobby looked down, sorting through the stack he'd dropped, trying to find his place in the pile. He sifted once and again, dropping a few letters and scattering the papers in an exercise of futility.

"Bobby." Darien just stood watching him. "Come on."

"Dammit!" The pile hit the floor again, scattering everywhere. Bobby jerked to his feet, tired and frustrated. "There's got to be another place. An office, another closet. Something in a basement or attic."

"Bobby--"

"Maybe he worked at an office, kept some stuff there."

"Bobby!"

Bobby jerked his eyes to Darien.

"Just stop! Jesus, you're starting to scare me here."

"I can't even find a god damned yearbook."

Darien almost growled his frustration with his partner. "So we'll ask the woman in the hospital where he graduated from, and find another copy of it. We can find this Jason guy some other way."

Bobby stared at him for a minute, then cursed fiercely under his breath, his hands going to his eyes and rubbing tiredly. "Son of a bitch. You're right, let's go."

Surprised at the acceptance, Darien stood there. "We're leaving now?"

"Yes! Jesus, you realize how much time we've wasted in this house?" Bobby was already out the door and going down the hall, and a moment later Darien heard the front door opening and shutting.

He blew out a breath and trudged after him. It was exhausting, keeping up with Bobby when he was driven this bad.

He just hoped they got a break soon.

**

Darien couldn't avoid speaking when they were leaving the elevator. "We could have just called her, you know."

Bobby didn't bother answering. "I want to talk to her alone."

Darien frowned over at him. "Why?"

"She trusts me."

"So? I'm your partner."

"Doesn't matter. I want to ask alone."

"Fine. I'll just go back down to the lobby and wait, huh?"

Bobby nodded slightly, but didn't respond.

Darien turned and headed back down the corridor. One second and a message to the gland later, and he was back on his partner's tail. He'd been ordered to stay with Bobby no matter what, so that's what he was gonna do.

He couldn't help grinning to himself as he slid through the door to the hospital room right behind Bobby. Looked like they were both being selective about which orders they were following.

He moved against the wall and stayed there as his partner went to the bedside of their witness.

"Bobby." She smiled at him in greeting.

He grinned in return. "Jenny."

Darien's brow furrowed. When had those two gotten on a first name basis?

"Are you still working?"

"Never stop," Bobby replied easily.

Darien couldn't help watching his partner. Bobby suddenly seemed a little more relaxed. He wasn't foaming at the mouth over this case, that intensity wasn't blazing in his eyes.

"So what's wrong?"

Bobby sat at the edge of the bed. "We didn't find much at the house. We need something else to go on. Anything you can remember about that Jason."

She frowned. "There should be something. Those old yearbooks, something."

Bobby shook his head. "Maybe the Lyons found it. They've been good about covering their tracks." He frowned at that, suddenly, a flash appearing in his eyes that Darien recognized.

But the woman didn't seem to notice. "It could be. I was in that room, though. I don't remember…" She sighed suddenly. "I don't remember much of anything. I'm sorry I'm not more help to you."

"Don't say that, Jen. You've already done a lot. It isn't up to you to make sure we catch them. It's our job, let us handle it."

She studied him for a moment. "They're letting me out of here in a couple of days," she said suddenly, off the cuff.

Bobby frowned. "They are? That's…good. Must have thought up an answer to that question, huh?"

She shrugged. "A friend of mine has found me an apartment. I can send you the number, if you need to talk to me again."

He nodded. "That'll be good. Do the police have any sort of protection planned?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I told them what I told you, about Jason, and they figure the Lyons are long gone now. And they probably are, right?"

"Right." Bobby didn't sound convincing, though. "Wherever they are, we'll find them. I promise that much. Hopefully we'll get them before they let you out of here."

She smiled slightly. "That would be nice."

He nodded and stood. "Can you tell me the name of the school your brother and this Jason went to? Year they graduated?"

"Sure. It was Elmore, right here in the city. And he's five years older than me, so it had to be '84."

"Thanks. We'll find them, Jen."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"What's the one thing about this that would make you feel better?"

Bobby shrugged. "Same as you. Getting them into jail where they belong. Why d'you ask?"

"You look like hell," she said bluntly. "You must not have slept when you left here."

He grinned. "Don't worry about me. I'm not a person; I'm an Agent. We don't have the same needs as other people."

She laughed faintly, but didn't seem comforted. "Still. You're helping me, so I'll do anything I can to help you put them into jail."

Bobby studied her in surprise. After a moment he moved back to the bed and perched close to her. "I'll do anything I can to keep you safe," he said in return.

Darien wasn't sure where that statement came from, but it seemed to mean something to her. She relaxed and smiled, and it was a more genuine-looking expression than any of her smiles yet.

"Thanks, Bobby."

He nodded and stood, going for the door. "I'll come back later, let you know how it went today."

***

It was easy enough to call Elmore High School and get someone to check the records for Jasons graduating in the class of '90. Fortunately Elmore was a small school, and there were only two Jasons.

From there, Bobby called the girl -- Jenny -- and gave her both names, and she picked out Jason Carver as her brother's old friend.

Bobby talked to her for a few more minutes than was necessary, and laughed once or twice during the conversation.

Darien just sat there, in front of his desk, watching him. He was doing that a lot -- just watching his partner. Whether he was trying to figure out Bobby's strange behavior, his mood swings, or just checking for signs of insanity that didn't seem to be there, he was always watching him.

He was worried, he admitted it. All macho reasoning aside, he liked Bobby. He'd hated seeing the pain on Bobby's face when his ex came around to drill home how things were over. He didn't like seeing his partner with all those guards down, looking so wounded. And he didn't like it now, waiting to see if this was going to get to him so badly he'd lose his mind.

When Bobby hung up with the witness, Darien projected lightness into his tone. "Have a nice chat?"

Bobby glanced up at him, as if he'd forgotten Darien was in the room. "Jason Carver," he said simply, ready to go track the guy down again.

Darien wasn't going to let him get away with going rabid again so soon. "No, come on. Sounded like a nice little conversation. You trying to pick up the witness here?"

Bobby glared across the desk at him. "Why don't you keep your mind on the case, Fawkes?"

Darien shrugged and stood, heading for the door followed by his partner. "She's a little young, don't you think?"

"To be a witness? Is there an age requirement?" He kept his answer deliberately obtuse.

Darien raised his hands. "All right, all right. I'll shut up about it." For now, he added mentally.

Bobby moved past him out of the office and started down the hall. "You know, the Lyons' have been real good so far about tying up their loose ends. We haven't had any solid leads, any real witnesses, until now. They even remembered to grab those yearbooks in case we could get something out of them."

"Uh huh?" Darien kept pace easily, his longer legs matched to Bobby's quick stride.

"So Jenny Sawayah is one big living, breathing loose end. I don't get it. I don't get why they didn't just kill her."

Darien frowned. "Maybe they figured she wouldn't be able to hurt them. I mean, it isn't like we're short on things to accuse them of when we do catch up to them. Maybe they're so overconfident that they didn't think she'd be of any use to us."

"Maybe. But why leave her alive when she might have overheard their conversations, but remember to take the yearbooks?"

"I don't know," Darien answered honestly.

Bobby's frown deepened, but they reached the door they were going for before he could say anything else. He went it without bothering to knock. "Eberts, I need to you to dig up anything you can about a possible lead, a--"

"Hold on, Hobbes." The official cut him off, one hand in the air, the other holding the phone,

Darien looked at Eberts, in his usual spot over his boss's shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked quietly.

Eberts didn't look happy. "We may have more bodies for you."

"Son of a bitch." Bobby kept his voice low, dropping into a chair heavily.

Darien sat right beside him, more slowly.

After a minute of quiet listening, the Official broke the silence that fell over the large office. "Thanks, Jasper." He hung up the phone without another word.

Bobby didn't even pause. "Jason Carver."

If that surprised him, the Boss hid it. "And family," he simply added grimly.

****

Darien shuddered as he moved out the front door and into the yard.

Well, that was one more house he never wanted to enter again. One more cross off the list of possible real estate holdings in the future.

It wasn't as bad as the last one had been, granted. The bodies had been discovered early. From what he could make out of the dialogue between his partner and the coroner on the scene, they had probably only been dead a number of hours before the police were called.

Still, a man, his wife, and a four-year-old girl with blonde curls like something off a damned TV commercial. All dead, and for no good reason at all.

He stayed out there, in the yard, trying not to think too hard about what he'd seen, until his partner left the house and came to him.

"We've got a hotter trail now, at least. They can't be more than a day away." Bobby's eyes stayed on the street in front of them as he stood beside Darien.

Darien shook his head, still trapped in the horror of the situation. "Three more people. How could anyone kill three people like that, just because they wouldn't help them hide?"

Bobby frowned. "No. Jason Carver was helping them. For a while, at least."

Darien turned to him now. "What makes you say that?"

"It was approximately eight days ago that they left Sawayah's place. This city is less than three hours drive from there. If they went right for Carver, they had to have been here for a week before this. Which means either Carver decided enough was enough, and he was gonna rat them out anyway, or they just got bored and left."

Call him unprofessional, but as badly as Darien wanted these guys off the street and in jail, he really didn't want to be the one to go face to face with them and take them in. These were two cold-hearted, ruthless SOBs.

"There is one good thing, though," he said thoughtfully.

Bobby snorted slightly and glanced over at him.

"If they were here for a week, they couldn't have gotten rid of every trace of themselves. They might have left something behind we can use, right?"

Bobby thought about it. "I'd say no, first guess. These guys are smart, and they wouldn't have left much more than fingerprints, which won't help us much. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"I've been thinking about Jenny. Uh, Miss Sawayah. We know the Lyons didn't leave her brother's house in a hurry, but they left her alive anyway. They might have been hoping she'd die before anyone found her, and she was almost dehydrated enough. But they wouldn't have taken a chance like that. There has to be a reason they let her live."

Darien's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You think they may be getting cocky, leaving us some kind of trail to see if we can catch them?"

"Could be. If that's the case, the chances are they did leave something behind we can use." Bobby turned immediately and headed for the door. "You coming back in?"

"Uh. Yeah. Just give me a minute."

Bobby paused, his face going surprisingly gentle. "They'll be taking the bodies out in a few more minutes."

Darien nodded, and his partner disappeared into the house.

So Bobby saw his sick, untrained response to those corpses. No big surprise -- Bobby was an observant little guy. Still, he was being understanding about it, which was nice, if uncharacteristic.

Darien's eyes drifted out into the yard, taking in the small tricycle overturned near the porch, the newspaper that must have been thrown in the yard earlier that morning.

It was so much like the other house it was eerie. These two guys, Jason Carver and Roger Sawayah, had settled down into middle-class obscurity, until their pasts had come back to haunt them.

It was sick, thinking about it front their point of view. Someone from their high school days, someone from a stupid time in their lives they had successfully put behind them, showing up at their door. Demanding they cooperate, simply because at one point they were all friends. The Lyons' would have had no respect for their families, or their lives now. They would have come in with guns in hand and taken over, submitting those innocent people to God only knows what before getting bored and pulling the trigger on them all.

It was pretty despicable. This could be any house, any of millions of two-car family homes sheltering average families and their…

Darien's thoughts trailed off suddenly. His thinking of this as a typical two-car garage home had sent his eyes drifting to the driveway.

"Bobby?" His voice was absurdly quiet, and he moved to the front door quickly. He opened it just enough to glance inside. "Hobbes?" he called out loudly, praying he wouldn't have to go back in among the bodies.

Bobby appeared a minute later from the back hall. "What is it, Fawkes?"

"Come out here for a minute." Darien left the door and took the few steps off the porch and down to the grass.

Bobby was at his side a second later. "What's up?"

"What if they didn't leave us anything?"

Bobby shrugged, confused by the question. "We'll find something--"

"No, I mean, what if the clue they were leaving wasn't in something they left behind, but something they took with them?" He nodded towards the driveway.

Bobby followed his gaze, and his sharp brown eyes locked on the single car sitting on the cement. Right beside it was more than enough space to park another car, and there was a rather discriminating dark stain on the cement right where another car might have parked regularly.

Bobby smiled grimly and clapped his partner on the shoulder. "Good eye, kid." He moved back into the house for a phone in a hurry.

Darien grinned after him, hoping this would be a break that would actually help. A quick call to Eberts to get him digging in his computer, and then a massive APB on the missing car. Hopefully the trail was still fresh enough to go somewhere.

****

Bobby waltzed through the door, relaxing slightly as a shy smile that was becoming almost familiar greeted him.

"Hi, Bobby."

"How ya feeling, Jen?"

She shrugged. "Cooped up. But I'll be out of here by tomorrow."

He sat at the edge of the bed. "That's good."

She studied him for a moment, her expression friendly. Almost affectionate. "You still look like hell. Busy day?"

His smile faded at that. "Actually, yeah. We got a break, but there's some bad news, too."

"What is it?" she asked, her body tensing slightly as she sat there.

"We found Jason Carver, but the Lyons found him first."

She drew in a breath, her eyes wide. "He's dead?"

Bobby nodded, deciding not to mention the woman and the little girl who they'd also found. "But they stole one of the Carvers' cars, and we're less than a day behind them. We're getting close."

"Where do you think they're going?" she asked quietly, unsuccessfully trying not to sound afraid.

"No telling, really. They may be smart and just get as far from here as they can, as fast as they can."

"And if they don't?"

Bobby hesitated.

The pause was long enough for her to understand what he wasn't saying. She nodded slowly, her eyes going down to the thin sheet covering her lap.

Bobby watched her for a minute, wondering where the boundaries were with them. Could he comfort her at all, or should he stay official?

Funny thing was, he didn't come visit just to report details on the case. He didn't come here feeling like a federal agent. He wasn't her friend, he wasn't anything to her, really, but it wasn't so formal as being just a primary agent on a case she was a witness to.

He didn't know what the hell he was. He couldn't even automatically discount what Darien had suggested, that he was trying in some strange way to pick her up.

She was…her entire life was shot to hell. It wasn't a good time to think about dating. Besides, they really didn't know much about each other at all. He knew the facts from the statement they'd stolen a copy of from the police, and she knew he was an agent for the government. That was hardly a basis for…anything.

But he kept coming back. And the friendly, sincere light in her eyes seemed to be growing with each of his visits.

She was pretty. He hadn't really stopped to think about it before, but then she'd been hurt. She was, though. Her hair was tangled and messy, but it was a nice brunette, going a little past her shoulders. Her eyes…well, her eyes were intense. First time he saw those eyes, glaring at him in glazed hatred from the bed where she was tied, he had felt the impact almost physically. It had been, for a little while, his highest goal -- to see a look other than hatred in those eyes. Ever since then, he relaxed to see them aimed his way, shining with as close to happiness as he imagined she could get under the circumstances.

He stopped his train of thought abruptly. What was he thinking? He didn't have time to be losing himself in some weird personal interest. He couldn't afford to let himself get distracted, not until Dave and Phil Lyons were rotting in a cell.

At which point he'd probably never see her again.

Bobby winced internally. That was another good argument -- he sure as hell didn't have the heart to devote himself to some far-fetched idea of a relationship. Not with this young, confused kid. Not with anyone. As he'd been reminded so vividly a few weeks ago, he was a paranoid psycho, and he wasn't fit material to be married to anyone. Or involved. Or anything else.

Fuck it. He was an agent. He had time for his country, his Agency, and his partner. That was it.

He stood abruptly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I should get out of here."

"Oh." She looked up at that, and the glitter of faint happiness was gone. "Okay."

He backed towards the door. "I'll let you know if we find anything else, okay?"

Wide, deep brown eyes seemed to drive straight into his as she spoke quietly. "Bobby?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Would you…come by? Once I'm out of here?" Her skin flushed a slight pink. "To let me know how things are going. With the case."

As awkward as Bobby was feeling suddenly, there wasn't a single part of him that wanted to say no to that. "Sure. No problem."

"Good." She relaxed slightly. "I think the only time I smile these days is when you're--" Her light flush deepened as her mouth shut quickly, embarrassed.

Strange things flipped around inside him, and he decided he had better just get the hell out of there, fast. "See ya around, Jen." He was out the door in a flash, closing it tightly behind him.

**

Darien cursed mentally as the door slammed shut. Bobby's hurried exit had given him no time to slip out the door.

He glanced over at the bed, wondering if she'd be going to sleep sometime soon. If not, he could just open the door, make it look like some fluke. He'd done it before.

He tried to judge how she was feeling, and got to studying her a little more thoughtfully. There was something going on between her and his partner, and apparently none of the three of them had the faintest clue what it was.

She looked after Bobby, and the solemn embarrassment in her eyes faded. As Darien watched, her face slowly spread into a broad, satisfied smile.

His eyes narrowed, and his train of thought crashed into a wall and started up on a whole new track.

***

I'm not much for romantic poetry, especially not the modern stuff. But this guy Javan hit on some truths now and then in his works, and they've stuck with me.

"Morning, ace. I've already talked to the police, and they've had a few call-ins about blue Hyundai's. May be dead ends, but we've got a few that look good we should check out soon as you get done with Miss Keeper."

Darien didn't bother responding as Bobby pulled the van away from his apartment building.

Bobby glanced over, his eyebrows raised at the uncharacteristic quiet. "Something wrong?"

"No," Darien replied absently. "Hey, you think you can handle some of those leads on your own?"

"Sure I could. Do I need to?"

Darien looked over at him finally. "Yeah. The Official called me early with something he wants me to check out."

His eyebrows almost flew off his head. "The Official? Called you? To check something out?"

"Yeah," Darien replied defensively, even though he was lying through his teeth. "It's a minor thing, but he needs invisibility. Won't take me too long. If you just want to drop me at the Agency, we can meet up for lunch. After that I'm all yours."

Bobby smirked. "Be still, my heart. All right, hotshot. You got some secret mission? Fine. Don't tell your own partner."

Darien grinned faintly. "Oh, so you don't like it when it's someone else who's on the side of the Boss's little secrets, do you?"

"Nope. Don't like it one bit."

Uh oh. Darien had a mental flash of Hobbes going to the Official out of sheer annoyance of being kept out of the loop. Wouldn't do.

He thought fast. "Well, actually, the Boss himself didn't call, it was Eberts. I think he's gonna be the only one in the office today."

Bobby grimaced, predictably. Darien wasn't sure why, but Bobby and the Official's right hand man were downright snippy towards each other lately.

At least this insured Bobby wouldn't go upstairs to talk to anyone, if he thought Eberts would be the only one home.

**

Darien broke through the lock without even looking too closely at it.

That was the good thing about houses like those. They were plain, not fancy enough to justify an alarm system, and usually resided in by people who didn't remember to fasten the bolts.

Of course, the police had been marching in and out of here a lot, and no one had been home since then. Which made it easier.

Darien ignored the tug at his guts when he stepped into the house. There were no bodies here, no rotted smell in the air. It was an empty house, like dozens he'd broken into before.

Only this time he walked past the TV, and didn't even think about jewelry or cookie jars with stores of emergency cash.

This time he headed for the room he remembered Bobby pointing out on their last visit, the one that Jennifer Sawayah had been staying in.

He let himself in, looking around for something to catch his eye and his suspicion. Something was up with this girl; he knew it. He read it in that grin that appeared on her face the minute she was alone.

He knew it hadn't made sense that the Lyons would erase every trace of themselves, but leave a living witness tied for the police to find. Something stank about this whole thing, and he was gonna find out what it was.

He absently opened a few drawers and pushed some clothes around. It was half-empty, but he remembered her telling Bobby that a friend was setting her up in an apartment, so she wouldn't have to go back to the house.

Come to think of it, why would a twenty-nine year old be living with her brother and his family?

The room had a sterile feel about it. The matching furniture, the few personal items.

He'd bet anything that was some kind of guest room originally. And he'd also bet she hadn't been living there very long before the Lyons showed up.

Quite a happy coincidence.

He started rooting more thoroughly now, getting a little angry. She was playing them. Her and the Lyons brothers had some sort of scheme worked out, where she could give clues too late and get let in on everything happening in the investigation. She was even making nice with Bobby to get in closer.

It pissed him off. Bobby was falling for it. Paranoid Bobby hadn't spotted the trap, but Darien had. And he would warn his partner before Bobby tried to get any friendlier with the girl.

He just hoped Bobby listened. If he could only find some kind of proof, something small, even. It wouldn't take him much to have to convince his paranoid partner that someone was setting him up.

**

Bobby arrived at the deli already tired and frustrated, from four hours of tracing nothing leads from local yokel cops.

Darien was waiting for him, a folder sitting on the table beside him. There was a strange look on his face as he watched Bobby come in.

"All right, secret agent man. You gonna talk to me about this little mission you had to go on?"

"Glad to. Want to get something first?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, but followed Darien to the counter. They ordered quickly, and took their sandwiches and sodas back to the table.

Bobby realized he was starving the minute he sat in front of food. "So what's up?" he managed to ask before stuffing his face full.

Darien looked at him seriously. "The witness is a plant."

Bobby's mouth stopped moving. He sat there for a minute, before a grin rose to his face and he swallowed quickly. "Damn, that was convincing."

"This isn't a joke, Bobby."

The grin faded slightly. "Yeah it is. There's no way that girl's a fake."

"She's working with the Lyons', Bobby." Darien kept his voice quiet, unsure of how Bobby felt about Jenny Sawayah, and hoping to avoid hurting the guy.

"Bull shit," Bobby said simply, dropping his sandwich back on the table. "You got some kind of proof?"

Darien smiled then, a grim little number. "As a matter of fact, I do. I stopped by that house this morning."

"That was your mission? To spy on this girl? The Official--"

"The Official had nothing to do with it. I suspected her on my own."

"What? You better start making some sense here, my friend." The grin was gone, and Bobby was rapidly getting angry.

Darien grabbed the folder he'd brought in with him, flipping it open. "All right. She said Roger Sawayah was a pack rat, right? Well, she was right. Turns out she was paying him rent, and he kept a nice, neat little record of the first payment. She moved in to that house two weeks before the brothers grim showed up."

"So?"

"So, it was almost the very day they broke out of prison."

Bobby laughed faintly. "You gotta do better than that, pal. One coincidence--"

"Fine. I went through her stuff. There's this tiny little shoebox shoved in the back of a shelf way at the top of her closet. I almost didn't see it." He held up a couple of envelopes, opened and worn-looking. "Seems your witness has pen pals in the local penitentiary."

Bobby frowned. "What?"

"Her and Phil Lyons apparently exchanged a few of these letters before he got out. There's a whole stack of them back at the Lab, waiting to be read. I went through, and a few of them, mostly from the last few months, are gone. Vanished, just likes those yearbooks and any other incriminating evidence."

Bobby grabbed the envelopes and looked down at them wordlessly.

"You think it's a coincidence they let her live? Not a chance. They haven't left a single person alive the entire time they've been out. Suddenly they change the program?" He didn't have to force the doubt into his voice. "So they cut a deal with sister there, and get her to move in to the place they'll be showing up once they're out of the pen. They smack her around a little, enough to make it look bad, and then leave her to be a nice little plant for the cops…or various other agents that might pop up." He looked at his partner pointedly.

Bobby was shaking his head slightly, looking down at those letters with the scrawled handwriting of Phillip Lyons in disbelief.

"She played you, Bobby. She played everybody."

"No." He looked up briefly, then back at the papers in his hand. "No, she wasn't…you saw what they did to her, Darien. They raped her."

Darien shrugged, his elation at finding the evidence fading slightly at Bobby's pained reaction. "If her and Phil were getting it on, it wouldn't be hard to fake the evidence, you know? It wouldn't have felt good, but maybe the pay off at the end was gonna be worth it."

"No. No, dammit. She was telling the truth."

Darien picked up the last sheet of paper from the folder ruefully. "She did a couple of years of college. Know what her major was?"

Bobby blinked up at him silently.

"Theatre. Little witness was an acting major."

Bobby swallowed. "Doesn't mean anything," he said quietly.

Darien set the paper down. "Look, I'm sorry, but you can't deny the proof."

"This isn't proof. Doesn't prove anything. You're speculating."

"Bobby, come on! The facts are there! She gave us Carver's name, yeah. Probably right after he was killed. Enough time to get an OK from loverboy Phil."

"Darien--"

"Why do you trust her so much? You don't trust anybody, Bobby." That's what Darien didn't get -- the big question: why trust her? She wasn't quite pretty enough to justify a whole turnaround in Bobby's attitude. Especially the way he'd been lately, with the intensity and the unpredictable mood swings.

Bobby sat there for a long time, food forgotten. He stared at those letters wordlessly, and looked at the other items Darien had gathered without trying to read them.

It was quiet long enough for Darien to start getting worried. Bobby was on the edge lately, and he probably hadn't helped matters by telling him that someone he trusted and liked was working for the other side.

Bobby broke the silence with a harsh whisper. "Dammit."

Darien tried to meet his eyes, but they were lowered enough to be hidden. "I'm sorry. I know you liked her."

"Dammit!" He jerked out of his chair, letters crumpling in his fist, and moved back from the table so fast his chair fell over and hit the floor with a bang.

Darien was after him a minute later, but by the time he hit the door to the deli Bobby was already in the van, slamming the door shut.

He started crossing the street quickly, and he shouldn't have been surprised when the engine started and the van peeled off without him.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Surprised and alarmed.

Bobby was close to the edge, and Darien had just knocked him a little more off balance. He had to get to the hospital. He knew that's where Bobby was headed, and he had to stop his partner from doing something he'd regret later.

***

Problem is, he'll have to trust one first.

He had actually calmed down slightly by the time he reached the hospital. Still, he swerved the van into the closest spot available, ignoring the handicapped sign, and rushed in without a thought.

In the elevator going up, he had time to work through a few of his harsher emotions. He drew on past therapies enough to suck in slow, deep breaths, forcibly trying to stay calm.

And it worked. By the time he knocked on her door, he was almost relaxed.

She was sitting up, feet on the floor, and she smiled when he came in. "Bobby! I wasn't expecting you before I left."

He moved in and stood over her, keeping his voice calm. "I've got a few more questions."

Her smile faded slightly in confusion at the formal, tense voice, but she nodded. "All right."

"Why were you living with your brother?"

She seemed surprised by the question. "Well, I had an apartment, and my lease expired. I hadn't found a new place yet, so Roger said I could stay with them for a few weeks."

"It had nothing to do with Phil or Dave Lyons?"

She blinked. "No. What could it have to do…" She trailed off, studying his icy face. "Did something happen, Bobby? What's wrong?"

Asking for information again. Jesus. Bobby held up the papers he still held clenched in a fist. "How long were you and Phil Lyons pen pals before he broke out?"

She blanched, a hand coming out and reaching for the letters.

Bobby snatched his arm back before she could touch them, his anger growing again despite his efforts to control it.

"He…he was Roger's friend. When they were in jail together, I w-would write to Roger." Her voice was shaky. "Phil answered one of the letters, and we…I wrote him back. It went on from…from there."

"Uh huh." Bobby crossed his arms and looked down at her.

She shook her head slightly. "What are…Bobby, I…it didn't seem…important, so I didn't tell anyone. They're just stupid letters. Small talk. I kept answering because he was in jail, and he probably didn't have much else to do."

Bobby practically scoffed. "You wrote him out of pity, to give him a way to spend his time? That's sweet."

She looked away from him.

Bobby felt something inside him give, and the anger and betrayal flooded up inside of him. She was lying. Jesus, since the first day…

She spoke before he could tell her exactly what he thought of her. "Dave wanted to kill me. When they showed up at the house, I was the only one there. Dave was going to shoot me."

He opened his mouth to let her know he wasn't falling for it anymore.

But she kept going. "Phil…he stopped him. He remembered the letters, and said he was…he said I was nice. He liked me. So they didn't…didn't kill me." Her voice was getting thick with repressed emotion. "He liked me," she said again in a near-whisper. "So they tied me to the bed and…and…instead of killing me." Her voice broke, but she sucked in a breath, trying to control herself.

She moved suddenly, reaching out and grabbing the letters Bobby held, ripping them in half convulsively. "Because of these stupid letters! They…hit me, and burned me, and r-raped me. Because I was nice!" She dropped the torn paper on the floor and buried her face in her hands, trying to control herself.

Bobby stared down at her, his mind blank. He looked at the torn paper on the floor, and a voice inside rose up, telling him it was okay, they had a whole stack at the Agency.

The overwhelming feeling that she was telling the truth drowned that small voice out suddenly. He just couldn't believe she was lying. Every instinct he had told him…

Acting. Majored in acting. She was probably really good at it.

She looked up at him, swiping at the wetness trailing out of her eyes almost angrily. "You think I had something to do with this?"

He looked into those bright, pained brown eyes, and the answer came instantly. "No." He sat down beside her, awkward. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" He shook his head, his thoughts spinning.

She straightened, giving her face a last swipe to clear it of moisture. "I have to go," she said quietly, her voice distant. "My friend will be here any time now."

Bobby swallowed, hearing that for what it was. She was telling him to leave. He had gone too far, bought what Darien was selling without question. He had gone in shouting accusations, and now she was sending him away.

He stood again, wishing he were good with words, wishing he could find a way to say he was sorry.

How could he have believed it? A little bit of circumstantial…

Oh, but that was Paranoid Bobby all over. Not fit to have a decent relationship with anyone. Hardly fit to be around other people at all.

Better he walked out now than try to stumble over an apology. Better to cut it clean then to go on trying to be friends until she discovered what a nutcase he was and cracked him even more completely.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, sincere. He didn't make her answer, turning and heading out the door.

A woman was standing there, poised to knock. She dropped her hand with a smile when she saw Bobby. "Hi. Is Jenny in there? I'm here to…"

Bobby moved past her without a word, going down the corridor towards the exit.

He was almost at the end of the corridor when there was a scream.

He wheeled, instincts sweeping his gun out before the sound even stopped.

Before it was cut off. By a gunshot.

He barreled back down the hall. It wasn't crowded, but the few people there were pretty much running for their lives. He fought his way through them, and stumbled to a stop, his weapon aimed steadily. "Lyons!"

Dave Lyons snapped his eyes, and then his own gun, towards Bobby.

"Drop the gun. Now!"

Lyons got his control back a moment later, and the gun left Bobby and moved back to the wall.

Bobby glanced over quickly, and sucked in a breath. Jenny was okay. But her friend was probably dead.

He moved his eyes back to Lyons. "You do it, and you're dead."

"Drop the gun, I won't shoot her," he gritted out in return.

Bobby almost smirked. "No way, pal. You first."

Lyons' eyes moved to him, growing darker.

Bobby kept his aim steady, and for a long, tense moment they glared at each other, waiting for the other to back off.

The standoff ended abruptly when Lyons suddenly stumbled forward, his arms yanked down by some unseen force.

The gun went off, but the b